Let me start with a parable of division:
Two kids have one big irregular piece of chocolate, and they need to share. But how? They have no way to measure, and somebody is going to get the big half. The smarter boy—or was it a girl?—figures a way: “I’ll make two portions, and you can choose first.” It’s immediately obvious that this will be fair. The divider knows that he may get the small half, so he makes as sure as he can be that they are even. And most people see the justice of the strategy.
This assumes consent to share. But what if one boy has the whole chocolate rabbit, and his sister wants some? If he’s an average child, the first thing he will do is decide that he ought to have the big half. After all, he is making a concession, diminishing his own position, and reducing his own reserve of chocolate. It was given to him by Authority. And what he gives to her is wasted, anyway: she doesn’t really taste it—as far as he can tell—and she might be messy, and it just doesn’t look right to see all that lovely chocolate disappearing down her lips. And it might not be good for her. Shouldn’t she be concerned about her weight? Therefore he asks himself, “How little can I give, to have some peace?” And many boys see the practicality of the strategy.
We, however, are adults. Read More


I first read Saint John Climacus’ book, The Heavenly Ladder, when I was a teenager. When you open this monument of Christian spirituality, you discover a new world, very different from the vision of the world that we are used to. The spiritual world is real. Spiritual warfare is real. This was the first lesson I learned when I started reading this book. The struggle is not me against the world. It is me against myself and my passions. This is the reason why at the bottom of the ladder one does not find repentance or vigilance but “on renunciation of the world:”