There was this great path of love I witnessed as I followed my Master from Mount Tabor to Mount Calvary—the path of transformation, the path of salvation.

Yes, the path of salvation is one of transformation—from Human to Divine.

The Messiah came into this world not only for deliverance but to restore to humans the image of God that we lost during the Fall of Adam and Eve.

We were slow to understand these great precepts, even as we walked with him, spoke with him, and ate with him—the Author of Salvation. However, his love for us shone through every situation in our lives. He revealed to us the great depths of the Divine mystery.

One such experience occurred when we were at Mount Tabor in prayer. As we walked up the mountain one day for prayer, Simon Peter, my brother James, and I felt special. We were selected to enter into our Master’s conversations with His Father. Jesus said that He was our Father too. Imagine, Almighty God as our Father! The thought was terrifying and comforting at the same time. However, difficult ideas were no longer new to us. Jesus brought forward ideas that shocked our religious leaders every day. Content in his miracles, amazed at his words, and proud to be in his inner circle, the three of us accompanied Jesus to the top of Mount Tabor.

After a busy day of traveling, ministering to people around and keeping the Master safe, this climb was exhausting. Jesus went a little ahead of us and started praying. Fighting fatigue, we too followed his example. We did not want to waste any of this special time we had with him. Surrounded by throngs of people all the time, we barely got to spend time with him these days. As we were praying, Jesus’ face transformed. His clothes became pure white, a color that we had never seen on earth before. We were bewildered to see this transformation in our Master. We knew that he was the Son of God, but seeing him in all his glory was breathtaking. Two men appeared along with him, and they were speaking with Jesus. As they were conversing, we found out that they were Moses and Elijah. For us Jews to gaze upon Moses, the great deliverer of Israel from Egypt, and one of the greatest of all prophets, Elijah, in conversation with the Messiah seemed like an answer to all our prayers. Our great heroes and the person for whom we had been praying for centuries together were in a conversation. This was indeed a great privilege; a glimpse into Heaven. That was not all. There was more. Simon Peter, sensing that Moses and Elijah were leaving, said excitedly, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” (Luke 9:33). Just like Peter! He was just as confused as we were. However, true to himself, he went ahead and said the first thing on his mind. As he said this, a cloud overshadowed us. We were petrified. Then we heard a voice from the cloud, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” (Mark 9:7).

We had heard the voice of God and we lived! Our minds leaped back to the scriptures, where Israel heard and were terrified by the voice of God from Mount Sinai. They needed Moses to intervene. Here we were, with God’s promised Son and Moses himself, witnesses to the voice of the Father. The Father’s command was to listen to the Son. It echoed the promise he made to Moses, “I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their own people; I will put my words in the mouth of the prophet, who shall speak to them everything that I command. Anyone who does not heed the words that the prophet shall speak in my name, I myself will hold accountable” (Deuteronomy 18:18-19). We were not able to put these together immediately. At that time, we were puzzled. Even more so when we went down the mountain, and Jesus instructed us not to speak of what we had seen until the Son of Man had

been raised from the dead. We wondered, “What did he mean, raised from the dead? How can God’s Son die?”

We would soon receive our answers—at Mount Calvary.

I remembered the glorious transfiguration of Jesus as I stood gazing at his disfigured form on the cross. How could this be? This time, my companions were not there. Simon Peter had denied the Master when he was arrested by the High Priest. My brother, along with other fellow apostles, was in hiding. I had followed Jesus with his mother, Mary. Along with a few other women followers, we stood at the foot of the cross at the top of Mount Calvary. The Roman soldiers carrying out the execution were there. The officials and those who wanted Jesus dead were also present at the foot of the cross. They were deriding and mocking him. I was deeply moved, deeply disturbed. My Master suffered unbearable pain at the hands of the persecutors. He was flogged and crucified. Into every breath that he took, he put a lot of effort. The wounds caused by the nails which held his hands and legs to the cross were bleeding profusely. I stood helpless, not able to relieve him of his pain. My friends were also not around. I felt like a failure at the thought of not being able to protect my Master. Did he make a mistake in choosing me? Should he have chosen someone stronger or more influential? Then I saw it all in his eyes. His love for me, his love for each and every person there, even those who were responsible for his suffering. I watched the Son of God die! Nevertheless, in this death, I witnessed Love. A love so pure and yielding. A love that is so selfless. A love that crossed beyond the concept of clans and tribes. A love that transcended relationships and families. It was then that I understood John the Baptist’s words about Jesus being the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world; the lamb led to slaughter out of love, not compulsion. “In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10).

God’s love is immeasurable. The path from Tabor to Calvary spoke volumes of Jesus’ love for us. Though Tabor preceded Calvary, the Transfiguration was a glimpse of the glory of the Resurrection that followed the Crucifixion. Our Lord saw it fit that we needed to be strengthened in his divinity during sufferings. He knew that through the transfiguration experience, we would be able to remember his sovereign peace in our lives. It was a glimpse of what it would be for us, as we humans journeyed to the Divine.