I think it was last week or so that one of the readings was about the Transfiguration, where Christ shown in both His natures before His Disciples, the Son of Man and the Son of God at once. And from Heaven came the Voice of Knowledge, of God the Father, about His Son, the Word of God, "This is My Beloved Son. Listen to Him."
The New Testament says only that it was a "high mountain", but Tradition identifies it as Mount Tabor. As everything else in Bible History, this is disputed.
All I can say to you, as one who was there, who rode in one of the little vans driven around the curves at high speed, round and round to the top, I was satisfied I was close enough to where the event happened.
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| Aerial View Courtesy of Exploring Mount Tabor: A Visitor's Guide
It seemed to me, throughout the trip, that beautiful, powerfully puffy clouds, dominated the various landscapes our group visited. But here, especially, I could imagine hearing the Voice of God, possibly without surprise, for this is the Land in which He spoke most visibly and most poignantly.
This was one of the locations to which I had been longing to go. It is the site of another of the most affecting, for me, mysteries of the Rosary. It is a scene at which I would love to have been present. I am sure I would have had no more understanding than the Apostles, of what was before me, but still, I wish it.
I had been asked to do the Epistle during the Mass which was scheduled for us. I am a regular lector at my own parish, and I did want to read, but I did not interpose myself. Selections had been made by others of those to read, and I had accepted that I might not get the chance at all. So, when I WAS asked, I was grateful, and that it would be in this holy place.
It almost didn't happen. There was some confusion over a prior group's earlier appointment for Mass. We were nearly asked to join that group obviating our private Mass with Fr. Francis. I prayed for a quick moment, hoping that the group would rather wait for our specific appointment to gather. And the group agreed. We would wait. I breathed a quiet sigh of joyful relief.
And took some more pictures and thought about how amazing that I was walking in this Land in this, my life.
   
As I sat in one of the pews surrounding the altar, over the left shoulder of the celebrating priest, as you can see in an earlier shot was a mosaic of three angels praying over a Lamb, the Lamb of God, Christ. The thing I noticed about the Lamb in the Mosaic was that He was smiling. He was smiling at the consummation of His own sacrifice. I couldn't take my eyes from it.
Now, when I say the Rosary, I image this place, the inside and the outside. It grounds me, particularly when my mind, as it does often, wanders.
THIS IS MY BELOVED SON; LISTEN TO HIM!
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