Sunday Service 19th April 2026

One more step 
along the world I go,
One more step 
along the world I go.
From the old things 
to the new,
keep me travelling 
along with you.
 
2 Round the corners 
of the world I turn,
More and more 
about the world I learn.
All the new things 
that I see
You’ll be looking at 
along with me.

And it’s from the old I travel to the new.
Keep me travelling along with you.

Jesus lives! thy terrors now
can no more, O death, appal us;
Jesus lives! by this we know
thou, O grave, canst not enthral us.
Alleluia.
 
2 Jesus lives! henceforth is death
but the gate of life immortal:
this shall calm our trembling breath,
when we pass its gloomy portal.
Alleluia.
 
3 Jesus lives! for us he died;
then, alone to Jesus living,
pure in heart may we abide,
glory to our Saviour giving.
Alleluia.
 
4 Jesus lives! our hearts know well,
naught from us his love shall sever;
life nor death nor powers of hell
tear us from his keeping ever.
Alleluia.
 
5 Jesus lives! to him the throne
over all the world is given:
may we go where he is gone,
rest and reign with him in heaven.
Alleluia.

 
Sermon
 
Today’s gospel passage features a journey. Talking about Christian discipleship as a journey is something of a cliché, but it’s a cliché because it’s true. So where have you travelled to recently? Perhaps you went to visit family or friends for Easter, or perhaps you took advantage of Bank Holiday Monday to go out for the day. Or perhaps you prefer to stay home on Bank Holidays! Can you think of a journey which has been special to you, because of the destination, the people you shared it with, or the journey itself?
 
Last summer I spent two weeks on holiday in Ireland and while travelling around that beautiful country I passed through a village called Annascaul in County Kerry, about 15km east of Dingle. There’s a pub in the village with the unusual name of ‘The South Pole Inn’, despite  Antarctica being many thousands of kilometres away. Outside the pub is a statue of the former landlord who gave the establishment its name when he acquired it. This was a man named Tom Crean who was born in 1877 and grew up on a farm nearby. During his life he went on three expeditions to the Antarctic during the so-called ‘heroic age’ of Polar Exploration. At the age of 16 he joined the Royal Navy and in 1901 sailed aboard the ship Discovery, led by Captain Scott. A decade later he was a key member of Scott’s unsuccessful 1911-3 attempt to reach the South Pole. Crean was among of the last men sent back to base before Scott and two others headed on the final leg for the pole itself, a journey they did not return from. Crean meanwhile trekked solo across the Ross Ice Shelf in order to save the life of one of his comrades, and lived to tell the story.
 
He later headed a third and final time for the south in 1914 on the Endurance, led this time by Ernest Shackleton. The expedition soon went wrong when the ship was stuck in solid ice meaning it had to be abandoned. Crean accompanied Shackleton and one other on a rescue mission, crossing terrifying rough seas in a small open lifeboat with the intention of reaching a whaling station on the island of South Georgia. They reached the island but landed on its south side and were unable to sail around. This meant they had no option but to trek for 30 miles across an unmapped and glacier-covered mountain range with none of the proper equipment and very few supplies. Eventually they somehow made it, summoned help, and all the men of the expedition were brought back home safely. It’s one of the great feats of the so-called ‘heroic age’ of Antarctic exploration in the early twentieth century, and a tale of great bravery and determination. But afterwards, for a variety of reasons, Crean was somewhat neglected and his heroism not celebrated as much as that of his more famous comrades. He was working class and from Ireland – not an officer and a gentleman, but from the other ranks. He wrote no books and sought no fame, and in post-independence Ireland having served in the Royal Navy wasn’t something to talk about too openly. 
 
In his book South Shackleton later wrote about his experiences and noticed a curious phenomenon: “I know that during that long march of thirty-six hours over the unnamed mountains and glaciers of South Georgia it seemed to me often that we were four, not three.” He claims that the others felt the same thing; an unexplained and impossible extra presence. One understanding is that this is a psychological effect or a collective hallucination brought on by extreme stress, fatigue and hunger, and that is certainly part of it. But Shackleton seemed to understand it more spiritually, as a sense of being accompanied by God in a mysterious and intangible way. Is that a feeling we recognise? That God is present but in a way we can’t quite understand or put our finger on? It seems to me that beautifully describes being a disciple; choosing to put our faith and trust into a God who still remains mysterious and yet close to us.
 
All of which of course leads us to our Gospel reading and the story of the road to Emmaus, one of the most fascinating passages in Luke’s gospel. It’s a mysterious journey indeed. Just after the events of Jesus’ final week in Jerusalem we meet a man named Cleopas and a companion who isn’t named. There’s speculation it may be his wife, child or other relative, but we don’t know and the author of Luke’s gospel doesn’t feel the need to tell us. We also don’t know where exactly Emmaus was, other than it’s described as being around seven miles from Jerusalem. There isn’t a village called Emmaus that distance from Jerusalem, so maybe Luke has got the name wrong or made a mistake with his maths. But that doesn’t really matter, because it’s a theological story, a parable about resurrection, and whether it describes a literal event or not isn’t what’s interesting. The point is that it dramatises an encounter with the risen Jesus. 
 
The pair are on the road, going away from the city, walking away from what has turned out to be a sad disappointment. After all, the man they thought might save Israel is now dead, showing, they think, he wasn’t really the Messiah after all. Perhaps they think that their time following Jesus has been just a season in their lives and now the fun is over. But as they walk they fall into conversation with a fellow traveller, a stranger who they do not recognise. They begin to talk, and he challenges their sadness and disappointment, offering a very different perspective. He goes through scripture (that is, the Jewish Hebrew scripture) and explains why in fact it is necessary for the Messiah to suffer. It isn’t that the suffering wasn’t real or did not mean anything, but rather that a suffering Messiah is not a contradiction. These are still important issues for us: from the very beginning Christians have given different meanings to the resurrection and understood it in different ways. There are various theories of the atonement. Too often Christianity has become rigid and insistent on a narrow orthodoxy, rather than embracing the diversity of theological approaches. 
 
The journey continues. They carry on to along the road, and the now trio comes to a village. Cleopas and his friend invite the stranger to share a meal with them; the day is ending and it’s not the time to be journeying any further.  As the stranger takes, blesses and then breaks bread they realise who it is; all this time they have been walking with Jesus without realising it. Whatever prevents them from recognising him is gone, and what they have learned along the way is clear. His work for now apparently done just as mysteriously as he appeared, he is gone. It’s a powerful tale and it shares many aspects in common with other post-Easter appearances. Jesus is unrecognisable, changed by his experience of death and resurrection. Then there is a moment of realisation – an epiphany. This is also a story of learning and listening. It’s also crucially a story filled with questions and with movement. 
 
That shouldn’t surprise us. The Gospels are books of questions, of debate, and books of movement and travel. Jesus covers many thousands of miles almost entirely on foot (the exception being the short journey into Jerusalem on a donkey we remember a few weeks ago.) Jesus and his friends are always on the move, from Galilee in the north to Judea in the south and everywhere in between. And on the way they ask question and are asked questions. Sometimes questions which speak of a real desire to know more and gain understanding, and sometimes hostile questions intended to catch out and humiliate. 
 
What questions are asked. To begin ‘Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?’ And finally ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’ 
 
We learn by asking questions and considering the answers. The church should be a place where this is encouraged, where we always learning. 
Importantly reaching Emmaus and recognising Jesus is not the end of the story, but the beginning of a new chapter. Rather than continuing on their originally journey they perform a u-turn, rushing back to the city. And they share the story of what has happened to them, while those who have remained in the city also tell them the Lord has risen. Rather than fragmented in disappointment the embryonic Jesus movement is coming together. In time it will become the church, and we heard a part of that story from the book of Acts. Likely written by the same author as Luke’s gospel there are all sorts of connection and correspondences. Peter has been preaching, telling the good news about Jesus, quoting from the Jewish scriptures just as Jesus himself is described as doing. Three thousand people were added to their number. They devote themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to fellowship, and to the breaking of bread. All these things are present in Emmaus too; teaching and learning, the studying of scripture, questioning and growing. There is fellowship as they talk together and pass the time on the road. And, of course, the breaking of bread, which we do each time we celebrate communion and remember Jesus. 
 
Where are we on our journey of faith? Are we on the Emmaus road, working out what has happened and what it might mean, or are we heading back to Jerusalem in excitement? Either way, there is always more to learn, and more to do. The journey of discipleship is not about getting to a single destination, but living our lives in a way which puts Jesus at the centre, which means also asking questions and seeking new answers. Amen. 
 
Hymn                Who would true valour see
John Bunyan (1628-1688) BBC Songs of Praise
 

Who would true valour see,
let them come hither;
one here will constant be,
come wind, come weather;
there’s no discouragement
shall make them once relent
their first avowed intent
to be good pilgrims.
 
2 Whoso beset us round
with dismal stories,
do but themselves confound;
our strength the more is,
No lion can us fright;
we’ll with a giant fight,
but we will have a right
to be good pilgrims.

3 Hobgoblin nor foul fiend can daunt our spirits;
we knows we at the end shall life inherit.
Then, fancies, flee away; he’ll fear not what they say;
we’ll labour night and day to be good pilgrims.
 
Affirmation of faith
 
We believe what Cleopas and his friend 
came to believe in Emmaus:
“It is true! The Lord has risen.”
 
We believe that our Emmaus is here 
and we can encounter the same risen Jesus
in stories from Scripture,
when we pray alone or together, 
when we learn from friend or stranger.
 
We trust in a God who is sometimes hard to see,
who sometimes we do not recognise, 
but we trust is with us always. 
 
Offertory Prayer
 
God of abundance we remember our churches are able to meet
because people of faith and generosity
choose to come together in response to your call.
We celebrate all the ways in which people give to the church;
gifts of money, but also gifts of time and energy and dedication. 
We pray that together we will use these gifts
to follow wherever you lead us. Amen. 
 
Prayers of intercession
 
God of the Emmaus road, God who accompanies us as we travel
and can reach out to us in unexpected ways,
we have heard today of your message of renewal and new life, 
of abundant grace and love. 
 
But as we celebrate what we believe you have done for us
we pray for those who are struggling and need help.
We remember all victims of injustice and inequality 
caused by human actions
and we ask for guidance on how this suffering can best be ended.
We pray for all of those who know poverty, both across the world, 
and those struggling to manage in our local community. 
In a world where your abundant spirit of creation 
means there is enough for everyone too many go hungry. 
We pray for them, and for the work of aid agencies and others
who work to alleviate suffering and rebuild hope, 
 
We pray also for all those suffering due to war, 
where political differences have not been
resolved peacefully and violence is the result. 
We remember refugees from all parts of the
world forced to leave their homes due to the danger of conflict. 
We pray they will receive a warm and compassionate response;
we pray we will find ways to help.
 
We give thanks for the freedom we have 
to worship as we wish and express our beliefs,
and to question what we are told. 
We pray for those who do not have this freedom;
we pray for people in places where to worship openly,
or to criticise the powerful, is to invite persecution. 
We pray for a world in which people of all faiths and none
are free to follow their own conscience, 
a world which celebrates diversity and difference
and the complexity of your creation, 
rather than judging who are different to us. 
 
Finally, Lord, we pray for ourselves, may we, like Cleopas and his friend, 
encounter you in spirit and in truth as we travel along the road. 
 
Hymn       Come People of the risen King
Kristyn Getty, Keith Getty (born 1974) and Stuart Townend (born 1963)
© 2007 Thankyou Music OneLicence No. # A-734713 Courtesy of St Andrew’s Cathedral, Sydney.  
 

Come people of the Risen King,
who delight to bring him praise;
come all and tune 
your hearts to sing
to the Morning Star of grace.
From the shifting 
shadows of the earth
we will lift our eyes to him,
where steady arms of mercy reach
to gather children in.
 
Rejoice, rejoice!
Let every tongue rejoice!
One heart, one voice; 
O Church of Christ, rejoice!
 
2 Come, those whose 
joy is morning sun,
and those weeping 
through the night;
come, those who tell 
of battles won,
and those struggling in the fight.
For his perfect love 
will never change,
and his mercies never cease,
but follow us through all our days
with the certain hope of peace.

3 Come, young and old from every land – men and women of the faith;
come, those with full or empty hands – find the riches of his grace.
Over all the world, his people sing – shore to shore we hear them call
the truth that cries through every age ‘Our God is all in all’!
 
Blessing
 
Loving God, whose presence and grace fill our whole world,
help us to see you reflected in: 
the people we meet, 
the places we go, 
and the questions we ask.
 
May the grace of God almighty
Creator, redeemer and spirit
be with us and those whom we love
now and for ever.
Amen.