Wednesday of the first week of Advent

On this mountain.
On this holy mountain.
The hand of God will rest on this holy mountain.
The hand of our God will rest on this holy mountain and we will rejoice and be glad.

Like migratory birds, we are drawn home this season even if we've set down deep roots elsewhere. My neighbors go to Oklahoma and Fenton; Mike and I cross two alleys and a street to my parents' house, but then the next day, literally over the river and through the woods to my in-laws'. We go home.

And so it is with pilgrimages. But why go to the holy mountain? Why go to the temple at all? What makes a place special or holy? Does God really bless one place and discard another? I thought the rain fell on the just and the unjust. We refer to places as godforsaken, but are they? What brings God to one place and yet leave another ordinary or even barren?

I think we do. Our desire to be with God, our energy, our work and prayer bring holiness to a place. When we leave and others follow, the work and hope we brought is left there for them. A place holds onto God, onto us, and as time passes, achieves a patina of holiness. A new house doesn't have this feeling--nor does a new church or even a new campground. It is with time and with people that holiness, reverence, and joy come.

The same is true for you and for me.