I often think of our visit to Mount Tabor and at this time of the year because Jesus was here atop the mountain with his friends shortly before he went to Jerusalem. As he descended the gentle North slope with them after his Transfiguration he must have had an inkling that it would be his last journey and he was facing his own armageddon. He wasn't stupid you know.
It's hard to stand on that kind of mountain, look at that kind of valley, think of that sort of city, that man knowing the doom he faced and moving steadily towards it, knowing he faced abandonment in the end, and not feel myself be touched by the history and conflictedness of death.