Word of God Sunday Reflection: Scripture, Division, and the Call to Unity

 Readings and Virtual Homily for January 25, 2026, Third Sunday in Ordinary Time; Another Sunny January

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 8:23 -- 9:3

• Psalm 27:1, 4, 13-14

• 1 Corinthians 1:10-13, 17

• Matthew 4:12-23 

Dear Friends and Family,

A quick reminder that if you are interested in attending the Day of Reflection ("Women Saints of the Passion") next Saturday at St. Clement, you may RSVP with Lisa Fisher at lmf7544@gmail.com  

Lisa would appreciate having the RSVP by Tuesday, January 27.

Midway through his pontificate, Pope Francis designated this Sunday, the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, a Sunday for reflection on and promotion of the Word of God.  World Bible Sunday, we might call it (Francis did not so label it).  It was stressed at the time, and has been stressed since, that the emphasis here is not one Sunday a year, but every Sunday of the year; Scripture, of course, being our very daily bread, one of our heaven-sent lifelines (the others being the sacraments and magisterial teaching).

The readings offer a variety of possibilities for a strong and deep homily, but one which I am going to avoid at the outset (because I have preached on it so often and most recently just three weeks ago at the Epiphany) is the theme of the conversion of the Gentiles.  The first reading includes one of my favorite passages from the entire Bible, Isaiah 9:1, "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light."  I could write a book on this theme, probably titling it The Joy of the Gentiles.

This is a homily, not a book, and I have written numerous homilies over the last several years, on precisely this theme.  Another homiletic theme this week might be reflecting on the nature of vocational call, since the Gospel passage describes the call of several of the apostles.  It is really important to talk and think about our vocations (we all have one) and it is important as well, to preach, now and then, on the need to send laborers into the vineyard; that is, now and again, I should preach on vocational call to the priesthood and religious life.

Another time.

What I want to focus on in this week's homily is the second reading; is Paul's admonition to the community at Corinth not to be dividing themselves up into factions.  I want to focus, in other words, on Christian division and on prospects for overcoming those divisions.  This focus is, in fact, one of the reasons Francis designated this Sunday the Sunday of the Scriptural Word (again, not precisely Francis' terms).  Our separated brethren in most of the Protestant churches lay special emphasis on Scripture.  And why not?  Remember what I said above, Scripture is one of the lifelines we have to the divine realm.  The other two, the sacraments and magisterial teaching, the Protestant Reformation largely did away with.  A renewed Catholic emphasis on the importance of Scripture may be seen as ecumenical in nature and aim.

Paul admonishes the church at Corinth for dividing itself according to personality -- some of the believers claimed to be with Paul, some with Apollos, others with Peter and so on.  Paul asks, rhetorically, "Has Christ been divided?" (vss. 12-13).  At that time, of course, this WAS a rhetorical question.  At various times since in the long history of Christianity, and of course, in our time today, this is NOT a rhetorical question.  Christ has, indeed, been divided.  Or at any rate, his self-proclaimed followers have been divided and...

This situation is problematic for several reasons, but one of them is the effectiveness of Christian witness in the world.  One of the reasons the ecumenical movement developed, a century or so ago, is that missionaries in the Third World found themselves at cross-purposes with each other, in terms of the work of evangelization.  A Catholic team would evangelize a region of let's say, central Africa, and be followed by a Baptist group who told the people not to believe in the Catholic teaching on the Eucharist.  

This kind of thing could quickly lead to people in central Africa deciding not to believe anything the Christians were saying, since the Christians themselves were divided over what is true and what is not.  Jesus recognized the importance of unity among his followers and prayed earnestly for it the night before he died (see John 17, the entire chapter.)  Christian divisions can be, and no doubt have been, cited by non-believers as a reason to continue not to believe.

Despite the difficulties, of course, missionary outreach in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries achieved spectacular results; much of Africa, Asia and Oceania are Christian -- of one stripe or another -- today.  Ecumenical dialogue seeks to underscore commonality of belief, while respecting areas of divergence.  I remember giving a talk to an evangelical Protestant young adult group in Fremont, one spring evening, while I was assigned at Our Lady of Guadalupe.  I no longer remember how the leaders of the group had heard of me, but they had, and what they had heard persuaded them that I would be a good bet to come and speak to the group about what Catholics and evangelical Christians have in common.

I remember that I took an historical approach, assuring the young people that what divides Christians today is nothing like what divided followers of Christ in the fourth and fifth centuries, when the Arian Heresy flourished to the extent that St. Augustine found himself bishop of a diocese (Hippo, in North Africa) that had more Arians than Catholics.  The Arian teaching was that Jesus was not divine; merely the greatest of created beings.  This sharp denial of both the doctrine of the Incarnation and the doctrine of the Trinity, I pointed out to the young evangelicals, was a far more serious and substantive disagreement than anything that divides Christians today.

All the same, of course, we are divided today.  And in several instances -- most significantly, I would argue, on the question of the Eucharist -- the disagreement is substantial.  It is instructive to look at how Protestant understandings of the Eucharist developed in the first two or three generations of the Reformation.  Martin Luther, who got the whole thing rolling, believed in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  He modified the Catholic doctrine to argue that Christ became really present IN the elements of bread and wine.  

This led to the formal definition of the Catholic understanding of the Eucharist at the Council of Trent (which met in several sessions from 1545 to 1563, precisely to counter Protestant arguments).  The Church always believed that the elements were transformed; that though they maintained the appearance of bread and wine, there was a substantive change -- hence the word used to express the Catholic understanding: Transubstantiation.  Martin Luther's modification may seem relatively innocuous, but it led to further and deeper denials of the Catholic belief.

John Calvin, from whom the Presbyterians trace their lineage, argued for a spiritual presence of Christ only, in the Eucharist.  The bread and wine were not transformed, nor were they mixed, accommodating a physical presence of Christ while retaining their reality as bread and wine (the Lutheran doctrine, which came to be called Consubstantiation).  Christ became spiritually present in the Eucharist in some vague but definite way, Calvin argued; it was a presence more substantial than simply encountering the Lord in prayer.

From this understanding the so-called radical reformers, such as Zwingli and Knox, argued that there was neither a physical nor a special spiritual presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  When Jesus said "Do this in memory of me," that was all he meant.  Get together and share the Eucharistic meal as a memorial of the Last Supper.  It is no more than that.  This is the belief of most Protestant Christians today; the Lutherans and the Anglicans (some of them anyway!) are exceptions.

How Christians divided over so central and substantive a doctrine as the Real Presence can find common ground -- on that doctrine, I mean -- is one of the conundrums of the ecumenical movement.  There are several other areas of substantive disagreement, as well -- Purgatory, for instance; the communion of saints; veneration of Mary; the sacraments themselves (beyond baptism); the apostolic succession and Church governance and more.  

In the end, several Catholic mystics have assured us, God has a plan to reunite Christians.  It will be the result of a miracle of the Holy Spirit, not the result of human effort.  That said, the ecumenical movement is to be credited with breaking down barriers between Christians and bringing us together in that wide variety of ways that we can, in fact, come together, to work, minister and pray for the salvation of the world.

So...don't get me wrong.  I love living in a part of the country where no one thinks twice about having the windows open in January.  I am a cold-weather wimp; as cold as it gets here in the Bay Area (it is "freezing" when the afternoon highs only reach the mid-fifties) that is as cold as I like it ever to get.  And while I am actually a big fan of our winter rains -- that is the case only when I am inside and can watch the rain in comfort.

I was in London and Paris at the end of the year, when it was raining cats and dogs here.  I read just this past week that for the first time in twenty-five years ALL of California is out of drought status...God be praised.  Many prayers answered.  

All the same, I think we need to be praying for rain this winter.  We've gone over two weeks without it and there's a whole lot of sun in the current forecast.  As I have mentioned before, I have something like PTSD from the 2019-22 drought.  Last January was one of the driest on record, but the winter overall was wet.  Hoping and praying that pattern will repeat itself this year.

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Ordinary Time Reflection: Christ’s Salvation Reaches the Ends of the Earth

Readings and Virtual Homily for Mass, January 18, 2026, Second Sunday of Ordinary Time; Another Thought or Two on Venezuela; My Classes Are So Full There Is A Waiting List

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 49:3, 5-6

• Psalm 40:2, 4, 7-10

• 1 Corinthians 1:1-3

• John 1:29-34

Dear Friends and Family,

The readings this Sunday sort of re-cap those of the last two Sundays.  That is, they speak to the awakening of the nations to the plan of God (the Epiphany), and they speak as well to the baptism of the Lord.

Isaiah 49 offers a bright assessment of the ministry of the Messiah; the prophet assuring us that God deemed it "too little" for the Messiah merely to "raise up the tribes of Jacob, and restore the survivors of Israel" (vs. 6).  Rather, God will make Jesus "a light to the nations, that my salvation might reach the ends of the earth" (vs. 6).  

We live this prophecy's fulfillment.  We are the Gentiles who have "seen a great light" (Isaiah 9:1) and left behind old ways and dark superstitions to embrace the salvation of God.  We may take it somewhat for granted that, if we travel anywhere in the world, from the savannas of tropical Africa to the alpine valleys of the Himalayas, from Melbourne to Moscow to Madrid to Montreal, we can find a Catholic church for Mass on Sunday.  We may take this reality for granted simply because we inherited a world where a great wave of missionary evangelization has already taken place.  But in fact, in Isaiah's time, the concept of the nations flocking to worship the God of Israel was -- well, it was the stuff of far-distant-future prophecies. 

Psalm 40 extols the joy of worship, and includes references to "a new song" sung in "the great assembly" (vss. 4, 10) which might easily describe Catholic worship in the twenty-first century.

The opening to the First Letter to the Corinthians is just that; an opening.  A greeting.  There are, however, echoes here, as well, of the new worship, the new song, the song sung by the Gentiles in praise of what God has done.  Many of the Corinthians were Greek, not Jewish, that is, they were Gentile converts, and Paul reminds them that they are "called to be holy, with all those everywhere who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours" (vs. 2).  This salutation seems to recognize the universal nature of the Christian faith -- all those "everywhere" who recognize in Jesus the promised Messiah.

The short passage from John's Gospel recounts the testimony of John the Baptist, who witnessed "the Spirit come down like a dove from the sky and remain upon" Jesus (vs. 33).  John's mission was to prepare the way of the Lord for God's people Israel (vs. 31).  But the Baptist also declares that Jesus is "the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world" (vs. 29), a clear acknowledgement of the prophecy of Isaiah: Jesus is not just for the Jews.  He is for all; a light to the nations.

Speaking of nations where the faith has spread, heavily Catholic Venezuela...I have been in touch with Venezuelan friends throughout the hemisphere this past week -- though not in direct touch with any of my young guys in Caracas itself.  The Caraquenos are being very careful about social media and even texts and WhatsApp messages -- because the colectivos (that is, armed civilian militias in the pay of the regime) are out in force, stopping people at random and demanding to see their phones.  If there is evidence that the person has been celebrating the capture of Maduro, he or she could face charges, could face imprisonment.  

My Venezuelan friends outside the country, of course, operate under no such restrictions and they have been sharing their impressions, understandings, suspicions and hopes freely with me these past ten days or so.  One of the real hopes, and at the moment a cause for anxiety, is the release of hundreds, if not thousands of political prisoners, some of whom have been imprisoned for a decade.  The United States has apparently communicated this demand to the regime; to date, no more than a few dozen prisoners have been released.  

I have already said what I think of the remaining Chavistas in Caracas.  They will do what we force them to do, but not one thing more to advance an agenda toward political change, toward the liberation of the Venezuelan people.  Despite their recalcitrance, I am hopeful that the new administration in Caracas will implement certain American demands.  Beyond letting the prisoners go free (to borrow from Isaiah, actually!) I trust that the regime will, one way or another, expel the Cuban enforcers who have kept the military loyal to the dictatorship.  I trust the regime will also kick out the Iranians who -- Hezbollah-allied -- use Venezuela as a terrorist training ground.  A demand we evidently have not made, but should make, and must make, if we are serious about eventual free and fair elections and a return to Venezuelan democracy, is the disarming and disbanding of the colectivos, who operate with impunity, repressing dissent and controlling vast swaths of the country almost like medieval fiefdoms.  

There's more.  This list is just for starters.  You can see the complexity of the situation, and given Washington's determination to see a peaceful transition (a determination I think we may trust because anything less would jeopardize American investment in the nation's oil infrastructure) given as I say, Washington's determination to bring about a peaceful transition, a rapid return to democracy and economic freedom is unrealistic.  Incremental steps may, in fact, best be made by the remnant Chavista regime, who certainly have greater credibility with, and likely wield more influence over, the Cubans, the Iranians and the colectivos, than does the political opposition.

So...it is a matter of time.  One hopes.  One prays.

On a brighter and far less complex subject, I am once again this spring at O'Dowd teaching the Marriage and Family class (I know, I know, the PRIEST teaching Marriage and Family...).  The course is an upper division elective; I am teaching three of the four sections being offered this semester, and my classes are not only full, they are overflowing.  I had to ask our facilities chief for a couple extra desks and chairs as the numbers in two of my sections went above thirty (the traditional maximum number of students in a given section).  The counseling department has told me there is a waiting list of students, hoping to get into one of my sections.  

Well, it is a pretty chill class, and I think most of the juniors and seniors taking it know that.  But it is also, the kids themselves tell me, because I am teaching it that it is as popular as it is this semester.  Many of my students this term had me last year or the year before as sophomores in the Christian Scriptures class, which until last year, was MY class, at O'Dowd.  They know I try to make it fun and keep it light; evidently a winning combination, this spring semester, at the high school.  

I continue to feel as if I am walking on air -- I suppose I'll come down to earth at some point this semester (maybe when the grading begins to pile up) but for the moment, I wake each morning with a smile; very glad to be back on campus.

Hope this finds you well and happy, as 2026 gets rolling.

Take good care and God Bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Baptism of the Lord: Trinity, Water, and Freedom

Readings and Virtual Homily for Mass, January 11, 2026, Baptism of the Lord; Parish Day of Reflection, January 31; Venezuela; Back on Campus; January Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 42:1-4; 6-7

• Psalm 29:1-4, 9-10

• Acts of the Apostles 10:34-38

• Matthew 3:13-17

Dear Friends and Family,

The readings for this Sunday may be understood and discussed along several themes but the most basic, it seems to me, is the theme of liberation.  This Sunday we commemorate the baptism of the Lord, and baptism is about liberation.  To be clear, Jesus had no need of baptism, as John points out in today's Gospel passage (vs. 14).  Jesus did not need the liberation baptism provides; he already lived it.  But he submits to going into the water regardless, showing us the way to liberation from sin, just as Moses showed the people the way to liberation from slavery, through the waters of the Red Sea. 

It has been pointed out by Catholic writers and theologians that in immersing himself in the waters of the Jordan, Jesus made holy the waters of baptism for all time.  Whereas we are blessed by the water, at our baptism, Jesus blesses the water itself, at his.  

The passage from Isaiah speaks directly to the theme of liberation; it describes the freedom that will be granted to men and women at the time of the Messiah.  Speaking of the Messiah, Isaiah tells us

"I, the Lord, have called you for justice....a light for the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from confinement; and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness" (vss. 6-7).

While Isaiah focuses on liberation, Psalm 29 focuses on the power of water.  Its description of the waters over which the Lord sits enthroned is evocative.  And this power, the power of water -- to cleanse, among other things -- is central to our sacramental understanding of the significance of baptism.  Catholic sacramental theology teaches that the symbols of the sacrament actually affect what they symbolize.  That is, the Eucharist really does feed us, the oil at Confirmation really does anoint us and the water of baptism really does wash away sin.  

The reading from Acts of the Apostles is one of my favorite passages from that book, itself my favorite book in Scripture.  It is the scene from chapter ten where Peter realizes that God "shows no partiality;" that baptism, discipleship and eternal life are available to the Gentiles as surely as to the Jews (vss. 34-35).  This seems a commonplace to us, two thousand years later, but it was a breakthrough moment in terms of the understanding on the part of the disciples of the true nature of their mission.  The whole world, after all, as we considered in last week's homily, was "in sin and error pining."  And the whole world is welcome to experience the cleansing and liberating waters of baptism.

With regard to the Gospel passage Matthew describes Jesus coming up from the water and looking up, seeing the sky opened and the Spirit descending upon him in the form of a dove, while the voice of the Father is heard (vss. 16-17).  Baptism, of course, invokes the blessing of the Trinity.  This is the first explicit revelation of the Trinity in the Bible, and it comes at the start of the Gospels, it comes at the start of Jesus' public ministry.  The reality of the Trinity is implied many times throughout the Old Testament, beginning with the first chapter of Genesis: "Let us make man in our image" (Genesis 1:26).  But it is at the baptism of the Lord that the Tri-Personal nature of God is made manifest.  And the sacrament of baptism is achieved through the invocation of that Tri-Personal God.

I was with friends in London last Saturday when news of the intervention in Caracas hit the airwaves.  Eight hours ahead of California, my friends and I were able to watch the story as it was developing.  As my London friends have been to Venezuela and know many of my young Caraquenos, we canceled plans to go into central London that bright, cold Saturday, and had coffee, a light breakfast, more coffee and then a late lunch, watching the BBC and the news from Caracas.  

I have received, of course, many, many comments, questions and observations about this set of developments.  Just a week into the new situation, I am inclined to watch and learn, rather than offer immediate analysis.  I will say that the whole thing has left me in real shock; it is a turn of events no one not involved in its planning could have seen coming.

I will say as well that -- speaking of liberation -- as yet, there is nothing in this for the people of Venezuela.  The dictator has been removed but his regime remains in place.  Maduro's vice president, Delcy Rodriguez, has assumed the presidency -- no one knows for how long -- and, in the words of opposition leader (and Nobel Prize winner) Maria Corina Machado, Delcy Rodriguez has been, for well over a decade, "one of the main architects of torture, persecution, corruption, narco-trafficking" and other crimes and offenses in Caracas.  

There have been no scenes of jubilant crowds in the streets celebrating the downfall of a murderous dictator because the murderous dictator has been replaced by his murderous second-in-command.  I do not know a single Venezuelan, inside the country or scattered about the hemisphere, who trusts Delcy Rodriguez to do anything but continue the repression which has kept her and the rest of this regime in power, despite their losing the July, 2024 presidential election in a proven landslide.

There are no doubt strategic reasons, related to American aims in Venezuela, for the decision to work with the regime.  As I say, it is early, way early, for any real analysis here.  For the time being, I can say only that for the overwhelming majority of Venezuelans, in practical terms, nothing has changed.

But of course, something HAS changed.  Leaving aside arguments about the legality of it all, what's done is done.  I harbor a hope for Venezuela today that I have not felt in seven years; not since the 2019 challenge to Maduro's rule launched by the then-opposition-led national assembly.  When that huge, long-lasting -- and frankly brilliant -- revolt against Maduro's tyranny failed, I...lost hope.  To the point where I quit praying for the liberation of Venezuela.  I assumed that the nation and its wonderful people were lost to dictatorship and to poverty for a generation or more to come.

Events this past week suggest that I was wrong.  

My seven-month sabbatical ended with seven days in London and Paris; I got back Sunday evening.  Classes at O'Dowd started Tuesday -- I managed to arrive two minutes late for my Period One class that morning, so that most of my students were there, as I walked in.  I was about to apologize to them when they as a group stood up and applauded.  "Welcome back, Father!" they called out; "We've missed you!" they said; "Yay!  Father Jim's back!"

I was...very pleasantly stunned.  And all week (it is Friday afternoon as I am wrapping this) it has felt almost magical, being back.  The hugs, the shout-outs, the smiles, the simply joyous welcome back -- hugely gratifying.  I had reached the point with the sabbatical by Thanksgiving where I was ready to lighten up and take a breather.  The time away was seven full months, but in fact, six was all I needed.  I was ready, I could feel it, all last month, to come back to campus, and now that I am back, and picking up the academic reins once more, it feels like a magic carpet ride.  

Really, really glad to be back.  I've got a good thing going right now, between the high school, the parish and San Gabriel Media.  I am deeply appreciative of just how blessed my circumstances are, and I am thanking the Lord for them daily.  At the high school, this week, really, I was thanking the Lord hourly.  Man, I have missed my teens.  And my colleagues.  Been walking on air all week, at O'Dowd.

Okay.  Gonna wrap it here.  

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

A quick note to any who might be interested: I will be offering a Pre-Lenten Day of Reflection at St. Clement, Saturday, January 31, 830 AM to 230 PM.  The day will start with a continental breakfast (some folks will actually be starting it with the 8 AM Mass, which I have that morning); there will be two morning talks, a big lunch and then a final talk in the early afternoon.  The topic is Lenten: Women Saints of the Passion.

 This schedule mirrors the day-of-reflection schedule we always kept way back in the day when I used to do these talks with my mom in Pleasanton and Fremont; later on, on my own in Brentwood.  We had to let go of this powerful ministry when I arrived in Hayward; our gym is for the kids.  But we managed to schedule a D-of-R last August; it was hugely successful, and we were able to schedule this one as well.  RSVPs by January 28 greatly appreciated.  Call the parish office or e-mail Lisa Fisher at lfisher7544@gmail.com

January Schedule (all Masses English):

Saturday, January 10, 5 PM

Sunday, January 11, 8 AM, 1115 AM

Saturday, January 17, 5 PM

Sunday, January 18, 630 PM

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON, Sunday, January 18, 11 AM

Sunday, January 25, 8 AM

Sunday, February 1, 8 AM, 1115 AM, 630 PM

Weekday Masses (again, all English, all 8 AM):

• Sat., Jan. 10

• Mon., Jan. 12

• Sat., Jan. 17

• Mon., Jan. 19

• Sat., Jan. 24

• Mon., Jan. 26

• Sat., Jan. 31

Feast of the Epiphany 2026: Light for the Gentiles and Joy for the World

Readings and Virtual Homily for January 4, 2026, Feast of the Epiphany; Wrapping the Sabbatical in London

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 6:1-6

• Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 10-13

• Ephesians 3:2-3, 5-6

• Matthew 2:1-12

Dear Friends and Family,

The Feast of the Epiphany is one of my favorite feast days of the year.  Although I think there are several reasons for this (among them the fact that the feast occurs in January, my birthday month), I think the primary reason is simply that this feast celebrates the conversion of the Gentiles --that is, it celebrates the conversion of our ancestors; it celebrates, really, us.

All of today's readings hew closely to this theme, the theme of the conversion of the nations.  The day would come, today's readings proclaim, when the peoples of the world would recognize in Jesus Christ their God, their Lord, their Savior, and recognize as well that the God of the Jews IS God.  The joy associated with the Gentile conversion is another reason that I so love this feast.

Our Gentile -- that is, pagan -- ancestors are well described by Isaiah in today's first reading: "...darkness covers the earth and thick clouds, the people" (vs. 2).  Our pre-Christian ancestors are described in another passage from Isaiah in terms of their joy at the discovery of Christian truth, of the great plan of salvation that God, through the apostles and disciples and their missionary efforts, was now revealing to them.

"The people who dwelt in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who lived in a land of gloom a light has shone.  You have brought them abundant joy and great rejoicing" (Isaiah 9:1-2).  

The heart of the Christian message -- that God had become one of us -- electrified our ancient ancestors.  There was nothing to compare with it, in any of the pagan religions.  That God "so loved the world that he gave his only son" (John 3:16) was astounding news to the Gentiles.  It was, indeed, THE Good News.  Suddenly there was a new understanding of life itself, its meaning and its purpose, a new understanding of our ultimate destiny.  And these new understandings astonished the Gentiles.  Astonished them and gave them great joy, gave them a literally out-of-this-world hope.  

In the lyrics of the Christmas hymn, "Long lay the world in sin and error pining, 'til he appeared and the soul felt its worth" express well the response of the Gentiles to the Good News.   The elevation of human nature inherent in the Christian message, the assurance to our ancestors of their worth, their value, their pricelessness to the God who had made them, was a deep and astonishing revelation to the Gentiles.  It is the reason they responded with such enthusiasm to the preaching of the apostles. 

The descriptions of the Savior in today's psalm resonate with this sense of wonder and awe, on the part of the Gentiles.  Psalm 72 describes a Messiah of gentle and forgiving love; a Messiah, too, of cosmic dimension and power.  And the psalm describes in some detail how the nations, that is, the Gentiles, will flock to the worship of the Jewish Messiah (vss. 10-13).  

The reading from Ephesians underscores the reality of Gentile conversion; Paul writes that the "mystery of Christ...was not made known to human beings in other generations as it has now been revealed...that the Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body and co-partners in the promise in Christ Jesus" (vss. 5-6).  

The Gospel account from Matthew is that of the wise men -- the first of the Gentiles to recognize that the newborn King of the Jews is in fact also their king.  They traversed many hundreds of miles (they were likely Persian -- modern-day Iran) to reach Jesus and when they found him they offered gifts of great value, and "overjoyed...they prostrated themselves and did him homage" (vss. 10-11).  

A substantive homily could be focused solely on the magi, this Feast of the Epiphany.  It is intriguing, to say the least, how they came to know that a new king had been born among the Jewish people, a king to whom they -- Persians -- owed homage.  Clearly, these men were receptive to the graces of the Holy Spirit, as of course, were the many, many joyful Gentile converts in those first decades, those first generations of the preaching of the Christian faith.  

I work in Gentile territory, so to speak; the Land of the Teens.  For over thirty years now, I have made myself available to the Spirit for the evangelization of the young.  That fact may be another reason why I so love the Feast of the Epiphany.  It is no small thing, for me, when I see the light break in a student, when I see one of my teens suddenly make a connection with the God who so loves them that he became one of us and died that death for us.  These breakthrough moments happen -- it seems --- randomly; I am always surprised when one of my students at O'Dowd suddenly "gives testimony" to his or her experience of God.  

But it happens.  It happens with some regularity, and it always leaves me -- joyful -- in the recognition that the conversion of the Gentiles is an ongoing process, and that I am at the heart of it, at Bishop O'Dowd.  I never planned to be a missionary, but in fact, that is very much what I am, in the Land of the Young, at Bishop O'Dowd.  

Speaking of the high school, I am back on campus this coming week.  Classes start Tuesday.  That is, classes start the actual traditional date -- January 6 -- of the Epiphany itself.  I am just realizing that and I am smiling.  I am in London, as this is arriving.  I DID finally travel, this sabbatical!  But as I am writing this in advance of the trip (the homily goes out on a pre-timed release) I have nothing to report.  I am with very good friends in both London and Paris this week, and we are all very grateful that this trip actually came together and is happening!

Take good care.  God bless.  

Happy New Year!

Cheerio!

Fr. Brawn

Feast of the Holy Family Homily – December 28, 2025: Faith, Family, and the Flight to Egypt

Readings and Virtual Homily for December 28, 2025, Feast of the Holy Family; Virtual Homily; Wet Christmas; At Last -- London and Paris 

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14

• Psalm 128:1-5

• Colossians 3:12-21

• Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23

Dear Friends and Family,

The readings focus, not surprisingly, on the family, this Feast of the Holy Family.  I want to take a quick look at the first and second reading and the psalm and then take a little time with the Gospel passage, as it infers a lot more than it quite precisely says.

The first reading speaks of the proper authority of parents, of the honor due them from their children and of the rewards which flow from obedience to and respect for parental authority.  The passage says that respect and goodness toward parents will serve as a "sin offering" (vs. 14); that is, we win forgiveness of our own sins when we are considerate and kind toward our parents, even if (perhaps especially if) their "mind is failing" (vs. 13).  

The psalm uses a garden metaphor to describe the joys of marriage and family life, and from the husband's perspective.  A good and faithful husband and father will find that his wife is like "a fruitful vine in the recesses" of the home and his children like olive plants about the table (vs. 3).  

The reference to the wife's fruitfulness in the recesses of the home suggest a fullness of wifely and motherly responsibilities that may not be so immediately apparent today, when most women work outside the home.  In fact, if we may take Proverbs 31 as an example, women in Old Testament times could also take on responsibilities outside the home, and within its "recesses" they could indeed be very "fruitful."  The good wife of Proverbs 31 not only maintains a well-ordered household, sees to the needs of her husband and children and manages the money well; she is busy in her own right with the development of money-making projects and responsibilities (see Proverbs 31:10-31).  

The reading from Colossians has an option, shorter or longer version.  If in your parish only the shorter version is read, you will hear about the life of the Christian community -- an extended family of sorts.  The instructions for proper comportment within this extended family are direct, clear and loving.  If the longer version is read, you will hear the often contested (in our time) instruction to wives to be "subordinate" to their husbands (vs. 18).  I wrote on this verse at some length several years ago in one of these homilies.  It does seem to me that in our day, most decision-making within the family is jointly arrived at.

The Gospel passage tells of Joseph being warned by an angel in a dream to take Mary and the baby Jesus to Egypt, because Herod is looking for the child.  The Jewish king is determined to kill the newborn Messiah, seeing him as a threat to his dynastic plans.  This is where I want to start unpacking some of what is inferred in today's passage.

One, can you believe Herod?  At the visit of the magi, he had his scholars look up where the Messiah was to be born, specifically so that he could know where this child-threat was located (Matthew 2:3-8).  Then he carried out a massacre of all the little boys under two years of age in Bethlehem (vss. 16-18; not included in today's reading).  

I mean, clearly, Herod was a believer.  He kills the little boys in Bethlehem because he believes the Messiah is among them.  But if Herod is a believer how can he possibly justify murdering the Messiah?  Does he think God is going to look the other way?  Can you spell C-R-A-Z-E-D?  Evidently, Herod was crazed by thoughts of dynastic wealth, privilege and power.  An infant Messiah was clearly no threat to Herod himself, but to his sons, to his successors -- or so Herod saw it.  This is one of the most naked examples of human willfulness to be found anywhere in Scripture.  Herod deliberately sets out to thwart the will of God, a God whose word he clearly believes in.  

Okay.  Whatever.  Crazy.

Second, Jesus starts life out as a refugee.  Joseph and Mary flee to Egypt where, in the city of Alexandria, there was a large and vibrant Jewish exile community.  It is likely that they settled in Alexandria, where Joseph could easily have found work.  

But, and this is my third point, while it is likely that Joseph worked his trade in Alexandria, he and Mary were at this point not poor.  Not after the visit of the magi.  Gold, frankincense and myrrh were not cheap gifts.  Joseph and Mary might have sold the frankincense and myrrh for a substantial amount and gold is gold.  The visit of the magi empowered the flight to Egypt, made it possible for Joseph and Mary to establish themselves quickly and comfortably in their new city and their new land.  

A fourth point, and one that greatly interests me: Jesus' earliest memories would have been of Alexandria, of Egypt.  Herod is believed to have died about six, maybe seven years after these events.  Assuming his parents settled there, Jesus' first boyhood memories would have been of the great Egyptian port city, with its palaces and pagan temples, its many cultural monuments -- including what was one of the ancient world's greatest libraries -- its famous lighthouse above the harbor.  Founded in 331 BC by Alexander the Great, Alexandria was not really so much Egyptian as it was Greek and Roman.  It is likely, of course, that the large Jewish ex-pat community in Alexandria had impressive synagogues and schools; had a thriving business district.  The small boy Jesus would have been immersed in Jewish culture during his time in Egypt.  

A fifth point, and maybe one that is more immediate and relevant to the central theme of today's readings: family life can be an adventure.  Neither Mary nor Joseph could have foreseen the visit of the magi and the great blessings it afforded them.  Neither could have foreseen Herod's insane and murderous rage at the thought of the Messiah being born during his reign.  Neither could have guessed they would find themselves making a hasty departure for Egypt, there to spend their first several years of married life and parenthood, with their little boy.  

What was the situation with the extended family -- Mary's parents in Nazareth, Joseph's siblings (including Mary the wife of Clopas, Jesus' aunt who figures prominently in the Passion and Resurrection narratives).  It's not as though Mary were texting her parents, "All good here in palm-lined Alexandria.  Catch the bullet train from Jerusalem and plan to spend a few weeks with us.  Thanks to the magi we have several spare bedrooms."  

It is hard to know just what the family life of Jesus, Mary and Joseph was like, during the years in Egypt.  At a time when extended family was a person's principal means of support and security, it seems likely that Jesus, Mary and Joseph were a solitary unit in Alexandria.  No doubt they made friends and Joseph developed professional relationships.  Even so, it seems likely that the years in Egypt were directly and uniquely formative for this most unique of families; the Holy Family.

This one is long, so I will keep the personal reflections brief.  One, thank the Lord for our wonderfully wet Christmas week!  Week before Christmas, I guess I should say.  The season's early and strong start in October and November was derailed by those three dry weeks starting just before Thanksgiving.  Christmas Eve night, sitting here in the rectory above the schoolyard after the ten PM Mass, and seeing the sheeting rain gusting and slanting with the wind, I smiled.  And gave thanks and praise to the Lord for our parishioners here at St. Clement because around three hundred of them made it out in the storm for the late evening Mass.

Two, thank the Lord for the sabbatical, which wraps in another week.  Strictly speaking, it came to an end last week -- I am simply on Christmas vacation, at this point.  I am taking advantage of the remaining time off to finally travel -- London and Paris this coming week; reprising a habit I was getting into, pre-pandemic.  I was in both cities three Decembers in a row, 2017-2019.  Then COVID hit.  It is a nice way to wrap the year, and I am grateful to be able to resume the tradition this winter.  I am back next Sunday; it is just an eight-day trip.  I have been to London several times since 2020, but this will be my first time in Paris in six years.

Will close here.  Hope your Christmas season is merry and bright.  Take good care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn

Advent Homily: Joseph Doubts, Mary Trusts, God Provides

Readings and Virtual Homily for December 21, 2025, Fourth Sunday of Advent;  Christmas Greetings From Casablanca; Christmas Greetings From Hayward

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 7:10-14

• Psalm 24:1-6

• Romans 1:1-7

• Matthew 1:18-24

Dear Friends and Family,

Today's readings give us the infancy narrative from Matthew's perspective, perhaps more specifically, from Joseph's perspective.  Luke gives us many details from Mary's experience; Matthew, not so much.  

It is Matthew who tells us in today's Gospel passage that Joseph, learning of Mary's pregnancy, had decided to quietly divorce her.  Matthew then gives us what amounts to a third annunciation scene, the first two occurring in Luke (Gabriel with Zechariah, father of John the Baptist, and Gabriel with Mary).  Matthew does not identify the angel who spoke to Joseph in a dream, assuring him that Mary's pregnancy was the work of the Holy Spirit.  But we know from Matthew that Joseph, who like his Old Testament namesake, was a man who responded to messages sent through dreams, abandoned all doubt and disappointment in Mary, as a result of what the angel revealed to him.

This says a lot, obviously, about Joseph.  But it also tells us a lot about Mary.  She was, after all, a teen-ager.  She had already, before Gabriel appeared, committed herself to a life of consecration to God; she had no plans to live as a normal wife and mother.  Then she is told that she will indeed be a mother, the mother of the Messiah.  Mary asked Gabriel how this was to be, given her desire to consecrate herself completely to God.  Gabriel answers, Mary believes and immediately sets out for the hill country of Judea, there to assist her cousin Elizabeth, who is six months along with John the Baptist.

And what happens with Elizabeth is important.  It is especially important when we consider what subsequently happened with Joseph.

Elizabeth affirms that what Gabriel has told Mary is not only true, but already happening.  "How is it that the mother of my Lord should come to me?" (Luke 1:43).  Elizabeth is Mary's first assurance, after her encounter with Gabriel, that she is, indeed, to be the mother of the Messiah.  

Joseph, who has not been favored as Elizabeth was, with divine understanding, leans on his human understanding.  In six words, this dynamic might be summed up as follows.  Elizabeth affirms.  Joseph doubts.  Mary trusts.

There is a lot for all of us in this dynamic.  Like Mary, each of us is tasked with "giving birth to Jesus" in the world.  We accomplish this mission simply by going about our daily lives, trying to live as disciples.  Trying to show forth the love of God in our words and especially, in our actions.  

We say yes, as Mary did, every day of our lives when we resist temptation; when we give encouragement and hope to others; when we practice patience, generosity, kindness, and other virtues; when we forgive.  There are times, off and on throughout our lives, when we say yes to something big, even something very big, and not infrequently in giving that assent, in saying that Yes, we encounter resistance.  We encounter, perhaps, what appears to be a resistance that will thwart our efforts to be true to our Yes to God.

That is what Mary was encountering here.  Not, of course, that she could not have delivered the baby Jesus without Joseph at her side.  Just that her Yes would have been hugely complicated, made far more difficult, as a result.  Mary could not know how God was going to resolve this situation.  She had to simply trust.

But she was not trusting in a vacuum.  God had already sent her confirmation of his word, stunning confirmation, through Elizabeth.  Elizabeth by natural means could have known nothing of Mary's situation.  Mary had not texted her from Nazareth, "Hey girlfriend!  Gabriel just dropped by.  Told me you're pregnant!  So am I!  Taking the bullet train tomorrow to help you with the baby."  Elizabeth understood what she did about Mary, of course, not by natural but by supernatural means.  God spoke to Mary through Elizabeth.

The point for us is this: God will send us Elizabeths.  When, in our efforts to fulfill our Yes to God, we encounter what seems an insurmountable obstacle, God will send us confirmation that we are on the right track and that we need do only what Mary did.  Wait on the Lord.  Trust.

So much easier said than done!

Casablanca is sending Christmas greetings.  I've heard this week from each of my Three Main Men in Morocco -- Mehdi, Khalid and Mounir.  They always remember me at Christmas.  Mehdi even remembers me at Thanksgiving.  Mounir reminded me that Casablanca looks very Western at this time of year, not just with Christmas lights, Christmas trees and images of Santa, but with manger scenes.  Moroccans celebrate December 25 with a reverence for Jesus that is impressive.  All three of them are asking me when I am returning and I am promising them, and everyone else through them, that el Padre will be in Casablanca in June.  Inshallah, as we say in Berlin.  

But really, I do hope to be in Morocco again next summer.  Barring something unforeseen, the path looks clear.

Hayward is also sending Christmas greetings.  That is, I am getting my Christmas cards out.  115 in the mail as of today (Saturday) and likely to get that number out again by Monday.  At about 350 in all, though, I will be at them, on and off right through this coming week.  This is way early for me.  It's been ten years at least, since I got over half my cards in the mail on or before December 24.  I guess all it takes is a sabbatical...

Gonna wrap it at that.  Hope this finds you well and happy.

God bless you this joyful season.  Merry Christmas!

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Advent Joy, Peace, and Hope: A Gaudete Sunday Reflection

Readings and Virtual Homily for December 14, 2025 Third Sunday of Advent; Venezuelan Joy

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 35:1-6, 10

• Psalm 146:6-10

• James 5:7-10

• Matthew 11:2-11

Dear Friends and Family,

The third Sunday of Advent is also known as Gaudete Sunday, meaning roughly, Sunday of Joy; the idea being that at this point we are more than halfway through Advent's period of waiting for the coming of Christ.  

The readings for this week are correspondingly joyous.  Isaiah speaks of the blind seeing, the deaf hearing and the lame leaping "like a stag" (vss. 5-6).  The psalm employs similarly ebullient imagery, the prisoners set free, the blind given sight, and so on (vss. 7-8).  The second reading contributes to this understanding in counseling patience; it is sometimes necessary, to truly experience joy, to be patient, to be faithful, to wait on the Lord (vss. 7-8).  

The Gospel passage gives us Jesus' assurance that he is the one spoken of not just by John the Baptist but by the entire prophetic tradition.  Jesus goes on to make a startling announcement, specifically that "least in the kingdom of heaven" is greater than John (vs. 11).  This fact is itself cause for abounding joy, telling us, as it does, something about the glory that awaits us. 

I've preached, both from the pulpit and in these written homilies, on the true meaning, the deep reality of joy.  A fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) joy should not be thought of as an emotion.  It might better be thought of as a habit, a matter of deliberate mindfulness and choice, even a virtue.  Genuine joy is more than felt.  It is practiced.

I remember my mother occasionally saying, of a difficult situation or a particular disappointment, "Well, in the end, Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, and compared to that, nothing else matters."  This assessment provides automatic perspective; whatever we are going through, whatever we find ourselves up against, Jesus has already conquered it, won the victory for us.  We need only wait on the Lord.  In that understanding there is not only joy, but peace.

Joy is inextricably linked with peace, as it is linked with hope.  The peace of God, again, is beyond the emotions.  "Not as the world gives peace..." Jesus tells us, does he give peace (John 14:27).  Peace appears, along with joy, in Galatians as one of the fruits of the Spirit.  As for hope, it is a theological virtue (1 Corinthians 13).  It comes from eternity and has the power to lead us there.  Joy, peace and hope are rightly described as states of mind, rather than feelings.

So how about the times when we feel no joy?  When we are not at peace?  When we feel hopeless?  I have written in a couple of my books about my own three-year experience of what certainly felt like joylessness.  It was closely connected to a deep loss of hope.  It is hard to practice joy when you feel hopeless.  It is hard to hope when you feel joyless.  But the term "feel" is operative here.  Again, joy and hope both are deeper than the emotions.

It is far too much to detail here, but for over three years toward the end of my preparation for priesthood, I felt no joy, and held only attenuated hopes.  But throughout that dry and sad period, I had a deep and abiding peace.  I knew that God was at work in my circumstances; I knew that, taking the long view, seeing the big picture, Jesus Christ was risen from the dead.  Nothing else mattered, as Mom liked to say, compared to that.  Life was good.  Life was true.  Life was worth living.  

So you're not FEELING it?  Buck up, boyfriend.  Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.  Compare anything to that.  Just try to argue that ANYTHING matters, long-term, compared to that.  Attend to what is coming at you, and attend to it faithfully.  Leave the rest to God.  That is how I dealt with my three joyless years.

In the end, my faith underwrote that time of waiting on the Lord, that time of accepting and dealing with deep, really almost shattering, loss.  My faith was unshaken by the events I am deliberately not describing here; and in that faith lay the seeds of hope and joy.  "Jesus Christ is risen from the dead; this, too, shall pass."

Just a few thoughts about joy, as gift, as habit, this Gaudete Sunday.  

On the subject, I am remembering, this bright December afternoon, with the Hayward hills wintergreen beyond my windows, a "word" I heard from the Lord, almost twenty years ago.  A word connected to, in fact incorporating, the concept of joy.  

It was late night, Sunday, June 25, 2006, walking a broad but dimly lit Caracas sidewalk with seven of my young Venezuelans.  This was the night I really connected with them, the night we have all ever since referred to as "el Domingo" (meaning "that Sunday").  We had left the restaurant where they all worked with the idea that they were going to walk me back to my hotel because, at going-on midnight, it was too late for me to be negotiating the busy city streets myself.  I had assured the guys that I knew my way back to the hotel, was not drunk, nothing to worry about.  They were having none of it.  They had specifically asked me to wait until the restaurant closed, at 1130 that night, so that they could make sure I got safely back to the hotel.  

My Venezuelans were then and are today hard to resist.  I waited 'til they were all off shift.  We stepped away from the curb and one of them turned to me and asked, "Tienes tiempo por una mas cerveza?"  That is, "Do you have time for one more beer?"  

I laughed.  And we were off to the clubs, my Caraquenos and I.  In the course of that life-changing evening, I received a word from the Lord.

The word was joy.  Remember that I had only recently gone three years with zero personal experience of it.  The full context takes more time to explain than I want to go into here, but the upshot of it all was this.  I received from the Lord that vibrant, memorable evening an assurance that "I give you these young men of Caracas as your spiritual sons.  They will be a joy to you like none you have known."

It is true, I had had more than one beer at that point in the evening.  All the same, the message definitely seemed to have come from beyond me.  I had not been thinking about anything more at the moment than what presented itself to my senses: these seven twenty-something Venezuelans, laughing and talking and guiding their newfound Yankee amigo to the next club...

I mention this moment both because it resonates with today's homiletic theme and because I have had the -- well, the joy -- of sending money to Caracas this week; a down-payment on my annual contribution to try to bring some real holiday cheer to the families of my Caraquenos.  You would not believe what $100 American can do for a Venezuelan family.  Really.  You would not believe it.

I was last in Venezuela in January, 2011.  But "my boys" (now men in their late thirties and well into their forties) and I remain in regular touch.  I know what is going on with their grandparents, some of whom have died in the past few years.  I know how their parents -- my age -- are doing.  I know how they, their spouses and children are managing, given the extremely difficult social and economic reality that is life in Venezuela, for maybe eighty per cent of the country's population, today.  

I remember second guessing the "word" from the Lord, Sunday, June 25, 2006 in the streets of nighttime Caracas.  "Dude, you have had a few, and the night's energy itself might be described as intoxicating..."  I also remember saying to myself, "No.  You heard it."  

I figured time would tell.

I would argue that time has told.  Through the good times that lay directly ahead for the next five years, with repeated trips to Caracas, to the past decade and one-half, where I can visit only with my Caraquenos who have managed to escape the country, but through them am in regular contact with those who remain, "my Venezuelans" (there would eventually be seventeen of them) are a joy to me like none I have ever known.  

The Lord promised me joy, that night almost twenty years ago, in Caracas.  He has more than delivered.  

That's a wrap!  A joyful third week of Advent to you!  

God bless.

Love, 

Fr. Brawn

Second Sunday of Advent Homily: The Nations Seek the Messiah

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily, December 7, 2025, Second Sunday of Advent; An Afternoon in Sacramento; Lightening Up as the Sabbatical Nears Its End

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 11:1-10

• Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 12-13, 17

• Romans 15:4-9

• Matthew 3:1-12

Dear Friends and Family,

Although there are certainly other places a homilist might go, in terms of elucidating a specific theme in today's readings, one of the obvious possibilities is the conversion of the Gentiles, is the realization by "the nations" that the God of Israel IS God.  

This realization occurs, of course, because the Gentiles came to believe that Jesus is the Messiah; the Messiah promised by the Jewish prophets and psalmists.  It's intriguing because, of course, the Gentiles knew next to nothing of the Jewish prophets and psalmists.  Yet, when presented with evidence of the way in which Jesus fulfilled the Messianic prophecies, via the teaching and the preaching of the apostles, the Gentiles were riveted.  It was as if they were being let in on a great, an enormous, an almost unbelievable secret: the fact that God had been acting through the nation of Israel for many hundreds of years, had promised a Messiah through that nation, and had promised that the Messiah was not just for the Jews, but for the world.  

The Gentiles flocked to the preaching of Paul and the other disciples.  Again and again in Acts of the Apostles, we see Paul, Barnabas and others first preaching the Good News in the synagogues in the Gentile cities to which their missionary efforts took them.  And, despite some success in the synagogues, again and again we see Paul, Barnabas and the others turning from the Jews to the Gentiles, with their message of a universal offer of salvation.  And the Gentiles -- Greeks, Romans, Syrians, Galicians, Phoenicians and so forth -- respond with an overwhelming enthusiasm; the early Christian communities were composed far more of Gentiles than of Jews.

And I mean, this corresponds to all of us, pretty obviously.  Unless you have Jewish ancestry, you are a Gentile.  My ancestors in fourth-century Ireland responded with alacrity and joy to the teachings of St. Patrick; the Good News told them things about themselves and the universe that they had never understood before.  

Chief among these revelations to the Gentiles was the fact of their utter worth, their priceless value to the God who had made them.  The God who had made them for a purpose, the ultimate aim of that purpose being their union with their Creator in heavenly bliss for all eternity.  The God who had made them was so determined to see that ultimate union achieved that he became one of us, and died a sacrificial death on our behalf.  To ransom us from our folly, God gave us his very self, the Second Person of the Trinity, AS ONE OF US, truly human; one of us right down to the point of dying, just as we must.  

God, entering into human death, in order to rescue us from it.

This message was liberating; more than that, it was electrifying to the Gentiles of the first centuries of Christianity.  To try to grasp the power of this message among our ancient ancestors, imagine for a moment that the Nativity never happened.  Imagine that Jesus never came.  Imagine that God never reached out to us, never sought to rescue us.  

What would life be like, were it not for Jesus?  What would we believe, what would we think, what would feel, about our limited and ultimately doomed (because death cannot be escaped) existence here on earth, if there were no Jesus?

Whatever our answer to that question, the Gentiles experienced it as their reality; our pagan ancestors had zero clue as to the ultimate purpose and meaning of human existence.  They had theories.  They had myths.  They had vague and ragged hopes.  They did not have the Good News.

Until they did.  

And once they did, and just to visit each of this Sunday's readings:

"On that day, the root of Jesse, set up as a signal for the peoples -- Him the nations will seek out" (Isaiah 11:10)

"May his name be forever; as long as the sun, may his name endure.  May the tribes of the earth give blessings with his name; may all the nations regard him as favored" (Psalm 72:17)

"For I say that Christ became a minister...so that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy.  As it is written, 'Therefore I will praise you among the Gentiles and sing praises to your name'" (Romans 15:9)

As for the Gospel passage, Matthew tells us that John the Baptist warned the Jewish leaders that they could be replaced:

"Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance.  And do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father.'  For I tell you, God can raise up children to Abraham from these stones" (Matthew 3:8-9)

As it happened, of course, God did not need to raise up children to Abraham from stones.  Rather, he raised them up through the Gentiles.  Our ancestors.  We are the people of the many, many prophecies of the time of the global faith; of the time when "the nations" shall come to worship the God of Israel.

How cool is that?

I took a day off this week and drove over to Sacramento to have lunch with a couple of dear friends, former Pleasantonians who now call Carmichael home.  It was great.  I am, as you know, from the Sacramento Valley, and I cannot be in Sacramento, let alone Marysville, without feeling just really at home.  Right down to the 46-degree early afternoon temperature (given a persistent but fortunately high layer of tule fog), it just felt like...being home.  (The sun did eventually come out, around three that afternoon.  It turned out to be a beautiful afternoon, but -- again, remembering my childhood in the valley -- the mercury hit 50 and said, "That's it.")

One of the things that delighted me, as I criss-crossed the freeways heading into Carmichael, was the autumn color among the trees.  We get some pretty impressive color here in the Bay Area; just this afternoon I took photos of a stand of trees off Main Street in Pleasanton -- they were too gorgeous to ignore.  But in Sacramento there is more.  I mean, of course -- palms, pines, oaks, olives, citrus, cypress and more -- our capital city is full of trees that are green year round.  But it seems as though almost every other tree there -- right now -- is a flaming red, orange, yellow or gold, and it was a constant pleasure, driving amid all that color.

The very fact that I felt free to take the better part of a day out and just head over to Sac for lunch with good friends leads to my second personal observation in this e-mail.  I am...letting up on the accelerator, at this point, with the aims and ambitions of the sabbatical.  There is a little over a month left.  And that month is the holidays.  We have gotten a lot done, at San Gabriel, the past half year.  We have seemingly endless vistas of bright ambitions yet ahead but...

I was free this Thursday morning to drive to Sacramento, if I so desired, and have lunch with friends I had not seen since before the shutdown.  So I did.  

I will be working -- lightly -- on and off, on books, videos, marketing plans and so on, with San Gabriel all this month.  But I have felt a shift in focus this past week, and I am going to go with that shift.  I am going to...write Christmas cards.  Go to the gym.  See family and friends.  Take a few deep breaths.  

And give thanks and praise to the Lord for a great sabbatical, the end of which is now coming into view.  

All good.

Hope this finds you well and thriving.  Happy Second Sunday of Advent!

God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

First Sunday of Advent Homily: Hope, Prophecy, and Readiness

Readings and Virtual Homily for November 30,2025, First Sunday of Advent; Thanksgiving and Giving Thanks; December Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 2:1-5

• Psalm 122:1-9

• Romans 12:11-14

• Matthew 24:37-44

 Dear Friends and Family,

Advent readings tend in one direction or the other -- the First or the Second Coming.  This week's tend toward the latter.

The reading from Isaiah does not particularly reference the Second Coming, but it does predict our time -- the time of the universal faith; the time when the nations will acknowledge that the God of Israel is God.  I love the passage's description of how the Gentiles (that is, us) will react with wonder, with joy and enthusiasm, at the prospect of being instructed in the ways of the true God, the God of the Jews.  "In days to come," the prophet says, "…many peoples shall come and say, 'Come, let us go up...to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may instruct us in his ways and we may walk in his paths'" (vss. 2-3).

I sometimes joke with my parishioners here in Hayward, when I have this reading, that I am sure they got out of bed this morning joyfully and excitedly saying, "Come, let us go up to the house of the Lord, there to receive instruction in his ways..."

The point is simply that Isaiah is predicting that when the message of salvation is preached to the Gentiles, it will be received with wonder and joy, a reality abundantly attested to in Acts of the Apostles and the letters of St. Paul. 

The psalm focuses on Jerusalem, and from the perspective of a pilgrim, a visitor on a holy journey.  The verses from today's reading also denote wonder and joy; wonder and joy at Jerusalem -- the city of God.  The verses may be understood to refer as well to the Church in our time, to the "New Jerusalem;" with this interpretation we have resonance with the theme of the first reading: Gentile joy at discovering the truths of God.

The reading from Romans exemplifies the early belief that Christ's return was imminent -- a very Advent theme.  The evidence from Scripture and traditional sources strongly suggests that the first Christians thought the Second Coming likely to happen within their lifetimes which, of course, partly explains their intense missionary zeal.  They wanted to bring the Good News to the entire world, and they wanted to accomplish this responsibility as rapidly and as completely as possible.  

Two thousand years later, the Gospel has indeed been preached in every land; with two and one half billion adherents, Christianity is the largest religion on earth.  The "days to come" spoken of by Isaiah in the first reading, when "the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established as the highest mountain and raised above the hills;" the days when "All nations shall stream toward" the mountain of the Lord, have come (vs. 2).

And as it was in apostolic times, plenty of Christians in our time are expecting, if not the Second Coming itself, then at least the fulfillment of various end times prophecies, in our time.  I have preached and written extensively on this topic, giving my own take on it.  No need to detail my understanding here, but just to restate it: I do believe we have entered "the last days."  I do not believe anyone alive today, including my four year-old great niece, is going to see the Second Coming.  

Then there is Matthew 24:37-44.  "One will be taken, one will be left..." (vs. 40). Okay.  So remember just two months ago, the stories in the news about the folks who were preparing to be raptured on either September 23 or the 24 or maybe at the latest the 25?  This was huge -- if you were paying attention, which I admit, until about a week before the dates in question, I was not.

Nor is there any reason I should have been paying attention. "The rapture," as defined by our dear brothers and sisters in the Evangelical wing of the faith, is not going to happen.  Not last September.  Not next September.  Not any September at all, nor any January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, October, November or December, for that matter.  

The rapture, as defined by these folks, is a non-starter.  It is not only denied by the Catholic Church; it is not only not believed in by the Orthodox or the mainline Protestants.  The "secret rapture" described by the Evangelicals is non-Scriptural.  It is not to be found in the Bible, despite the fact that any Evangelical Christian worth his or her tithe is going to tell you that it is guaranteed by Scripture.

This is too much to address here.  I have written fairly extensively on this business in my book THE END TIMES.  Suffice it to say that what Jesus here describes (one shall be taken and one left) refers to the very last moment of human history; the moment of the Second Coming itself.  There will, indeed, be a rapture of believers into the clouds to "meet the Lord in the air" as St. Paul puts it (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; 1 Corinthians 15:51-55).  

But Paul notes that the dead will rise first.  He says, and more than once, that this rapture will occur at "the very last trumpet call" (1 Cor. 15:52).  Then those who are still alive will be taken up, as the Lord himself is returning.  This rapture, the only one described in Scripture, occurs at the very last moment of human habitation on the planet.  This rapture coincides with the Second Coming.  There IS no "secret rapture" happening seven years before the end of the world.  That's the end of it.

It is, of course, not just the first Sunday of Advent, but Thanksgiving weekend and I have taken some time the last two or three days to, well, give thanks.  This year in particular, I have a lot, a lot for which to be grateful.  As I imagine I have said in these homilies before, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year.  

But it is only my second favorite day of the year.  Number one is Good Friday.  The two share a strong resonance.  After all, there is nothing for which a human being might be more deeply grateful than his or her rescue by the God who made us.  And Eucharist, the Lord's Body and Blood given for our salvation, means thanksgiving.  

I could probably write several more paragraphs on this set of points, the connections between our national holiday and Good Friday.  But it is early Saturday afternoon and I need to get this baby out.  

I hope your Thanksgiving weekend is restful; warm and joyful.  My best wishes for the start of Advent.

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

December Schedule:

Saturday, Nov. 29

5 PM (English)

Sunday, Nov. 30:

8 AM, 630 PM (both English)

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON/Seton Campus

11 AM (English)

Saturday, Dec. 6

5 PM (English)

Sunday, Dec. 7

8 AM, 1115 AM (both English)

Monday, December 8, Feast of the Immaculate Conception

8 AM (English); 5 PM (bilingual)

Thursday, December 18, Simbang Gabi Novena Mass

 6 AM (English)

Saturday, Dec, 20

5 PM (English)

Sunday, Dec. 21 

630 PM (English)

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON/Seton Campus

11 am (English)

Christmas Eve

5 PM, 10 PM (both English)

Christmas Day 

9 AM (English)

Weekday Masses (all 8 AM and English, except where noted)

Mon, Dec, 1

Tues, Dec. 2, 7 PM (Spanish)

Fri, Dec. 5

Sat, Dec. 6

Fri, Dec. 12

Sat, Dec. 13

Mon, Dec. 15

Sat, Dec. 20

Mon, Dec. 22 

Sat, Dec. 27

Christ the King: Creation, Redemption, and Majesty

Readings and Virtual Homily for November 23, 2025, Feast of Christ the King; Twelve Busy Sabbatical Days; California Dreaming; Late Additions to the Mass Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• 2 Samuel 5:1-3

• Psalm 122:1-5

• Colossians 1:12-20

• Luke 23:35-43

Dear Friends and Family:

Today is the Feast of Christ the King.  As I have observed often enough in the past, one of my favorite feast days of the year.  The day when we celebrate how all of creation comes together in the Kingship of Christ, God-made-man.  All of creation comes through the Second Person of the Trinity ("through him, all things were made”).  All of creation is rescued, redeemed, and not just restored but made new, through the Second Person of the Trinity incarnate, the man Jesus of Nazareth.

This stupendous reality hardly bears analysis, though of course, careers have been built, in its analysis; books written about it, professorships spent teaching it, the hearts, minds and souls of countless theologians and saints given over to its contemplation.  But truly, the reality we contemplate today is so vast, so majestic, so astonishing that I wonder what I might say here that could approach doing it justice.

Of course I have given homilies on this feast day; have done so since late November, 2006, a brand new priest in Pleasanton.  And if I were so inclined this morning, I could take each of today's readings in turn and offer analysis and perspective.  Number one, I have done that before.  Number two, as I say, it would not begin to do justice to the reality we contemplate today: Jesus of Nazareth, true man; and at one and the same time, the Second Person of the Trinity, true God.  Jesus Christ, King of creation, King of the universe.  

I mean, really, give it a moment's reflection.  "Through him" the Andromeda Galaxy came into being.  

And he hung on a cross, bleeding to death, to save not just us but all creation, which fell when its steward (the human being) fell.  To rescue it, its Creator became a human being, and died that death for it.  For us.

I am gonna add anything to that?!?

I do love today's passage from Colossians, one of several in the New Testament that asserts in no uncertain terms the huge mystery we celebrate today. 

"He is the image of the invisible God...in him were created all things in heaven and on earth...all things were created through him and for him...in him all things hold together...for in him all the fullness was pleased to dwell and through him to reconcile all things...making peace by the blood of his cross" (vss. 15-20).

And who does not love the passage from Luke, where Jesus forgives his executioners and prays for their salvation (vs. 34); where St. Dimas (the good thief) comes so startlingly to Jesus' defense, and throws himself on God's mercy (vss. 40-43).  Dimas is the first among all humanity (leaving Mary out of this) to avail himself of the salvation being won at that very moment.  What must it have meant to Jesus, to have that -- that affirmation, that confirmation?  To have that evidence, that proof, of the power and the effectiveness of his sacrifice?  He had not even died yet and already, his total self-giving was bearing fruit.

Thank you, Dimas, is all I can say.

And thank you, Jesus.  Thank you, my Lord, my God, my Savior, my King.  Just a suggestion, to really enter into the cosmic dimensions of the feast we celebrate today: The next time you gaze up at the stars on a clear night, recall that "through him all things were made."

I've joked off and on for the past five and one-half months that though I am technically on sabbatical, there are days when contemplating my schedule, no one would guess it.  But on the whole, that fact has pertained only to the occasional day, maybe two days together, since the start of the summer; on the whole, my weeks have been fairly spacious in terms of time and schedule.  

Not so the twelve days that ended with this past Wednesday.  Among many other things, a three-day Kairos Retreat with the juniors at San Damiano immediately followed by a weekend retreat for Bay Area chapters of the Legion of Mary at St. Clare in Soquel promptly followed by a two-day trip to LA for San Gabriel Media (and some wonderful time with my LA family).  Among several other things, all that and more.  It was like what life used to be like when I was fulltime in the parishes.  That is, non-stop.  

I got to this past Thursday and -- not having the morning Mass -- slept 'til 930, then spent 45 minutes catching up texts and e-mails from bed.  Had coffee after my shower, did not bother to shave, hit the road for Pleasanton, where I had a lunch date with a dear friend, returned to the parish and checked my box in the office (it was overflowing -- I had not checked it in over a week), ran a couple errands and then...drove to Danville for dinner with a couple more dear friends and...felt blessed.  Felt relaxed.  Felt like I had exhaled.  

I mean, after all. I AM (supposedly) on a sabbatical...

Will close with this "report from the road" (that is, I-5, and in contemplation of all that has come to be, through Him).  The recent surprisingly heavy rains, the more so because the south state has actually recorded greater precipitation totals than we have, have left California not just green but vibrantly so, deeply so.  The drive down 5 this week (I waited 'til Tuesday to go, so as to avoid the storm at the start of the week) was gorgeous.  The clarity of the air; the huge fluffy white-and-grey clouds; the sparkling sunlight.  The slopes of the Coast Range were either turning green or were green already and the valley itself was...What was that 1940s film called?  How Green Was My Valley?  How green IS our Central Valley right now?  VERY.  

Only in the Tehachipis did I find myself among summer-still-golden hills.  But even there, and surprising -- because after all, it is only November -- the highest peaks had snow.  It was bright and sunny, driving over the Grapevine, but the huge clouds were all over the place, and as we rose into the mountains, they became quite close to the freeway; maybe just a couple hundred feet above us.  It was cool.  

The drive -- both down and back -- was effortless; zero traffic, plenty of cars and trucks, but we never slowed down anywhere.  I stopped at Harris Ranch both going south and heading back; took photos there, the valley there was so -- photogenic, I guess.  

It was a blessed way to end the twelve busiest days of this sabbatical.  Those days will not be repeated, but I am not sorry for them.  Just the opposite.  All their jammed-together experiences were experiences of grace, above all of the grace of priesthood and for that, well, again, thank you, Jesus, my Lord, my God, my Savior, my High Priest, my King.

That'll wrap it.  

Happy Thanksgiving!  

God bless.

Love,

El Padre

Last-minute changes to the November schedule, all of them this weekend.  I now have all four English Masses here at St. Clement -- the vigil this evening at 5; the 8, 1115 and 630 tomorrow.  

I had not been scheduled this weekend because I had had a trip planned, but as with so many other travel plans this sabbatical, the trip was scotched, owing to my determination to get as much done, as well done as possible, for our efforts at San Gabriel Media.  We wound up without our frequent helper priest this weekend, here in the parish (Fr. Celestine, a young scholar from Rwanda, studying at the GTU in Berkeley).  So our pastor asked me for help.  Happy to take up the slack!