Sermon for December 26, 2010
Last Sunday evening, after the amazing and powerful "Feast of Carols" here at 1st Presbyterian, I went up to Bill Dickinson and told him that he and the choir really knew how to fill this sanctuary--the two choirs, the orchestra and brass section, the organ, piano, bells, and percussion, all filled this room with resplendent and majestic music, praising God in the Highest. But they also managed to fill the sanctuary with people, too, and not just here up front. I was grateful to have been one of those people filling the sanctuary. But I'm also grateful that it isn't quite so full this Sunday morning after Christmas, because that would have just ruined my sermon this morning!
I wasn't too worried, though. In churches across the nation, this morning marks an event that has a name, although you won't find it in any liturgical calendar: The Sunday after Christmas is often referred to as "Low Sunday." As in, "low attendance" Sunday. A friend of mine, who is the youth director at a large, multi-staff church in Dallas, refers to it as "Associate Pastor Sunday" or "Guest Preacher Sunday," reflecting the fact that often even the pastor doesn't show up. Don't put Dr. Bob on the hook too much, though--I actually volunteered to preach this Sunday way back at the end of the summer, when I knew this would be my only Sunday here in El Paso.
I can understand, though, why attendance usually drops of the chart on Low Sunday -- the Advent Season leading up to Christmas is kind of like the "playoffs" for most churches, with events like the "Feast of Carols" as the Superbowl, or the Christmas Eve Service as the "All Star Game" (pun intended -- get it? All-Star, Star of Bethlehem?). By the time Christmas rolls around, the congregation--and especially its leaders--are just worn out on worship services. Add to that the craziness of our consumer-shopping-cookie-baking-gift-wrapping-photo-taking-wallet-breaking-picture-perfect Christmas culture. Everybody's exhausted by now. Which is interesting, considering that in the church calendar (unlike the shopping calendar), December 25th doesn't mark the end of the Christmas season, it marks the very beginning! I've also heard often that attendance is low because people are out of town, with family in other places. I've always thought that one was a little shaky: If people leave *this* town, they're still in some other town, and people from other towns come here to visit family--so attendance should stay the same, but out-of-town visitors should be way up. And if you are one of those out-of-town visitors with us today, welcome! You get a gold-star and some cookies after the service for being so faithful.
But whatever the reasons, good or bad, the Sunday after Christmas remains one of the most poorly attended Sundays of the year. Low Sunday. Look around you...you are the few, the proud, the real "Christmas Christians." I'll come back to this idea of Low Sunday in just a bit, but first I want to backtrack through today's scripture reading in the Psalms.
I first started preparing for this sermon a few months ago (not because I'm that on top of things, but because Patty and Rev. Lynnette know I like to procrastinate, and sent me nice emails saying -- Hey! Get your act together!). Preaching from the Gospel passage about the birth of Jesus would have been a slam-dunk. Easy tie-in to the season. And it's always a little dicey preaching from the Old Testament passage. The Old Testament is quite the "box of chocolates" where you never know what you're gonna get. Psalm 148, as it turns out, is all about sea monsters, fruit trees, and cows praising God. Yeah, let's run with that one. In addition to those, you also have sun, moon, stars, water, wind, snow, frost, fire, mountains, and hills praising the Lord. All inanimate objects. How does a hill praise God, I wonder? For your homework assignment, I want you to go home, find a hill, watch it very carefully for a few hours, and let me know. If people think you're weird, tell them it's just a Presbyterian thing. They already think we're weird, so it won't change anything.
If you add to that list wild animals, creeping things, flying birds, and angels--we still have a lot of non-human things praising God. Only two little verses toward the end mention kings, princes, rulers, young men and women, old and young alike: Let them Praise the name of the Lord, too. We humans are a minority in this Psalm of praise to God. And in a Bible so predominantly focused on people and nations, that's a bit odd, don't you think? So, I put this verse on the shelf in my brain, and went about the business of getting ready for Christmas Craziness.
It was about halfway through the 4th time singing "Joy to the World" that it hit me: The other big place you see a whole lot of inanimate things praising God, along with farm animals and celestial beings? Christmas hymns.
- Fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains, repeat the sounding joy, repeat the sounding joy...and heaven and nature sing, and heaven and nature sing...
- Ox and ass before him bow, and he is in the manger now.
- The stars in the sky look down where he lay, the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay
- Do you See what I see? A star, a star, dancing in the night. Do you hear what I hear? A song, a song, high above the trees with a voice as big as the sea.
- Sing choirs of angels, sing in exultation, sing all ye citizens of heaven above
- Angels we have heard on high, sweetly singing o'er the plains, and the...[pause]...MOUNTAINS in reply, echoing their joyous strains.
The list goes on and on. Humans, of course, do feature in Christmas Hymns too, but often the non-humans are *already* praising God, while the hymn is pleading with humans to join in: "Joyful, all ye nations rise, *Join* the triumph of the skies, With the angelic host proclaim:
