Evensong, Sunday Easter 2 2010, StJB  - Revd Janet Williams
Luke 24.13-35

In Shakespeare’s Much Ado about Nothing, a plot is hatched to make Beatrice and Benedict, who are well known to cordially detest one another, believe that each is actually in love with the other.  Conversations are staged so that they are overheard, people pretend to be hiding the facts for fear of the reaction they’ll get if they’re known. But in one glorious moment Beatrice turns everything upside down, as she declares “I believe it, better than reportingly.” That’s what Luke is getting at in our Gospel tonight, the difference between believing something ‘reportingly’, as a fact that we have heard told, and believing it another way, better than reportingly, in a way that sets our hearts ablaze with joy and love.
The extraordinary thing about Cleopas and the other disciple on the Emmaus road is that even though they had heard the Good News that Jesus was risen from the tomb, they were sad.  They were talking over all the events that we have celebrated in the last ten days, but it was just talk and confusion, and disappointed hope.  Even when Jesus himself encountered them, they were not able to understand or recognize what was really happening.  But by the end of the story they know what it feels like to have a heart on fire, and they are no longer people who believe reportingly in the risen Christ, but have encountered Him themselves.
Note how similar the Easter story is to the Christmas one in this respect: it is not enough to tell people about a God in heaven who creates and loves us; the Gospel tells a different story, of a God who comes to us in human flesh.  If we could recognize the risen Christ from reports only, he would not need legs and a belly, but it is in his walking with us, talking to us, breaking bread with us, that we find him. Christ is always God incarnate, God in human flesh. 
If we are thinking about sharing this glorious good news, then, sermons won’t cut the mustard: we’re going to need conversations, in which the Gospel gets connected to the beliefs and hopes that people bring with them to our encounters. Books and leaflets won’t do the trick either: we’re going to need our legs and our bellies, to walk with people and eat with people.  Next Sunday we will have the first of our monthly Long Table Lunches, using tables set up in the north aisle after the 10am service. This will give us the opportunity to share the good news by sitting alongside friends, neighbours and visitors, and to create a place where visitors might recognize the risen Christ.
Two or three years ago the BBC produced a new TV version of the Passion story, and when they got to the resurrection appearances, the actor who had played Jesus did not reappear.  Instead, in each appearance a different new actor played the risen Christ. It was a powerful way of posing the question, what was it that made people recognise Christ in this encounter?  It also suggested that the Risen Christ might wear many faces, might even wear yours and my faces, if it is in and through our bodies that he makes these conversations, has these walks, shares these meals.
If that sounds terrifying – and it terrifies me – I propose that we seek a little more comfort from Luke. There is that wonderful moment, when the disciples still don’t recognize who is beside them, when their hearts are already on fire but they haven’t noticed it yet, when they turn to the stranger and say ‘Stay with us’.  If we are asked to be the face of Christ for someone else, that’s their concern and not ours.  As for us, let’s turn to strangers, let’s spend time talking with them, let’s invite them to stay awhile, and let’s be open to the possibility that as we break bread together we will find ourselves face to face with our Lord, and come to believe in His presence here, better than reportingly.