On October 3, several seminarians from Our Lady of Providence Seminary embarked on a grueling climb up the “White Dot Trail” of Mt. Monadnock in Jaffrey, New Hampshire. The topography proved challenging, with several steep and rocky scrambles. At certain points, exposed slabs required the seminarians to scale the rock face as they hurried toward the summit. To the casual observer, these men joined hundreds of other climbing enthusiasts in an aerobic test of strength and determination. But from the perspective of the Catholic imagination, the stillness and silence afforded by the summit—coupled by breathtaking views of unparalleled beauty—rang a different chord. The summit speaks of God.
When the English Jesuit priest and poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, wrote that “The world is charged with the grandeur of God,” he captured what scores of saints, like John Paul II and Pier Giorgio Frassati, intuitively grasped when observing nature’s secrets. Beauty points beyond itself. From the mountaintop at Monadnock, vistas of trees draped in shades of orange and gold crimson, nestled among valleys and crisscrossed by gurgling rivers and streams, appear as mere accidents to “enlightened” minds shaped by ideologies of caprice and chance. Those with the eyes of faith instead see the handiwork of the Divine Artist, whose imprint in time invites all of creation to delight in his goodness. Perhaps it’s no surprise, then, that the Scriptures are replete with references to mountains and their staggering views. God reveals himself to Moses on Mt. Horeb. Abraham receives his greatest test of faith on Mt. Moraiah. On several instances, Jesus escapes to the mountain to pray in secret to his Heavenly Father. And before he will undergo the pains of Good Friday, Jesus takes his closest friends – Peter, James and John – atop Mt. Tabor, transfiguring before them in luminous glory. In fact, Peter is so moved by the experience, he immediately volunteers to erect “three tents” for Jesus, Moses and Elijah (Mark 9:5). Perhaps he plans on staying with them. And can we blame him? Anyone who has tasted the joys of the summit necessarily wants more of its bliss. But eventually, as Scripture teaches us, one cannot live on the summit. Moses must return to the wilderness to shepherd God’s chosen people. Abraham will need to journey to the Promised Land to carry out the fulfillment of God’s promise. And Jesus will stand before Pilate as he receives the sentence of crucifixion, accepted freely for the remission of our sins.
The seminarians of Our Lady of Providence spent their time atop the summit in praise of God, chanting the hymn for Daytime Prayer and praying the Rosary together. Yet, like Moses, Abraham, and the apostles, they could not remain on the mountain. Classes, formation meetings, and apostolic work awaited them below. The descent was inevitable—and so it is for each of us. For the Christian, the mountain is never merely a place to escape the world, but a place to encounter the God who sends us back into it. The Christian hopes to one day enjoy the greatest summit of all on Mount Zion, within a glory and peace that shall never end. Until that day, we climb earthly mountains to behold God’s glory; we descend them to bear witness to it.
