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.

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2026: Hospitality, Generosity, and Praying for Venezuela

Readings and Virtual Homily for June 28, 2026, Thirteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Venezuela

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• ·         2 Kings 4:8-11, 14-16

• ·         Psalm 89:2-3, 16-19

• ·         Romans 6:3-4, 8-11

• ·         Matthew 10:37-42

Dear Friends and Family,

A general homiletic theme suggested by the Ordo (the pocket-size publication that goes out each year to every priest on earth, advising us on all matters pertaining to Masses, both Sunday and daily) is that of hospitality.  It's a unifying thread, so I guess I will go with it, on the understanding that the theme lends itself readily to a consideration of the virtue of generosity.  

The Shunammite woman in the first reading shows great hospitality to the prophet Elisha, in that she has a room added to her house just for him.  She is a woman of prominence in that community, and her support of the prophet empowers his mission in her district.

Elisha wants to express his gratitude and asks his trusted and true servant Gehazi what he might do for her.  Gehazi (who knows a lot about a lot) advises the prophet that the woman is childless and her husband is old (vs. 14).  That is, Gehazi's faith in Elisha's powers is such that he tells his boss, basically, "Ask the Lord to give her a son."

The prophet does just that, and (beyond today's passage) the woman conceives and has a boy.  There are further adventures regarding this family and their love for the prophet, but for today's purposes, the woman's rich generosity toward Elisha is richly returned, in the gift of her child.

The verses from Psalm 89 suggest generosity in that they resound with praise and thanksgiving to God.  A generous heart acknowledges that which others have done for us; how much more so when the One being thanked is God.

The reading from Romans, chosen by that committee in Rome according to the Principle of Continuous Reading, bears little connection to the theme under discussion here, but we may observe in passing that Jesus performs the ultimate act of generosity in giving his entire self for our salvation.

The passage from Matthew should give all of us real hope in terms of God's mercy and graciousness, in terms of God's gratitude (if that be the term) when we are generous with others, when we show hospitality, and especially so when the hospitality, the generosity is extended to another because he or she is a disciple.  Jesus' assurance that even someone who gives a cup of cold water to a disciple will not go without his or her reward (vs. 42) tells us that God notices the smallest acts of generosity on our part.  And our generosity toward others always merits its return to us, from God, “who will not be outdone in generosity.” (This quote is often attributed to St. Ignatius of Loyola.)

So, a fairly short homily today because I have received many, many messages, as you might guess, the past two days, expressing concern for Venezuela in general and for my young guys in Caracas and their families, in particular.  I am grateful.  I can and I will get every single one of these texts and e-mails responded to, but here, with the general e-mail, I can reach a lot of people with the information I have at the moment, and it is going to take the rest of this communication, so, I abbreviated my homiletic reflection.

The first thing I want to say is that it had been my intention, all this month, to talk about Venezuela in this week's e-mail.  The reason is that this week marks the twentieth anniversary of the start of the Caracas ministry.  It was June 22, 2006, a Thursday that year, that three of my Marysville guys and I arrived in Caracas for what would prove to be a life-changing five or six days.  

I had been to Venezuela the previous summer, with one of the Marysville guys, whose parents had a timeshare on Margarita Island, the gorgeous Venezuelan resort isle which lies in a line with Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao.  We'd spent twelve days on Margarita in the summer of 2005, but also three days at the start of the trip and three at the end, in Caracas.  Tico (the Marysville boy, actually he is from Woodland, but never mind, he was a leader of the Marysville group) and I loved Margarita, but we loved Caracas more and, with his folks' okay, we returned to Caracas before the time on Margarita was slated to be up.  We had discovered a restaurant there -- a very high-end Venezuelan steakhouse -- that we loved: Punta Grill.

In June of 2006, returning with Tico and two more of the Marysville guys (they were all young adults, mid-twenties at this point) we came to befriend several members of the bar and waitstaff at Punta Grill, also all in their twenties, all Catholic, all speaking, of course, fluent Spanish, all filled with the hopes and dreams and ambitions of youth -- the Marysville guys and the Caraquenos had a lot in common and hit it off quickly.  

I returned two months later, this time with Tico and three other members of the old Marysville youth group, and the rest is history.  Tico eventually married a Venezuelan girl; Matt (another Marysvillian) has been with his Venezuelan lady fifteen years.  My mom traveled to Caracas with me in 2008, and to this day the Caraquenos refer to her as "una mujer muy fuerte" (a very strong woman).  It is a long and involved and inspirational story.  I am writing a book about it.  No really.  I am writing a book about it.  I am titling it CARACAS STORY and intend to have it out next year.

In any event, because this week marks the twentieth anniversary of my Marysville boys and I meeting up with our buddies (our bros, really) in Caracas, it was my intention to write about this life-changing set of events, in this week's homily.  

Then crises hit.

Not the earthquakes.  Rather, the mother of one of my Caraquenos, a lady about my age, the mother of seven and who has all her life straddled the line between working class and poor, fell in her home and broke an arm, a leg, bruised several ribs and probably suffered a concussion.  Her son, who now lives in Orlando and whom we all call Charlye, though of course, that is his nickname, is one of the Venezuelans with whom I have maintained the strongest relationship, over the years.  He let me know immediately of his mother's fall and I sent money and also sent out a distress call to anyone I thought might want to help --

Because the medical infrastructure in Venezuela is so bad that you need to bring your own syringes, sponges, surgical gloves, and heaven knows what else to the hospital with you -- the hospital itself does not have basic medical supplies.  These supplies are available on the black market at exorbitant rates for Venezuelans paying in the local currency.  They are readily affordable for Venezuelans using the dollar.  

When I send money to Venezuela, my boys get it in dollars.  Long story -- never mind how.  But they get American cash, and so are able to negotiate the black market for things like, oh I don't know, insulin for Grandma's diabetes, blood pressure medication for Tio Ricardo and so forth.  Dollars are the dividing line, in today's Venezuela.  If you have them, you are okay.  If you don't...Buen suerte (good luck).

No sooner had Charlye and I -- with a real assist from some generous folks who are among the recipients of these e-mails -- put the emergency with his mother behind us than did twin earthquakes strike the nation, about one hundred miles southwest of Caracas.  And it was two earthquakes; not one with an aftershock.  The second was much bigger than the first, but the first was huge.  A 7.1 followed by a 7.5.  Forty minutes apart.  If you have seen the newsfeeds, you know this is catastrophic.

Charlye had alerted me to the disaster within minutes of its occurring and of course the first thing we wanted to know was whether everyone was all right.  As of this writing, all my young men are accounted for, though one of their families is out on the street -- their apartment block withstood the tremors, but has cracks in several exterior walls.  No one knows yet whether it is safe to return.  

Here's what is so crazy about the situation in Venezuela: with $250 (AMERICAN MONEY) this family will be taken care of for the summer.  They'll be able to rent 'til September, and have money for food, medicine, gas, the metro and so forth.  That is how debased the Venezuelan economy has become since Hugo Chavez and his thugs took the reins of power, almost thirty years ago.  The average daily wage in Venezuela, in American terms, is $1.37.  

You read that right.  One dollar, thirty-seven cents.  This, in the nation with the largest proven oil reserves on earth.  Don't get me started.

People are asking how they can help.  Prayers are a good place to start.  Venezuela needs all the prayers it can get, right now, and please do not underestimate the power of your prayers for this beautiful and long-suffering nation.  Your prayers are very likely going to save lives.

Money, of course, also helps, and big time.  

I eventually plan a non-profit, in association with San Gabriel Media, that will empower me to offer donors a tax write-off for their contributions to my Venezuelan ministry.  That non-profit is likely another two or three years in the future, though, and if you want to help my ten young guys in Caracas and their families financially, about the only way to do it is by writing a check and sending it to me.  I am not tech-savvy with banking; do not have Zelle or Venmo.  (I am hugely resistant to having any financial info whatever on my phone or on any other electronic device.  Luddite Old School of me, I know.  But there you are.)

One last thing, before I go.  Although all ten of my Caraquenos are accounted for, Charlye has a brother in La Guaira (Caracas' port city) who has not been seen or heard from since the quakes.  Also, our office manager here at St. Clement, a Caracas native, has a cousin in the same city who is missing.  La Guaira, which I know because it is where the airport is, like all the cities along the central Caribbean coast, was hit very very hard.  A lot of collapsed apartment blocks, wrecked freeways and so forth.  

As I say, prayer for Venezuela is number one, right now.  I could say so much more, but this e-mail is long enough.

My deep thanks again to all who have reached out, wanting to express your concern, asking how you can help.  Thank you.  Gracias.  Mil gracias.  

I am away this week at St. Clare Retreat Center in Soquel, giving an eight-day women's silent retreat.  I will get next week's e-mail done Friday evening, after I have returned.  I'll have more information on the situation in Caracas then.

Pray for Venezuela.

Much love and so much gratitude,

Fr. Brawn

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time Homily (June 21, 2026): Trusting God Through Every Trial

Readings and Virtual Homily for June 21, 2026, Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Mourning a Beloved Colleague; Summer Plans Post-London

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Jeremiah 20:10-13

• Psalm 69:8-10, 17, 33-35

• Romans 5:12-15

• Matthew 10:26-33

 Dear Friends and Family,

A theme of basic trust runs through this week's readings.  Trust, perhaps, especially when trusting is most difficult, when one finds oneself in circumstances of real distress.  

Jeremiah knew plenty about circumstances of distress.  He was mocked, derided, pursued and persecuted for his faithfulness in proclaiming the word as it came to him.  He lived at the time of the fall of the southern kingdom to the Babylonians -- most of the news he had for the leaders of Israel (well, strictly speaking, the leaders of Judah, the southern kingdom) was bad news, even very bad news.  

The verses in today's passage may be understood as well to foreshadow the sufferings of Christ.  Like Jeremiah, Jesus too knew "the whisperings of many, terror on every side" (vs. 10).  Jesus knew the desire of the religious leaders to "take or revenge on him" (vs. 10).  Jesus also knew, as Jeremiah here asserts, that "...the Lord is with me, like a mighty champion; my persecutors will stumble, they will not prevail" (vs. 11).  

Of course it seemed to the first century leaders that they had prevailed over Jesus, that they had exacted their deadly revenge.  But as Jeremiah proclaims in today's passage, and we may see in this verse a foreshadowing of the Resurrection: "Sing to the Lord, praise the Lord, for he has rescued the life of the poor from evildoers" (vs. 13).

Psalm 69 is considered a prediction of the Passion of Christ.  "For it is on your account," the psalmist writes, "that I bear insult, that disgrace covers my face" (vs. 8).  The psalm goes on to describe affliction that lines up quite easily with the sufferings of Christ, right down to the psalmist's observation that "for my thirst they gave me gall" (vs. 22 and not included in today's passage).  

But the psalm, too, turns a corner, finds a place of refuge, of peace and joy.

 "See, you lowly ones and be glad;

you who seek God, take heart!  For the Lord hears the poor

and does not spurn those in bondage. 

Let the heavens and the earth praise him" (vss. 33-35).

Only related in a tangential way to this general theme of trust, the passage from Romans reminds us that as all of us fell through Adam, so redemption is available to all, through Jesus (vss. 12, 15).  We may make a direct connection to the theme of trust in at least this respect -- whether in confession, during a homily or in a counseling session, I often point to a crucifix and say "that is how much we are loved...I think he has earned our trust."  Paul assures us in today's second reading that God's love for us is superabundant, that it "overflows" for us in mercy, in saving grace (vs. 15).

In the Gospel passage Jesus assures the disciples that God has counted the hairs on their heads -- something it is getting easier and easier to do with me.  God notices the fall of a sparrow from the sky, Jesus says.  How much more so will the Lord provide for his chosen ones (vss. 29-31).  This passage is connected to Matthew's description of the commissioning and initial sending forth of the apostles (last week's passage).  Jesus is encouraging the twelve to abide in faith, that is, to abide in trust, that God will be with them.  

It can really be hard, at times, to hang on to trust.  To remember that whatever our circumstances, God, who is outside of time, sees us on the other side of them; knows not only that we will get through them, but knows how.  It can really be hard sometimes, to "let go and let God," as our evangelical brothers and sisters like to say.  Today's readings strongly encourage us to do just that.

Something that can challenge -- and summon -- our capacity for trust is the sudden, entirely unexpected loss of a loved one.  I have experienced just this reality this past week in the death of a dear friend and colleague, Martha Zeyen, whom I know many of you also know.  Martha suffered a massive stroke the week before last.  She lingered a few days, but there was evidently never any hope of her coming through it.   

Martha and I met my first summer as a priest in Pleasanton twenty years ago.  She worked in Faith Formation at CCOP; children’s catechesis and sacramental formation.  I took to Martha right away because of her keen intelligence, her wonderful wit and her rock-solid faith, a faith that knew how to summon trust in difficult circumstances.   

I was witness to this ability on Martha's part several times.  Life dealt her several serious curve balls over the past two decades.  Martha always knew how to roll with the punch, get back up, dust herself off and move on to whatever came next.  She sometimes would wryly ask if I had any clue what on earth God had in mind, as she certainly didn't, but Martha never doubted his love for her, his plan for her, however it might be revealed.  She soldiered on with a faith and an indomitable joy that resonate with me this bright summer evening, as I think back on twenty years of friendship and ministry partnership with her.

For the past six years, Martha worked almost next-door to us here at St. Clement, at Assumption Parish in San Leandro.  She was office manager, a position which called on her substantial administrative and organizational skills.  The parish published a beautiful obituary, citing among other things, Martha's great popularity with the children at the school, and her twinkling and often self-effacing humor -- quoting one of her best original lines: "I need two chocolates; one for each hip to keep them in balance."

I'd seen Martha several times this past winter and spring -- at Assumption, at CCOP, at St. Clare Retreat Center in Soquel.  She was looking forward to the quieter pace of the parish over the summer, making plans for various parish events, looking forward to her next trip to Disneyland (those of you who knew her know that she was one of the Magic Kingdom's most loyal and enthusiastic afficionados).   

I've no doubt that Martha woke up on the other side of that stroke to open arms and a deeply smiling welcome from Our Lord himself: "Well done, good and faithful servant.  Enter into the joy that has been prepared for you from the beginning of the world."  (That is more or less a quote from the Parable of the Talents; Matthew 25.)  Martha Zeyen was a woman of many talents.  She generously and joyfully laid them at the service of the Lord.   

Hard to grasp that I will not see her again, this side of Paradise.  We were close enough in age so that this turn of events is a real, a deep shock to me.  I'll say this, and I doubt Martha would argue: There is something to be said for dying with your boots on.  Martha talked of retirement as being still another four or five years off -- and my guess is that, had she reached retirement, she would have been as busy as ever, one of those great dear "church ladies" who volunteer for everything and are revered by their fellow parishioners, and by the priests and staffs of their parish as well.  Instead of which, Martha left Assumption as a treasured and vital member of its staff.  She went out still tending the vineyard full time.  She will be missed.  

Pray for us, Martha.  Thank you for your life of discipleship.

I got back from London early in the week and am happy to report zero jetlag.  On balance that could be because I never quite got onto London time this trip; it was too short.  It made no difference -- I was on vacation and slept 'til I was ready to get up each morning -- 930, 10, 1030.  I may not have quite been on Greenwich Time, but I did just fine; felt rested throughout my stay. 

I took the advance pages on my newest novel with me, and got some additional work done on it.  And my hosts (David and Brenda Rose, whom I know some of you know from their long years in Pleasanton) dazzled me with several A-I generated covers for the book.  It is -- kinda scary -- what ChatGPT and Google A-I can do.  I am very likely to use one of these covers, when we are ready to bring the book into print. 

With my only summer trip behind me, I am moving into summer work mode.  There is more than just this new novel on my agenda.  I am giving an eight-day silent retreat for the Franciscan sisters (and others, as well, including laywomen) at St. Clare, June 26-July 3.  And there is still the matter of that nearly done new book that I had hoped to finish at Easter.  Plus, just the regular parish summer routine.  Had a major funeral this week; am prepping two young couples for marriage later this year; and with Fr. Jesus away much of next month, there will be no shortage of parish Masses this summer.  All good.  The parish is my anchor, my rock.  Everything else gets done as well as it does largely because of the sheer grace I receive, being one of the priests here at St. Clement.  It has been like this since my first summer here -- eleven years ago!

On a related note, the parish party for my twentieth anniversary is the afternoon of Sunday, July 26.  I'll send more info next week.

Take care, God bless and happy Father's Day!

Love, 

Fr. Brawn

A quick note on a change in the June schedule: I now have the eight AM Mass here at St. Clement this Sunday, Father's Day.  I still have both the 11 at Elizabeth Seton (Pleasanton) and the 630 evening Mass here in Hayward as well.

From Israel to the Nations: God's Plan for a Global Church

Readings and Mini Virtual Homily for June 14,2026, Eleventh Sunday of Ordinary Time; Hackers and Hell; Love from London

Dear Friends and Family:

It is Wednesday morning as I am writing this.  The homily is more like a homilette as I am flying to London later today and the time I set aside to do a real homily -- last evening -- was caught up cleaning up a hack of my Bishop O'Dowd e-mail account.  Thank the good Lord for a friend whose business is cybersecurity and who was on it before I knew the hack had happened.  Without his help, I would still be trying to get it all fixed.

It IS fixed, but I lost last evening and do not have time this morning for a real homily.  I always leave packing -- and almost everything else with regard to travel 'til the last minute.  I have to give the several hours between now and when I leave for the airport to preparations for the trip.

All the same, here are this Sunday's readings and a brief synopsis of each: 

• Exodus 19:2-6

• Psalm 100:1-2, 3, 5

• Romans 5:6-11

• Matthew 9:36 - 10:8

The reading from Exodus includes God's promise to the Israelites that if they are true to the covenant, they will be his "treasured possession among all peoples" (vs.5) and that the Lord will make of them "a kingdom of priests, a holy nation" (vs. 6).  This is the real start of the Jews as the Chosen People -- explaining why is something I would do, if I were not flying to London in a few hours!

The psalm predicts the time -- our time -- of the global faith.  "Shout joyfully to the Lord, all you lands" Psalm 100 starts, adding "we are his people, the flock he shepherds" (vs. 3).  The time of the nations coming to faith is predicted repeatedly in the psalms and the prophets.  The Christian faith is found today in every nation on earth; we are the fulfillment of these Old Testament predictions.

The reading from Romans describes God's great saving act in the self-sacrifice of Jesus.  Though the Roman community included many Jewish converts, it -- like all the first-century faith communities -- included Gentiles as well.  Paul, of course, describes himself as the apostle to the Gentiles, that is, the pagan peoples who would flock to the faith at the preaching of the apostles.  The Good News is for all peoples and for all time.

The passage from Matthew describes the call and the commissioning of the apostles.  Jesus sends them out at first specifically to the Jewish people -- "Do not go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town" (10:5).  Jesus focused his ministry on the Jewish people.  But after the Resurrection Jesus explicitly mentions Samaria as one of the places from which the Gospel will originally be spread -- not just to Jews and Samaritans, but to the whole world (Acts of the Apostles 1:8) and so, of course, begins the great work of evangelization which brought about the conversion of our own pagan ancestors and makes us heirs to the promise, echoing today's first reading and set forth in 1 Peter 2:9 

"You are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people set apart so that you might show forth the praise of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light."

That'll have to do it, for this one!

Having now been hacked twice (the first time was in march of 2020, right at the start of the COVID shutdowns) I have taken a moment or two to consider the sort of human being who can justify to his conscience committing not just this crime but also this sin.  Unrepentant, I do not think it will go lightly for such persons in the Particular Judgment.  This strikes me as a pretty serious sin.  I told my hi-tech buddy who intervened so effectively on my behalf last night that I suppose I should pray for the salvation of hackers...

A mortifying thought, but after all, Holy Mother Church encourages all of us, and priests in particular, to accept mortifications as a means to sanctity along our pilgrim way.   I'll offer a Hail Mary sometime tonight, high above the Canadian Arctic.

Meanwhile...London.  Only a few days -- the coming week did not work out for Paris, and a last-minute attempt to add Boston to my itinerary later next week also fell through.  Given my brand new novel, which is traveling to London with me, I am okay with this.  With the pastor here away most of July on a pilgrimage and with our wonderful and so reliable helper priest (Fr. Celestine, who is studying at the GTU) on a six week scholarship to study in Germany late July til Labor Day...

I am the only priest who is going to spend the summer in Hayward.  I take it to mean I will get a lot of writing done.  Not gonna complain.

Take good care and God bless.

Cheerio!

Fr. Brawn

June 7, 2026 Homily: The Eucharist, the Incarnation, and the Wonder of Corpus Christi

Readings and Virtual Homily for June 7, 2026, Corpus Christi Sunday; A Literary Summer; Let the Good Times Roll

:Dear Friends and Family

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Deuteronomy 8:2-3, 14-16

• Psalm 147:12-15, 19-20

• 1 Corinthians 10:16-17

• John 6:51-58

The two Sundays after Pentecost celebrate the deepest mysteries of our faith -- the Trinity, last Sunday, and the Incarnation, this.  Officially this Sunday is titled the Feast of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ.  More typically, it is referred to as Corpus Christi.  

The readings reflect the theme, with the first reading reminding the Israelites that God took care of them in the desert, feeding them with manna, "a food unknown to your ancestors" (vss. 3 and 16).  The manna -- "bread from heaven" -- of course prefigures the Eucharist. 

The psalm assures us that God fills us "with finest wheat" (vs. 14).  Psalm 147 looks to the future; it is, in fact, a prediction of the time of the Church, of the New Jerusalem (vss. 12-14).  The Eucharist, heart of Christian worship, does indeed constitute the "finest wheat."  In it, God gives us his very self, the body and blood of the God-Man, Jesus of Nazareth. 

The passage from the First Letter to the Corinthians is a proof text for us Catholics (and the Orthodox) that the first generation of Christians believed in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  Here are Paul's exact words; they are hard to misconstrue. "The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ?  The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?" (vs. 16).  That the first Christians believed Christ was truly present in the Eucharist is attested to by the fact that they were sometimes accused, by their pagan neighbors in the Roman Empire, of conducting "cannibal rites" in their worship services.  

The last third or so of the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John is known as the Bread of Life Discourse.  In these verses and beyond, Jesus repeatedly assures his listeners that they must eat his flesh and drink his blood or they will have "no life" in them.  He does not beat about the bush here.  He says his flesh is real food and his blood real drink and he says it several times.  

Later on in the chapter, Jesus lets those who cannot accept the teaching leave (vss. 66-67).  He does not chase after them assuring them that he was speaking metaphorically.  He lets them go.  He then turns to the apostles and asks if they also will leave him.  Peter answers for all Catholics and Orthodox Christians for all time when he says "Master, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life" (vs. 68). 

The Church's understanding of the Real Presence has been clear (both in the Scriptures and in the earliest liturgical documents) from the time of the apostles.  It has been repeatedly reinforced, through the writings of theologians going back to the second and third centuries.  It has at times been clarified in conciliar documents (most significantly at the Council of Trent in the sixteenth century).  

The presence of Christ in the Eucharist is a mystical reality -- but the term mystical must not be thought of as diminishing that reality.  Indeed, that which is mystical is, in a manner of speaking, more real than earthly realities.  While decidedly NOT a cannibal banquet, the Eucharist is a real "participation" in the body and blood of Christ; it is a mystical union (as in, communion) with the Second Person of the Trinity, through the medium of his body and blood.

As I say, one of the deepest mysteries of the faith.

An emphasis on the Eucharist is entirely appropriate in homilies today, but the feast itself is more than an acknowledgment of sacramental doctrine.  Corpus Christi is a celebration of the astonishing reality that lies at the heart of the Christian faith: That God from God and Light from Light, the One through Whom all things were made, became one of us.  The Second Person of the Trinity -- human.  Human body, human blood, human soul.  God partaking of human nature, and in so doing, elevating us, empowering us to become partakers of the Divine nature -- the bread we break, the cup we share, are they not a participation in the body and blood of Jesus, true God and true man?  

I could go on.  You get the idea.  While an emphasis on the Real Presence is entirely appropriate today, we are in fact celebrating something beyond sacramental theology.  We are celebrating the fact that God, the Second Person of the Trinity, is one of us.  

Wow.  I mean, like...WOW.  As in Wonder Of Wonders WOW.  God.  One of us.  The Feast of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, that is, Corpus Christi Sunday.

You may remember my hope, at Easter break, of completing a new book -- a hope blown out of the water by an entirely unforeseen set of difficulties surrounding annulment paperwork and an imminent overseas wedding.  I rolled with the punch -- not all that graciously, but I rolled with it -- promising myself I would get the new book done this summer.

And I plan to do so.   Just as soon as I finish another new book.  A brand new book.  A novel.  A novel that came to me almost as a download, Tuesday evening as I was crossing the front grounds at Moreau (the high school sits adjacent our property here) praying my sunset Rosary.  The book came in a flash of insight -- as now and again, a novel will do -- and by late Tuesday night I had fourteen pages of notes on it.  By Wednesday noon, as I was heading out to a twentieth anniversary lunch celebration with friends here in the parish, I had twenty pages of notes.  This evening (Friday) I am closing on forty.  I am talking here notes hand-written in pencil on lined yellow legal pad.  I always write a book out first, for fifty, sixty, seventy or more pages, before I start to type it up. 

The novel tackles a very current issue -- artificial intelligence -- and does so in a Hollywood milieu, an entertainment world milieu set in Los Angeles thirty years in the future.  As the Catholic faith is part of the novel's deep background, I am thinking I better read Leo's recently released encyclical on this subject.   

The novel's working title is borrowed from Marilyn Monroe's last (and unfinished) film: SOMETHING'S GOT TO GIVE.  Monday (June 1) was Monroe's centenary; that is, the one hundredth anniversary of her birth.  There were a lot of features, articles, photo spreads about MM this week.  I looked through a few of them, Monday, Tuesday, while catching up on the news and...I think that is how the Spirit inspired me.  AI is aiming at some of the deepest questions the human heart can ask; it gets at what it actually IS, to BE human.  My new novel aims to explore some of those questions, from, as I say, a deep Catholic background and within the glitzy milieu of the entertainment world.  

So now I am at work on TWO new books this summer -- and check with me at Labor Day, but I plan to have both done by then.  Having scored some initial successes at YouTube this past year, we are moving this summer, this fall into book promotion at San Gabriel Media.  I want both these new books ready to hit the market, by the end of the year.  

I wrapped the last two or three weeks of the spring semester immersed in twentieth anniversary celebrations -- I am splashing into the summer the same way.  Was out to dinner in Sacramento Monday evening with seven of the Men from Marysville -- former members of the Marysville youth group.  I've had two lunches this week as well, here in the East Bay, marking twenty years as a priest.  And on Wednesday our parish school knocked me over with an involved and touching tribute, following the weekly school Mass.  

I'm headed to London next week, but it is a short trip and when I return, I have several additional celebrations on my calendar -- and all of this before the big party, here in the parish, in late July.  Let the good times roll, I guess.  The last time I made any effort to celebrate my anniversary was ten years ago and it will be another five, before I do so again, so...as I say, let the good times roll. 

Feeling grateful, as this summer of 2026 gets underway.  Hopeful.  Joyful.  Grateful.  

God be praised.

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Trinity Sunday Mass Readings and Homily: God's Revelation as Father, Son, and Spirit

Readings for May 31, Trinity Sunday; Virtual Homily; Graduation at O'Dowd; Summertime and the Livin' is Breezy; June Schedule

Dear Friends and Family,

Readings for Mass this Sunday: 

• Exodus 34:4-6, 8-9

• Daniel 3:52-55

• 2 Corinthians 13:11-13

• John 3:16-18

The Feast of the Holy Trinity is one of my favorites of the year.  I love it for a variety of reasons, but it is especially joyful to me, from my perspective as a preacher.  I suppose that this is because the concept of the Trinity offers so many, many possibilities for informative and relatable homilies.  I have several homilies for this Sunday, and rotate them so as not to be repeating myself one year to the next, but in fact several homilies I have never preached are certainly possible as well -- I mean homilies about the Trinity that might occur to my mind, let alone the homilies that have and will occur to other priests, to deacons with preaching responsibilities this Sunday.  This subject is inexhaustible.

The Trinity, as I say often from the pulpit and which I know I have said several times in these written homilies, is the deepest mystery of our faith.  It is the mystery of the Divine Being itself.  It is beyond us. 

Having said that, I have to immediately admit the deeply interesting fact that the Greeks, in their philosophical concept of the One, the Logos and the World Soul, came within striking distance of our own Trinitarian understanding.  But I attribute this accomplishment on the part of Greek philosophy to the intercession of the Trinity itself.  We are, after all, made in the image and likeness of God.  So it seems reasonable that, guided by God (that is, by the Holy Spirit) we might attain to a rough approximation of the nature of God.  

But in any event, the ancient Greek philosophical understanding lacks some of the nuances of the Christian revelation.  I have always maintained that the doctrine of the Trinity may be said to provide proof for the existence of God, because the human mind could not have conceived of it.  It HAD to have been revealed to us -- by the Triune God.

As to this Sunday's readings, well...Exodus is one of the several examples from the Old Testament of "the Lord" appearing to a human being and conversing with him (the actual passage says the Lord descended in a cloud and stood with Moses, suggesting human, or human-like appearance; vs. 5).  This passage is one of several which theologians -- Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant -- agree is one in which Jesus appears to persons in the Old Testament.  That is, this is one of the "pre-incarnate Christ" appearances; the theologians argue that the Second Person, outside of time and space, incarnate in the man Jesus of Nazareth, was able to enter into human history before that first Christmas morning in Bethlehem.

This set of speculations takes us to the second deepest mystery of our faith -- the Incarnation.  Fascinating as these speculations are, they are beyond the scope of this homily, which is about the Trinity.  

The reading from Daniel, which functions as today's psalm, repeatedly, even rhythmically, attests to the glory of God but there is nothing in it to suggest a Trinitarian concept and I need to point out that this concept -- that God is three Persons in one Divine Being -- is in fact, only latent in the Hebrew Scriptures.  Though there are many references to both the Word (Second Person) and the Spirit (Third Person) of God in the Hebrew Scriptures (that is, the Old Testament), it is possible to read these references (as the Jewish people do) as pertaining only to aspects of the divine nature, not to separate Persons within the Godhead.

No such qualifications needed with Paul's sign-off in the Second Letter to the Corinthians.  This is the way most priests start the Mass -- it is a transparently Trinitarian blessing (vs. 13).  By Paul's time, of course, the reality of the Trinity had been made manifest to the first Christians.  

Finally, John 3:16 is, of course, one of Scripture's most famous passages.  "For God so loved the world that he sent his only Son..."  In fairness it is possible to read past the words of the passage and still not recognize the Trinity.  But Jesus' repeated references to himself and the Father as one (for instance, John 14:9-10), tell us that God's only begotten Son is, in fact, God.  

I'll wrap here -- despite wishing that I could go on for several more paragraphs -- by observing that it was precisely Jesus' insistence that he and the Father are one that so rattled the Pharisees.  They had no concept of the Trinity.  Merely in revealing the truth about the Godhead, Jesus placed himself at such odds with the religious leaders of first century Israel that they sought his death.  They sought his death for a number of other reasons as well, but the great mystery which we celebrate today, one God, three Divine Persons, lay at the very heart of the debate between Jesus and the religious leaders.  As much as he was killed for anything else, Jesus was killed for revealing the truth about the nature of the Divine Being, the Trinity.

I am getting this baby wrapped on Saturday evening, and my apologies for the fact that it did not arrive this morning, for which I generally aim.  I cannot even claim that it has been a particularly heavy week, and thus my lateness with this e-mail.  It was finals week, this past week at O'Dowd.  My kids did not take a final.  I've been busy with grading, off and on, but the main reason this homily was not in your inbox at eight this morning is that I have already splashed into summer... 

Have taken it fairly slow and easy this past week; a couple Happy Twentieth Anniversary lunches, one such dinner celebration, sleeping late the two mornings I neither had the parish morning Mass nor had to be on campus, proof-reading a book we will be bringing into print in the fall, and so on.

As far as I am concerned, summer started a week ago, but graduation, tomorrow, confirms it.  As is always the case, there are numerous members of the class of 2026 I will miss seeing around campus, next fall.  At the same time, and this is just part of the rhythm and reality of the chaplaincy, I am glad to see them move into the next chapter of their young lives.  

Meanwhile, the week's strange weather (not as weird here in Hayward as it has been in some parts of the state) notwithstanding, summer is here.  I have this summer little in the way of travel plans and a lot in the way of ministry plans, especially as regards San Gabriel Media.  I also have plans to genuinely kick back, here and there, enjoy a bbq with my family, linger over brunch on the patio at Vic's with good friends in Pleasanton, indulge myself with extra time at the gym.

I hope your summer, too, is off to a good start.

Take care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn  

June Schedule:

Sunday, June 7

8, 1115 AM (both English)

Sunday, June 21

8 AM (English)

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON/Seton Campus

11 AM (English)

Sunday, July 5

8, 1115 AM (both English)

Weekday Masses (all 8 AM, all English)

Mon, June 1

Fri, June 5

Sat, June 6

Mon, June 22

Tue, June 23

The weekday Mass schedule is likely to change -- I mean, I will have the Masses listed, but I am likely to pick up a few more.  There was a miscommunication between myself and Fr. Jesus, regarding my June availability.  Assuming I get more weekday Masses, I will report same in a future e-mail.  I am not on the schedule the weekend of the 13-14 or the 27-28 because I am in London, the first of those weekends and am giving a retreat at St. Clare in Soquel the second.

Pentecost Sunday Reflection: The Power and Gifts of the Holy Spirit

Readings and Virtual Homily for May 24, 2026, Feast of Pentecost; Amazing Graces; School's Out! 

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Acts of the Apostles 2:1-11

• Psalm 104:1, 24, 29-31, 34

• 1 Corinthians 12:3-7, 12-13

• John 20;19-23

Dear Friends and Family,

The Feast of Pentecost is one of the most important of the year.  It should rightly be ranked with Christmas and Easter, in terms of its significance.  It is not so ranked, by and large, but it should be.  It is the manifestation in time and space of the Third Person of the Trinity.  It is the coming in power into human history of the Holy Spirit.  It is the birth of the Church.

The focus of many Pentecost homilies is often the first reading, and for good reason.  The second chapter of Acts is not the first place in Scripture to mention the Spirit, but it is the place that really introduces the Spirit.  A few considerations on this point.

The Spirit arrives after a period, tradition tells us ten days, of intense prayer.  The disciples have been gathered "in cenacle" in the big house in Jerusalem, praying together and waiting together, as Jesus had instructed them to do (Luke 24:29).  Prayer in community, in other words, calls down the graces of the Spirit, the miracle of Pentecost.

The Spirit appears with the sound of a great wind and descends upon the disciples in the form of "tongues of flame" (vss. 2-3) which seems entirely appropriate, given what happens next.  The disciples, freed by the Spirit's gift of courage, from any lingering fear and anxiety about proclaiming themselves followers of Jesus, declare their discipleship boldly, with utter confidence and conviction.  

The Spirit empowers the disciples to speak in a variety of languages (vs. 4) so that those gathered in the streets, who have come to Jerusalem from all over the Eastern Mediterranean and Western Asian world, may understand -- a reversal of the curse of the Tower of Babel.  The Spirit empowers communication.

Those baptized that day (over three thousand, vs. 41, and beyond today's reading), having come from all over the empire for the Jewish feast of Pentecost, will now take the Good News back home with them -- like seeds scattered by the wind, which will take root where they land.   The clear take-away here is that the Good News is for the whole world.

Finally, Luke mentions the presence among the disciples of Mother Mary (Acts 1:14, and outside of today's passage).  This is not an incidental thing: Mary (spouse of the Holy Spirit) is the Mother of the Church, which was born at Pentecost.  Mary and the Spirit cooperated to bring about the birth of Jesus.  Mary likewise is present when the Spirit appears and brings about the birth of the Church.

Folks often tell me they do not know the Holy Spirit.  A good way to start to know and understand the Spirit is to go to THE CATECHISM OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.  Go to the index.  Look up Holy Spirit.  Then simply read through the declarations, the descriptions and the titles the index entries provide.  There are far too many for me to list here.  But here are a few of my favorites.  

The Holy Spirit: 

Animates all creation.

Grants gifts to all.

Is the master and source of prayer.

Restores the Divine Likeness.

Reveals God.

Directs and supports the Church.

Is the living memory of the Church.

You get the idea.  The means and methods by which the Spirit reveals himself (really, more precisely, itself) to us are as varied as are we individual disciples.  The Spirit comes to each of us in a manner precisely suited to the way that we have been designed -- designed to receive that very Spirit.  But as I have said many times, both from the pulpit and in these written homilies, if you desire a personal relationship with the Third Person of the Godhead, you need do only one thing.  Ask.

And then...fasten your seatbelt.

This week which marked the actual date of my twentieth anniversary as a priest has been filled with graces -- amazing graces.  Dinners with friends in Pleasanton and Brentwood; lunch with my department at the high school; a reception at the high school; texts and e-mails from all around the diocese, including the 630 AM text from a friend in Fremont which started my day, Wednesday, the anniversary date itself. I loved my years at Our Lady of Guadalupe in Fremont.  I might have stayed there 'til I retired.  It was so cool to have started my anniversary day itself, with that beautiful text from Fremont.  As I say, amazing graces.   

Amidst all the celebratory joy, I find myself dropping into moments of quiet reflection -- for instance, on the drive to Brentwood Wednesday afternoon -- and just thinking about the past two decades of my life.  I didn't have to become a priest.  The Lord made that clear, early on in my discernment.  But I knew, almost right from the start of my discernment, that I WOULD become a priest.  And there was a point, early on, where I felt Jesus himself spoke to me, "Jim, I can assure you, if you will become my priest, you will find joy like none before."    

I found joy as a seminarian.  As a youth minister.  As a graduate student in philosophy, at the GTU.  As a teacher in Marysville's Confirmation program.  I found joy all along the way to ordination and then...

I lived the joy of priesthood.  In Pleasanton.  In Fremont.  In Brentwood.  And today, in Hayward and at the high school.  I heard the Lord right, when it seemed to me that he promised me joy.  

In any event, my deep and -- well, joyful -- thanks for all the many expressions of congratulations, encouragement, love and support that have been coming my way this month.

It is Friday morning as I am getting this wrapped -- I am on campus, but my grading is, for the moment, caught up, and my only class ended an hour ago.  That was also my last class of the semester.  We have finals next week, but as my students are doing a project instead of taking an exam, I am done.  Except, of course, for grading the project, which I have all of next week to accomplish.  

As I have mentioned in previous e-mails, this May does not feel like Mays in years past.  I am not crawling across the finish line.  I am impressed with how sustained the deep rest I took over the sabbatical is proving to be.  I am looking forward to a summer of writing and media ministry work, beyond the usual "summer schedule" at St. Clement, which, though more ramped up than my schedule during the academic terms, is all the same pretty light, pretty breezy -- light and breezy being good modifiers for Hayward's summer weather.  I am looking forward to the next ten or eleven weeks.

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

El Padre