We were to climb to the chapel of the Prophet Elias before sunrise. I parked at the dirt track and waited. He stood still, gazing at the little church, saying nothing.

I asked which trail he would prefer. The one in front of us, which I had walked many times and thought I knew inch by inch? Or should we leave it to chance?

Silence. I struggled to understand.

The mountain itself is ready to answer both, he said, whichever way you choose. You can aim from the start at a known road, a predetermined course. Or you can let go, and the Paraclete may set before you an unknown route of his own, a constant surprise in everything it opens.

Think of the mountain as life itself, he said. Its trails are the roads of life. To aim at reaching the Prophet is to aim at freedom. What you owe, not only to yourself but to the whole universe, is to give your best self in order to reach the highest point you can.

And the best self, he said, appears where you are concentrated and sincere during the struggle.