The mountain is the ancient image of the hierarchy of value, the single high place a soul climbs toward when it aims at what is highest. The climb is open. Those the world had shut out, the foreigner and the maimed man who thought himself barred forever, are brought up the slope and set at the center. The height was never reserved for the few who were born near it.
What makes the offering acceptable is the aim behind it, not the pedigree of the one who brings it. Any person who orders himself upward and gives what he has may lay it on the altar and have it received. Joy waits at the top of that ascent, not exclusion. The door to the highest good stands open to anyone willing to make the climb.