January 1, 2012

Religion Report:

Why is This Good News?

Luke 2:22-40

 

Today is the last day you will be receiving the “news” from The Good News Herald, but hopefully it won’t be the last time you hear some good news in this building. I like to think that one of the things that made our “newspaper” different was that it focused on good news rather than bad news.

As you know, most newspapers and other news outlets like television, radio, and the internet, focus on bad news. Why is that? Peter McWilliams said, “The news media are, for the most part, the bringers of bad news … and it’s not entirely the media’s fault; bad news gets higher ratings and sells more papers than good news.” Bad news piques our curiosity more than good news. Napoleon Bonaparte once said, “Never awake me when you have good news to announce, because with good news nothing presses; but when you have bad news, arouse me immediately, for then there is not an instant to be lost.”

If The Good News Herald were a real newspaper we would be going out of business soon because we have focused almost exclusively on good news. Do you remember our lead stories during Advent and Christmas? We began with a “weather report” from the Gospel of Mark, where we found hope in the midst of apocalyptic hopelessness. Isaiah’s “traffic report” reminded us that a spiritual path has been prepared for us as we journey through the wilderness of life. The Psalmist’s “farm report” told us that our sowing in tears would turn into reaping with joy. The angel Gabriel’s “birth announcement” revealed that Jesus’ kingdom of peace would know no end. On Christmas Eve, we heard a “travel report” from the shepherds whose visit to the baby Jesus pointed us to the God we have always feared, but who is best known in the baby born in a manger. And on Christmas morning our “Arts and Entertainment” reporter shared the good news from a 4^th century Christmas sermon.

There has been no shortage of good news in this Advent and Christmas season. But as we all know life isn’t just about good news. Just as light needs darkness in order to exist, good news needs bad news in order to exist. If we never had bad news we wouldn’t know good news if it bit us in the face.

One of the ways we face the inevitable bad news in life is through humor. I love the “good news/bad news” jokes. Let me share a couple of them with you.

The lawyer said to her client: “I have some good news and some bad news.” “Well, give me the bad news first.” “The bad news is that the DNA tests showed that it was your blood they found all over the crime scene.” “Oh no! I’m ruined! What’s the good news?” “The good news is your cholesterol is down to 130!”

            The doctor said to his patient: “I have some good news and some bad news.” “What’s the good news?” “The good news is they are naming a disease after you.”

            All humor aside, bad news is simply more interesting, more intriguing, and more tantalizing, which is why it sells more papers and gets more television viewers.

The word “tantalize” is an interesting word. In Greek mythology Tantalus was a king doomed in Hades to stand in water that always recedes when he wishes to drink and stands under fruit he cannot reach. To tantalize means to promise or show something desirable and then withhold it. Doesn’t this sound familiar to you? Religions tantalize us with good news, but the good news often seems just out of our reach, like a bright shiny red apple on a branch just beyond the length of our outstretched hand. Our religion, Christianity, makes all kinds of good news claims, but do they ever truly materialize, or are they always just tantalizingly close?

Our story today features two people who had been tantalized their entire adult lives by the good news promises of Judaism, the parent religion of Christianity. Simeon was a man who, as Luke writes, “lived in the prayerful expectancy of help for Israel.” The Holy Spirit, we are told, promised him that he would see the Jewish Messiah before he died. There must have been a lot of people who were waiting on the fulfillment of this promise. Luke also tells us about a prophetess named Anna who “never left the Temple area,” and who “talked about the child to all who were waiting expectantly for the freeing of Jerusalem.” One day, the good news that Simeon and Anna were waiting for materialized in the person of the baby Jesus. The fulfillment of long expected promises, that which had been tantalizingly close is now in their grasp.

But not so fast … it’s not all good news. Simeon says to Mary, the mother of the baby, “I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is that I don’t have to keep hanging around the Temple every single, cotton-picking day waiting for the Messiah. I’ve seen the baby Jesus with my own eyes. In him I see salvation, light, and glory. Now I can die in peace! The bad news, however, is that his life won’t be a piece of cake. While he may open a lot of eyes to what God is doing in the world, there will be some who will misunderstand him and reject him. When you see this happening to your son it will feel like someone has thrust a sword into your heart.”

Simeon’s words to Mary—at least the good news part of it—have been used in Christian liturgies throughout the ages. The Song of Simeon, the Nunc Dimitis, is one of the most famous prayers in Scripture. Over the centuries Christians have turned to these words whenever they see something that “smacks of salvation.”

Here’s one very public example: the Republican Convention, Chicago, 1860. During the tense third ballot, Ohio switched four votes from Salmon P. Chase to Abraham Lincoln, thereby giving the lawyer from Illinois the nomination. At Ohio’s announcement, Chase cried, and Lincoln quoted Scripture. At the top of his lungs, Lincoln said, “Now Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace for these eyes of mine have seen thy salvation.”

Good news for one person can be bad news for another. Simeon and Anna sensed that this baby was good news, but years later the religious leaders and the Roman government did not. Jesus has always elicited mixed responses. One of my favorite cartoons, which I have posted on Facebook, shows an earthling speaking to a little green alien who has just landed on earth. The alien says to the earthling, “Oh, he comes back every two weeks or so. We gave him this big box of chocolates when he first arrived. Why? What’d you guys do?” The caption underneath the cartoon reads, “Well, the good news is that we found out Jesus is worshiped on other planets.”

Some people saw Jesus as good news, others were threatened by him. The same is true about the church. Jesus’ followers generally make the news only when the news is bad or ugly: the sex scandals, the fake healings, protesting funerals, bigotry, racism, homophobia, false predictions of the end of the world, financial misdeeds, etc. Jesus is often bad news to the world because of the behavior of those who profess to follow him.

So let me offer a challenge to us. Do we think we can make the news for something good this year? We often talk about setting goals for the year, and we usually come up with the same old answers like more members, more involvement from our members, better worship, and new programs. How about setting a goal of making the news—but news that could be printed in a paper like The Good News Herald? To make that happen we have to develop the eyes of faith to see good news, and know it when we see it. We have to be able to know when something “smacks of salvation,” just as Simeon and Anna did when Joseph and Mary brought the baby Jesus to the Temple.

            As we begin a new year, one that can be full of promise or lacking, this is our calling: To see the good news of Jesus Christ as something attainable, livable, experiential, rather than something that is beyond our grasp, beyond our comprehension, beyond our vision. I offered a quote earlier by Peter McWilliams, who claims that bad news gets higher ratings and sells more papers than good news. As we begin a new year, we need to ask ourselves if we just want higher ratings or do we want people to look at us and say, “They have some good news to share.”

Doesn’t it all just seem so tantalizingly close? For the most part, 2011 was a good year at St. Andrew. I would venture to say that we had some of the most memorable worship services we have ever had here. 2011 brought us some really wonderful new members to our congregation. I’m excited about 2012 because like Simeon I have seen things that smack of salvation. Unlike Simeon, however, I am not ready to depart in peace … With all that has happened here it feels tantalizingly close to something really good. I found a love poem called “So Close and Yet So Far Away.” I believe it is an accurate portrayal of our relationship—our struggle—with the good news that we so desperately want to find and know in Jesus. I’ll use it as a closing prayer to my sermon:

 

You’re my secret

You’re my inspiration

You’re my journey

You’re my destination

You have always been so close

And yet so far away.

 

You’re my best friend

You’re my total stranger

You’re my lifeline

You’re my hint of danger

You have always been so close

And yet so far away.

 

In my hour of need

I call on you

To comfort me

But you could only set me free.

 

You’re my memories

You’re my Rock of Ages

You’re my future

You’re my empty pages

You have always been so close

And yet so far away …