One of the most influential books of the twentieth century is Man's Search for Meaning by the Austrian psychiatrist Viktor Frankl. During the Second World War, Frankl spent several years in Nazi concentration camps. He lost his parents, his brother, and his wife. He was stripped of his profession, his freedom, and nearly every human dignity. Yet amid unimaginable suffering, he noticed something remarkable.

The prisoners who survived were not always the strongest or the healthiest. Often they were the ones who still had a reason to live. Some dreamed of seeing a loved one again. Others longed to finish an unfinished work. A few held firmly to their faith in God. They possessed a "why" that enabled them to endure almost any "how."

Frankl later built his entire school of psychotherapy—logotherapy—on this insight: the deepest human need is not pleasure or power, but meaning. Echoing Friedrich Nietzsche, he often quoted the words: "He who has a why to live can bear almost any how."

Perhaps that is one of the deepest truths about human life.

What Viktor Frankl discovered in Auschwitz, Jesus had already revealed on Mount Tabor.

Jesus knew that His disciples were about to witness the darkest days of their lives. Soon they would see Him betrayed, arrested, mocked, scourged, and crucified. Everything they had hoped for would seem to collapse.

So before asking them to walk with Him to Calvary, He first led Peter, James, and John up Mount Tabor.

There, while He was praying, His appearance was transformed. His face shone like the sun. His clothes became dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appeared beside Him. The Father's voice declared, "This is my beloved Son. Listen to Him."

This was not simply a spectacular miracle. It was preparation.

Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen beautifully captures the purpose of the Transfiguration: before asking the disciples to believe in His Calvary, Christ allowed them to glimpse His glory beyond the scandal of the Cross. The memory of Tabor was meant to sustain them through the darkness of Calvary.

God does not reveal the Cross without first revealing its meaning.

Just days earlier, Jesus had announced for the first time that He must go to Jerusalem, suffer, be rejected, and die. Peter immediately rebuked Him. He wanted the Messiah without the Cross. Now, on Mount Tabor, Peter makes the same mistake in a different way. Overwhelmed by the glory of the moment, he proposes building three tents, as though the Kingdom of God could remain on the mountaintop without ever passing through Calvary. Peter had not yet learned that there is no Easter morning without Good Friday. But the mountain was never the destination; it was preparation for the valley below.

How often we resemble Peter.

We want success without sacrifice. Resurrection without Good Friday. Achievement without discipline. Healing without the slow journey of recovery. We long for the destination but resist the process that leads us there.

The Transfiguration reveals that the way to glory passes through the Cross, not by avoiding it.

This is why the Transfiguration immediately follows Jesus' first prediction of His Passion. The disciples could never understand the meaning of the Cross unless they first understood who was carrying it. If Jesus were merely another failed teacher, Calvary would have shattered their faith. But if the One hanging upon the Cross is also the One whose face shone like the sun on Mount Tabor, then the Cross is no longer a sign of defeat; it becomes the supreme revelation of divine love.

The Letter to the Hebrews expresses this mystery in a single sentence: "For the joy that was set before Him, He endured the Cross" (Hebrews 12:2). Jesus looked beyond Calvary to Easter, beyond suffering to salvation, beyond death to the redemption of the world.

A person who knows why he is living experiences life differently. The hardships do not disappear, but they no longer seem meaningless. Difficulties become part of a larger story. Sacrifice becomes an investment rather than a loss. Even failure is not the end, because it serves a purpose beyond itself. It is not an easier life that gives us peace, but a meaningful one.

When purpose is forgotten, nothing outside us may change, yet everything inside us does. The work remains the same, but it feels heavier. The people remain the same, but they become harder to love. Prayer becomes routine, service becomes labour, and sacrifice begins to feel like a burden instead of a gift.

Perhaps that is why every vocation needs its own Mount Tabor.

There are moments when God reminds us why we began: the first joy of our calling, an answered prayer, a life that was changed because of our kindness, a deep experience of His presence, or the quiet certainty that we are exactly where He wants us to be.

Those moments do not remove the difficult years ahead. They make it possible to walk into them.

The Transfiguration is not only a preparation for the disciples; it is also a revelation of God's plan for every disciple. The mountain shows not only who Jesus is, but also what God's grace is slowly accomplishing in us.

What changed was not Jesus. He had always been fully God and fully man. What changed was what the disciples were allowed to see. For one brief moment, the veil covering His humanity was lifted, and His divine glory shone through.

Saint Paul uses this very same language when speaking about every Christian:

"We all, with unveiled faces, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another." (2 Corinthians 3:18)

The Christian life is a lifelong transfiguration.

God is gradually shaping us into the likeness of Christ. Grace does not erase our humanity; it reveals the person God created us to become.

There is, however, one important difference between Frankl's insight and the Gospel.

Frankl teaches that meaning enables people to endure suffering.

Christianity goes even deeper.

Our "why" is not simply a purpose, an ideal, or a cause.

Our "why" is a Person.

It is Christ Himself.

That is why the Father's command from the cloud is so important:

"Listen to Him."

Our purpose is not something we invent. It is something we receive from the One who calls us.

Every vocation has its Mount Tabor and its Mount Calvary.

On Tabor, God reminds us why we began. On Calvary, He asks whether we still trust Him when the glory is hidden. Those who remember their Tabor can endure their Calvary.

Viktor Frankl observed that those who have a "why" can endure almost any "how." The Gospel agrees but reveals something greater. Our "why" is not just a purpose to pursue but a Person to follow. Jesus Christ, whose glory shone on Mount Tabor, is the same Lord who carried the Cross on Calvary. In Him, every cross embraced in love becomes the path to resurrection.