First reading: Isaiah 2:1-5
Psalm: Ps 122:1-9
Epistle: Romans 13:11-14
Gospel: Matthew 24:37-44
 

“We will go up to the house of the LORD.”

Setting for Ascents:
 
This verse is from Psalm 122.  Psalm 122 is part of a series of fifteen Psalms, Psalms 120-134, that are called the Song of Ascents.  They are also called Songs of Steps or Pilgrim Songs.
 
These names indicate that these psalms were the ones sung by the people on the ascents, or goings up to Jerusalem to attend the three pilgrim festivals.  They were also sung by the priests as they ascended the steps to minister at the Temple in Jerusalem.
 
More than half of them are cheerful, and all of them are songs of hope.
 
Hope for:
 
There was certainly something to hope for.  God had often told Moses that His Sanctuary would one day be in a fixed place; yet from the time of Moses, for more than a thousand years, the Ark of the Covenant had been carried from place to place in a tent.  It was later revealed to David that mount Zion was the spot where God would have his ark settled, and his temple built.
 
Solomon was to carry out the building of the Temple in Jerusalem.  The Jewish people could go to meet God.  They didn’t have to figure out where the tent was, where God might be residing at the moment, His presence was in a fixed place, on Mount Zion, the place to which they could ascend.
 
The Jewish people sang songs as they ascended, they sang along their pilgrim journey. Can you envision people streaming from the twelve tribes into Jerusalem, bearing their gifts, singing these hopeful songs because they were going to meet God?
 
Hope dashed?

Whenever we speak of hope we speak of a hope that is conditional. Might our hopes be based on the following:  Daddy will spin me around every day, therefore he must love me.  My husband will place his hand on my shoulder, kiss me, and thank me, therefore he must love me.  My wife will greet me with joy in the evening, therefore she must love me.  Hope is often based on our understanding of how things should be, and sometimes for the worse, we turn those conditions into how things must be.
 
It is easy to dash conditional hope.  Expectation and hopefulness destroyed, the bright eyes of a child’s hope turned dim.  The same in relationships; the missed good morning kisses, the goodnight hug forgotten. The conditions block out the truth of love.
 
The Jewish people’s hope was conditioned on how they thought things should be.  They understood, and to this day they fight over Jerusalem, Mount Zion, the place they are very sure God must be.  That is their condition upon God.  You can dwell with us, here in this city, on this mountain, because that’s how it is supposed to be.
 
If you ever had your hopes dashed, if you weren’t spun around, greeted with a smile, or thanked, then you knew where the Jewish people were by the time Isaiah wrote.
 
By Isaiah’s time that city was gone, rubble.  Isaiah was with the Jews in Babylon.  They were in exile. Everything they had established as conditional upon God was broken down.  Yet, Isaiah writes:
 

“Come, let us climb the LORD’s mountain,
to the house of the God of Jacob

 
Hope was somehow alive, but the conditions had changed, in fact there wouldn’t be any conditions. God’s presence was to be based on love not conditions.
 
A new mountain:
 
Isaiah was moving from a conditional concept of God to a concept of God based on God’s revelation of love.  As with any prophet worth his paycheck, Isaiah was stirring things up. He was telling the Jewish people that God isn’t just ours, isn’t just on Mount Zion, isn’t dependent upon Jerusalem, but is God to whom all people will come:

In days to come,
the mountain of the LORD’s house
shall be established as the highest mountain
and raised above the hills.
All nations shall stream toward it

The Jewish people knew the lay of the land.  They knew that Mount Zion wasn’t the highest peak.  It was small compared to the other mountains on the horizon.  Isaiah is talking about God’s creation of a mountain for His house that all could see, that was higher than any other place on earth.  On that mountain God would open doors to all people.  He would in fact come out from there, reach down, and meet with His people.
 
This new mountain, this place that was so different from any of the conditions the people placed on God, would offer new and eternal hope.  Hope without condition, God without the requirements of men.  God meeting His people.  All people could ascend, all could hope, all could sing.
 
Where is the new mountain?
 
This new mountain is not in Jerusalem, or in Rome.  It is with us here in Binghamton, in Johnstown, in Scranton, and in Albany, yes, even in Rome and in Jerusalem.  It is present to the rich and the poor.  It is the place for happy families and the destitute.  It is for the employed and unemployed, the young and old, the scientist and the laborer, the place for all people.  It is everywhere we are because it is the presence of God in the world.  It is God holding out His hands to all of us, to pull us up, to heal us, to make us whole, and ultimately to show His love for us.  This new mountain, the way God has chosen to meet us, gives us every reason to sing a song of ascent.
 
St. John the Apostle and Evangelist described this new place which he called the heavenly Jerusalem in Revelation 21:2

I also saw the holy city, New Jerusalem,
coming down from God out of heaven,
prepared like a bride adorned for her husband.

 
This mountain isn’t just a place or a thing.  It is God dwelling among us.  We recognize that presence today, and we sing out our song of ascent.  We are going up to meet the Lord, singing songs, filled with joy.
 
The ladder:
 
Saint John Climacus, wrote The Ladder of Divine Ascent.  It is a treatise on avoiding vice and practicing virtue so that at the end, salvation can be obtained.  An icon, based on the treatise depicts many people climbing a ladder; at the top is Jesus Christ, prepared to receive the climbers into Heaven. Also shown are angels helping the climbers, and demons attempting to drag down the climbers. Most versions of the icon show at least one person falling.
 
St. Paul reminds us today that the day is near and that we must avoid the things that would make us fall, fall away from the holy mountain of the Lord.

You know the time;
it is the hour now for you to awake from sleep.
For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed;
the night is advanced, the day is at hand.
Let us then throw off the works of darkness
and put on the armor of light

Advent ladder:
 
Today we enter the Advent season.  What is at stake today, over these next four weeks, is our progress up the mountain, along the ladder to heaven.  It is not four quick weeks of getting ready, baking, buying, and becoming indebted to credit card companies — hopes and expectations that are conditional:  If you buy me this or bake me that I’ll know you love me.  Instead it is the season for getting right with our hope.  It is the season to begin our ascent again, to redouble our efforts, to recognize the reality of God’s love.
 
We need not go to Jerusalem.  We do need to come here, and not just on Sunday.  Let us come here in our hearts every morning.  Let us come here in our hearts and sing our song of ascent.  Let us teach our children the song of ascent and the means by which we climb the ladder together. Avoiding vice and practicing virtue?  Doing right by our souls rather than doing right by Martha Stewart decorations, Cooking Channel feasts, and Macy’s?  Can it be done?  Can we ascend today? Can we sing with our fellow pilgrims climbing into the arms of the Lord who reached down from heaven to come to us?  We can and we must!  Let us say with confidence: “We will go up to the house of the LORD.”  That is our song of hope, it is our song of ascent.  Amen.