I’ve always read the Road to Emmaus through the lens of the Eucharist, with the disciples recognizing Jesus in the breaking of the bread as pretty much the whole point of the story.

But here we are in 2020 unable to celebrate the Eucharist because of the pandemic, and thus currently not able to experience the risen Jesus in the sacrament. The last time I received Holy Communion was on the Third Sunday in Lent, March 15, six weeks ago. That’s a long time to go without the holy meal, especially for one for whom the Eucharist is a centerpiece of the Christian life.

We are living through and enduring a remarkable period in church history with our refraining from the feast of the Lord’s table. Eucharistic practice was inhibited for many a century ago during the flu pandemic of 1918. But such prohibitions are rare. The global extent of the universal church’s Eucharistic abstinence is perhaps unprecedented.

What’s more disquieting, if not to say, painful, is that our abstinence is occurring during Eastertide when we Lutherans love to sing, “This is the feast of victory for our God!” Except that we cannot eat this feast! It’s like the people of Israel being asked by their captors to sing the songs of Zion in exile in a foreign land.

But again, here we are abstaining from the risen Jesus being made known to us in the breaking of bread. How do we make the most of this season of Eucharistic exile?

This dry interval gives us an opportunity to take another look at the story of the Road to Emmaus, to see it with fresh, if not to say, longing eyes. There’s a lot more going on in this passage than references to the sacramental meal of the Eucharist. Where else might we encounter and ultimately recognize the risen Jesus in this story?

Let me cut to the chase and point you to this verse: “Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, [Jesus] interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” (Luke 24:27)

Here Jesus engages the two on the road in a teaching moment in the context of personal, holy conversation. Perhaps it’s not too much of a stretch to say that Jesus is doing a bit of preaching with the two disciples, especially when Jesus says in exasperation, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!” (Luke 24:25) – that’s preachy at least, even if it’s not strictly speaking sermonic!

Jesus’ holy conversation with the two on the road is not unlike what I am doing with you right now – interpreting to you the things of Jesus found in this scriptural passage from Luke’s Gospel. While I am not with you on your own journey in person, this video encounter is in its own way a dialogical engagement with you.

For the two on the road, there was something compelling enough about their time with Jesus interpreting scripture to them that they wanted more: “As they came near the village to which they were going, [Jesus] walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, ‘Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’ So he went in to stay with them.” (Luke 24:29)

This may well have been an act of hospitality on the part of the two – the roads were dangerous at night. But surely their spiritual and intellectual hunger was also being stirred.

In fact, in hindsight, where vision is 20/20, the two disciples acknowledged as much upon reflecting on the experience after Jesus vanished from their sight: “They said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us, while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’” (Luke 24:32)

I wonder if the two disciples would have recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread if he had not prepared them for that experience by opening the scriptures concerning himself to them?

Quite significantly, and very much to the point, we see in the story of the Road to Emmaus the centrality of Word and Sacrament, in connection and interdependence. The story is not just about Jesus being made known and recognizable as the risen one in the breaking of the bread. The story is also about the presence of Jesus in scriptural interpretation, how opening sacred texts results in encounters with our risen Lord.

During this season of unwanted but necessary Eucharistic abstinence, we have an opportunity to zero in on Jesus’ unmistakable presence in the Word, in the interpretation of scripture, in opening the scriptures through holy, conversational, pedagogical, and homiletical ways.

Moreover, we have a special opportunity now to consider the ways in which our hearts burn within us when we engage the scriptures.

I invite you to recall occasions in your journey of faith when you have felt your heart burning within you as you have studied and prayed with the scriptures. Perhaps you then experienced Christ’s presence.

Maybe it was during a group Bible study, or a summer Bible camp experience, or maybe your own devotion with and study of the scriptures, or maybe hearing a sermon, or taking a course on the Bible in college. Or some other encounter with the sacred word with others.

Charles Wesley, the founder of Methodism, had his heart strangely warmed during a public reading of Luther’s “Preface to the Romans,” which led to his experience of profound spiritual renewal.

Luther himself rediscovered the centrality of justification by grace effective through faith during his own rigorous study of the scriptures. This discovery transformed his life and indeed the course of both church and world history.

Maybe this time of Eucharistic abstinence can heighten your awareness of the presence of the risen Christ who is also made known to us when the scriptures are opened to us in many and various ways.

In short, I pray that when you are engaged with the scriptures you may have a palpable experience of heart burn – not the kind that requires Tums or other antacids, but the kind of experience with the sacred word that reveals the fires of the Holy Spirit and the living energies of Christ’s resurrection.

For Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed in the breaking open of the scriptures. Alleluia. Amen.