Sermon, Parish Eucharist (online), Sunday 26 April 2020

By The Revd Mark Wakefield

Jesus, Here and Now

Reading: Luke 24.13-35

One of the most commented on features of the resurrection appearances is how they vary according to which gospel it is you are reading.  For some this variation is proof of their veracity, whereas for sceptics it suggests exactly the opposite.

What I want to discuss this morning is what unites these apparently disparate stories, rather than divides them, for in each of them Jesus presents a remarkably gentle, welcoming and reassuring presence. 

For those who believe in the resurrection it is THE pivotal point in human history.  This is the moment at which death and evil are shown to have no dominion over us.  In the words of Desmond Tutu, the resurrection shows us that:

“Good is stronger than evil; love is stronger than hate; light is stronger than darkness; life is stronger than death.”

This is the kind of good news that deserves the most almighty fanfare, full of trumpet blasts and clanging cymbals but that’s not what marks Jesus’ appearances to the disciples.

In last week’s reading from John’s gospel we’re told that Jesus simply came and stood among them and said “shalom”.  Strictly translated that means “peace be with you” or “be well” but its everyday, English equivalent is more properly “hello” or even just “hi”; as simple as that.  It’s almost as if nothing’s happened when, as we know, everything has happened during these last few days in the Easter story.  

In these  various accounts it seems that Jesus is just content to be with his friends again.  There’s no hint of recrimination in any of them, there’s no ticking off for the way they deserted him.  He’s doesn’t criticise them for not believing what Mary Magdalene had told them about having seen him at the tomb.  In fact the only possible hint of criticism comes in today’s gospel reading of his appearance to two disciplines on the Emmaus Road, when he says of their failure to believe what they’ve been told:

“Oh, how foolish you are and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared.”

But even this, in the context of the other appearances, seems more likely to have been said in a gently joshing tone, as in:

“Oh come on guys, stop being so thick!”

And when Jesus, whose identity at this stage in the story is still a mystery to the disciples, makes as if to depart from them, they beg him to stay with them, which hardly suggests they felt in any way admonished by him.  Here again, note Jesus’s gentle, unassuming presence. He doesn’t impose himself on them.  He’s content to let them decide whether to continue the conversation or not.  And finally, of course, when Jesus’ identity is at last revealed to them, there’s no drama about it.  Instead, in the words of the gospel, they realise it’s him “in the breaking of the bread.”  While those words will clearly remind us of the eucharist it’s also the case that what is recorded here is simply Jesus having a meal with his friends, the point being that Jesus is revealed in everyday fellowship; we don’t need to be gathered in church around the altar to know him.  This point has a special poignancy for us at the moment, a reminder that love St. Mary’s as we do, we can meet and know Jesus in ordinary human encounter anywhere, any day of the week.

There is also a bigger point that I’d like to finish on, one that goes to the heart of how we go about our life as a Christian community.  Every year, for the past few years, at around this time of year, I’ve written a report for the PCC that tries to capture how we are doing as a church.  It’s a mixed picture this year and one with a contradiction at its heart.  First, the bad news.  Average weekly attendance at the 10.30 service has dipped to just below100 from 110 last year.  That figure stood at 130 five years ago and 200 fifteen years ago.  There’s been no decline over the last five years in the number of people counting themselves as members of St. Mary’s, so this decline reflects a declining frequency of attendance, in common with rest of C of E (as if that gives us any comfort).

Now, needless to say, numbers aren’t everything but it should also go without saying that if this trend were to continue indefinitely there wouldn’t be much left of St. Mary’s.  And here’s the contradiction.  The church is in so many other ways in rude good health both as a worshipping community with wonderful music and liturgy and – crucially - in service of the local community. Consider: the growing and expanding youthwork; the homeless shelter; the Carers and Sharers group; the Primrose Tea Rooms; the lecture series; the designer sales; the brewery; the exciting plans for the refurbishment of the church; and so on and so forth.

All of this seems to me hugely significant given what we know about how the risen Jesus was with his disciples, for at our best we too are a gentle, welcoming and reassuring presence.  Our doors are open; we welcome others in; if they choose to stay with us that’s great but if not, that’s fine as well.  For sure, if there was a choice to be made between being a church with very high attendance and no service to the local community and having smaller attendance numbers and lots of service to the local community, then I hope we’d all choose to be where we are now.  But, as I said, there are limits to what we’ll be able to do if our attendance continues to decline indefinitely.

It may be, of course, that the pandemic is teaching us the importance of being together; well, we can only wait and see.  But, as we wait for the storm to pass, let’s be inspired by the gentle, welcoming and reassuring presence of the risen Jesus and recommit ourselves to being that presence in Primrose Hill for many years to come.

Amen