Homily Flight Plan

My father was an air traffic controller. Sadly, after returning from the Vietnam War, he was let go by Regan in 1981 in response to the PATCO strikes. He went back to school to become a math teacher, but his heart never left the tower. To this day, I ask him to share about those years just to see his excitement.

If you attended the 8AM Mass last week, you may recall Father Lachlan sharing that I’ve been thinking about how a Sunday homily is, in some ways, like commercial air travel. The priest, like the pilot, must plot the course, leave the ground, cruise at the proper altitude, and then land again.

First of all, the priest, like the pilot, must have a sense of where the flight is going. He must have a plan. A priest prepares his homily. But, like the commercial airline pilot, the flight plan is given to him. As the pilot in the cockpit studies the course, so too the priest in the chapel prays to receive his directions. And the destination is ultimately in consideration of those onboard. The priest should no more take his people on a journey to a place of his own liking than should the pilot.

Then there is the takeoff. It’s the easiest part of the flight. The crew, like hospitality ministers in a church, have prepared the cabin. The people have found their seats, have resigned themselves to those sitting next to them, have given their attention to the pre-flight instructions (the readings), and are ready to go. As long as the homily doesn’t leave the runway too steeply, the people will be comfortable and happy that the journey has begun (the quicker we take off, the sooner we land).

After taking off, it’s all about choosing the right altitude depending on the weather and any activity in the cabin. The priest may prefer to fly at a certain speed on a particular course, but may need to make other determinations in consideration of external factors. If he were to preach heedlessly on a set plan for his homily, without respecting storm clouds and turbulence, he would be no different than the pilot who plods ahead recklessly intent on his own ambition instead of the welfare of his passengers.

Everyone can feel when the plane begins its descent. We’ve been watching the clock, and sometimes the priest will even say something like, “As we go to the altar now...” or “Lastly...” But will he stick the landing? That is the question. And landing is the hardest part. Priests know it. Pilots know it. The people know it. Even on the calmest days, with very little crosswind, the landing can always go one way or the other. And a bad landing can easily ruin an otherwise enjoyable flight.

A priest should always know where he intends to land his homily, of course, as every pilot will have an intended runway. But a homily, like a commercial flight, happens in the “real world” with lots of external factors. The winds may shift while he’s preaching. The air traffic controller (The Holy Spirit) may call for a different runway, which may require a different approach. And, as happens on occasion, the priest may need to land at a different airport altogether, because of some unforeseen emergency, which is just as frustrating to him as to his passengers.

Once the gear is down, however, the priest should commit to landing the homily. If he bounces off the runway then, he’ll need to climb again and circle the airport at some altitude that ensures the passengers everything is still under control. It will require new clearance from the tower and the humility not to rush the next attempt in order to appease restless passengers, but he must trust that his people still prefer that he land safely and surely, even if it does take a little more time. +