Sermon: "News Too Good to Believe?"
The Right Reverend Charles G. vonRosenberg
Third Bishop of East Tennessee

A clergyperson not present today, in another church, in a town far away became concerned - along with lay leadership there - about the lack of attention given to children in worship. Together they committed themselves to changing that situation. As a result, one of the rector's new responsibilities was to provide an occasional children's sermon.

As the time approached for the first children's sermon, the rector grew more and more anxious. He thought a great deal about this activity that was new to him. In his reading about children's sermons, he came to realize the importance of involving the young people directly. Therefore, he developed a plan - but he was very nervous about it.

The Sunday finally arrived. At the appointed time, the rector called the children of the congregation up to the front of the church. All of them sat down on the floor together. And, so, the time had come for the sermon itself.

The rector said, "Today I want to speak with you about God's love for everything that God has made. And I want to begin by asking you a question. Who can tell me what furry little animal runs around on the ground but also climbs trees?" The rector stopped and looked at the children. None of them seemed to know the answer - and none of them seemed to care about this precarious, potentially embarrassing situation.

But he continued, "You know. This animal gathers nuts and buries them in the ground sometimes." Still no answer … no interest, no compassion.

The rector was becoming desperate. "Come on, kids. What animal is furry and climbs trees and builds nests and eats nuts?" Finally, one boy in the back of the group tentatively raised his hand. The very relieved rector pointed to the boy and said, "Please tell us what this animal is." And the boy said, in a very quiet voice, "I know the answer is Jesus Christ. But it sure sounds like a squirrel to me!"

Many, many years earlier - in another place, in a very different time - two people walked along a road. They talked about what had happened recently to their close group of friends and, especially, to their leader. In a remarkable example of cooperation, that leader had been betrayed and arrested by the religious authorities and, then, tried and put to death by the political authorities. The followers of this man had held high hopes for the future, but their hopes seemed entirely dashed now.

As this pair continued walking, another traveler who was going in their direction joined them. The conversation continued. Since the leader's death, a strange story had been told. His body was missing from the tomb, and some people even claimed to have seen him, walking around after his death.

The travelers - the three of them now - stopped near the village of Emmaus for a meal. They sat down to eat their food together. And in the simple, everyday action of sharing food at a table, the stranger's identify was revealed.

And ever since that very common - but profoundly holy - moment, our salvation history has proclaimed that Jesus becomes known in the breaking of bread.

Jesus left the other two at that time. And then, they really had something to talk about. The Bible records that they said, with the benefits of hindsight, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?"

But I wonder if something else was said first. It seems to me that after Jesus left, one of those disciples might have asked, "Do you know who that was?" And the other one may have responded, "I know the answer is Jesus Christ. But he sure seemed like just a fellow traveler to me!"

When is good news too good to believe? Two puzzled, frightened, disillusioned men - probably running from certain harm - come face to face with the assurance that everything they dared hoped for has happened. When is good news too good to believe?

I remember a woman in a parish I served. She collapsed, unconscious, just prior to a church meeting. She was rushed to the hospital with a leaking aneurysm in her brain, and chances for survival were deemed slim indeed. Surgery was quickly performed, and according to doctors, it was a miracle that she lived through it. The patient had a lengthy recovery, and she experienced some complications. However, basically her normal life resumed eventually. But her family had such trouble allowing her to get on with that life. They wanted to protect her and to hold onto her all the time. In a very real sense, they could not believe that she was alive. When is good news too good to believe?

A young teenager in another town had enough of his parents' tight supervision one day. He got on his bicycle and left. As the hours went by, the parents' anxiety increased. The group that gathered at their home had trouble maintaining bright optimism as darkness fell. Still the wait continued, without any word. Then, finally - many hours later - the boy was found, unharmed. But when he returned home, the over-protective parents smothered him. They could not believe that he was all right, and they could not bear to let him out of their sight. When is good news too good to believe?

In these weeks after Easter, we read examples of the appearance of Jesus following his resurrection - times that the exalted Christ appeared to people he knew. These appearances serve to confirm the resurrection; to announce the certain identity of Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah; to proclaim that long hoped-for - but scarcely believed - victory over death. When is good news too good to believe?

We say that our faith is tested when we face hardship, when we encounter unexplained suffering and tragedy, when our pent-up cry of "Why?" reverberates with the responding echo of nothingness. And surely our faith is indeed tested at such times.

But I tell you this, my friends. A more profound test of faith exists than those. It is the test of good news, not bad. When is good news too good to believe? The resurrection of Jesus? Life after death? The primacy of love over everything else? The presence of Jesus with us on every step of our life's journey?

"Do you know who that was?", one disciples may have the other. "I know the answer is Jesus Christ. But he sure seemed like just a fellow traveler to me."

Lord, I pray that I may see in my fellow travelers none other than the face of Jesus himself! Amen.

Copyright © 2002 The Episcopal Diocese of East Tennessee