Russert's Trustworthy Spirit

I cannot believe how sad I am.

I did not know Tim Russert, but upon hearing about his death, I realized how much I trusted him as a journalist.

I listened to the stories about him told by those who did know and love him, and I was moved to tears. I began to understand that it was his faith, his father and his beginnings which made him the man and journalist he was.

His dad and his faith made him believe in and practice searching for the truth, making his interviews at once riveting and intellectually stimulating, yet palatable to the common man.

He was, after all, a common man used for lofty purposes. He believed that because he had been given much, he had to give much back. That is a Biblical principle, stated in the book of Luke. It was why he named his son Luke … as if to make sure he always remembered what he was supposed to do.

It’s rare, I think, that a person can become great and yet remain the same as he or she was before greatness visited. To be great is to have power, and power is seductive. It pulls its hosts to places far from the madding crowd, far from the neighborhoods and experiences that shaped them. When that happens, they lose touch with the masses. We ( the masses) are nice and all, but may certainly be ignored.

Tim Russert, though, had this air about him, like, “I’m no different than you. I just got a break.”

And because he had that spirit, he could touch people, even though he dealt with politics, a discipline which is fraught with corruption and deceit. Russert could find that which was good in politics, or at least important, and make people stop, listen, and believe.

There are not many political journalists who can do that.

I rarely saw “Meet the Press,” because I am a pastor; I am in church on Sunday mornings.

But I always perked up and listened for Russert’s reports on the “Today” show. I believed his analysis, and I trusted his opinions. I thought he was fair, and I thought he reported politics with a toughness and yet a compassion that was amazing.

Even when he frowned or was concerned about an issue, he seemed to have a smile on his face.

When Pope John Paul II died, I sat glued to the television, soaking up the greatness of this man I never knew … yet somehow, loved. When I went to Rome, I stood outside the Vatican and gazed up to the window in which we all saw the light through the night as the Pontiff transitioned from the bowels of earth to the arms of God. It was as though I expected to see his spirit.

I reread the entire Gospel of John because it was the book that this man, so close to God, had wanted read to him as he died. Whatever it was that comforted the Pope, I wanted, too.

I am not Catholic. I just love God, and I loved what this man had done, in the name of faith, for me personally, but for the world. To think that an old man could rally literally thousands of young people and even dance around a bit.

It was the spirit of the Pope which drew me … and it is the spirit of Russert which is drawing me now.

I wish I had known him, and had somehow been able to work with him or meet him or just chat with him for a minute. Truly great people, shaped and guided by their faith, are rare.

But you can be sure that I am ingesting all this conversation about what made him great, just like I ingested the Gospel of John in a new way after the Pope died.

If Russert meant to give much, he must know now that he did exactly that.

The Rev. Dr. Susan K. Smith is author of “Forgive Who?” and senior pastor of Advent United Church of Christ in Columbus, Ohio.

By Susan K. Smith |  June 17, 2008; 9:47 AM ET
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