Forgiveness Is an Act of the Will

Readings and Virtual Homily for September 6, 2026, Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time; Sophomores Slinging Hash in San Francisco; An Offer I Cannot Refuse; A Death in the Family; Partial September Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Ezekiel 33:7-9

• Psalm 95:1-2, 6-9

• Romans 13:8-10

• Matthew 18:15-20

Dear Friends and Family,

The pre-eminent theme of this week's readings is sin and forgiveness, the Gospel passage emphasizing the latter.  I want to focus on Jesus' recommendations with regard to forgiving an offender, as they provide valuable insights that can sometimes be clouded, by a misapprehended interpretation of the whole concept of forgiveness.  We will get there.  But first, let's just take a quick look at each of the other Scripture passages for this Sunday.

Ezekiel tells us that we need to let the sinful man know his way is sinful, lest we be held accountable for his damnation (vs. 8).  This is, of course, often easier said than done, and at all events, the attempt to persuade someone to change course might well backfire.  Ezekiel assures us that if we are unsuccessful in our attempt to guide someone toward the right path, we will not be held accountable; they will be (vs. 9).  This still does not make the business of offering corrective advice any easier.  Myself, I am always inclined toward the recommendation attributed to St. Francis, "Preach the Gospel at all times; use words when necessary."  No number of words, I think, can equal the power, the persuasive power, of setting a good example by the way we live.

Psalm 95 is largely one of praise and thanksgiving, but it touches on today's main theme when it reminds us of the rebelliousness of the Israelites in the desert (vss. 8-9).  

Paul tells us in the second reading that the laws of God "are summed up in this saying, "you shall love your neighbor as yourself.'  Love does no evil to the neighbor, hence, love is the fulfillment of the law" (vss. 9-10).  Paul's advice, it seems to me, dovetails nicely with the recommendation of St. Francis.  Living a genuinely loving life is our most persuasive argument in terms of trying to lead others to right paths.

In the Gospel passage, Matthew tells us that Jesus recommended a graduated approach to forgiving an offender.  Discuss the matter alone with the person who has injured us, first.  If that fails, discuss it again, but this time with a couple witnesses.  Finally, bring in the church, if needed.  If the offender continues in his sin, "then treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector" (vs. 17).  That is, have nothing more to do with the person.

This is important.  Certain misapprehensions regarding the idea of forgiveness often come into play here.  I hear it frequently in confession.  "Father, I want to forgive, but I can't."  What the person means is that they are still dealing with the emotions provoked by the offense.  

Forgiveness is deeper than the emotions.  I always tell these folks that the fact that they WANT to forgive IS forgiveness.  Forgiveness is an act of the will; it operates independently of the emotions.  As for the emotions, they should be paid attention to.  If the offense is grave enough, and especially if it is not repented of, if it is ongoing, then the offender should be treated "like a Gentile or a tax collector."

I have more experience with this than I wish I had.  I know all about it.  You can forgive someone and at the same time want nothing more to do with that person.  You can refuse to deal with a person, refuse relationship with a person whose behavior toward you is an ongoing offense.  Nothing in Jesus' teaching requires us to put up with abuse, or to remain stuck in a toxic relationship.  As for the several offenders in my life whom I reference above, if I never see any of them again from now 'til the crack of doom, I am A-OK with that.  That does NOT mean I have not forgiven them.  It means I respect myself.  It means I do not accept abusive behavior.  Nor should you.  You've got Jesus' own word on that, in today's Gospel.

Three of five weekdays this week I have been not on campus at Bishop O'Dowd, but on site with my students at St. Anthony's Foundation in San Francisco.  As part of the service hours required for our sophomores, we put in a school day at St. Anthony's working in the dining room and the clothing store.  For those unfamiliar with the St. Anthony Foundation, it casts the largest social service safety net in the city.  Occupying an entire block -- both sides -- of Golden Gate Avenue, St. Anthony's is a lot more than its famous dining room.  The foundation includes a hygiene hub (where folks can shower, shave, get their hair cut, do their laundry).  The foundation offers a resource center (helping folks connect with social services available from agencies and organizations through the city).  It includes a center specifically focused on the needs of families with underage children; it includes a medical clinic, a tech center, and counseling for re-entry to the world of work.  The foundation also offers a year-long residential substance abuse rehabilitation program that is one of the most comprehensive and successful anywhere on earth.  

Our sophomore immersion days include aspects of some of these other services, but for the most part, we are in the dining room and the clothes operation (both in the store itself and in the back, where many boxes and bins filled with clothing, some lightly used but much of it brand new, donated by Old Navy, Gap and so on, are sorted and readied for display on racks in the store).  Chaperones divide up, some going with the group of teens who will be in the dining room, the others accompanying those who've opted for the store.  I was in the dining room with my sophomores all three days this week -- it was huge for all of us.  

San Francisco is, of course, one of the wealthiest cities on the planet.  But it has a pocket of real poverty in the Tenderloin.  Watching my teens working the line as folks came through for trays of a multi-course lunch each day; watching them as they bussed tables, fetched glasses of water, brought trays of lunch to those in wheelchairs or on walkers...watching them as they sat down to lunch among the guests, in groups of two or three, and engaged in conversations -- smiling, laughing, sharing, bringing youthful zest and joy almost like spring sunshine to their companions at table...

Well...I was simply reassured of my initial estimate of the Class of 2029.  I was hugely proud of them, and I made sure they knew it.  Each of my three sections will have a class period next week, unpacking the experience in terms of emotional response, in terms of Catholic social teaching, in terms of insights gained into reality itself, the reality of poverty in one of the world's richest cities.  I look forward to those class sessions.  My sophomores this semester are exceptional.  

And oh yeah, I was also at St. Anthony's to work.  I bussed tables more than anything else, but this week, after dozens of visits over the years, I got my first turn on the lunch line -- serving a tilapia chowder on Friday to the more than 1500 folks who daily dine at St. Anthony's.  As I say, the week was huge, for me and for my sophomores.

Last week I mentioned that I had heard from some of my young Moroccans.  One of them, Mehdi, whom we were all praying for five summers ago, as he fought a rare cancer, pitched me on coming to stay with him and his family in Tangier sometime this fall.  I am taking his invitation seriously as it dovetails with a plan I had been entertaining for a while, back last spring, to finally get back to Morocco this year -- at Thanksgiving break.

The summer's events -- above all, the disaster in Venezuela -- largely dissuaded me from this plan.  I both made more money than usual this summer and was given a marvelously generous chunk of change, owing to my twentieth anniversary celebrations.  I had been assuming travel would be easy on my wallet, late this fall.  Then, as I say, disaster struck in my beloved Caracas, and all I am going to say further on that subject is how unmistakable it seemed to me that I had the money this summer to give significantly in aid of my Venezuelans.  I could not possibly have done as much without the very substantial boost in my income, owing to both a lot of extra work and the many, many gifts for my anniversary.  Valuing at least a modicum of financial prudence, I canceled any plan to be out of the country in November.  It was no longer going to be "easy on my wallet."

Then Mehdi called and recommended it -- especially after he heard what I had largely done with my extra money this summer.  "You should have kept one third of that for yourself, Father," Mehdi said.  "Jesus tells us to love others AS we love ourselves, not INSTEAD of loving ourselves."  

Keep in mind that Mehdi is Muslim.  (But the Muslims revere Jesus -- they just do not have our understanding.)  

"Tell me this," Mehdi asked.  "Can you afford a ticket to Tangier?"

Of course I can afford a ticket to Tangier.  You go via London or Paris and it is quite do-able.

"Then come to Tangier for a Moroccan Thanksgiving," Mehdi said, his tone one of there-will-be-no-argument-about-this.  "Come stay with us that week.  I will pick you up at the airport, you will have your own room and bathroom; we will take you everywhere you want to go, and whether we eat out or in, you will not be allowed to spend one red cent.  Don't argue and don't think twice, Father.  Just come.  It has been six years.  Enough is enough.  We want to see Father Jim again."

I am giving it another couple weeks' thought, but I am largely persuaded to...buy a November ticket to Tangier.

It is noon Saturday as I am getting this one wrapped.  I woke this morning to a text from my LA cousin Mary that Aunt Rita, always my closest aunt, almost like an older and far-wiser sister to me, died in her sleep around five this morning at her home in Westwood; her children, my five cousins, and other family gathered round her bed.  It was not unexpected; Aunt Rita had been failing most of the second half of the summer.  She was ninety.  

I might say more about my relationship with this unique aunt, next e-mail, but for today what I want to point out is that the schedule given above is only for this weekend, as my aunt's death guarantees changes, likely changes in the weekend Mass schedule, later this month.  I will know when services are scheduled sometime this weekend.  And I will send the final September schedule with the next e-mail.

I could say more but one, this is already long and two, I need to get it out.  It is Saturday!

God bless you.

With love,

Fr. Brawn

Mass schedule for this weekend (all English):

Saturday 5; Sunday 8, 1115, 630

Also, 8 AM Labor Day

I will send the rest of the September schedule with the next e-mail.

God's Plan Is Greater Than Anything We Imagine

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 29, 2026, Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time; Venezuela Front and Center; Casablanca Calling

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Jeremiah 20:7-9

• Psalm 63:2-6, 8-9

• Romans 12:1-2

• Matthew 16:21-27

Dear Friends and Family,

This Sunday's Gospel passage is the one where Jesus tells us that discipleship involves "losing" one's life in this world.  Not in the sense of martyrdom, but in the sense of letting go of our own plans and expectations in order to embrace God's plans and expectations.  

And before I go any further with this reflection, I want to point out that there are no doubt times in our lives when our plans and expectations, our hopes and ambitions, line up with God's.  Just because we DO want something does not mean that God does NOT want it for us.  As St. Ignatius of Loyola argued, God leads by attraction.  Our talents, interests and passions are God-given, and in general, they can be trusted to lead us.  But there is also an overwhelming likelihood that, at points in our lives, we will be focused on one thing when God's plan for us involves another thing.  That set of circumstances is what today's Gospel passage is addressing. 

We get a deep look at just how difficult this dynamic can be in the first reading, where Jeremiah tells God that he wants to be through with being a prophet.  All it brings him is "reproach and derision all day long" (vs. 8).  Jeremiah goes on to relate that whenever he tries to walk away from his calling, whenever he tries to ditch, or "lose" the life God intends for him, the word of God "burns" in his very bones and he is forced to go about proclaiming it (vs. 9).  

God's will for Jeremiah was that he become one of the greatest of the prophets -- it fell to Jeremiah to warn of the coming calamity of the Babylonian invasion and deportation, a prophetic mission for which he received scant gratitude from the Jewish leaders at the time.  Though he more than once threatened to abandon his calling, in fact, of course, Jeremiah held true to it and ultimately was completely vindicated -- the invasion happened, followed by the deportation.  People woke up too late to the accuracy of Jeremiah's warnings. 

Jeremiah, fortunately, is an extreme case.  Most of us, I think, find "losing" our own hopes and expectations in order to embrace those of God a bit less violent a business, than did Jeremiah.  It is, all the same, a tricky and at times, a difficult business, discerning God's will amid our own hopes and desires.

I have some deep personal experience with this dynamic and I want to report it here because it illustrates the upside, so to speak, of Jesus' words.  That is, my own experience speaks deeply to the fact that letting go of personal expectations in order to embrace those of God will, in the end, enlarge and enhance our experience of life itself.  Rather than being thwarted, we will find ourselves exceptionally rewarded.  This is so because in accomplishing God's plan for us we activate our own deepest selves.  Skills and capacities we might never have thought to put into play, skills and abilities which, in fact, we might never have guessed ourselves to possess, will be unveiled and brought forth, in "getting with God's program" for our lives.

Though there have been at least four or five major points in my life which illustrate this dynamic, the most recent is my assignment to Bishop O'Dowd.  Most of you, of course, know this story, but it so well illustrates the dynamic that I am briefly re-telling it here.  

Back in the winter of 2014-15, immediately after the bishop pitched me on the high school chaplaincy and I began carefully, almost gingerly, to address it in conversation with close friends and advisors, everyone had the same response: Brilliant.  Wonderful.  A master-stroke on the bishop's part.  Everyone could see me as a smashing success as chaplain at Bishop O'Dowd.

Many of you know that that was not at all how I had received the news myself.  For a variety of reasons the chaplaincy did NOT appeal to me, but perhaps foremost among them was the fact that MY plan for my diocesan career path --pastor of a parish -- had become one I deeply cherished.  

I had not wanted to be a pastor for a long time, and the reason was all the extra ministry I was doing, and had been doing, since my first months as a priest in Pleasanton.  I was an in-demand speaker and retreat leader; I gave Lenten missions in parishes around the country; and of course, I was writing.  Developing this set of ministries took time and strategy and I did not feel I would be anywhere near as free to pursue these ministries as a pastor, as I was as an associate.  So for nine years I made clear to successive Vicars for Clergy (the priest at chancery responsible for placing us around the diocese) that I did not want to be a pastor.  

After nine years as an associate, however, I felt that the writing/speaking ministries were so well developed that they would continue apace, even as I expanded my parish responsibilities to those of being a pastor.  And as I came to look at what the position of pastor offered, and at how I might take advantage of a pastor's powers to really build a flourishing parish community, I began to feel a real attraction to the position.  I remembered how Father Dan Danielson had managed at Pleasanton (my first assignment), at how Dan had empowered his people and formed intentional and educated disciples through the parish's many and diverse ministries and...I began to think how I might go about being a pastor in Dan's simply amazing mold.  I began to really like the idea of taking a parish.

Then came this curve ball from the bishop.  The first thing I have to say about it is that as soon as I heard the words Bishop O'Dowd and teen ager, I knew it was a done deal.  It was as if Cupid was hovering just above the bishop and had sent his arrow flying -- my heart the target.  There was NO WAY I was going to say no to a request from my bishop, that I go to the teens.  

Despite this immediate obedience (let's just call it that) I felt steep resistance to the assignment.  I felt it.  I did not act on it.  I felt resistance.  I expressed some of my concerns to the bishop simply because I wanted him clear on where I was, on how I was feeling, going into it.  I recommended we give the high school a three-year trial run (the typical timeline for an associate in a parish).  The bishop looked a bit disappointed (chaplaincies normally run five or six years, like the appointment to pastor).  But he said, "Jim, I am just really grateful to you for being willing to give the high school a shot."

There WAS a real death to self involved.  I had loved, revered, exulted in parish ministry for nine years.  Here I was finally ready to take over in a parish and I found myself redirected to the high school.  I can remember leaving St. Clement some mornings, my first months at the high school, with tears in my eyes, so much did I miss the simple, the deep, the good responsibilities of parish life; the basic parish routine.  In the parish, a priest need only get out of bed in the morning and he is doing God's will.  His "work" is whatever comes at him and all of it is engaging, all of it is something which helps others, all of it is clearly connected to the building up of the Kingdom.  Except for my writing, nothing in my life had given me so deep a satisfaction as had parish ministry. 

But from day one at the high school -- I mean the day in February, 2015 that I first visited the high school, having accepted the position for the following academic year -- I could sense, I could glimpse the possibility of something not just new and different, but something potentially very great, being laid before me.  I sensed as well that after all, it would not be so hard or so complex -- really, all I needed to do was step into the chaplaincy and let it develop in and through me.   

I'd told the bishop I would give it three years and see where we were in 2018.  This fall semester, of course, marks the start of my twelfth year at Bishop O'Dowd.  And anyone who reads the personal parts of these e-mailed homilies must sense my joyful gratitude at having been cast among a sea of teens at the very moment when my plans were to take up the reins in a parish.

Here's the real point: God's plans for us exceed anything we could imagine for ourselves.  They may well take us for a time beyond our comfort zone; they are likely to stretch and deepen us; they are likely to call forth new talents, skills and understandings.  In all of that, God's plans for us develop the disciple in us in ways which, left to our own devices, would not have happened.  It can take trust; it can take a deep breath and a sort of "All right, Lord, I'm in your hands with this" sort of attitude.  But in the end, God's plans for us fulfill us in ways we would never have thought to consider.  I cannot say when I will leave the high school, but I can say that when I do, I know I will look back on the assignment with the deepest gratitude to Bishop Barber, for having accurately discerned God's plan for my life, and for having gently encouraged me to trust that plan.  It has taken my priesthood in a direction I never imagined, and for which I cannot give the Spirit thanks enough. 

So...Venezuela.  Believe it or not, I have had yet another crisis -- a personal crisis -- involving one of my young guys, one of the Caraquenos-in-exile.  That is, one of the seven who managed to get out of the country and establish himself elsewhere.  Never mind the details, I am just grateful for all the huge generosity set flowing my way, this summer, given my twentieth anniversary celebrations: I had the money to help my young Caraqueno rise up against his very deep difficulties he was facing and quite quickly.  He did a lot of it on his own, as well: He took two extra jobs this month -- the crisis was entirely financial, and he is now entirely past it.  

What I have to say is that it is remarkable how Venezuela has landed squarely in the middle of my life, this summer, this summer of the year in which political changes in the country have reawakened in me a hope of one day returning.  I can't say what all of this adds up to, as we move toward the last third of this remarkable year for the nation of Venezuela.  But I am attentive to the changing dynamics, both inside and outside the country, and I have, as I have mentioned before, a hope, for the first time since 2019, of real and deep changes for the better in Venezuela.

The young Caraqueno I have just helped said something in a WhatsApp message to me this morning about me having friends all over the world...and even as he and I were messaging each other in came WhatsApp messages from two of my young guys in Casablanca.  With one striking exception, my Moroccans and I are not in touch anywhere near as much as the Venezuelans and I.  But we ARE in touch.  More than enough to keep the relationship vibrant and real.  I have bright hopes of returning to Casablanca soon.  By soon I mean, in the coming year.  As for Venezuela, well...

It's in God's hands.  Inshallah, as my young guys in Casablanca say.  As God wills it.

Think I'll wrap it here.  Sorry this one is late.  Been one crowded week.

Love and God bless,

Fr. Brawn

Upon This Rock: Peter, the Papacy, and the Church

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 23, 2026, Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time; Two Weeks in at O'Dowd; August in Hayward

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 22:19-23

• Psalm 138:1-3, 6, 8

• Romans 11:33-36

• Matthew 16:13-20

Dear Friends and Family,

The Gospel passage today is the famous "proof text" from Matthew that Jesus did, in fact, intend to found a unified community of believers, summed up in the word "church."  What is more, this community would have a structure; even a command structure.  It would be hierarchical in organization, for Jesus declares to Peter in today's passage that he will become the leader of the Christian community.  "Thou art rock," the Lord actually says to Peter, "and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it" (vs. 18).

I have often enough seen this passage used to score debater's points in exercises in apologetics.  That is, the speaker or podcaster or writer, wanting to prove the Catholic Church's claim to being THE Church (a claim I am not about to argue with) uses this passage to browbeat Protestant, or maybe even Orthodox, Christians, the argument usually proceeding along the lines of, "I can give you the date and place of the founding of every other Christian denomination.  THIS is the founding of the Catholic Church."

And as I say, I am in no way inclined to argue.  I am personally uninclined toward the "Fight Club Catholicism" approach, but Jesus did found the original Christian community on Peter, and through his 266 successors, the unity of that community has held firm to this day.  A few considerations.

One, the Second Vatican Council declared that all Christian believers share a real degree of unity by virtue of our common baptism.  Though the fullness of the faith resides uniquely in the Catholic Church, many aspects of our faith are richly represented among our Protestant brothers and sisters, and as for the Orthodox, well, they are separated from us above all by a jurisdictional dispute.  That dispute, though, gets at the heart of today's Gospel passage.  Jesus did not include other disciples in his commissioning of Peter.  He created an organization with one leader.  The Pope is not merely the Patriarch of the West, nor may he be called "first among equals."  He has no equal.

Two, the very fact of what we sometimes refer to as "separated brethren," the very fact of the existence of ecclesial bodies beyond the boundaries of the Catholic Church, is evidence that, indeed, "the gates of the netherworld" have been at war with (and within) Jesus' Church, and from the beginning.  The unity among his followers Jesus prayed for the night before he died (see the Gospel of John, chapter 17) has been fractured, not just by various schisms and heresies but by corruption within the Church itself, which is largely responsible for the ecclesiological earthquake we call the Reformation.  

The gates of hell have, indeed, made war on the Church.  But they have not prevailed.  Although the histories of these splits are messy, to put it mildly, all three major branches of the Christian faith today are united in ways that believers were not, during (as just one example) the two-century long period of the Arian heresy (circa 300-500 AD).  Arians denied the divinity of Christ.  This was a far greater disagreement than anything which currently divides Catholics from Protestants, let alone Catholics from Orthodox Christians.  

Moreover, many denominations in our time have recognized the deep value of ecumenical dialogue.  The Catholic-Lutheran effort has been particularly fruitful.  And I have long been aware of a certain cross-pollination taking place, among the churches.  As just one example, highly relevant to today's Gospel passage, the very question of the apostolic succession has become a matter of real interest to leaders in several mainline Protestant congregations.

Three, and related to the question of the apostolic succession, today's passage underscores the organic nature of the Church's hierarchical structure.  We see the hierarchical development of the early Christian community coming into focus, coming into being, in various passages from Acts of the Apostles.  Chapter six details the creation of the office of deacon.  (I might point out, while I am here, that the Letter to the Romans mentions the office of deaconess; a position of leadership for women in the Church that was still in existence at the time of the Council of Chalcedon in the mid-fifth century.)  Later chapters in Acts describe the commissioning of presbyters (literally translated as elders).  In these commissionings we begin to see the delineation of the offices of priest and bishop.

So from the start, the Church was hierarchical in its governing arrangements.  In my view, we have the hierarchy to thank for our continued unity over the span of twenty centuries.  I like to use the skeleton analogy.  I like it for a number of reasons, but among them the fact that Paul repeatedly referred to the Church as a body.  Well, what is a body without a skeleton?  An amorphous mass of organs, blood vessels, muscles and tissues...The organizing structure, the framework that literally holds the rest of the body together, is the skeleton.  The hierarchy may be thought of as the Church's skeletal structure. 

But skeletons are not meant to act alone.  That's the stuff of horror movies.  A hierarchical focus on protecting the institution at all cost gave us the sex scandals of the past half century.  There are plenty of other examples of "the skeleton acting alone" in our history -- it is not how the body is designed to function.  

But without the skeleton the body fails to function as a body at all.  That is how we have, in the twenty-first century, literally tens of thousands of Christian denominations.  Jesus, knowing human nature, created a Church with a head.  And the Spirit, as we see in Acts of the Apostles and elsewhere in the New Testament, created a community with an enduring organizational structure; created a body with a skeleton.

I might continue with a reflection on the extraordinary authority granted to Peter and his successors ("What you bind on earth will be bound in heaven," vs. 19).  But this is already long enough.  I'll only comment that, with rare exceptions in our history, the skull does not operate independently of the rest of the skeleton.  Councils of the Church have been numerous, down through the centuries.  Councils are composed of the bishops of the Church.  Though unique in his authority, the successor to Peter, like Peter himself (see Acts of the Apostles, chapter 15, the Council of Jerusalem) typically acts in consultation with the bishops, and beyond, with theologians, historians and other leaders within the body.  

That acknowledged, I need to end this set of considerations by once again underscoring that the authority of the papacy is unique, without parallel anywhere in the Church.  That uniqueness is a key takeaway from today's Gospel passage.

Well, we are two weeks in now, on the autumn semester at O'Dowd.  I am, as I mentioned last week, enchanted with my sophomores -- every three years or so I encounter a class with whom I have a truly deep resonance.  2019.  2022.  2025.  2027.  And now, the class of 2029 -- maybe an over-the-top special resonance; we are only at the end of the second week and already the connection feels more like what I am used to experiencing at ten weeks, at twelve.  

My students' trust seems to have existed before they first stepped into my class.  They appear to have been predisposed to like me and predisposed to believe that this semester's religion course will be an enjoyable experience in learning.  The boys were giving me fist-bumps on the second day, and the girls, though largely uninclined toward that particular gesture of affirmation, have been no less enthusiastic.  As I said last week, the semester is off to a very good start; I think it is going to be a great term.

Finally, Hayward in August...Never mind that we are back on campus at the high school, it is just past the middle of August, high summer.  And a time of year I especially love here in Hayward.  The hills above the parish are typical summer-gold; we have our mini-herd of cattle populating the slopes, including several rambunctious calves.  In the evenings, as the sun sets and the sky turns that dusky summer twilight blue, it can be an active experience in lowering one's blood pressure, just to sit and admire the hills for any amount of time, whether two minutes or twenty.  

I also love Hayward's bay breezes late afternoon and into the evening.  I am typically saying my evening Rosary when the breezes are flowing.  I think of Genesis 3:8, and of God, walking with Adam and Eve in the garden in "the breezy time of the day."  I am very fortunate, deeply blessed in my long residence at St. Clement.  This is now my twelfth year in Hayward, and of course the only reason for my being so long in residence is the assignment to the high school.  I can live anywhere in the diocese (the pastor permitting).  I chose Hayward in 2015 for a variety of reasons, and let Mother Mary choose the parish.  She never misses!

Gonna close it here.  

Hope August is as bright and sunny for you as it is proving to be for me.  Take care.  God bless.

El Padre

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time: The Power of Persistent Faith

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 16, 2026, Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time;  Another Milestone at San Gabriel Media; Already in Love...With the Class of 2029

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

•  Isaiah 56:1, 6-7

• Psalm 67:2-3, 5-6, 8

• Romans 11:13-15, 29-32

• Matthew 15:21-28

Dear Friends and Family,

This weekend's Gospel passage is that of the Syro-Phoenician woman whose daughter was being harassed by a demon, and who insistently requested of Jesus that he heal her.  It is a passage that tells us a lot about the power of faith.

A little background here.  Matthew tells us that this encounter takes place in "the region of Tyre and Sidon" (vs. 21).  Tyre and Sidon were two of several wealthy Phoenician cities along the coast of what is today Lebanon (immediately north of Israel).  This stretch of Mediterranean coastline is even today (despite fifty years of Lebanese political instability) inviting real estate.  Sunny and subtropical, with a year-round growing season, scenic views from the coastal hills and long stretches of bright, cream-sand beach.  It seems likely that Jesus was trying to take a little seaside vacation with some of the guys there in breezy Phoenicia when here comes this woman with her insistence that Jesus can and must cure her daughter.

It goes without saying that the Syro-Phoenician woman is not Jewish.  Clearly she is a woman of faith, though, a woman who believes in the reality of the spiritual realm, including its demonic inhabitants.  She believes as well in the spiritual power of Jesus of Nazareth, whose fame had by this time spread well beyond Israel's borders.  As much as she believes in Jesus' miraculous abilities, she believes in his goodness.  She believes he will heal her daughter not just because he can do it but because, given his goodness, he will want to do it.

Jesus ignores the woman, Matthew tells us, and the disciples tell her repeatedly to go away -- it would appear they want the Master to get his little Phoenician holiday and its concomitant R&R.  When Jesus does respond to the woman he reasons with her that he has come for his own people, the Jews, going so far as to tell her that it is not right to give the food of the children to the dogs (vss. 23-26).  The woman's response to what can only be called this insult is remarkable: "Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from their master's table" (vs. 27).

My own reading of this passage has always been that Jesus knew the woman's faith.  That he wanted to use the depth of her faith to impress upon the disciples the power of faith and the power of persisting in faith.  To some extent, of course, the two might be conflated -- it is a powerful faith, a deep faith, which is capable of persistence.  At the same time, it is also true that faith is not a static quality; it can be deepened, it can be strengthened, it can increase.  And trials which require our persistence in faith are exactly the sort of thing which can and often do increase our faith.

Myself, I really admire the Syro-Phoenician woman.  She knows the justice of her cause.  She knows both the power and the goodness of Jesus.  She will not take no for an answer.  She is not intimidated by the disciples and she holds steady even in what initially appears to be a firm no from Jesus himself.  In the end, of course, Jesus shows his admiration of her: "Oh woman, great is your faith..." (vs. 28) and assures her that her request is granted.  Matthew tells us that at that moment, the woman's daughter (who does not appear to be present) was healed (vs. 28).  This fact suggests that the disciples had further contact with the woman; she may have become a disciple herself.

So, not to belabor the point, but just to make sure that I am making it, a couple of take-aways here.  One, persistence pays.  Jesus has assured us of this in other places (the parable of the persistent widow, as just one example; Luke 18:1-8).  Two, you need not be someone in the "right" religion to have a faith that pleases God.  This understanding was articulated by the Second Vatican Council in its document Nostra Aetate, which affirmed that rays of light and aspects of truth emanate from the non-Christian religions and that the Church recognizes this reality and celebrates it -- the Church is pleased to acknowledge truth wherever she finds it.  And many truths may be found in the teachings of the world's other great religions.  

Not any part of this, of course, denying the central role in the salvation of the race played by Jesus Christ.  It is simply that the Spirit is free to operate outside the normal channels of grace, which the Church defines as the sacraments, the prayers, teachings and apostolates of the Catholic Church in particular and of the Christian faith in general.

I mentioned an e-mail or two back that things are all smooth sailing this summer at San Gabriel Media -- new books soon to be in print, new videos being posted at the YouTube channel, a plan (for the first time ever) now being developed to start marketing my books...I neglected to mention in that summary that the apostolate recently passed another milestone, at YouTube.  One of my colleagues who is very involved in the development of the YouTube aspect of the ministry told me two or three weeks ago that we had hit one and one-half million subscribers.  I think I shrugged.  Then, realizing that something more -- well, demonstrative and celebratory -- was in order, I think I said something like, "Awesome.  Let's head for two million, and then for two and one half..."

I'm just sayin'....This is the Gospel.  The potential audience is uncountable.  I am very pleased with our expanding YouTube audience.  It is only one aspect of a very multi-faceted media apostolate.  We are in the queue for the runway, in terms of our possible reach, in terms of achieving our potential.  Especially considering how much time we spent parked at the gate -- this set of developments is, in fact, way cool.  God be praised.  And let's keep working.  

Finally, we started classes this week at O'Dowd.  I have three sections of sophomores.  Our subject is Scripture.  I am loving my time with my sophomores already.  A colleague on campus today smiled and suggested to me that I have yet to meet the sophomore Scripture section that I did not love -- and actually, I am gonna plead guilty to that charge.  But...

The Class of 2029 deeply engaged me last spring, before I had taught any of them.  And now, after just a couple of classes with each section, I am delighted to report that my classes this week have delighted me.  As I say, I felt a special bond with this class last spring, before I really had any chance to get to know them.  That sense, that intuition, has been abundantly confirmed just this first week of the new semester.  My sophomores are bright, joyful, eager, fun, engaged.  Talking with a colleague who is also teaching sophomores in other sections of this same course, she and I agreed: This looks like one great year ahead.  

Happy to be able to report it.  

Hope the summer is treating you well.

Take care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Walking on Water: Keeping Our Eyes on Jesus

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 9, 2026, Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Update on Caracas; Summer School

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• 1 Kings 19:9, 11-13

• Psalm 85:9-14

• Romans 9:1-5

• Matthew 14:22-33

Dear Friends and Family,

This week's Gospel passage is Peter walking on the water.  There is a take-away from this passage that is so often referenced by preachers that I almost feel redundant here, mentioning it, but as it is the central take-away from this passage, I better mention it.  As long as Peter is focused on Jesus, he is able to do the impossible.  He is able to walk on water.  As soon as Peter takes his eyes off Jesus and focuses instead on the storm, he starts to sink.  

The clear parallel for our lives as disciples is to not let the storm distract us.  Stay focused on the Lord.  In him, with him and through him, we can do the impossible.  This storm -- whatever it may be -- has no power over the Lord, and none over our response to him, to his invitation to get out of the boat and -- walk on water. 

Having done my due diligence with regard to the main teaching point of the passage, I want to take a little time here to probe the business of why the Lord allows storms at all.  When we are in the midst of one, it can be hard, simply to keep rowing the boat, let alone get out of it and start doing the impossible.

Yet it is precisely because of the storms of life that our capacity to do, if not the impossible, then at least greater things than we might otherwise have thought ourselves capable of, is brought forward.  Forced forward, we might sometimes feel.  I have a lot of experience with this.  Just one example, one you are largely familiar with, from my own discipleship walk.

As I started my studies for priesthood, spring semester of 1995, at the Dominican School at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, I was working at the Career Planning and Placement Center on campus, living with my sister, bro-in-law and nieces in Oakland, writing on the weekends at my parents' house in Marysville, working with my agent in Manhattan, and coordinating the Confirmation program in the Marysville parish.  It was a full-plate life, and I was fully engaged by it. 

The decision to start classes at the GTU meant cutting back my hours at Cal.  I went to class during the work day, walking from the office on campus to my classes up on "holy hill" as we called the GTU.  This reduced my work schedule by eight to ten hours per week.  I needed to make those hours up; I was in debt and could not get to the seminary until I had my debts paid.  I needed a ten-hour-a-week job, evenings and weekends, and $400 a month.  

I was so determined to pursue priesthood that I would have been glad to have done telephone sales or pizza delivery...instead of which, in August of that year, Fr. Leon, the new pastor in Marysville, on the recommendation of the outgoing youth minister in the parish, and, apparently, on the urging of the teens themselves, who had had me as their Confirmation teacher, asked me if I would consider taking over the youth ministry.  

"It's very flexible, Jim," Fr. Leon assured me.  "Ten hours a week, evenings and weekends -- you can set up your schedule anyway you like.  I cannot pay you much, but I can offer four hundred a month."

Talk about getting out of the boat.  Talk about leaving your comfort zone.  Youth ministry was, for me, for the entire first year that I was doing it, somewhat akin to walking on water.  I was doing something I had no experience with, no preparation for (other than having taught many of the teens in the Confirmation program).  I had no trouble staying focused on Jesus, those initial months.  I didn't dare look anywhere else.  I knew I would sink.  I remember going before the Tabernacle at St. Joseph's in Marysville, numerous times that autumn, that winter, that spring, those first six or eight months that I was doing something I would never in one million years have thought of as something I could do.  I was an artist.  A writer.  A thinker.  And yes, in the Confirmation program, I had become a teacher -- a teacher of teens.  

But youth ministry?  Never.  In.  One.  Million.  Years.  

Fast forward twenty years to the bishop's Christmas party here in Oakland, 2014.  To the invitation to walk even further out on the water, further out over deeper water, as chaplain at Bishop O'Dowd High School.  It was getting out of the boat in the fall of 1995 in Marysville that had put me out there amid the teen winds and waves to begin with.  I'd stayed out there, all the two intervening decades; as youth minister/youth priest in parish after parish.  I'd gotten good at youth ministry, and I knew it.  

But...teaching at a high school?  Look.  My dad was a high school teacher.  There are reasons I had not become one.  

Knowing this request had come straight from the Spirit, of course I said yes to it.  But it was a qualified yes -- "Let's give it three years," I said to Bishop Barber, when in January of 2015 we sat down and really talked about it.  "Let's think of this as the assignment of an associate priest to a parish -- which is typically three years.  And...let's see where we are, the third year."

This will be my twelfth year at the high school.  

I wondered, back in the mid-nineties, trying to find a way to move ahead with my hopes and plans for priestly studies, why God couldn't just speed the whole business up, by letting my hard-working agent sell a couple of my novels.  The "storm" of my indebtedness and my inability to get to seminary until my debts were paid was a mystery to me.  My novels were good.  My agent was successful -- with other writers.  Why couldn't she be successful, now, with me?

God had another plan for settling my debts.  The youth ministry position in Marysville was fifty-plus hours a week and full-time pay, before I left it.  It became a major factor in my eventually getting my debts paid, and moving on to the seminary.  It was that, and it was so much more than that.  It was the opening out of an entire ministry path, for me, a vocation within the vocation, a call within the call.  

In the interest of brevity I have not elaborated on the anxiety, the frustration I felt, with my difficult circumstances, in the mid-nineties.  The "storm" of my debts, preventing me from moving forward on my studies, at the time made absolutely no sense to me.  "Can't we just sell a novel, Lord?"  That, it seemed to me, was the clear and obvious path forward.  And it would have been a development entirely within my comfort zone; no need to get out of the boat.  More than thirty years of work with teenagers since, of course, I have a different perspective.  

The latest I have seen in the reports from Caracas is that 6100 people died in the earthquakes, while many thousands remain missing.  I am assuming that the large number of missing people has to do with the slow pace of the rescue and recovery operations, the details of which I will not bore you with here.  Suffice it to say that, at this point, anyone still reported missing is almost certainly dead; the death toll is guaranteed to rise dramatically, before all is said and done.  

Some good news is that another of my young guys who was out of work due to damage to his place of employment has been able to return to regular shifts, this past week.  Your contributions saw him and his family through those perilous six weeks.  It is also precisely because of your help that the family that was out of their apartment indefinitely has been able to rent an Airbnb; they expect to be able to return home in a month.  

I am still getting thank-yous out.  Hand-written notes, where I have a mailing address; by text or e-mail otherwise.  I am so deeply grateful for the outpouring of generosity.  It has made an incalculable difference in the lives, the hopes, the experiences through a very difficult time of my young Caraquenos and their families.  Gracias pero muchas gracias.  

So...it's the first week of August and for anywhere from two to five hours each day this week I have been...at Bishop O'Dowd.  Meetings, orientations, the staff retreat.  Classes start Monday.  

Monday.  August 10.  It's the start of the fall semester, but as far as I am concerned it is summer school.  

When I started at the high school eleven years ago, we returned for meetings and such on August 12.  Classes that year started August 24.  Steadily over the years, the start date has been moved earlier and earlier and this year, we start classes on the earliest date yet, August 10.  

Don't ask me.  Don't ask any of my faculty colleagues, not one of whom agrees with so early a start to the academic year.  We've good-naturedly commiserated plenty about the absurd start date, at the (nicely catered) breakfasts and lunches on campus, this week.  

It is what it is.  I revere my colleagues.  To a very real extent, I remain at the high school, at this point, as much because I just do not want to leave my fellow teachers, staff and administrators, as much as because I feel any real need to remain there for the teens.  

I do, however, continue to feel a call to be at O'Dowd, for the teens.  I have my eye and my heart particularly focused this fall on the Class of 2029 -- the sophomores, whom I will be teaching.  I already have a special connection with this class, and it is surprising, given that their first semester at O'Dowd, I was on sabbatical.  Nor was I teaching them last spring; I taught juniors and seniors last spring.  But '29 has made its way to me unmistakably -- so unmistakably that I may write about it one day.  This class "gets" that I am THEIR priest; and they already (evidently) sense my regard for them.  I very much look forward to starting to really get to know them, this semester, as their teacher.  

But (just sayin')...the whole business might just as easily have been accomplished, starting August 24, rather than this coming Monday...

I’ll leave it there.  

Hope the summer (which we are only halfway through, despite the return to classes) is treating you well.  

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time: God's Endless Love, Generosity, and the Bread of Life

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 2, 2026, Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Cruise Control at San Gabriel Media; What a Celebration; August Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 55:1-3

• Psalm 145:8-9, 15-18

• Romans 8:35, 37-39

• Matthew 14:13-21

Dear Friends and Family, 

This week's Gospel is the miracle of the loaves and the fish.  

The Gospel is prefigured in the first reading in that Isaiah invites the reader to come and feast, eat rich fare and drink premium wine, at no cost (vs 1).  Isaiah 55 is one of my favorite passages in Scripture for its description of the bounteous providence and limitless love of God.

Psalm 145 underscores this theme.  "The Lord is gracious and merciful," the psalm attests, "slow to anger and abounding in kindness" (vs. 8).  "Compassionate toward all," the psalm continues, the Lord gives "them their food in due season" (vss. 9, 15).

The passage from Romans, often read at funerals, assures us that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ (vs. 39).  Paul lists various misfortunes that might befall us (vs. 35) and goes on to speak of potential danger from the spiritual realm (vs. 38) but concludes that God's love overcomes every conceivable obstacle.

The Gospel story itself, apart from describing one of Jesus' most astonishing miracles, prefigures the Eucharist.  Jesus takes, blesses, breaks and distributes the bread (vs. 19) and the many are fed with miraculously provided food.  There is so much that twelve baskets of left-over food are collected after all had eaten "and were satisfied" (vs. 20).  Matthew goes on to emphasize the enormity of this miracle: "Those who ate were about five thousand men, not counting women and children" (vs. 21).

I have said this before in these written homilies, but I suppose it bears repeating.  While it is lovely to think that the effect of Jesus on his hearers was such that everyone brought out the food they had packed for the day and shared with everyone else, and that this was the "true miracle" of the passage...

There seems scant reason for going there.  Number one, this assessment of the passage simply denies the plain meaning of the text.  Number two, later passages refer back to this miracle, suggesting its importance (i.e., Mark 6:51-52).  Number three, if everyone had stopped at McDonalds on the way, or packed a lunch from home, why was there any need to share?  Why were the disciples anxious that Jesus dismiss the crowd so that "they can go to the villages and buy food for themselves" (vs. 15)?

The reasons for questioning this interpretation are not exhausted here.  I simply point these out as indicators that it seems to me more reasonable, to say nothing of keeping with the plain meaning of the text, to suppose that what Matthew describes -- a stupendous miracle -- is what actually happened.  

That miracle, as mentioned, prefigures the miracle of the Eucharist, where our loving and infinitely generous God literally gives himself to us; invites us, as Isaiah predicts, to "listen to me and you shall eat well, you shall delight in rich fare" (vs. 2).  The prophet predicts Jesus' very words at the Last Supper: "I will make with you an everlasting covenant" (vs. 3).  

That covenant, of course, ratified in Jesus' body and blood, is realized at every Catholic (and Orthodox) altar, whenever the Mass is celebrated.

I had planned to be in Los Angeles this week, for meetings about books and YouTube programming.  I canceled at the last minute owing to a perfect storm of factors which included an emergency involving one of my twenty-something nephews.  My nephew himself is fine, but he needed me nearby the middle of this week.  We are dealing with the situation but the immediate need has been attended to, and I am glad it developed before I left for the south state.

In any event, things are moving right along at San Gabriel -- new YouTube programming being filmed and released, four new books to be in print this fall, and book promotion and advertising plans moving forward, with an eye toward implementing same after Labor Day.  

Assuming we are able to splash in with the book marketing campaign it will be a first for us.  Our marketing focus has up to now been centered on the YouTube channel and growing our subscription base.  That effort is going along so smoothly at this point that I liken it to cruise control.  We are free to turn our attention to other aspects of the ministry, and the first in line of these considerations is getting word out about my books.  I will soon have over twenty in print and the only people who have any idea that these books exist are people who know me personally.  Admittedly, that is a number well into the thousands, but I have believed from my early twenties that I have an audience "out there," the same way any other writer does.  I have always said that a work of art is incomplete until it meets its audience.  That is now Job One at San Gabriel, and it will likely continue to be so through the end of this decade. 

We had quite a celebration in the parish this past Sunday, marking my twentieth anniversary; I am working on getting thank yous out, both hand-written notes where I have addresses, and electronically.  The Mass itself was so joyful that I could have stopped there, and walked on air for several days afterward.  Then came the reception.  Oh my goodness.  No effort at a summary can do that celebration justice.  I LOVE St. Clement.

On that note of joyful gratitude, I will sign off.

Hope the mid-summer is treating you well.

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

August Schedule (all Masses English):

Sunday, August 2

8 and 1115 AM; 630 PM

Saturday, August 8

5 PM

Sunday, August 9

8 AM, 630 PM

Sunday, August 16

8 and 1115 AM, 630 PM

Saturday, August 22

5 PM

Sunday, August 23

630 PM

THE CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON (Seton campus)

11 AM

Sunday, August 30

8 and 1115 AM, 630 PM

Weekday Masses (all 8 AM; all English): 

Mon. the 3

Fr. the 7

Sat. the 8

Mon. the 10

Thur. the 13

Sat. the 15

Mon. the 17

Thur. the 20

Sat. the 22

Mon. the 24

Fri. the 28

Sat. the 29

Mon. the 31

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Homily (July 26, 2026): The Treasure Worth Everything

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 26, 2026, Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Relief in Venezuela; Summer in the Parish; Anniversary Party

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• 1 Kings 3:5

• Psalm 119:57, 72, 76-77, 127-30

• Romans 8:28-30

• Matthew 12:44-52

Dear Friends and Family,

As with last week's Gospel passage, there is an option this week, longer or shorter version.  As with last week's passage, if you hear the longer version at Mass this weekend you will hear a couple more parables (analogies might be the batter term) about the Kingdom than if you hear the shorter version.

I am going with the shorter option here because I want to focus on the two parables it contains.  Jesus compares the Kingdom to a treasure in a field and to a pearl of great price.  The person who discovers either goes off and "sells all that he has" in order to purchase the field or the pearl; the person is willing to give up everything in order to have the Kingdom (vss. 44-46).

As with last week's Gospel, there is a real resonance in this week's passage with my own experience.  I discovered the treasure; I found the pearl, and it changed my life utterly.  And I feel that I made this great discovery twice, or maybe I should say, I made it in two phases.  As Jesus uses two analogies, the treasure in the field and the pearl, I will employ them here, in reflecting on my own experience.   

I feel that I found the treasure in the field at 28, when I returned to the practice of the faith after almost nine years away.  I can't say that, at 28, I went out and sold all I had, to possess the Kingdom.  My material possessions at that time consisted of my clothes, some unknown number of books, an electric typewriter and a beloved, six-year old caramel-colored Camaro -- 305, V-8, a dreamy muscle car that could take anything but a Corvette, going over the Grapevine.  

I didn't sell anything, to possess the Kingdom, but I re-ordered things, I re-calibrated my priorities, I changed the way I lived.  I was no longer worshipping at the altar of literary success, and New York and London (though, as the world capitals of English-language publishing, still central to my overall career aims) were no longer what I had often (only semi-jokingly) referred to as my holy cities.  

There was a new center of gravity in my life, that autumn of my twenty-eighth year.  That center of gravity no longer had anything to do with agents and editors and publicists, with success in Manhattan.  The center of gravity found its locus at the altar of the nearest Catholic church.  From sometimes going one year to the next without attending Mass, I was suddenly there several times a week.  In addition to Sunday Mass, more often than not in Marysville, where I tended in those days to spend my weekends, I would go to St. Mary Magdalen on Berkeley's North Side, for the 530 weekday Mass, after getting off work at my office at Cal.  It was a graceful (literally, a grace-full) way to transition from the workday to evenings with my family in Oakland.

Confession became my favorite Sacrament -- I went once or twice a month.  I am reminded of what G. K. Chesterton said, regarding his conversion to Rome: "I wanted to get my sins forgiven."  After nine years adrift, I felt exactly the same way.   

I began to make retreats with the men of the Marysville parish -- usually at Christ the King Retreat Center in Citrus Heights.  My reading, which had always been voluminous (after all, I was determined to succeed as a writer) suddenly expanded to include such authors as C. S. Lewis, Dorothy Sayers, Peter Kreeft and of course, Chesterton, whose works were being re-printed in handsome new volumes from Ignatius Press.  The treasure I had discovered "in the field" was partly intellectual -- I was as much drawn to Catholic philosophy, to the history of the Church, to the lives of the saints, as I was to straight-up theology.  

Above all, of course, there was the simple but vast expansion of my horizon that came with the proper ordering of my fierce literary ambitions.  These ambitions were by no means bad in and of themselves.  But placed at the precise center of my life, as they had been, for most the decade of my twenties, an idolatrous place, they had brought me to grief, as any pursuit of an idol is bound sooner or later to do.  

Freed of the sense that I was nothing if I was not a success as a writer, I began to experience my life itself in a new and, as I say, vastly expanded way.  I was so much more than just a writer.  I was a disciple.  Writing was one of the ways through which my discipleship could be developed and expressed, but it was not the be-all, end-all of my existence.  It was a talent entrusted to me.  My life as a disciple transcended it.  I could not have expressed it as such at the time, but what I was experiencing in those first years back at Mass, back at the Sacraments, back at the praying of the Rosary, back at the life of discipleship, was nothing less than "the glorious freedom of the children of God" (Romans 8:21).

Almost eight years later, the summer that I was 36, I found the pearl, so to speak: I was invited by Fr. Cedric Pisegna of the Passionists at Christ the King to consider becoming a priest.  

This time, if it would have made any difference, I really would have gone off and sold everything.  I still had nothing to sell, you understand, and even my stalwart Camaro at that point (still running smoothly and well) was fourteen years old.  I suppose the proof that I would have sold everything I didn't have is that I was accepted as a candidate by a religious order (the Oblates of the Blessed Virgin Mary, headquartered in this country in Boston) and might well have gone with them but for circumstances in my life which exemplified...

The exact opposite of having anything to sell.  I was in debt.  By the time the Oblates invited me to join them I was 38; my Camaro was gone, replaced by a sleek and sparkling turquoise Grand Am -- on which I owed that spring maybe fifteen grand.  Helping my sister Liz and bro-in-law Hector with the raising of my three Oakland nieces (as I had been doing for most of the past decade) I had credit card debt as well.  It was not massive, but it kept me in place in the East Bay at a time when I might otherwise have gone to Boston.  Had I been free to do so, I might really have thrown it all over and gone to the Oblates.

I was not free to do so.  I remember lunch at a Japanese restaurant on Berkeley's North Side with a close friend from my office at Cal.  This friend, not particularly religious herself, was all the same a great supporter of my decision to become a priest.  Explaining to her that I could not go to Boston, given my immediate circumstances, my friend laughed, and recommended that I trust those circumstances as an indication of God's will.  "Don't worry how your discernment is going to play out," she advised.  "You've got your debts to fall back on.  Let them be your guide."

The evidence of my determination to "sell all that I had" to possess the Kingdom, however, may be seen in my decision to enroll in the philosophy program with the Dominicans at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley.  Taking classes with the Dominicans while continuing to work my job at Cal empowered me to move forward on the "purchase of the pearl" at a time when it would otherwise not have been possible.  

Only one semester in with my studies at the Dominican School, I accepted the position as youth minister in Marysville.  I took the position above all because I sensed that Jesus himself was behind the request.  But among other things, the fact that it was a paying job moved me forward in my determination to "buy the pearl."  For the next three years I worked my job at Cal, worked the youth ministry position in Marysville, coordinated (and taught one of the three sections in the program) the Confirmation program in Marysville, ran the Vocations Committee in the Marysville parish, worked on my latest novels while hoping my latest agent would get one or two of the ones she was showing sold, and -- oh yeah -- took three or four classes a semester in a demanding masters program in philosophy with the Dominicans at the GTU.  

These days, I get tired just describing it.  But that is how my life was at the end of my thirties.  And I remember absolutely loving my life, during those years.  I had found the pearl of great price -- priesthood -- and I was willing to do whatever I had to do, to attain it.  

Venezuela.  The search for lost loved ones continues for many.  My young guys and their families, as previously reported, all came through safely.  The family that was rendered temporarily homeless by structural concerns with their apartment block have been told they will be able to move back home September 1.  Meanwhile -- thanks to your contributions -- they have found a one-month furnished rental (I think it is an Air BnB) and will be moving in August 1.  One of the three guys who was temporarily idled, in terms of his job because of repair work at the restaurant, has gone back to work.  The other two are hopeful of being back to work sometime in August and meantime, again, thanks to you, they and their families are fine.  Taken care of.  $100 American spends like two or three thousand in Caracas, these days.  It is crazy.  But it does make it fairly easy for us to help friends in Venezuela.  Truly, a little goes a LONG way.

Fr. Jesus, pastor here, has been on pilgrimage in Central Europe the last two weeks.  I have had a corresponding increase in parish responsibilities as a result.  And as if I needed it, I am reminded this summer of just how much I love parish ministry, the extent to which it feeds me as a priest.  My commitment to the high school is rock solid.  I ain't goin' nowhere anytime soon.  But I sure do love the simple, basic, direct joys of parish ministry.  As I have said many times before, parish ministry is not work.  It is life.  A priest's life.

Which sets up a neat segue to this Sunday's celebration here in the parish of my twentieth anniversary.  St. Clement has sustained me in my long service at the high school; the parish has provided enthusiasm, encouragement, support and joy.  The parish, to some real extent, told me, even as I plunged in at O'Dowd filled with doubt, "We believe in you; you can do this."  

For that, and for a lot more, this parish has my untold gratitude and love -- untold because it runs too deep for adequate expression.  I think Sunday is going to be one bright and joyful day.  I am grateful that, finding the pearl, I was able to find a way, as well, to pay its price.  

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2026: The Parable of the Weeds and God's Mercy

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 19, 2026, Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time; From Venezuela With Love; Holding the Fort at St. Clement; Twentieth Anniversary Celebration is Right Around the Corner

Readings for Mass this Sunday: 

• Wisdom 12:13, 16-19

• Psalm 86:5-6, 9-10, 15-16

• Romans 8:26-27

• Matthew 13:24-43

Dear Friends and Family,

As with last week's readings, there is an option for a much shorter Gospel; seven verses instead of twenty.  The longer version includes Jesus' explanation of the Parable of the Weeds Among the Wheat, and for that reason I may read it at Mass, Sunday -- with Jesus' explanation included in the reading, I can keep my homily shorter and more focused.  This parable has particular relevance to our time, it seems to me, but of course, it had relevance among the first community of disciples in Jerusalem, as well.

Because I want to concentrate on the passage from Matthew, just a brief overview of the first and second readings and the psalm.  

The reading from Wisdom (one of my favorite Old Testament books) ties neatly into the theme of the Gospel passage (as it should -- the first reading is selected to coincide with and illuminate the Gospel reading each Sunday).  The author of Wisdom assures us that God is "lenient" in his governance of us (vs. 16), and that God will allow us time to repent for our sins (vs. 19).

Psalm 86 underscores the "lenience" or mercy of God: "Lord, you are good and forgiving, most merciful to all who call upon you" (vs. 5).  The psalm goes on to further attest to God's merciful ways: "But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in mercy and truth" (vs. 15).  

The reading from Romans should give us abundant hope in God's merciful care, assuring us as it does that God himself makes intercession for us: "the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings" (vs. 26).  The Spirit is, in the Last Supper Discourses of John's Gospel, described as the Advocate (John 14:16).  Here we can see why.  The Spirit goes before the Judgment Seat for us like a defense attorney.  Paul concludes that "the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God's will" (vs. 27).

If we stop and think about that...God the Holy Spirit pleading our case before the divine majesty...well, it is something to think about. 

So then to the Gospel passage, from Chapter Thirteen of Matthew's Gospel, which is all about parables.  If the longer option is read at the Mass you attend this weekend, you will get a couple more parables thrown in with it, but the main parable in today's passage is that of the weeds sown among the wheat.  There are at least two main considerations to be included in any analysis of this parable.  

The first is to realize that not all people who claim to be Christian behave in a Christ-like manner.  This sounds obvious, but in fact, I have many times heard believers who don't get to Mass very often say that the main reason they are not regularly at Mass is the hypocrisy of a lot of the people who are always there.  Never mind the judgment of others involved here.  Never mind the (understandable but frankly naive) expectation that anyone who claims to follow Christ should, in fact, well, FOLLOW Christ.  

The point I want to make is that Jesus, knowing human nature, warned us at the start that we must be realistic about the Christian community, about the Church.  It is made up of human beings.  Flawed and weak; struggling with sin and brokenness.  Some of its members may, in fact, be serious and unrepentant sinners.  Jesus knew that some people would be scandalized (in more contemporary language, would be very put off) by the reality of hypocrisy among those who claim to be followers of Christ.  So he gave us this parable, to help us stay the course.  The fact of the matter is, has been and always will be that not everyone who claims to follow Christ actually follows Christ.  Don't throw the Church out because of it, Jesus is urging us. 

The second consideration here emphasizes the theme of today's other readings: God's tender and loving care, God's abundant mercy, God's "lenient" governance of his sometimes unruly flock.  When the weeds are found among the wheat, the workers (who represent angels) inform the owner (who, of course, stands in for God).  The workers, dismayed at the presence of the weeds, offer to "go and pull them up" (vs. 28).  The owner demurs, arguing that they might accidently pull up wheat with the weeds; "Let them grow together until the harvest" (vss. 29-30).  

Here the parable directly confirms the assurance from the first reading: God will give us time to repent of our sins.  Something (someone) that looks like a weed may yet prove to be wheat.  Time will tell, and God, in his mercy, gives us that time.

I have a close personal identification with this parable, given my somewhat misspent youth.  I guess you could not have called me a weed among the wheat, when I was in my twenties, because I was not in the wheat field at all.  I was not going to Mass, let alone going to confession.  I was not even pretending to follow Christ.  I was following deeply held conviction and cherished ambition -- I was worshipping at the altar of literary success with no excuses and no apologies.  

The Lord, in his leniency, in his fathomless mercy, granted me time to recognize my sins, to follow the bright path of repentance.  This is why the owner does not allow the workers to pull up the weeds.  "Let them grow together until the harvest."  The Lord gave me the dangerous decade of my twenties to come to my senses and start worshiping at his altar, rather than one of my own making.  In the four decades that span that time to now, I have had abundant evidence of his ongoing tender care, his ongoing mercy.  In his eyes, all of us are wheat -- or possess the capacity to so be.  If we will let him save us from ourselves he is more than ready to meet the challenge.

I have a stack of thank-you notes on my desk as I am writing this (Wednesday afternoon) which I plan to get into the mail tomorrow -- the response to the events in Venezuela has been huge, at this point, and I am thanking and praising the Lord for it and for you.  I still have a family out of their home (but domiciled with relatives until they can return).  Two of my Caraquenos are out of work 'til probably the end of the month, while their places of employment undertake repairs.  A third, temporarily idled, has since been able to return to the restaurant where he heads up the wait staff.  

I have also heard at this point from my "Venezuelan diaspora;" my many Venezuelan friends here and all about the Western hemisphere, with regard to their families in Caracas (and elsewhere in the country).  It almost seems like a miracle, but all of them have assured me their loved ones came through the quakes without much more than a very great scare.  

The death count continues to rise, but -- so far -- it is not close to the apocalyptic predictions many experts (including those at the US Geological Survey) initially were making.  A lot of people who were missing have turned up; many, though, remain unaccounted for.  I will continue to send cash to Caracas as I am able to do so, for the foreseeable future.  I mean I send money regularly anyway -- I mean that this special response is going to continue probably the rest of the summer.  Meanwhile, Venezuela tops my Rosary intentions and this week I have started fasting for the country as well.  That, it seems to me, is about the limit of my ability to respond.  As it is all that I can do, I am doing all of it.

Father Jesus, pastor here at St. Clement, left this week for a seventeen-day pilgrimage through central Europe.  He tried to get a little extra outside help where our Masses, confessions, baptisms and so on are concerned, and -- and this is unusual -- he came up empty.  It's just me and Fr. Celestine (our beloved support priest from Rwanda, who is studying at the GTU and helps us regularly on weekends).  Because Celestine is not here during the week, I have the morning Mass every day straight from July 12 to the 29 -- a joyful start to my mornings, this second half of July.  I've also got some of our Spanish Masses -- Fr. Jesus takes those himself, when he is here.  Saying a few Masses in Spanish this summer is a genuine alegria para mi.  Not just the chance to practice my Spanish, but the chance to be with our Hispanic community, with whom I have formed a long-lasting bond.

I have a parallel bond with the English-language community here as well, and all of us, both languages and every ethnicity, are planning a real celebration to mark my twentieth anniversary -- now just a week off, next Sunday, the 26.  The 1115 Mass followed by a reception in the hall at which, the latest development to be brought to my attention, Jesse Manibusan will be performing.  Jesse and I know each other slightly -- our paths have crossed several times, both in the parishes and at O'Dowd.  I was very pleased to hear that Jesse, hearing of the party, offered to come and sing.  It should be a bright and joyful day.  I look forward to it.

Gonna wrap it here.  Hope your summer is going well.  I am feeling deep rest, at this point, and am grateful for it.

God bless; take good care.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

The Word of God Never Returns Empty: Sunday Homily for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 12, 2026, Fifteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time;  Twentieth Anniversary Celebration in the Parish; Muchas Pero Muchas Gracias de Caracas; Deep Summer

Readings for this Sunday:

•  Isaiah 55:10-11

• Psalm 65:10-14

• Romans 8:18-23

• Matthew 13:1-23

Dear Friends and Family,

All four readings this Sunday rank among my favorite passages from Scripture.  It would be easy to construct a unified homiletic theme from them, but honestly, I so love each passage that I would like to just dive in with each one and explore its truth and beauty individually.  There will be, in my reflections, a general unifying theme -- that of the power of the Word of God.  That observation made, let's take a look at these awesome passages.

Isaiah 55 -- the whole chapter -- is a paean, a deeply poetic tribute to the love, mercy and generosity of God.  I sometimes read it on a whim (not quite the right word) when I want simply to remind myself of God's bounty, God's all-encompassing care, God's limitless love for us.  

The two verses today are maybe my favorites among the thirteen in the chapter, but I say that conditionally; the rest of the verses are every bit as joyful and reassuring.  They are fairly long verses; too long, really, for me to fully quote here.  But listen carefully as they are read at Mass this weekend.  Their description of the Word of God, going forth out over the earth and accomplishing the mission for which it was sent, and running a parallel with the way that "rain and snow come down and do not return until they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful" (vs. 10), is at once deep theology and engaging poetic expression. 

Psalm 65 vies for top spot in my heart and in my mind among all 150 psalms.  It, too, describes God's bounty, God's mercies, God's marvels in lushly poetic prose, again employing images from nature.  

"You visit the earth and water it, make it abundantly fertile....

you drench its plowed furrows and level its ridges. 

With showers you keep it soft, blessing its young shoots. 

You adorn the year with your bounty;

your paths drip with fruitful rain" (vss. 10-12).

One verse earlier in the psalm (not included in today's passage) we read of how "Distant peoples stand in awe of your marvels; the lands of sunrise and sunset you make resound with joy" (vs. 9).  Among the marvels of the Lord, of course, of which these peoples are in awe, is the Word of the Lord -- received with such astonished joy by the Gentiles, at the preaching of the apostles, and down through the centuries since.  Psalm 65 coincides with Isaiah 55 in its assurances of God's powerful and protective love; in its images of soft rains and fruitful abundance -- metaphors for the life-giving nature of God's Word.

The passage from the Letter to the Romans tells us that "creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God" (vs. 19) and that "creation itself (will) be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God" (vs. 21).  Attributing something like a natural consciousness to the created world, Paul goes on to write that "all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now" (vs. 22); that is, the redemption won by Jesus is for the entire material universe -- there will be a new heaven and a new earth (Revelation 21:1).

Matthew organizes his Gospel by theme; chapter thirteen is about parables.  The chief parable in the chapter is that of the sower.  And I will add here that the preacher has an option, this Sunday, to read just the first nine verses, if he so chooses.  They give the full parable.  The explanation of the parable is included in the longer option (which extends the passage to verse twenty-three).

The seed in the parable, of course, represents the Word of God.  The various types of ground on which it lands represent our potential responses.

I have preached a number of times on this parable before; just to make sure I touch on a really salient point, I want to make my standard assertion that we need to avoid reading some kind of endorsement of predestination into this parable.  It would be a mistake to draw from the parable an understanding that some people are "hard ground," incapable of receiving the Word of God.  No one is created for Hell.  I understand the four types of ground to be at least potentially applicable to all of us.  But even if we want to argue otherwise, I like to point out that the hard ground might be softened -- by, for instance, the soft, abundant and life-giving rains (of grace) described in both the first reading and today's psalm.  

Having allowed for that observation I want to say something about the sower himself.  Notice that he throws the seed everywhere.  He does not aim just for the good soil.  He is, in the judgment I would imagine, of most farmers, downright reckless in the distribution of the seed.  I ask my sophomores at O'Dowd about this, when we are studying this parable.  "Remember what the seed represents," I say.  "Why does the sower throw it about so carelessly?"

Bright students, my O’Dowd sophomores; they inevitably reply: "Because God's Word is for everyone."  Amen to that.  The sower's manner of distribution coincides neatly with our motto at San Gabriel Media, our maxim, our watchword: "God is for everyone."  

So is his Word.

Considering his Word, I want to close with a quote about it that I especially love and which sums up in striking prose the principle point of the foregoing reflections; from the Letter to the Hebrews.

 "Indeed, the Word of God is living and effective, 

sharper than any two-edged sword,

penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow,

and able to discern the thoughts of the heart" (Hebrews 4:12).

Enough said!

I have mentioned in passing several times this summer the Mass and reception planned here at St. Clement to celebrate my twentieth anniversary as a priest.  Should any of you wish to attend, the Mass is our 1115 AM Sunday Mass on July 26.  The reception (and it is shaping up to be rather elaborate) follows, across the parking lot, in McCollum Hall.  

I know that friends from Brentwood and Fremont are planning to attend.  Several of my colleagues from the high school have told me they will be there.  A lot of my family is attending, as well.  We will have both of our lots available for parking (parish and school) and the Knights tell me that Moreau's main lot (behind the parish property) will also be open that day.  I look forward to it.  I have meant to reflect a bit, in one of these summer homilies, on twenty years as a priest, but my attention has been drawn elsewhere.  On which point...

I have been getting thank-you notes into the mail every day this week, for donations to my Caracas "boys" and their families.  Your response is very generous -- we are truly making a difference for them.  I told parishioners here in Hayward this morning, when two of them after Mass handed me substantial checks, "My young Caraquenos and their families will stand in line in Heaven, to say thank you."  To say "muchas pero muchas gracias por la ayuda, por el amor."  

It is hard for us to grasp the difference one hundred dollars American makes in Caracas.  It spends far more like a couple of thousand, in terms of purchasing power.  I am deeply grateful for the outpouring of support, and as I say, my wonderful young Caraquenos will thank you, when we all meet up on the other side.  Meanwhile, I am thanking you for them, and from the depths of my heart.

More than two weeks after the quakes the number of confirmed dead remains below four thousand, which of course is four thousand too many, but it is beginning to look as if the worst case scenarios are not going to play out.  A lot of folks initially reported missing have evidently turned up alive; shocked, bruised and in most cases without an operational cell phone and so for days unable to let family know they survived.  Many of the missing have been accounted for -- found alive and well, I mean.  But many thousands remain missing.  Please keep the prayers coming!  I mean it when I say that your prayers may be saving Venezuelan lives.  

Finally, well...it's summertime, and the livin' is breezy.  Love Hayward in July.  Love Hayward year round, but it is especially delightful in the summer.  I have watched with some real sympathy our fellow citizens east of the Rockies, dealing with brutal heat and humidity, the past week.  Family in both Boston and DC reported "stay inside with the AC on" conditions over the weekend of the Fourth.  Kinda too bad, given that this was our 250th birthday.

Meteorological considerations aside, and entirely in line with today's joyful and confident readings, I have to say that it is wonderful to be on summer vacation, largely just right here at my beloved St. Clement, going about my light and bright parishes duties, while working simultaneously on three new books, two of which I expect to have completed at Labor Day.  Way back in the day, as a young writer dreaming of literary success, my life had a rhythm that included long summer vacations in Marysville where, relieved of the social distractions of the Bay Area, I could devote myself to my writing.  There is something of that peaceful and joyous feeling at work here in Hayward this summer.  

But there is something more, of course.  Something so much more.  There is priesthood.  Twenty years of it!

God be thanked.  God be praised.  May he continue to soften my areas of hard ground with his gentle and life-giving rains, with his every Word, which does not return to him empty, but achieves the purpose for which he sent it (Isaiah 55:11).

Take good care.  Hope your summer is bright, breezy and relaxing.

God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Catholic Homily for July 5, 2026: The Gentle Messiah, Prayer, and Trust in God

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 5, 2026, Fourteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Venezuela Update; Time Out With the Sisters; Happy Birthday, America; July Schedule

Readings for this Sunday:

• Zechariah 9:9-10

• Psalm 145:1-2, 8-11, 13-14

• Romans 8:9, 11-13

• Matthew 11:25-30

Dear Friends and Family:

A general theme of the gentleness and mercy of the Messiah might be said to run through this Sunday's readings.  This theme is consistent not just with the many instances of gentleness on Jesus' part throughout the Gospels, but also with dozens of Old Testament predictions of the Messiah.  Alongside the many predictions of the Messiah's conquering strength, which largely led the Jewish people to expect the Messiah to be a military leader, there are parallel predictions such as those found in today's first reading and psalm, attesting to the Messiah's tenderness, his gentle spirit.

Zechariah foresees Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, with Jesus "riding on a donkey, on a colt" (vs. 9), adding that he is humble, and that in his reign "the warrior's bow will be banished, he will proclaim peace to the nations" (vss. 9-10).  

Psalm 145 attests to the compassion and gentleness of the Lord: "The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in kindness" (vs. 8), adding that the Lord is "compassionate toward all (his) works" (vs. 9); that he "supports those who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down" (vs. 13).

Jesus echoes these understandings in the Gospel passage, first praising the Father for having given insight and understanding not to those who are wise and learned by worldly standards, but to the childlike (vs. 25).  He then invites "all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest" (vs. 28).

"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me," Jesus continues, "and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves.  For my yoke is easy and my burden light" (vss. 29-30).  

One way of understanding the truth in this promise of the Lord's is to recognize that, whether we are walking with the Lord or not, burdens come our way; difficulties arise and we must one way or another deal with them.  They are more easily carried when their weight is shared by another pair of shoulders.  That is what Jesus is offering here.  Realizing that we do not have to figure everything out on our own is liberating.  

I have more than a few examples from my own life of how this dynamic plays out.  When we turn to the Lord in prayer and supplication, several things are likely to start happening.  One, we are likely to gain insights into the situation that we could not have arrived at on our own.  Two, we can achieve the understanding that God, whom we have now called in to assist us, already sees us on the other side of the difficulty.  God, being outside of time, already knows how we are going to manage, how we are going to get through.  Three, a realization that, as our evangelical brothers and sisters are fond of putting it, "If God brings you to it, God will bring you through it," should encourage in us both an optimism about the situation's eventually being resolved, and a sense of peace -- "He sees me on the other side of this; I need to trust in that."  Finally, all of the foregoing can encourage in us a new openness to the manner in which the situation is to be resolved.  I've lost count of the situations in my life which wound up being resolved differently than I had expected.  Coming through them to the other side, and looking back and seeing how grace intervened on my behalf, I have just that much more depth in terms of my discipleship; just that much more inclination to rely on God, rather than solely on my own understandings and approaches.

Well, on the subject of relying on God...Millions of Venezuelans are doing just that, this weekend, as they grapple with the horror left behind by the twin earthquakes, last week.  (Incidentally, not that it really matters, but just for the sake of accuracy, the quakes hit forty seconds apart, not forty minutes, as I wrote last week.)

I mentioned that two folks within my personal orbit were still missing, two days after the quakes.  A cousin of our office manager here in the parish, and the brother of my young guy in Orlando, Charlye.  Both were in La Guaira, Caracas' port city, which was devastated.  I learned during the course of this past week that our office manager's cousin was killed in the quakes.  I learned last weekend that Charlye's brother had turned up, bruised and phoneless, but otherwise unscathed.  His office building partially collapsed and in the scramble to escape, he lost his phone.  It took him the better part of two days to hook up with a friend who had an operational phone, and so be able to alert the family (who live in Caracas and Maturin, not La Guaira) that he was safe.

Miracle rescues from the collapsed concrete rubble have been reported all week, of course, but now ten days after the event, the chances of finding any more survivors are vanishingly small.  Tens of thousands are missing.  

My young (well, young-ish) guys in Caracas and their families are dealing with the on-the-ground reality; no power in many instances, no running water.  Places of employment damaged and closed for the next several days or even weeks for repairs.  The family that was out on the street last week remains out of their apartment this week, but they are all inside.  They have split into three groups and moved in with relatives until such time as they get the all-clear to return home.  

To everyone who sent help or offered to do so, my deep thanks.  As I said last week, nothing matters more right now, than prayer.  But as several of you had to ask me for it, this past week, just in case anyone wants to send a check, my address is:

St. Clement Parish

750 Calhoun Street

Hayward 94544

I got money to Caracas the day after the quakes.  Then I went to Soquel to give the sisters' retreat.  I got back yesterday (Friday) and sent a larger amount, which Charlye assured me this morning has already reached our Caraquenos.  I will send more next week and no doubt, more the week after that.  Recovery is likely to be a summer-long process.

The retreat at St. Clare (the Franciscan retreat center in the Santa Cruz Mountains) was rich in faith and serene in feeling.  There were sisters from three different congregations there, as well as several laywomen.  It was a real time-out for all of us, and I am grateful to have had it.  The topic was The Messianic Prophecies, and carving up my notes on it (I have given this talk several times; the first time in Pleasanton, with my mom, way back when) to fit the twelve-talk format for the retreat, I not only had room to expand my coverage of the topic, I began to sense that this might easily become a book!  

We'll see.  I have no shortage of book projects going forward, this summer, this year.

Finally, as it is a special anniversary, our 250th, I think I should end wishing everyone a blessed and restful Fourth of July weekend, remembering that our freedoms have been paid for in blood, and giving thanks and praise to the Lord for the deep blessing that accrues to American citizenship.  May we guard our liberties zealously; once lost, they would be hard to re-win.

Take good care.  God bless.  Happy Fourth!

Fr. Brawn

Mass Schedule for July:

Sunday, July 5

8 AM, 1115 AM (both English)

Saturday, July 11

5 PM (English)

Sunday, July 12

THE CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON, Seton Campus

11 AM (English)

630 PM (St. Clement; English)

Sunday, July 19

930 AM, 1 PM (both Spanish)

630 PM (English)

Saturday, July 25

5 PM (English)

Sunday, July 26

8 AM, 1115 AM (both English)

(THE 1115 AM MASS THIS DAY IS MY 20th ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION MASS; IT WILL BE FOLLOWED BY A RECEPTION IN THE PARISH HALL)

• Daily Masses (All 8 AM and English, except where noted):

• Fri., the 10

•  Sat., the 11

• Mon. thru Sat., the 13-18 -- Wednesday the 15 at 830

• Mon. thru Sat., the 20-25 -- Wednesday the 22 at 830

• Both Tuesday the 14 and Tuesday the 21, 7 PM  (Spanish)

• Mon. the 27

• Tue. the 28

• Thur. the 30

 Fr. Jesus (pastor) is on pilgrimage most of the second half of the month, which is why I have so many daily Masses.