News Without Facts

The famous writer Mark Twain was on a European speaking tour in 1897 when a newspaper reported that he had died. When Twain heard the news, he is reported to have said, “The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.” Obviously, someone heard a rumor of the great writer’s death and without confirmation relayed the hearsay to others, and it spread like wildfire!

A recent poll revealed that bad news does indeed travel faster than good news, regardless of whether that news is left or right leaning. The Harvard Business School concluded that even though there is more good news than bad news on platforms like Twitter, the negative content was far more likely to be passed on to others. Consequently, newspapers, television broadcasts and other social media outlets tend to load their broadcasts with stories about violence and catastrophes and tragic events to raise their ratings.

Certainly we need to be informed about a wide array of current events, both positive and negative, but sometimes the news industry, in their desire to have people watch or listen, embellish their stories with what they know will attract viewers. And nothing catches people’s curiosity more than negative reports. Media giants know that bad news captures more attention and spreads more rapidly than good news and often shamelessly exploit that knowledge.

As individuals we, too, are often as guilty as the media outlets in sharing information that may contain only a kernel of truth or possibly no truth at all. It is part of our human nature to relish gossip that demeans another person or institution because it may make us feel better about ourselves.

Over the last number of years people have told me some of the most bizarre stories that I knew could not possibly be true, yet were believed by many. One person, who refused to be vaccinated against the coronavirus, told me that the government was planting tiny computer chips in the vaccine in order to control people’s minds or spy on those who were inoculated!

Adam Maida / The Atlantic

A survey by the respected Pew Research Center concludes that 64% of Americans say that fabricated news stories cause a great deal of confusion about what is true regarding current events. What’s really troubling is that about 23% of Americans admit they have shared information with others that they knew was false or misleading.

For a litany of psychological reasons, we tend to believe the very worst in people and connect the subjective dots in the most dysfunctional way possible. We spread rumors as though they were facts without ever checking and verifying our sources. Just because someone tells us something or we read or hear a report in the media doesn’t necessarily mean it’s reliable.

When I was nearing the end of my seminary training and anxious to pastor my first church, I sent resume after resume to churches looking for a pastor. Finally, the opportunity came for me to preach in front of a Pastoral Search Committee. Since I was not yet a pastor of a church, a friend invited me to preach in his church so the committee could hear and interview me.

As I waited in the pastor’s study, knowing that in a few minutes I would speak before a group of people who quite possibly could help me land my first pastoral job, I paced back and forth with nervous anxiety. What if they didn’t like me? What if my sermon fell flat?

When the time came for me to preach, my mouth was so dry I wasn’t sure I would be able to get through the sermon. Fortunately, the words began to stumble out of my mouth and in no time at all, at least for me but probably not for the congregation, I neared the end of my message.

Knowing how important the conclusion was to a sermon, I had borrowed my final illustration from a thick yellow volume of pastoral anecdotes that I had found in a bookstore only a few weeks earlier. The jacket cover stated that the book’s illustrations were tried and tested stories by great pastors. After hours of combing through stories, I found an illustration about Napoleon that was sure to emotionally move the congregation.

The story described a scene where Napoleon, while passing through a French countryside, spotted a soldier walking on the road who had only one arm. Napoleon stopped and asked the man how he had lost his arm. The soldier, in a tattered and faded uniform, stood proudly at attention and said that he had lost his arm while fighting for Napoleon’s empire.

Napoleon was deeply moved and asked the soldier if he would give up his other arm for the French cause. Without hesitation the man replied “Yes,” and swiftly drew his sword and cut off his other arm.

The story was supposed to illustrate the high cost of commitment. In the service of faith we are challenged to give our all. Right? I know, I know, the story is absolutely ridiculous, but the dang thing was in the book, and I foolishly used it.

A few hours later when I met with the Pastoral Search Committee, they asked me a series of questions about my background, hobbies, education and preaching experience. Finally, one of the older men said to me, “Michael, your last story was very interesting.”

I thought he was trying to compliment me and nodded a thanks.

Then, with a wry grin on his face, he responded, “Exactly how did that man cut off his arm?”

For a brief second I was caught off guard and didn’t understand the question. Then in an instant the absurdness of the story washed over me. I could feel my face becoming warm with embarrassment. How in the world does a one-armed man cut off his arm? How did I miss that? I felt like an absolute idiot.

The only thing I could do was to apologize for the story. I told them that I had read the illustration in a book, and it sounded good on the surface, and I had plugged it into my sermon. I had gotten so caught up in the point I was trying to make, I overlooked the credibility of the story.

In spite of my inexcusable gaffe, the Pastoral Search Committee invited me to be their pastor. The church had acquired a reputation for hiring graduates just out of the seminary and were probably accustomed to those kinds of mistakes by young and inexperienced ministers. My incredibly imbecilic story, however, taught me an important lesson--just because something moves you emotionally or confirms your particular view doesn’t mean it’s true.

Sharing false information or only partially true information is not news; it is only rumor and rumor seldom serves the common good.