As we enter another Lenten season, I find myself thinking about mountaintops, in particular Mount Tabor, which is generally held to be the mountain on which the Transfiguration occurred, which is the subject of the Gospel early in Lent – specifically the second Sunday of Lent.
I recall climbing a different kind of mountaintop: the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. I was there for a pilgrimage, and climbing to the top of that dome was one of my goals. It’s a tough task, a hike up several hundred steps.
The challenges for me were my arthritic knees and the severe claustrophobia I suffer from. Those who did the climb before me said it is quite tight on the way to the top. The sensible thing would have been to enjoy a cup of coffee while the sturdier and less afflicted members of our little pilgrim group took on the big climb. But I’m stubborn.
Our Lord Jesus took to mountaintops, also, sometimes taking apostles with Him, sometimes going alone. Jesus took Peter, James and John with Him to the top of Mount Tabor, and while up there, our Lord shined gloriously and conversed with Moses and Elijah, providing the three Apostles a preview of the Lord’s heavenly glory.
The Church of the Transfiguration is located on top of Mount Tabor in northern Israel, a few miles east of Nazareth. I have not visited Israel, but in photos, Mount Tabor is shaped like a large dome jutting upward from the surrounding land.
All this passed through my head as some of us from our group approached the first flight of steps, which led to the entrance to the dome. I also prayed that the cortisone shots to my knees I received two weeks before would hold up.
With a deep breath, I placed a foot on the first step. The first flight of stairs was not difficult. Next, we strolled around a walkway that circled the base of the dome, pausing to take some quick photos. I exited the walkway and made my way up a tile-walled passage built between the inside and outside of the dome. Now it was becoming difficult.
As we proceeded, black stone floors that angled upward alternated with long stretches of slightly high white stone steps. The passageway also leaned to the right because of the dome’s curvature. My knees began to ache, and I was a bit winded. I paused occasionally in alcoves beside the steps to rest briefly, catch my breath and let faster people pass me.
I wondered what it was like for Jesus and the Apostles to climb a somewhat steep, domed hill like Mount Tabor. I wondered what our Lord felt as He hiked. As one who is fully human in addition to being fully divine, perhaps His knees or feet ached. Maybe He stumbled here or there over a rock or loose stones or slipped and scraped a hand or elbow.
I pictured our Lord and the apostles stopping once in a while to rest like I was. I reminded myself of another path Jesus walked, His fearsome and excruciating Way of the Cross. My ache-inducing steps in the basilica’s dome were nothing compared with our Lord’s suffering.
The higher I went, the narrower the hallway passage became, even having to lean to my right as I climbed and hold onto railings and occasionally planting my right hand on the tilted wall to steady myself in addition to availing myself of the alcoves to rest.
Next, the tilted stairwell became a dim and tight corkscrew, the steps treacherously skinny on the left and wide on the right, which forced me the walk with my right foot straight and my left foot perpendicular to the other to avoid slipping and tumbling back down on the people behind me. There were no more railings to hold onto – nothing but a rope dangling from somewhere above. Each climber clasped the rough fiber tightly as we climbed around and around.
It was surreal making my way up that tight corkscrew clutching a rope. I reached the top of the twisting passage and was rewarded with a bright light above me. I stepped into the warm sun of the Roman morning and looked out at the city. Finally, I was on the observation deck at the top of the dome. The entire vista of the Vatican City State lay right below, and we also could see wide panoramas of the city of Rome.
As I enjoyed the breathtaking views and snapped photos, Jesus and those Apostles came to mind again. The view from their mountaintop must have been exhilarating as well. But what Peter, James and John experienced would have, I know, made my scenic photos from that highest vantage point in the eternal city look pale and drab. They were treated to a direct preview of Jesus’ heavenly glorification.
The Gospel accounts describe them as cringing with fear at that overwhelming sight and God’s thunderous voice. They were so awestruck by what they saw that they wanted to erect tents in memory of their experience. From the top of St. Peter’s dome, I rejoiced quietly in my little victory against the tough task I undertook, a quiet happiness that left me feeling awestruck and privileged by the view of our Mother Church, the Holy See, the rest of the city, and the distant hills and plains.
I took in that scenery, wanting to etch that wonderful moment in my memory. The photos on my phone were my tents memorializing the experience. I felt closer to our Lord.
Alas, no one is meant to remain on mountaintops. After their experience on Mount Tabor with Jesus, the Lord and the Apostles returned to their ministry and work, to the destiny that lay ahead in Jerusalem. More mountaintop experiences awaited them, but there were many deep, dark valleys in their futures as well.
After that exhilarating and joyous interlude on top of St. Peter’s, I found the other set of stairs and descended back to ground level. I trust God and His call to continue moving forward in life even though it would be nice to stay behind in a special place. That is true for all people whom God has brought into the world.
I hope all of us have the opportunity to experience great highs in life – nature’s beauty that God created, wondrous places and things God inspired humans to build, deeply moving spiritual experiences through prayer, worship, retreats and so forth. Those are all gifts from God that allow us a preview of His full glory.
Let us thank God with all our minds, hearts and souls for those gifts that are meant to inspire and motivate us to move further ahead of the paths of our lives of faith instead of trying to dwell permanently in those serene moments and places. I smiled as I concluded that particular mountaintop experience, and I smile and feel called and motivated by the Lord as I write these words.
Deacon Tom Berg Jr. has served the Diocese of Columbus as its Chancellor since 2012 and as a deacon at Columbus St. Andrew Church. He holds bachelor’s and master’s degrees in journalism and a master’s degree in Catholic pastoral studies.