Betcha you never thought you’d hear this question from a journalism student: Does keeping up with news make us any better?
I mean, really, does it make us better people?
For example: We use aircraft and chemistry to save the lives of preemies. We also use aircraft and chemistry to blow lives into smithereens. And with the technology of today, we can hear about both these stories on the five o’clock news. But does it help us to know that a baby survived in neonatal intensive care, or that three civilians died in an attack that obliterated a terrorist compound?
We turn on the TV network or listen to the radio news or read online articles to find other stories from China, the U.K., Sudan, India, Colombia, Denmark, and Afghanistan. We know about gang problems in Denver, subway slow-downs in New York, bad weather in Minneapolis, and science standards for schools in Wichita. We know what the president-elect said this morning, what brand of shoes his wife wears and what cookies their kids eat.
But do we know so much about the rest of the world that we forget – or don’t have time – to know about our neck of the woods? What do we know about ourselves or the family members back home or the neighbors next door or the people who reside in our apartments or dorms?
As a journalist, I am pushed to explore theories of communication, to research people groups, to investigate ministries and corporations, to analyze facts and to pursue human interest story angles. Yet all the while, I wonder about the hodge-podge of my own identity and the reality of relationships around me.
Last week I watched “It’s a Wonderful Life” for the umpteenth time. I cringed as Mr. Gower (the druggist) slapped George Bailey (the errand boy) until his ears bled, and wondered why a boss could get away with behavior like that in the 1940s, but would be sued and slurred unmercifully today. At first I was horrified by his tirade. But then I began to find myself wishing that I could have a boss that would bust my ear one moment and then weep on my shoulder the next.
Why? Because “cutting your losses” is unheard of in this real relationship. Yes, it hurts – a lot. But it also heals a lot. Gower and Bailey are in it for the long haul, “for better or worse.” They teach us a lesson about love. It demands sacrifice, vulnerability and commitment. One man and one boy live years and years knowing each other and being known more and more deeply.
What about our culture? Go into any bookstore – Biola’s included – and find books about self-help, individual benefit, personal development, career management, leadership skills, selective relationships, and upward mobility.
The only upward mobility George Bailey has, however, is up the stairways of the Building & Loan and his home. The only train whistles he hears are in the Bedford Falls depot. The only foreign lands he sees are in pictures on brochures. He gives away his college money to his brother Harry – who gets a wife and job in New York, flies for the Navy, saves all the soldiers on a Pacific transport and wins the Medal of Honor. He gives away his honeymoon savings to customers hit by the Great Depression – they use their loans to buy houses, cars and goats. He gives away his last dollar to the faithless Violet Bick, who wants a fresh start. He even gives away his suicide attempt – in order to save a clumsy angel named Clarence who jumps first.
Saturday night, a previously unnoticed detail in the film screamed at me. Bailey stood in his office, staring at a portrait of his late father and his handwritten motto on the wall: “All you can take with you is that which you’ve given away.” Real sacrifice forged George Bailey’s failure and success. Real relationships broke and restored him.
This holiday season, I want to be a better person. I think I will start by reading a little less world news.
