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John 5.1-16
 
After this there was a festival of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Beth-zatha, which has five porticoes. In these lay many invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be made well? ”The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk. 
 
 Jesus does not suffer victims that gladly.  In this passage, Jesus comes upon an assortment of sick and invalid people.  Yet He focuses on one individual, a person whom He knows has been ill for a long time, specifically 38 years.  We don’t know why Jesus chooses him and not any of the others, but He approaches the man and asks him if he wants to be made well.  The man’s explanation is that he is unable to compete with other invalids to access the healing waters.  This appears not to be precisely the answer Jesus wishes to hear from him.  Jesus doesn’t accord him much sympathy for his tribulations, but basically tells him to stand up and walk.  We are told that at once he is made well and walks.  No further communication follows between Jesus and the healed individual.  Jesus appears to suggest that the people he ministers to and heals are responsible for themselves and need to contribute to their own salvation, albeit through Him.
 
I am struck by the fact that Jesus is a God-Man of relatively few words.  He does not treat the people with whom He intercedes as victims or invest much energy in making them feel better.  He has these rigorous expectations of them, that they will get with the program, as he moves on to the next parts of His plan.  Jesus has a mission, and he appears highly focused.  I periodically wonder how Jesus looks upon his earthly work, whether it is marked by heavenly assurance or earthly doubt.  I think Jesus expects of the people He will save a measure of personal responsibility in their healing, that they will practice agency in the process.  I have sometimes asked for God’s assistance and then neglected to take actions on my own behalf that could contribute to achieving the things for which I prayed, waiting in the wings for God to appear.  When I ask for God’s assistance in a helpless manner, I am not practicing what he expects.

Mark 13.33-37

Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

Keep awake. We don't know the precise moment, except it is now. We depart the clearing, likely to journey to the high peaks, above tree line, where the air is thin and alarming and clear, the only foliage is tenaciously fragile, and the deep rooted silence can be felt on your skin and down in your heart. We have not been brought here by accident.

We have pilgrimaged here due to our need to cast off scales like old clothing, to stand unadorned as the blur of stars merges with the dawn sky and listen to the voice in the ceaseless wind. To come away with a new sewn garment of knowledge that we are responsible to and for each other, that at our deepest we are never alone. That we will return to the valley prepared to embrace, to support, to survive transformation, to really, truly risk.