Yes, that’s a rock. I picked it up at the base of Mount Arabel today. On the path Jesus walked. But more about that later. We saw a couple of other significant rocks today.
First, we had Mass on the Mount of Beatitudes. Yes. Jesus walked here. Preached here. We had Father Darryl from Saskatoon.
He looks pretty holy there, eh?
Then on to Tabgha, where Jesus multiplied the loaves and fishes for the 5000. I’ve never been a loaves and fishes gal. I don’t have anything against this miracle, I just prefer something a little more out there, like Jesus casting out the demons into a swine (yes, we way that today, too). Satanic bacon is much more my cup of tea. So I’m not sure what I was expecting when we got to Tabgha, but it wasn’t what I got.
I wandered into the church, admiring the mosaics and then I saw it. The stone. The stone where Jesus laid the fish and loaves is under the altar, illuminated with a small light. At that moment it hit me. Jesus was here. And so am I.
So about my little rock. I picked it up on the path at the base of Mount Arbel–a path that’s been a road through the Galilee for thousands of years. As we walked, the mountain with 1st century caves on one side and the rugged wadi on the other, I tried to put myself back in time, so I wandered away from the group and sat on a large rock. Closing my eyes, I heard footfalls on the path, felt the breeze on my face, and smelled the rank odor of decay from the wadi. Jesus the man would have experienced all of these, and probably would have gotten sore feet when he was journeying around Galilee, just like me.
My rock is a piece of that path. May it serve as a reminder of what I felt there. And may it keep me on His path.