From Outcast to Disciple: The Samaritan Woman at the Well

Readings and Virtual Homily for March 8, 2026, Third Sunday of Lent; Virtual Homily; Lent at O'Dowd; March Schedule (Second Half)

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Exodus 17:3-7

• Psalm 95:1-2, 6-9

• Romans 5:1-2, 5-8

• John 4:5-42

Dear Friends and Family,

The Gospel passage is that of Jesus' encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well.  This encounter is the longest conversation in the New Testament yet you know we are getting only the bullet points.  John tells us that Jesus was with several of the disciples, who went into town to get lunch (and bring it back).  Meanwhile the woman comes to the well and Jesus astonishes her by asking for a drink of water.  This starts a conversation that likely lasted the better part of an hour, maybe more.  For all that John gives us only the highlights, it is, as I say, the longest conversation in the New Testament.

When I teach this passage to my sophomores at O'Dowd, I underscore the fact of the woman's astonishment that Jesus would have asked her for water, that he would have spoken to her at all.  She is a woman.  In first century Israel men and women who did not know each other did not speak to each other.  She is a Samaritan.  In first century Israel Jews did not speak to Samaritans if they could possibly avoid doing so; and they absolutely did not share utensils with them.  The woman would have had a cup attached by a chain to her water jar; it is from this cup that she gave Jesus a drink.

The woman expresses astonishment that Jesus would ask her for a drink (vs. 9).  But his breaking this taboo is the invitation that leads to their long conversation.  All her life the woman has lived with the prejudice Jews held against her ethnicity; she likely intuited that there was something different, something special, about this Jewish man from that very first question.  

It is clear from the passage that Jesus is thirsty for more than just water.  He is thirsty for the woman's faith, which he draws out of her the way she draws the water from the well.  He takes her into deep water, so to speak (no accident that this conversation happens at a well) early on in the conversation, when he introduces the concept of living water, the kind of water he would like to offer her in return (vss. 10-15).  

Well into the conversation, Jesus suggests that the woman go and get her husband.  The premise for this suggestion was likely that, if their conversation were to continue, it should probably be in the presence of her husband, since after all, men and women who did not know each other did not speak to each other in ancient Israel (well, in this case, in ancient Samaria).  

But of course, the real reason Jesus suggests she bring her husband to the well is what happens next.  "Sir, I have no husband," the woman replies.  And Jesus approves of her reply, telling her that what she has said is true.  And then he tells her that she has had five husbands and the man she lives with now is not her husband.  Again, he commends her for speaking the truth (vss. 17-18).  There is no indication of judgment, let alone condemnation, in the way John portrays Jesus' reply.  Just the opposite.  Jesus goes out of his way to reassure the woman of his ongoing approval: "You have spoken the truth."

Astonished, and at the same time, encouraged, for after all, Jesus has revealed her past and at the same time refused to condemn her for it, the woman draws closer to Jesus, not away.  "Sir," she says, "I can see you are a prophet," and then she asks him where she should go to worship God, Jerusalem or Mount Gerizim, which was sacred to the Samaritans (vss. 19-20).  

That she draws closer to Jesus rather than away is in itself one of the really amazing moments in the conversation.  When I ask my sophomores how they would feel if some near-stranger, someone they had just met, had just entered into a conversation with, suddenly revealed to them that s/he knew their entire past, all their sins, the usual response is that they would be shocked, embarrassed and angered.  They would pull away, not pull closer.

The reason, of course, that the Samaritan woman does not pull away is precisely that she does not feel judged -- for indeed Jesus has gone out of his way not to judge her.  We may confidently assume that at this point in the conversation the woman has developed a level of trust in Jesus that tells her, "He sees everything about me and it does not matter.  Because in and through all of that, he sees ME.  And he values me.  I am more than my circumstances.  He sees that."  

Married five times and now living with a man not her husband, the Samaritan woman at the well is clearly a rebel, an independent thinker and actor; for whatever reason, she has not thought it necessary to conform to societal expectations.  We need not impute any ill will in this assessment; the woman in her conversation with Jesus appears to be genuine, open, determined and -- thirsty.  Thirsty for the living water that Jesus wants to give her.  Thirsty for the freedom from judgment and condemnation that she has likely been exposed to all her adult life, owing to her being a Samaritan, and at that, owing to her being a Samaritan woman who has led a scandalous life.  Even among the Samaritans this gal is an outcast.  That is why she is drawing her water at noon, in the heat of the day, rather than at dawn, when the majority of the women from town would go to get water, exchanging greetings and the news of the day along the way.

The passage ends with the woman returning to the town where, despite the fact that she has likely endured years of judgment from them, she invites her fellow townsfolk to come to the well and meet "a man who told me everything I have ever done," suggesting that he may be the Messiah (vss. 28-30).  The woman, now herself an evangelist, an apostle to her own people, has been given a new understanding of herself, in the conversation with Jesus.  She has experienced, perhaps for the first time, the depth of her own worth and dignity; her many failures and scandalous past do not matter to Jesus -- SHE matters to Jesus.  And in that realization she experiences a transformation.  She becomes a disciple.

The Eastern Orthodox have canonized the woman at the well; she is known in the East as St. Photina (the name is associated with light).  Tradition says that she evangelized Carthage (the second greatest city of the empire, in what is now Tunisia) and eventually went to Rome where, among others, she converted Nero's daughter, and was ordered martyred by the outraged emperor.  In any event, the passage of the woman at the well in today's Gospel is instructive for us and our own discipleship for numerous reasons, but one of the most important is that it helps us remember that Jesus sees past all our failings, all our faults, mistakes and outright sins.  He sees the saint he is calling us to become, and he wants only to encourage us, in that becoming.

Well, as mentioned, last e-mail, I am plunging into Lent with no fewer than five retreats in three weeks.  The number increases to six if I include the parish Confirmation retreat at Redwood Glen next weekend.  I am only on duty to help with our teens' confessions Saturday evening.  Our Confirmation program here at SC is large and Fr. Jesus and I will be hearing confessions for about 70 of our teens next Saturday evening. I am planning on a three-hour gig, not counting drive time (about 75 minutes each way -- it is always a long night).

I heard confessions meanwhile at Bishop O'Dowd, this week.  During Lent we make two full days available to the students (and to the faculty and staff) for the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  Two days where I do not teach; just hear confessions.  Early on in my years at the high school these days could be somewhat hit and miss, in terms of students, or staff, taking advantage of the opportunity to experience the sacrament.  

Not this week.  I lost track of how many confessions I heard.  It was a full day of providing the sacrament to the O'Dowd community, and it charged me up, as our priest and chaplain.  

Then, just this evening (Thursday), we had our Lenten Stations of the Cross, led by students and attended by families of students in our Confirmation program.  (Other folks can attend as well, but this prayer service is something we offer specifically as a part of Confirmation prep.)  I have loved the Stations since I was a little guy in Marysville, standing with my mother and grandmother in the pews at St. Joseph in Marysville on Lenten Friday evenings.  I was taken back to my boyhood love for this devotion this evening, listening to my O'Dowd teens as they led us in naming and defining the station, showing its relevance to our lives today, offering prayer and then singing verses from "Were You There" tailored to elucidate the meaning of each station.  O'Dowd has come a long way, in my eleven years there, in terms of a joyful and confident expression of our Catholic identity.  I am...proud...of O'Dowd.

Gonna leave it at that!

Take care.  God bless.  My best wishes for a serene third week of Lent.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

The Rest of the March Schedule:

Sunday, March 22

8 AM, 1115 AM (both English)

Saturday, March 28 (Palm Sunday Vigil)

5 PM (English)

Sunday, March 29 (Palm Sunday)

630 PM (English)

Second Sunday of Lent Homily: Remembering the Mountaintop in Difficult Times

Readings and Virtual Homily for March 1, 2026, Second Sunday of Lent; Five Retreats in Three Weeks; San Gabriel Barrels On Ahead; March Schedule (First Two Weeks)

Readings for this Sunday:

• Genesis 12:1-4

• Psalm 33:4-5, 18-20, 22

• 2 Timothy 1:8-10

• Matthew 17:1-9

Dear Friends and Family,

The Transfiguration is this Sunday's Gospel passage.  Matthew's account of the Transfiguration runs a close parallel to Luke's.  Jesus ascends a lofty hill (if it is the mountain we think it is, it is about the same height as Mount Diablo) with his three closest disciples, who experience a stunning vision.  Matthew describes it

(Jesus') face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as light.  Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus (vss. 2-3).  

Luke adds that they were talking with Jesus about his upcoming "exodus" which he "was going to accomplish in Jerusalem" (Luke 9:31).

Tradition holds that the Transfiguration occurred about forty days before the Crucifixion.  This is one reason why this Gospel passage occurs near the start of Lent.  We may with some degree of confidence assume that the vision was granted the three apostles to help them hold on in faith in the face of the events of Good Friday.  Jesus appears with Moses and Elijah, representing the law and the prophets; Jesus being the fulfillment of both.  

Whether the apostles managed, under the shock, the weight and the horror of the Crucifixion, to recall the Transfiguration and hope for something yet to be revealed, even as Jesus lay in the tomb, is a matter of much speculation.  The vision dazzled and inspired them, but the brutal reality of Jesus' death was what they were dealing with, from Good Friday afternoon until sometime mid-day or later that first Easter Sunday.  

We can take our lead for this reflection, however, in the fact of the vision, an experience which happened on a mountaintop, and draw a parallel to our own faith journeys.  God will give us moments of transcendence -- however they might come -- to help us hold on in faith, when the crucifixions hit.  Mountaintop experiences can and do reinforce our faith, our hope, our confidence that God has our backs, when we find ourselves making our way in the wasteland.

An easy example of this dynamic from my own life occurred while I was a seminarian, wrapping up my residential year at St. Charles Borromeo Parish in Sacramento.  (The parish had been founded by my uncle, who had died three years before I was assigned to it.)  I had an amazing year there, as the resident seminarian.  For the first time I lived in a rectory, a rectory that felt like a second home to me seeing that my uncle had lived there for 34 years.  I kept something like a priest's schedule; had the full experience of the wide range of ministry opportunities in a large and active parish.  I met up with many old family friends, parishioners who had been close to my uncle; but I also made many new acquaintances at St. Charles and a few of them were to become lifelong friends.  The year at St. Charles was a long-term "mountaintop" experience for me that told me I was going to love being a priest.

This experience was invaluable in the two years which followed.  I took a year out of the seminary program after completing the year at St. Charles to, among other things, get my thesis written for my master's degree in philosophy at the Dominican School at Berkeley's Graduate Theological Union.  It was only meant to be one year out, and I did get the thesis written.  But so much went wrong for me otherwise that year that I was forced to take a second year out, and work a job in the Marysville parish (my boyhood parish, where I had been youth minister for years before leaving for the seminary).

During these two years, there were times when I might have wondered if I was going to get back to the seminary.  It was a set of difficulties amounting to a near-crisis, and it caused the Vocations Office in Sacramento to so lose faith in me that they dropped me as a candidate for ordination -- though I was just two years short of the goal, at that point.  Demoralizing as much of my situation was, those two years, I held onto the vibrant memories of the joy, the wonder, the sense of engagement and accomplishment that had accompanied me in my residency year at St. Charles.  I "returned to the mountaintop," in other words, in my thoughts, many times while making my way through an uncharted and wholly unexpected set of difficulties; difficulties lasting, as I say, two full years.

A chief result of that "time in the desert" was that I transferred my candidacy to Oakland.  It was, evidently, all along God's will that I should become a priest for the East Bay rather than for the Sacramento Valley.  Meanwhile, I held onto hope, remembering the wonderful year, the ten-month mountaintop experience that had been my residency year at my uncle's parish in Sacramento.  If we can "recall the mountaintop" when we find ourselves in the wasteland, our journey through the wasteland will be smoother, lighter and graced with a peace that we might otherwise lose sight of.

It's only ten days into the Lenten season and already I have (well, I will have had) three retreats since Ash Wednesday.  The first was last Saturday at CCOP -- the Women of Faith ministry, still fairly new and clearly thriving, had me give a daylong retreat on the Psalms in Lent.  This is a theme I have covered in several formats -- for other retreats, for Shalom World Television as an eight-part Lenten series, at San Gabriel Media as a YouTube series (completed but yet to be aired).  It was great to be in Pleasanton last Saturday, from the retreat's nine AM start right through to the Vigil Mass, which I celebrated as a sort of wrap-up of the retreat.  Though I say Mass monthly at Elizabeth Seton, I had not said a regular Sunday Mass at St. Augustine in more than a decade.  It felt like coming home; I had said my first Pleasanton Mass as a brand new priest at St. Augustine, almost twenty years ago.  The day was made perfect by a dinner date with several good friends at Haps.  Talk about mountaintop experiences!

Then, as mentioned, as I am writing this, I am at San Damiano, on a three-day Kairos Retreat with 57 members of O'Dowd's Class of 2027.  The Kairos protocol is that seniors, who made the retreat last year, give the retreat for the juniors; the seniors give the talks, lead the small groups, and so on.  So we have a dozen members of the Class of 2026 here as well.

By the time you are reading this, I will be at St. Clare Retreat Center in Soquel, giving a women's Lenten retreat, the theme being the Female Saints of the Passion.  This again, is a retreat I have given several times over the years, and we are planning a Lenten YT series as well, at San Gabriel.  Meanwhile, the priest slated to give a women's Lenten retreat at St. Clare next weekend had to back out and the sisters asked if there were any chance I could take the weekend.  They assured me I could simply duplicate this weekend's retreat as, after all, it would be a different group of retreatants.  After checking with Fr. Jesus (pastor at St. Clement) I was able to accept the request, and that retreat, followed by another Kairos the next week, makes five retreats in three weeks; my Lent is off to a reLENTless start (lol).  

My schedule the past eighteen months has been steadily picking up, in terms of extra-curricular ministry -- that is, ministry beyond the high school and beyond the parish.  This winter, going back to the holidays, it is feeling like the sort of schedule I kept prior to COVID.  Talks, retreats, special events, extra Masses (beyond the high school or St. Clement) and so on.  All good.  It leaves me less time for writing, or for new video work at San Gabriel, but there will be plenty of time for both of these over spring break and during the summer.  Meanwhile, I am enjoying the picked-up pace.  I only work as much as I do because I love my work, after all.

On the subject of San Gabriel Media, we a week or two back shot past 800,000 subscribers worldwide; we are gaining 3-4000 a day.  Some people, at least, evidently find our offerings engaging and worthwhile.  At the same time, and at the risk of sounding like a broken record, 800,000 subscribers has us still on the taxi-way.  I'll say we have reached the runway when we hit one million.  We will only be in the air at some number well above that.  Our ambitions at San Gabriel are not small.  This is the Gospel.  Jesus told us to preach it to all nations (Matthew 28 and Luke 24).  At San Gabriel Media, we aim to do precisely that.

Gonna sign off here.  Take good care.  God bless.

My best wishes for serenity and grace as we really move into Lent -- my favorite season of the year.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Schedule for the First Half of March:

Sunday, March 1

630 PM (English)

Sunday, March 8

630 PM (English)

Saturday, March 14

5 PM (English)

Sunday, March 15

8 AM (English)

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON, Seton Campus

11 AM (English)

Daily Masses (All 8 AM, All English)

Mon., Mar. 2

Mon., Mar. 9

Sat., Mar. 14

Mon., Mar. 16

Sat., Mar. 21

Mon., Mar. 23

Sat., Mar. 28

Mon., Mar. 30

First Sunday of Lent 2026: Temptation, Sin, and Christ’s Triumph

Readings and Virtual Homily for February 22, 2026, First Sunday of Lent; Fasting for Venezuela; Diablo in Snow

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Genesis 2:7-9, 3:1-7

• Psalm 51:3-6, 12-13, 17

• Romans 5:12-19

• Matthew 4:1-11

Dear Friends and Family,

I imagine the principal theme in most homilies from Catholic pulpits this Sunday will be one which examines the temptation of the Lord in the desert.  It's a classic Lenten subject.  I have expanded on this theme more than once in these written homilies, and intend here to take a more general approach, looking at the broad theme present in today's readings, that of temptation and sin.

The passage from Genesis starts with a description of the original goodness of creation; how God planted the garden for our first parents with trees, including the tree of knowledge.  Placed at the center of the garden, the fruit of this tree was not to be eaten (Genesis 2:8- 9; also vss. 16-17, not included in today's reading).  The passage goes on to describe how our first parents were tempted to "become like gods," knowing the difference between good and evil Genesis 3:5-6).  Adam and Eve found this promise so -- well, tempting -- that they sinned and brought judgment upon themselves and all creation.  This, of course, is the beginning of sin in the world, hence its title Original Sin.  Every sin since can be traced ultimately back to this primeval act of rebellion.

Psalm 51 is famous.  Sometimes called the miserere -- having to do with mercy, not misery! -- it is one of the six Penitential Psalms; psalms in which the psalmist admits guilt, even, as in this case, deep guilt.  The psalmist then throws himself on the mercy of God.  Psalm 51 is thought to have been written by David.  By that I mean that even skeptical Scripture scholars acknowledge the likelihood that David himself is the author of this psalm.

The Penitential Psalms are noteworthy both for their ready admission of wrongdoing on the part of the psalmist and for the deep confidence the psalmist displays in God's mercy.  The writers of the Penitential Psalms at times seem almost to demand God's mercy, and they are not shy about letting the Lord know that though their punishment may be just, it is too much; it must be relieved.  In Psalm 51, David even bargains with God; forgive him, restore him and he (David) will "teach sinners your ways" (vss. 14-17; outside today's passage).  In its themes of self-reflection, the acknowledgment of guilt, the need for reconciliation, and the boundless love and mercy of God Psalm 51 provides an excellent start to the season of Lent.

The passage from Romans reminds us of the passage from Genesis, explaining that through one man, Adam, all humanity fell (vs. 12).  God in his mercy has so arranged things that, as through one man all are fallen, so, too, through one man -- Jesus -- all are granted the possibility to be lifted up, to be redeemed and made new (vss. 16-17).

Then there is Matthew's version of the Temptation.  The Gospel accounts of the Temptation remind us that Jesus is fully human.  If he had been immune to temptation he would not have been truly one of us.  Jesus deflects the temptations relying on Scripture (vss. 4, 7, 10).  A First Sunday of Lent homily of some real depth and power might be written, examining and interpreting that fact alone.

In any event, and to wrap this one, tempted, Adam fell.  Tempted, David fell.  Tempted, we may also at times fall.  Tempted, Jesus triumphed.  Therein lies our example and our hope, as we begin our Lenten journey.

So we have entered my favorite liturgical season this week and I am actually making an effort, this spring, to give something up for Lent.  I am embarking on what I call the Venezuelan Fast.  Since I typically eat one meal a day, fasting is not all that easily arranged for me.  The Church's definition of it, one main meal each day and two smaller meals which together do not add up to a full meal -- would actually have me eating MORE than I usually eat, on a given day.  

For years I allowed this fact to keep me from even trying to fast.  Then one Lent, around about the time I stopped traveling regularly to Venezuela, I hit on the idea that I COULD fast.  I could simply eat LESS than one full meal a day.  Many people in Venezuela at the time were already doing so and not because they were not hungry.  Their fast was involuntary.  I figured there was something more that I could do for Venezuela besides praying and sending money; I could join the people on what they ironically referred to as "The Maduro Diet."  I call this less-than-a-meal-a-day regimen The Venezuela Fast.

A fast such as this cannot be seriously maintained if I am keeping a normal social life -- that is to say, a social life that has me out and about with family and friends two, three or four times a week.  In deciding to fast for Venezuela, I have ipso facto decided to fast from social dates for the season of Lent.  Of course I already have a few engagements on the calendar, and will keep those, but I won't be making any new social dates now 'til April.

Finally, in the Prayers Answered Department, a friend in Brentwood sent me a photo of Mount Diablo taken Ash Wednesday morning.  I might have thought I was looking at the Himalayas.  Not just the main peak, not just the secondary peak, but half-way down the foothills toward the valley floor, Diablo was blanketed in white, sparkling in the morning sun.  It is quite a photo -- a candidate for the cover of my Christmas card this year.  

The reports from Kirkwood and Palisades and Boreal and so on have been beyond encouraging all week long.  Six feet of new snow the first three days of the week, maybe seven.  Two more feet, three maybe, again overnight Wednesday and well into Thursday.  There was a time on Tuesday afternoon when I happened to check my phone for the weather at South Lake Tahoe and I saw a graphic -- wildly blowing and very heavy snow -- and a term -- blizzard -- that I have never seen before.  In a single week the snowpack has been restored and the ground water table has been deeply refreshed.

Praise God.  

My best wishes as Lent gets underway.  

God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Sunday Homily: How God’s Law Protects, Empowers, and Lifts Us

Readings and Virtual for February 15, 2026, Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time. Update on Caracas; Recovery Road; Let's Hear it for the Rain!

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Sirach 15:15-20

• Psalm 119:1-2, 4-5, 17-18, 33-34

• 1 Corinthians 2:6-10

• Matthew 5:17-37

Dear Friends and Family,

Wisdom is a prominent theme in today's readings, and in particular, wisdom as expressed in the word and the law of God.  This is an engaging topic for me, as someone who has occasionally struggled to make sense of some of the Church's rules and regulations.  Understanding that God's law proceeds from a place of ultimate knowledge, of the most ancient wisdom, can assist us when, at times, we might find ourselves wondering about a particular teaching, a particular regulation or an aspect of canon law.

The first thing I want to point out on this subject is that the law, the rules and the restrictions, exist not for the purpose of restricting us but for the purpose of first protecting and then empowering us.  God, after all, knows how the universe is made.  God knows the consequences of our actions, consequences which we might argue are built into the system.  It's a good and moral created order; abuse it and we encounter consequences; we encounter a warping of the goodness and the morality; we refer to this warping effect as punishment or the penalty due to sin, which is fine, but it is really as simple as cause and effect.

Because its Creator knows how the universe is made, that Creator may be trusted to tell us how to live in accordance with its design.  We might think of God's word, God's law, as a user's manual.  A practical guide to living in the material world; a practical guide to reality itself.  We ignore this practical guide at our peril. 

British writer Dorothy Sayers once described our freedom to rebel against God's law, using the laws of physics as an example.  We are, for instance, free to step off the observation platform of the Eiffel Tower, but that freedom will not prevent the law of gravity from guaranteeing a certain unpleasant result.  This is where the protective part of the law of God comes into play.  There is, however, beyond protection, empowerment, in a deep reading, a deep grasp and understanding of the wisdom which informs God's law.  Again, we might look to the laws of physics for a metaphor; several of them come into play in lifting a jumbo jet from the runway, despite the law of gravity.  God's law (from the Ten Commandments to Catholic Canon Law) seeks to "lift" us the way certain laws of physics lift a 747.

The first reading assures us that "immense is the wisdom of the Lord; mighty in power, he sees all things.  The eyes of God behold his work and he understands every human deed" (vss. 18-19).  Given this reality, the Commandments, spoken of in this passage (vs. 15) may be accepted and obeyed or rejected, but the author declares that "set before you are fire and water...before everyone are life and death, whichever they choose will be given them" (vss. 16-17).

The psalm beautifully enunciates this understanding -- the depth of the wisdom informing God's laws and precepts (vs. 18).  Psalm 119, the longest of the psalms at 176 verses, frequently harkens back to this observation, to this trust in the ancient wisdom which underwrites and informs the precepts of the Lord.

The second reading expands on this understanding of God's wisdom:

"Yet we do speak of a wisdom of those who are mature, but not a wisdom of this age, nor of the rulers of this age, who are passing away.  Rather, we speak of God's wisdom, mysterious, hidden, which God predetermined before the ages for our glory and which none of the rulers of the age knew..." (vss. 6-8)

After all this reassurance of the law of God being founded in the wisdom of God, the passage from Matthew gives us Jesus enumerating many laws, often as not expanding on them.  Jesus takes the Mosaic Law to the next level; it is not enough to love our neighbor and hate our enemies.  Rather, we must love our enemies as well.  Matthew 5:12 to 7:12 constitutes almost a legal litany; Jesus propounds upon subjects having to do with the moral life from tithing to divorce to anger management.  To the extent that we might be inclined to think of Jesus as a law-giver, this section of the Gospel of Matthew gives us our greatest set of insights.  

This section of Matthew culminates in Matthew 7:12, the Golden Rule:  "Do to others whatever you would have them do to you.  This is the law and the prophets."  

This was a fairly radical understanding of the law at the time.  I would argue that it remains so, today.

Well, on the subject of laws...the people of Venezuela have been living under a harshly unjust set of laws (loose use of the term; dictates is probably closer to the reality) for fifteen years now, and just in the last six weeks...  

There are some hopeful signs beginning to glimmer here and there.  Hundreds of political prisoners have recently been freed and the government is discussing a general amnesty for leaders of the opposition.  Many political prisoners remain incarcerated, but my feeling about this is that we will gladly take whatever gestures toward a restoration of the once vibrant Venezuelan democracy that we can get.    

Astonishing to me, there is as well just a smattering here and there of critical analysis and commentary on the part of the intelligentsia, not just folks in the media but also some in academia.  There is guarded criticism of the current regime; there is carefully phrased hope for a more open and free and fair public discussion regarding the nation's future.  This is huge.  

The colectivos (just think of a twenty-first century Latino version of the brownshirts) continue to control the city streets and the country roads; locally ruling Venezuela almost as if it were a collection of Medieval vassal states, each with its own set of enforcers.  Until the colectivos are disarmed and disbanded (and in my view, brought to justice) there will be no experience of new freedoms among the vast majority of Venezuelans.  

But as I have observed before, the current regime, which controls the colectivos (well, in theory, at least) is likely best equipped to ultimately deal with them.  It is hard to see how a new government, consisting of opposition leaders, could disband the colectivos.  Certainly, there are ways it might be managed, but all of them are theoretical and the practical reality is thousands of armed private citizens who have incurred the deep and lasting wrath of their oppressed fellow citizens.  The colectivos will not go down without a fight -- or -- without some kind of amnesty for them.  The current regime is likely best prepared to deal with them effectively.

In any event, as I have said before, and leaving aside all the (legitimate) arguments about how this change in Venezuela has been brought about...for the first time since 2019 I have hope that things there are actually going to improve.  The above-mentioned recent developments underscore that hope.

I did not mention this at the time, but I finished last week's homily feverish and battling serious sinus pain.  I got this thing that has been making the rounds this winter; fever-driven headaches, an on-and-off again sore throat, heavy congestion and as noted, real pain in my sinuses.  The worst I have felt in decades.  

Fortunately the worst symptoms hit fast and departed; I came down with the thing overnight Tuesday before last, and by last Saturday was dealing with just congestion and fatigue.  It was heavy enough so that I actually took a couple days out sick; extremely rare for me.  In eleven years at O'Dowd, I think I have used five sick days total.  I am gone so much from my classes already because of retreats, social justice immersion days, special Masses and so on, that I can't indulge taking sick leave too!

Feeling virtually recovered early this week, I remarked to parishioners at Mass what a difference it is, to simply feel normal again, after having spent several days more in bed than out of it.  It feels GREAT, to feel normal again.

Finally, how about the change in the weather?  Prayers being answered, as far as I am concerned, and I always want to give thanks and praise when prayers are answered.  Not just rain.  But COLD rain.  The coldest storms of the winter, according to the delightful forecasts, showing as they do five days of rain in the next ten, and highs never getting out of the fifties, even on the sunny days.  Cold rain here means snow -- lots of it -- in the Sierras, in the Cascades.  Tons of snow in the forecast, between now and what used to be called George Washington's Birthday (the 22nd).  

God be praised.  God be thanked.

Gonna wrap it.  Sorry this is late -- it was a hectic week, catching up so much after being knocked out the way I was, last week.

Take care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn  

Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time 2026: Charity, Justice, and the Light of Christ

Readings and Virtual Homily for February 8, 2026, Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Late Winter Light and Color

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 58:7-10

• Psalm 112:4-9

• 1 Corinthians 2:1-5

• Matthew 3:13-16

Dear Friends and Family,

The Gospel of Social Justice might be a good theme for today's homily.  So would a reflection on the Christian presence in the world being understood as a presence of light; light where formerly there had been darkness.  Yet another possibility would be just a straightforward reflection on the virtue of charity.  As I am intrigued by each of these possible themes, I am going to plunge in without a narrowed focus.  I want to illuminate each theme as the readings themselves suggest.

The first reading resonates deeply with social justice.  All of the prophets issue calls to the Jewish people (and, of course, to us) to engage in the work of social justice.  Though we might interpret Isaiah 58 as recommending individual acts of charity, there is undeniably a more general call at work here.  Isaiah 58 mentions entire classes of people -- and this is probably as good a place as any to mention that social justice and charity, while allies, are in fact, different.  Generally speaking, social justice is global (or societal); charity is personal; even one-on-one.

Psalm 112 does indeed recommend and extol acts of personal charity.  Psalm 112 describes a man who is just, upright and reliable in his dealings with others; a man who gives to the poor.  Lavishly (vs. 9).  The word lavish is employed as well in Isaiah 58, with regard to seeing to the needs of the hungry (vs. 10).  Lavish giving is strongly encouraged, in today's readings.

What does lavish giving look like?  It will vary from person to person, depending on circumstances and capacity.  But the clear implication in both Isaiah 58 and Psalm 112 is that lavish giving is joyful giving; the dynamic seems to be one of the more we give, the more we realize that we have to give.  And needless to say this sort of giving is not limited to money.  It can be a matter simply of attending to our own vocational call (parents, giving to their children, as an example; a priest giving to his parish).  It might also be a matter of finding a cause, a charity, a social justice movement or program in need of what we have to give, and which, in the giving, so rewards us that we are happy to discover that we can give still more.  it is a matter of love being multiplied, not divided.  

Isaiah 58 and Psalm 112 both employ the metaphor of light.  This metaphor is actually describing something real -- we associate light with the nature of God.  Light from Light.  In your Light, we see Light itself (Psalm 36).  Made in the image and likeness of God, we Radiate (to use a term related to the concept of light) God's love when we give lavishly, joyfully and from the heart.  When we say, of our giving, not "I have to do this," but 'I GET to do this!" 

Which brings us to the Gospel.  Jesus employs the metaphor of light in describing how disciples are to be recognized in the world (vss. 14-16).  And here, we might employ the word light with a different meaning; specifically, discipleship is not heavy.  The Lord Himself, after all, describes his yoke as easy, his burden as light.  Discipleship is not heavy, nor is it dark.  It is, well, light, or maybe I should say lit up.  Lit up and buoyant; buoyant with joy, with faith, with confidence (as in the example of the just man, from today's psalm, who "fears no evil report," vs. 7).  

Discipleship is bound up with light, with joy and with charity and social justice, both of which encourage us to generous, even lavish, giving of ourselves, however that may play out in our circumstances.

On the subject of light -- in this case, natural light, the light of the sun -- we have been blessed with an abundance of same, here on the West Coast, these past several weeks.  As I've expressed my trepidation about "too much of a good thing" with regard to all this brilliant winter sunshine in an earlier e-mail, I will let go of the fear, this time around, and simply revel in the pleasure of it.  

Late winter is my favorite time of year.  And it is my favorite time of year, I realize, because of where I live.  I mean, look at the entire country -- including Florida! -- east of the Rockies, these past several weeks.

The Superbowl will be played in bright sunshine and temps near seventy.  The acacias, the tulip trees, the almonds and more are all blooming, as are the quince, the camellias, the birds of paradise and I don't know a lot of the other flowers that are providing such garden- and curbside color right now.  I'm just expressing gratitude for how beautiful California is in late winter; and at the same time am breathing a sigh of relief that there is, for the first time since New Year's, rain in the forecast.

Finally, and not unrelated to the above since, after all, my birthday occurs in late winter...I am STILL answering the over 300 texts I received, wishing me a happy birthday, two weekends ago.  I think I got to all the e-mails.  I appreciate the cards sent via the USPS and those simply dropped off in my boxes, either here in the parish or at O'Dowd.  Having a birthday exactly one month after Christmas makes for a highly effective antidote to any possibility of post-holiday blues.

In any event, the text messages were greatly appreciated, and I intend to get every single one of them answered; it may take me til President's Day, But I will get there.

Gonna sign off here, as I am late with this one.

Take care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

When Need Becomes Blessing: Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time Homily

Readings and Virtual Homily for February 1, 2026, Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Two Lenten Retreats at St. Clare's in Soquel; Tis the Season (of Father Jim's Birthday); February Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Zephaniah 2:3, 3:12-13

• Psalm 146:6-7, 8-10

• 1 Corinthians 1:26-31

• Matthew 5:1-12

Dear Friends and Family,

The Beatitudes appear in two of the Gospels, Matthew and Luke.  This Sunday's Gospel passage is Matthew's version of this list of blessings.  It is a set of blessings which might at first glance strike us as counter-intuitive.  It can be difficult to see the blessing, for instance, in being poor in spirit or being in mourning.  

When I have taught the Beatitudes to my sophomores at Bishop O'Dowd, I have emphasized the fact that it is precisely in the reality that something is missing that the blessing lies.  The poor in spirit are not full of themselves.  They are thereby available to be blessed, even to be filled, by grace.  

Those who mourn are in touch with deep and essential realities of human existence -- they are not distracted by ephemeral ambitions, pleasures and preoccupations.  In their grief they are available to receive heavenly consolation.  It is precisely this dynamic, in fact, that explains the counter-intuitive fact that many, if not most, priests would rather do a funeral than a wedding.  At a funeral, people are open to grace, they are in need and they know they are in need.  God can reach them.

In a dynamic that has strong repercussions for our national reality this winter of 2026, those who hunger and thirst for justice are also in need; their longing for things to be put right counters complacency.  We can become complacent if enough of our own needs are met, if we are comfortable and satisfied.  It does not necessarily follow that comfort breeds complacency, but it is a real possibility.  When Mary says that God "fills the hungry with good things" while he "sends the rich away empty" (Luke 1:53) she is enunciating precisely this dynamic.  It is not that God does not love the rich.  It is that in their comfort they may fail to recognize their need for his love, their need for grace to be actively operating in their lives.

Making ourselves available to grace requires the practice of certain virtues, chief among them perhaps, humility.  The other readings for this Sunday assure us of the importance of this foundational virtue.  (Humility is understood to be the ground from which all the other virtues spring.)

The first reading extolls the humble, those who observe God's law, and who "seek justice, seek humility" (vs. 3).  They will be favored by God precisely because in their humility they have put themselves in a place where they are able to receive the good things God wants to give them; they are not full of themselves.

The psalm, similarly, assures us that God showers graces upon those in need.  It specifically singles out "the oppressed...the hungry...the prisoners...the blind...those who are bowed down...the resident alien...the orphan and the widow" as being particularly beloved and cared for by God (vss. 7-9).

In the second reading, Paul reminds the Christians in Corinth of their favor with God despite the fact that they are not viewed as favored by society.  Here we have an explicit example of the dynamic at work in the beatitudes.  Corinth was the port city for Athens.  It was the city of dock workers and sailors and the merchants who served what we would today refer to as a blue-collar or working class population.  And it was in Corinth, not Athens, that Paul met with huge success in his efforts at evangelization.  

The description of the reaction of the Athenians to Paul's preaching is almost comical (Acts of the Apostles 17:16-34).  Wealthy, educated, with high-status positions and rewarding careers, the Athenians were...comfortable; satisfied; complacent.  They were so filled with the riches of the world that they did not recognize their need for the riches of God.

Different story with the dockworkers of Corinth.  "I have many people in this city," the Lord assures Paul (Acts 18:10).  We may intuit that that happy reality was directly connected to the fact that the Corinthians, who had so much less than the Athenians to insulate them from life's dangers, sorrows and difficulties, were naturally open to receiving the Good News; their lives predisposed them to the reception of grace.

That we are available to God when we are in need is the central dynamic in the message of the beatitudes.  It is, as I say, a counter-intuitive set of blessings which Jesus lists in today's Gospel.  But to the extent that any need of ours opens us to the operation of grace in our lives, that need has, in fact, blessed us.

I will be giving two women's weekend retreats at St. Clare Retreat Center in Soquel this Lent, and the sisters have asked me to get the word out via these e-mails.  The retreats are Friday evening through Sunday morning, on back-to-back weekends -- February 27 - March 1 and March 6-8.  The theme -- which the sisters chose when I offered them several possibilities -- is Women Saints of the Passion, offering some real biographical background on the women who stood at the foot of the Cross and who were the first witnesses to the Resurrection.  

St. Clare is a beautiful site, about three miles in from Highway 17 along a redwood-canopied road.  The retreats start with dinner Friday evening and end with Mass late Sunday morning.  In addition to four talks, there will be three Masses, reconciliation, adoration and substantial free time for reflection and private prayer.  For more information call the retreat center at 831/423-8093 or e-mail: info@stclaresretreat.org

I had yet another anniversary of my 59th birthday last Sunday.  It seems that I spent the whole weekend partying -- with friends from the parish at Massimo's in Fremont, Friday night; a dinner party in Brentwood Saturday and a five-hour lunch with friends from Pleasanton on Sunday.  That set of celebrations was, however, only the kick-off.  I have dinners and brunches scheduled into the middle of February -- the Season of Fr. Jim's Birthday is underway.  

I want to say thank you here to everyone who texted or e-mailed or WhatsApp'd a birthday message to me.  I am still answering them.  It is great to have heard from so many friends from around the bay and around the state, last weekend.  Talk about feeling blessed!

Think that will do it for this one.  Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

February Schedule (all English):

Sunday, February 1

8, 1115 AM; 630 PM

Sunday, February 8

8, 1115 AM

Saturday, February 14

5 PM

Sunday, February 15

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON/Seton Campus:  11 AM

630 PM

Sunday, February 22

8, 1115 AM

Sunday, March 1

630 PM

Weekday Masses (all English)

Mon., Feb. 2

Sat., Feb. 7

Mon., Feb. 9

Sat., Feb. 14

Mon., Feb. 16

Sat., Feb. 21

Mon., Feb. 23

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