On my only visit to Mt. Tabor, the traditional place of Jesus’ Transfiguration, I have one stand-out memory aside from the beauty and charm of the place. That memory is of the ride up from the public parking area to the summit. This ascent had to be taken in one of a fleet of taxi vans. It was indeed a hair-raising experience as the driver whizzed the van around one and then another of the many hair-pin bends of the zigzag track. I was happy to arrive at the summit in one piece albeit with my heart in my mouth. Collecting myself, I felt I had learnt the message Jesus wanted to teach the disciples through his Transfiguration. The lesson is that hardship calls for a heart transformed by hope!
I imagine Jesus’ journey up Mt. Tabor was much gentler and the lesson to be learnt was much deeper. He took Peter, James and John with him. Up to this, everything had gone well during Jesus’ preaching and healing ministry in Galilee. The disciples even found out they could caste out devils. Now on the way to Jerusalem, the tone suddenly changes. The disciples are awe struck as Jesus’ face glowed and his clothes became as ‘brilliant as lightning’. Fear struck their hearts when they heard Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah about his own death. Indeed, something momentous was happening. In his awe at Jesus’ glory, Peter wanted to stay there and build three tents so they could dwell there longer. But Jesus wanted them to move on, treasuring this experience in their hearts as a source of hope for the time when Jesus would die. Still in awe and fear, they came down the mountain in silence. Something new was growing in their hearts. The spirit of hope held their attention. This life-transforming hope would find many chances to grow further in the future.
On a recent visit to Korea, I met a former Columban Lay Missionary with whom I had worked closely. Her name is Agnes. Agnes had just returned from Mae Sot, a city in Thailand on the border with Myanmar. She had gone with a team of volunteer dentists, nurses and assistants to run a dental clinic at Mae Tao Clinic in Mae Sot. The Clinic serves the medical needs of the refugees from the civil war in Myanmar.
Agnes’ face was ‘aglow’ as she talked of the work of the Korean dental team, who having brought all the necessary medical supplies with them including a dentist chair, worked tirelessly for a week. With great care and compassion, they dealt with many of the children’s dental issues. I was drawn further into her story as she talked of the poverty of the refugees who had fled the civil war, violence and death in their own country for the sake of their children. They now face a very uncertain future. They hope to return home to a safe and secure environment. But who knows when that will be?
Pulling out her phone, Agnes showed by some photos of the children playing basketball. She gleefully told me of the children’s enthusiasm for sport. Without basic facilities, they found a clear patch of ground and set up a basketball court. Lacking a hoop and backboard, improvisation was called for. There was a simple solution. One player from each side was deputed to step up on a chair, holding a waste-paper basket high overhead to be the gaol hoop, whenever their team got the ball. The joy on the children’s faces in the photos was infectious. What an expression of human hope when surrounded by adversity.
Then Agnes’ face saddened when she said, ‘ the future of Mae Tao Clinic is very unsure now. “Being funded largely by US Aid through an NGO”, she said, “who knows what will happen in the future?” After sitting silent for a while,. she added “ there is always hope that the Clinic will be able to go on in some way, those people (the refugees) are so hopeful and resilient”.
Having spent several hours in conversation together over a cup of coffee, we said our farewells and Agnes left for her home in the Korean countryside. As I reflected on our encounter, I felt I had been to Mt. Tabor. I recalled the awe I felt as I listened to her story. I was inspired by the commitment of the dental team to the care of the children. I felt uplifted by the hope the refugees have in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Then, I was delighted by the joy on the faces of the children while playing a simple game in such a dire situation. Agnes’ passion as she told the story signalled to me that our conversation was a grace-filled occasion. Right now, I feel hope rising in my heart. This hope castes aside dejection and desolation. It is the hope that Jesus invited the disciple to experience on the mountain. This is also the hope Pope Francis talks about when he calls on us to be ‘pilgrims of hope’ during this Jubilee Year. Finally, during Lent, the Pope also invites us to consider the plight of migrants and refugees. As I ‘ come down the mountain in silence’, I realise that rather than anything I can do for them, the Myanmar refugees are inviting me to embrace this journey of hope. It is God who speaks to me through them
Columban Fr Kelvin Barrett currently lives at St Columban's, Essendon.
