The Mass as Ultralight Aircraft: A Homily on the Transformative Power of the Eucharist 

           When was the last time you met someone who really impressed you? When was the last time you met someone that made you stop, shake your head and say, “What an amazing individual!”
           Well, let me introduce to a fellow named Tony who grew up in my hometown, a small rural community in west-central Ohio. ,
           When Tony was 18, he had a diving accident at the town swimming pool, an accident which paralyzed him from the chest down.
           Imagine how devastating that experience must have been for a strapping young man who liked to hunt, fish and play every kind of sport. For most of us, the thought of living life in such a compromised condition is too terrible to contemplate. Yet, Tony had no choice. He had to accept the loss and move on as best he could. And he did.
           In less than a year after the accident, Tony learned to drive a specially equipped van. Eventually got himself a fulltime a job at a local factory. He told his dad, “I can’t walk. But I can work!”
           Those achievements alone would be amazing enough but, if you ever happened to be in the vicinity of my hometown on summer weekend, when the sky is clear and the wind is calm, there’s a good chance you’ll see an ultra-light aircraft flying over the village and surrounding fields.
           And the pilot of that ultra-light aircraft will be Tony! Flying free five-hundred feet above the ground! Looking down on the town that he loves, looking down on the runway where his wheelchair sits empty, without him in it.
           Yes, Tony is an amazing guy. 
           So, what makes us admire amazing individuals like Tony so much? What draws us to them and their stories?
           In my opinion, we are captivated by their stories because, if we have the courage to share—even for just a few moments—something of their deepest fear and darkest hour, we’ll also find ourselves standing next to them the moment the light breaks in!
           Of course, it’s their story, not our story. But, for a fleeting moment, we’re given the hope that, should such a thing happen to us, we too would somehow break through and break free.
           It’s called Victory.
           For Catholics, it’s also called the Mass…because this is exactly what happens when, inside this church and at this altar, we enter into the story of Christ’s victory over fear and darkness, agony and pain.
           Think of this way: Just a few minutes ago, in our mind’s eye, we were seated next to a young, paralyzed man named Tony flying an ultra-light aircraft in the sky over his hometown. We were right there in that ultra-light and, at that moment, something of Tony’s spirit touched our hearts and strengthen our spirits. For a fleeting moment, we thought to ourselves, “If I could just hang around someone like Tony long enough, I might learn to be a hero too.”
           Well, when we take our place at the foot of Jesus’ cross and enter into the darkest moment of his life, we stand at the side of a man paralyzed, not from the chest down, but from the neck down. He’s nailed to a plank of wood, unable to move and in excruciating pain. But, in the end, He conquers! He overcomes it all! The power of his faith—and the strength of his love—destroys the snares of death itself! 
           After rising from the tomb and ascending to the heavens, He calls to each of us: Hey, you! Come, join me! See how beautiful it all looks from up here!”
           Friends, this is why we are drawn to the story of Christ. This is why we gather for the Sacrifice of the Mass week after week. 
           Touched by his Spirit, we know that, someday, we too will look down on the empty wheelchairs of our once-paralyzed lives. Someday, with Christ at our side, we too will leave our fears behind…and learn to fly!