You have seen photographs of the sun taken during a total eclipse. The corona fills the print. All of those photographs were taken through telescopes. The lenses of telescopes and cameras can no more cover the breadth and scale of the visual array than language can cover the breadth and simultaneity of internal experience. Lenses enlarge the sight, omit its context, and make of it a pretty and sensible picture, like something on a Christmas card. I assure you, if you send any shepherds a Christmas card on which is printed a three-by-three photograph of the angel of the Lord, the glory of the Lord, and a multitude of the heavenly host, they will not be sore afraid. More fearsome things can come in envelopes. More moving photographs than those of the sun’s corona can appear in magazines. But I pray you will never see anything more awful in the sky.
Valhalla also gives the PGA plenty of flexibility to keep its championship in August and simply play it in May every fourth year when the Olympics are staged. In the case of Augusta National, playing the Masters there every year certainly has enhanced player and spectator familiarity. I would argue that even with the natural beauty of Augusta National in early April, the golf course itself is not as dramatic or as challenging as at Valhalla. Certainly, Valhalla can be better and the PGA would be greatly incentivized to do that if it were a showcase of the championships that it owns.