Day Four - Mt. Tabor: Hello loyal followers and fellow pilgrims!
My name is Siobhan (SHUH-von), writing to you from the Holy Land. This is our second day home-basing at the Franciscan guest house on Mount Beatitude, where we have a spectacular view of Lake Tiberias/Sea of Galilee, the sun shining on the manicured gardens, a cool breeze billowing off the lake and putting a fresh breath on the hot day.
But enough about the weather, we're here for holiness, right? This morning we began with a light (and distinctly odd--Israeli Italians cum Western-food) breakfast before heading out to Mount Tabor, where Jesus was transfigured before the apostles Peter, James, and John. At this point you should be envisioning something with a lot of light, some white and gold, and be faintly recalling something to do with the cleansing power of Baptism and those resurrected bodies we're all looking forward to (so skip the diet, say a prayer) ;-)
At any rate, today we behaved like real pilgrims. Our driver, Jamel, dropped us part way up the Mountain (looking very skeptical at our plan) so we could HIKE all the way up the mountain to the Latin Church of the Transfiguration run--you guessed it--by the Franciscans. Actually, the hike wasn't all that bad, just over a mile on switchbacks up a very steep mountain in bright sunlight and strong heat, from 1,000 to 1,908 feet. But the breeze was nice, and I, at least, stopped often to rest and enjoy the gorgeous views of Galilee. The compound at the Summit was gorgeous, run as a bit of a boot camp for juvenile delinquints from this side of the world--the Franciscans get them, have them plant flowers and work in the gift shop and clean things, and then send them back home as upstanding, prayerful citizens. But the church itself was another Barlutzzi (sp?) this one nothing like the one at Mount Beatitude. It had a tripartite form, the entrance flanked by a chapel of Elias and of Moses, the Altar bearing a gorgeous mosaic of Christ transfigured (beneath it, the highly original Latinate words: "And he was transfigured before them"), to the right, a chapel to St. Francis, to the left, Madonna with Child.
When you hike up Mt. Tabor (and I encourage you all to do so at some moment in your lives), there is an option to turn left or right. Left takes you to the Latin church, but right takes you to the Greek. The Latin church is open to all, but the Greek church is famed for being closed to non-Orthodoxers. On our hike back down the Mountain, I convinced Fr. Michael it would be a good idea to storm the Greek citadel---I mean, make an eccumenical request to see their church. With Koine running through my head and my hand searching my bag for a head scarf, I sent a quick prayer to God that we would be allowed in. The Lord did not hold the sun in the sky for us, though, for by the time we reached the stolid metal doors it was past 11:30, when both the Greek and Latin churches close on Saturdays.
Alas, the journey down was much faster, and when we met Jamel at the bus he ushered us off to an INCREDIBLE Lebanese restraunt, run by Muslims who offered us beer and a veritable feast of 11 kinds of "salad" (I counted), pita fresh from the oven, and falafel fresh from the frier. I think I ate my body weight in delicious Middle Eastern food. (And to clarify, we did not have the beer, we had water and lemonade).
After a morning of pious pilgrimage we headed out to a site of largely secular interest, the ancient ruins of Zepphori. Originally built by Herod Antipas as a capital city, it sports an impressive system of Aqueducts that feed into the city, gushing into a well preserved mikva (ritual bath) beside a Hellenist Jewish synagogue, floored by glorious mosaics, including a Zodiac which Fr. Michael explained as a sign that all the little Greek gods, though existent, are underfoot to The God. From the Synagogue we went to a rich Jewish man's mansion, this one with a mosaic of Dionysius (that's the Greek god of Wine, Parties, and Drunkenness) surrounded by various party scenes, the goddess Fortuna smiling mysteriously from a central position. This Fortuna (you know, the goddess of *fortune*, good or bad) is known as the "Mona Lisa of Galilee" for her great beauty and secretive smile. There were other mosaics, other ruins (a crusader castle, thick walled and cool on the interior; an ampitheter where Alex sang us a lovely selection from the Magic Flute [Der Vulgerfanger, the Bird Catcher] to applause from our group and a family of natives; the Nile House with flora and fauna from Egypt and some fierce looking Amazons).
Then we came home. Back to the beautiful monastery with the incredible view, the marbled interior and the manicured gardens. I suppose a vow of poverty and a steady stream of pilgrims will do that for you. Life as a pilgrim is hard, let me tell you, all prayer and sight-seeing and relaxing in monasteries. Enjoy life at home, we keep you in our hearts and in our prayers.
Under God's Wing,
Siobhan
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