It overshadows them and they can do nothing but tremble. Don't know if they'll die on the mountain or live to tell their grandkids about it. The disciples emerge from Transfiguration with an indelible memory. But not the kind that poets write about, of sunrises, soft breezes, warm friends, music, and quiet times. On this mountain they have experienced the presence of God, and it has reduced them to silence.
Silence is a normal response to a sacred experience.
On the one hand, if we do say anything, we will end up sounding like Peter and make fools of ourselves. And if we wait to speak, we discover we don't have the words that can even begin to describe the event, the effect. I sat next to the hospital bed and took her hand. Her life began as a failed abortion. It was in one of those small prairie towns at the beginning of the last century.