Love God and Love Your Neighbor: Virtual Homily for October 25, 2026

Readings and Virtual Homily for October 25, 2026, Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Nice and Easy Does It

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Exodus 22:20-26

• Psalm 18:2-4, 47, 51

• 1 Thessalonians 1:5-10

• Matthew 22:34-40

Dear Friends and Family,

In the passage from Matthew this week Jesus tells the Pharisees that the greatest commandment is to love God with all our heart, mind, body and soul.  He then adds that the second greatest is like it, that we love our neighbor as ourself.  Jesus assures the Pharisees that in these two commandments all the rest of the law subsists; that is, if we attend to these two commandments, we are fulfilling the will of God.

We get a striking set of examples of how to love others as ourself from the first reading.  The passage is from chapter twenty-two in Exodus, one of the (many) "law code" chapters of the book.  The several verses in today's reading mention the resident alien, the widow and the orphan; they mention the poor.  They direct the reader to take responsibility for those less fortunate, for the marginalized and the vulnerable, assuring us how precious these least little ones are to God (vss. 22, 23, 26)).

Those marginalized and vulnerable in twenty-first century America certainly continue to include the resident alien, but by and large the "needy" in our day are not as noticeable as they were at the time of Exodus, or at the time of Jesus.  With the exception of the homeless, who might be encountered anywhere, most marginalized folks today are out of sight.  Most of us, going about our day-to-day routines, are unlikely to encounter them. 

To fulfill the command to attend to the needs of the poor these days most likely translates to such possibilities as volunteering for our parish St. Vincent de Paul chapter, or at Open Heart Kitchen in the Tri-Valley or at St. Anthony's Dining Room in San Francisco.  Financial support for these and so many other wonderful institutions is, of course, another way of "showing up" for the marginalized.

The need in the world is so great that it can be overwhelming just to sit down and really think about it.  Since saving the world is God's job, not ours, we need not be overwhelmed.  The best advice I have to offer on this business is to find a charity or some social service organization whose goals align with your values and support it as much as you are able.  Volunteer, if so inclined; or support the organization with regular donations, but be active and consistent in your giving to it.  Help it make a real difference in the lives of the less fortunate.  

St. Paul assures us the Lord loves a cheerful giver (2 Corinthians 9:7).  My mom's great love was the effort of the missionaries in India.  Not just because the missionaries were teaching the faith, but because they were building hospitals, clinics, schools, orphanages, soup kitchens and so on in some of the subcontinent's poorest areas.  Every month after paying the bills, she would figure out how much she had to send to Maryknoll and/or the Salesians in Chennai or Varanasi or Delhi.  She developed regular correspondence with leaders of a couple of the congregations she supported.  After writing checks to pay bills, she would sometimes hold up the check going to India and say, "It's exciting to think what THIS check is going to pay for!"

Jesus' words, of course, go beyond charity or social activism; they invite us to treat everyone, not just the poor, as we ourselves would like to be treated.  I think we all know just how hard this can, at times, be.  It is especially challenging when we try to apply it to someone who has not treated us the way we would like to be treated.  

These are the times when discipleship is stretched, is strengthened, is deepened.  It takes conscious effort, a real self-direction of the will, sometimes, to fulfill this commandment.  A real consideration of what is required here can lead into a discussion of forgiveness and its issues, and that is beyond the scope of this homily.  So I will leave it there.  The command itself is pretty simple, pretty straightforward, and if at times we struggle to fulfill it, the struggle itself has real value; we are building muscle as disciples.

Three weeks ago, as I was leaving Washington Hospital, I had doctor's orders to not even think about returning to work for ten days.  I let folks know as much and I think, no, actually, now I know, I created a false impression about the length of my rehab period, as a result.  I myself did not know what to expect, with the hospital-prescribed home rehab protocol.  I have never been hurt like this in my life; it is all new to me.  

Twenty days have passed since I left Washington and I have certainly another twenty days in rehab ahead, plus probably another ten or twenty beyond that.    Without getting into too many specifics, let's just say that knee rehab tends to be tricky and slow, and that goes double for double knee rehab, which is where I am.  I have canceled commitments into mid-November; we'll see then where I am and what I might be able to start picking back up with.  

Because I have gotten questions about it, the November 7 Day of Reflection here in the parish has been canceled.  I wanted to wait until this week to make a call on it, because I really was hoping to be able to do it.  And though my progress so far has been glacial -- steady, but glacial -- I have been assured that because I broke nothing, there will come a point where my recovery should flow relatively smoothly and rapidly.

Well, I don't think I will have reached that point by November 7.  So we need to let folks know that, with real regret, the day has been canceled.  Along with, as mentioned, everything else into the middle of next month.  

I remain in good spirits.  I am convinced that, for all that this is, of course, a physical trial, the real reasons it has happened are spiritual and that I need to be open to promptings, insights, new understandings, as I progress toward full physical healing.  There is a whole lot of spiritual growth possible here and I do not want to miss any opportunity to allow the Lord to maximize that growth in me.  This is about a reset.  A reset involving the next decade of my priestly service.  So, as I said last time, please pray for my discernment, along with praying for full physical recovery.

Meanwhile, really, one of the great, great graces in this bizarre set of circumstances: I am in no pain.  The PT exercises remind me that my knees remain fairly swollen and stiff.  I can feel my knees being challenged to stretch and release, doing the exercises.  But the exercises do not cause pain.  I am doing more of these exercises each week; I have upped my exercise routine to between ninety and one hundred minutes a day, and -- given the fact that I am not in pain -- it kinda feels like "nice and easy does it."  No need to rush anything.  These exercises will get me to the other side of this, in their own sweet time.

Thanks again for the prayers, all the expressions of love and support -- the cards, the gifts, the flowers, etc.  I am feeling the blessings.

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Catholic Homily: Living in the World but Not of It

Readings and Virtual Homily for October 18, 2026, Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time; "I'm Fine, Just Pray for my Knees"

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

•  Isaiah 45:1, 4-6

• Psalm 96:1, 3-5, 7-10

• 1 Thessalonians 1:1-5

• Matthew 22:15-21

Dear Family and Friends,

Today's first reading from Isaiah speaks of Cyrus, the Medo-Persian Emperor who overthrew Babylon and freed the Jews who had been deported there after Babylon overran Jerusalem in 587 BC.   It was the year 539 that Cyrus defeated Babylon and told the myriad Jews living there to return to Jerusalem, rebuild their temple and worship their God.  Cyrus is a fascinating character and I would like to say more here about him, but in fact this passage from Isaiah serves largely to introduce the Gospel, which also pertains to a pagan (in this case, Roman) emperor and the worship due to God.  So then, to the Gospel passage.

Of the various encounters Jesus had with the religious leadership of his day, today's Gospel account may be my favorite.  The Pharisees ask Jesus if it is right to pay Roman taxes.  They are hoping to use his answer to accuse him either of supporting Rome and thereby abandoning Israel, or of fomenting rebellion against Rome, which they could then take to Pilate, asking that Jesus be charged.

I love the way Jesus just turns their question back on them.  He not only neatly avoids the trap they are trying to set for him, he gives them sound advice for living as a child of God in a fallen world.  We may not agree with everything the federal government uses our tax dollars for, but we are, as citizens of the country, responsible for paying our taxes.  There are avenues available for us to express our dissent, short of withholding payment of taxes.  

Jesus' answer is pragmatic and realistic.  It is also deeply insightful.  Jesus' real point, which the leaders likely missed, is that we need to render unto God what is God's.  We live in the real world; the real world is fallen.   We deal with this reality in countless ways every week.  But though we Christian disciples are in the world, we are not supposed to be of it. 

Jesus identifies the Roman coin as Caesar's because it bears Caesar's image, Caesar's likeness (vss. 20-21).  All humanity is created in "the image and likeness of God" (Gen. 1:26) and, in a fallen world, it is especially incumbent upon followers of Christ that that image, that likeness be the one shown to the world.  Being in the world but not of it means living within the parameters of civil society while adhering to another, a higher, an eternal set of values that transcends anything of the world.  In living out a life formed by Gospel values, the disciple bears witness to hope, to meaning, to a world beyond the one we know with our senses.  In so reflecting the image and likeness of God, the disciple draws others to the God in whose image and likeness they themselves have been made.  

The Second Vatican Council addresses this business in urging the laity to understand that their mission is to bear witness to the world; to evangelize the world, starting in the workplace, starting with our neighbor.  The disciple renders unto God by reflecting God's love to any who come across his/her path on any given day.  In so doing, the follower of Christ attracts to their Creator other human beings, who, bearing that same image and likeness, are in fact going to find a resonance with it.  This is the great work of the Catholic laity, according to the Council; the evangelization and conversion of the world.  

It is just past two weeks since I slipped on the rectory stairs and landed in a bed at Washington Hospital.  (I am writing this on Wednesday.)  I am deep in rehab mode, at this point, with my wounded knees.  Have gone from exercises that can be done in bed and/or sitting up, to ones that require standing-in-place with the walker.  Most of these I cannot do yet.  My knees are still too stiff from the swelling.

The swelling did, however, finally begin to abate, at the end of last week.  From resembling minor moons of Jupiter, the first ten days or so after the accident, my knees now are more about the size (and to some extent the shape) of an orange.  They are still swollen and stiff, but the inflammation came down something like 70% in just a few days, from last Friday to now.

And the agent responsible for this happy development has nothing to do with western medicine.  All the icing, elevating, exercising, resting, taking of prescription ibuprofen three times a day and so on achieved virtually no visible results through late last week.  A good friend and major ministry leader here in the parish, Mari, came to see me mid-week, last week.   As it happened, Mari had also at one time blown out one of her knees the same way I blew out mine.  (Mari was a bit more prudent with the business; she only blew out one knee in her accident, not both together.  But you know me: Go Big or Go Home.)

Mari's injury to her knee was identical to mine.  That is, nothing broken or torn, just huge inflammation, and the resultant immobility.  Mari told me how she brought down the swelling in her knee by more than 50% in 48 hours.  I am not going to go into details, but it is an indigenous Mexican plant-based remedy.  I had its main ingredient readily available here in a care package Lisa Fisher had brought me (Lisa, as I think most of you know, is a nurse).  

Desperate to reduce the swelling, I followed Mari's directions and -- 48 hours later my knees were down 40-50%.  Another application of the remedy and they were down by half again, within 48 hours.  They are still swollen, so in terms of prayer focus, there's a good recommendation, if you would like one.  Pray for the inflammation to go away completely.  But though there is still swelling, and my knees are still stiff, there is greater range of movement, and I am regaining steadiness, with them, when on my feet.  

I am finding that at this point it is easiest for me to answer the question "How are you?" by saying, "I am fine.  Please pray for my knees."  Because that really is true.  I feel fine.  I am getting things done.  I am taking advantage of all this unexpected downtime to pray -- a lot.  I like that.  I am not going stir-crazy, even though I am confined to my rooms -- and really, mostly to my bed -- here in the rectory.  I get in seventy to eighty minutes of PT exercises daily (more would be ill-advised), I have a lot of folks checking in with me throughout the day; in person, via text and over the phone.  I live with two other priests and the household staff is here during the days; I do not know if I have been alone here in the rectory since I returned from the hospital.  I have experienced pain the past fortnight only when forced to move my knees in ways they do not want to be moved -- that is, a couple of the PT exercises do hurt.  Otherwise, and it has been like this from the night of the accident, I am in zero pain.

So, as I say, I am fine.  Pray for my knees.  

Foremost at the moment, just keep praying for the inflammation to disappear.  Rehab will continue, of course, as my knees are going to need to regain strength and flexibility.  But the healing process will be in a new phase, once the swelling is gone.  And because nothing was broken, fractured, torn, dislocated, etc., because this is all "just" soft-tissue injury, it is not as though we are all going to be holding our breath hoping the bone knits properly or the tendon re-attaches, or whatever.  As I think I said, last e-mail, this could have been so much worse.  A full recovery is pretty much assured, provided I remain patient, and follow the protocols.  I am not generally known for playing it safe, but this is one time when safety -- the protection and support of my knees -- is my top priority.  

I'll close just by reiterating that the parish staff is taking very good care of me; my Bay Area family, too, of course.  My colleagues at the high school, aware now that this is a long-term absence, have jumped into action, looking out for my classes, making sure my students stay on track with those of the other sophomore religion teachers.  I am in regular touch with my students and colleagues both.  I am working on my latest book.  And, as mentioned, I am praying the way I used to do in seminary.  Two-three hours/day.  That's the brightest silver lining in all of this.  Priests are supposed to be men of prayer, after all.

I do take this as just 100% from God.  He wants my attention right now, and -- well, this certainly was one way to get it.  I think I am being invited to consider a reset -- don't ask me.  I will know more as the quiet days ahead progress, and the Spirit finds me, I hope, attentive and listening.  That is why I am referring to this bizarre accident as a "wake-up fall."  I think it has to do with setting priorities -- God's priorities -- for the next ten years.

So, while praying for my physical well-being, I want to ask you to please include as well a prayer for my spiritual availability, and attentiveness, to the Lord.  This is a unique opportunity to "be still and know" that God is God.  Please pray that I let the Lord make the most of it.

Take care.  God bless.  Thanks for all the loving messages and especially for the prayer.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

God’s Universal Invitation

Readings and Virtual Homily for Mass October 11, 2026, Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Ask Me Anything (About My Wake-Up Fall)

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 25:6-10

• Psalm 23:1-6

• Philippians 4:12-14, 19-20

• Matthew 22:1-14

Dear Friends and Family,

There is no rest-of-October schedule included here because at the moment I am not on it.  My dear brother Padre Jesus, our pastor, wants to make sure I recover completely, and toward that end he invited two good priest friends of his to join us here in the rectory for most of the month.  As to the incident that facilitated this change in affairs, go past the homily for a brief update.

Among the possible themes to be found in today's readings is that of the conversion of the nations, is the Christian understanding that in Jesus Christ God has revealed himself to the Gentiles, that is, to all people.

The reading from Isaiah is often read at funeral Masses.  In part because of its promise that God will "destroy death forever" (vs. 8).  It also speaks of God removing the veil of mourning which "covers all peoples" (v. 7).  The reference to all peoples is repetitive.  This passage from Isaiah describes the Kingdom Come, where God has spread a banquet, with rich fare and choice wines, for "all peoples" (v. 6).  The passage also references "the Nations" which have come to the mountain of the Lord (vs. 7).  The passage foreshadows a time of unity of belief and understanding, to universal and joyful acceptance on the part of the nations that the God of Israel IS God.

Psalm 23 is also frequently read or sung at funerals.  Easy enough to see why.  Its six poetic verses strongly recommend an abiding trust in the God who will, in fact, "spread a banquet" before us (vs. 5).

In the passage from Philippians Paul exuberantly declares that he has "strength for everything through him who empowers me" (vs. 13).  Paul says that he has seen life from both sides, from abundance and poverty.  Regardless of his circumstances, Paul is empowered through his faith in Jesus Christ.  He can do the Lord's work from a place of want or from a place of comfort; his material circumstances matter only to the extent that he has what he absolutely needs (vss. 10-11, not included in today's passage).

As is frequently the case with the second reading, it is not easy to connect it to the theme we are discussing here.  While an effort was made by that committee in Rome to make sure the first reading, psalm and Gospel to some real degree reflect and illuminate each other, no such provision was made for the second reading -- it is chosen according to the Principal of Continuous Reading and on any given Sunday, you get what you get.  

The Gospel passage is Matthew's account of the King's banquet and the unresponsive invitees.  We may note the pointedly metaphorical nature of the story in that Jesus tells us the King has arranged the banquet to celebrate his son's wedding (vs. 2).

"Behold, " the King tells his servants, as they are to go out with the invitation, "I have prepared my banquet.  I have slaughtered my oxen and fatted calves and all is prepared.  Come to the feast" (vs. 4).  Clearly the King has gone to a great deal of attentive care to bring this lavish celebration off.  The wedding banquet of the parable resonates with the imagery of the first reading, a banquet, a feast, carefully and lovingly prepared.  

And as the servants deliver the message, they receive rejection after rejection.

Deeply affronted, the King is all the same determined to fill his banquet hall.  "Go out into the byways and the hedgerows and bring in everyone you find" (vs. 9).  And so the banquet hall is overflowing with guests, none of whom had to "do" anything or "be" anyone to have been invited.  All are invited.  

The Kingdom of God is for everyone.  This is, of course, our motto at San Gabriel Media, God is for everyone.  And the vast array and diversity of guests who do wind up at the banquet resonates with the passage from Isaiah, "On this mountain, God will prepare a feast for all people.   

The best way to understand those who refuse the invitation is to recognize that just as it is issued to each one of us, each of us is free to accept or reject it.  

In any event, today's readings point to the time of the conversion of the Gentiles and beyond.  They point to the joyous heavenly reality available to and waiting for "all peoples."

So, before anything else, my deep thanks to my colleague (both at the high school and at San Gabriel Media) Ryan Dilag, for stepping up to the plate for me last week, when I was incapable of stepping up to anything.  Thanks also to Lisa Fisher, whom most of you know, for sending the explanatory follow-up e-mail the next day.

Ryan did not mean to leave folks in the lurch; he was only doing what I told him.  "Don't give a lot of detail," I said, meaning about what had happened to me.  "I want people focused on your reflection" (which by the way, I thought excellent).  Ryan is a future deacon for the diocese, and in his capacity as Director of Campus Ministry at O'Dowd, he reflects on Scripture professionally.  He is also responsible for some of our most accessible and innovative programming at San Gabriel.

But of course, leaving it at "while Father Jim recovers in the hospital" probably had exactly the opposite effect of what I had hoped.  Though I know from comments we've received that people were able to focus on Ryan's reflection, inevitably there was a huge -- "Like, WHAT?  Fr. Jim's in the hospital?"

Hey.  This was my first time in life calling the EMTs, riding in an ambulance, spending even one night in a hospital, experiencing physical therapy -- all for what is also my first ever real injury.  Next time (God forbid, but if there is a next time) I will play it a little differently, in terms of how I let people know.  Close friends and my LA cousins found out via the e-mails.  I was not texting everyone from my hospital bed.  But a friend or sibling -- someone not in a hospital bed -- might have been doing so.  I just did not think of authorizing it.  I knew the stay was going to be short, for one thing.

In any event, as you know from Lisa's e-mail I got home last Friday.  I can stand -- with a walker.  I can walk -- with a walker.  There are about ten physical therapy exercises I can perform 50 reps on without breaking a sweat and there are two where I struggle to get to 5.  

People naturally want to know what they can do and my answer to that is one word: Pray.  I have been given so much food that I am afraid half of it will never get eaten.  Balloons and flowers are bright and cheery and appreciated, but with the rearrangement of my rooms to accommodate a guy on a walker...space is tight.  Between the parish staff and my family, I am getting a lot of attention, and so far I have not needed anything that someone has not thought to provide.

I am in no pain most of the time, and that has been the case since the accident happened a week ago Monday.  In bed, I am comfortable.  Moving on the walker, I am comfortable.  It is in getting into the standing position that I experience -- at this point, not so much pain, but just the incredible tightness, the stiffness of my knees, owing to the swelling.  If you want to laser-direct your prayer for me, ask the Lord to reduce the swelling.  It will be a different ballgame, once I can see my kneecaps, again.

Hope to have a good progress report, next e-mail.  Take care and God Bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time: What Has God Entrusted to You?

Virtual Homily for the 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 4, 2026: Guest Reflection for Fr. Jim

 What Are We Doing With What God Has Entrusted to Us?

A Reflection on Matthew 21:33–43
By Ryan Dilag, Director of Content & Executive Producer, San Gabriel Media

Hi everyone, my name is Ryan Dilag and I’m pinch-hitting for Fr. Jim as he recovers in the hospital.

There is a word that stands out to me in today’s Gospel: entrusted.

The owner of the vineyard had carefully prepared it. He planted it; he protected it by putting a fence around it; he dug a winepress; and he built a tower. After preparing the vineyard, the owner leased it to some tenants and left it to their care.

The vineyard didn’t belong to the tenants. For a period of time, however, it was entrusted to them.  

That distinction makes all the difference.

In fact, if we are honest with ourselves, most everything in our lives can be understood similarly.

The gifts God has given us have been entrusted to us. The time we have been given has been entrusted to us. The relationships we’ve developed have been entrusted to us. The people we love, the communities where we belong to, the opportunities we’ve been given, and the faith God has given us–each of these is a gift that has been entrusted to us.

And eventually, we need to ask ourselves: What are we doing with what God has entrusted to us?

A Faith that Bears Fruit

The issue with the tenants in Jesus’ parable isn’t just that they failed to produce fruit. They began to act as if the vineyard belonged to them.

When the landowner sent servant after servant to collect the harvest, the tenants rejected them. When the landowner finally sent his son, they rejected him as well.

They forgot who they were.

And perhaps there is a lesson in this for us.

It is easy to start viewing our lives exclusively as “my”–my time, my talents, my successes, my plans, my achievements.

However, the Gospel calls us into a different way of seeing.

What if instead of saying, “What belongs to me?,” we began asking: “What has God entrusted to me?”

This question changes things.

If God has entrusted me with specific gifts, how am I using them for other people?

If God has entrusted me with relationships, how am I taking care of those people?

If God has provided me with opportunities, how am I using those opportunities to serve others?

If God has given me faith, is my faith actually transforming me to live differently?

Jesus says that the Kingdom of God will be given to people who will “produce its fruit.”

Faith is meant to produce fruit.

And that fruit doesn’t have to be anything spectacular or sensational. Sometimes, it is simply living patiently with someone who frustrates us. Sometimes, it is offering forgiveness to someone who harmed us. Sometimes, it means recognizing the individual everybody else seems to ignore. Sometimes, it is making the choice to listen rather than talk. Sometimes, it may simply involve showing up when someone needs us.

Whenever the love we have received from God becomes love offered to somebody else, that is where we find the fruit of our faith.

The Stone that was Rejected

Near the end of the Gospel, Jesus quotes Scripture:

“The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”

This refers ultimately to Christ Himself. The Son who is rejected becomes the cornerstone upon which something new is built.

And there is great hopefulness in that picture.

God has an incredible ability to do great things with what the world ignores, disregards, or rejects.

The unseen person.

A broken relationship.

A past failure we wish we could undo.

A part of ourselves we feel is inadequate.

God can take what the world has rejected and make it a cornerstone.

That does not imply that every difficult circumstance instantly turns into an easy one. Nor does it mean every unmet expectation disappears. It means that rejection, failure, and brokenness do not get the final word.

God does.

What Has God Entrusted to You?

Perhaps what Jesus is inviting us into is simply looking at the vineyard of our own lives. 

Look at the individuals God has placed around you. 

Look at your gifts. 

Look at your opportunities. 

Look at your faith. 

Even look at parts of your story you’d prefer not to acknowledge.

And ask:

What has God entrusted to me?

Then ask the harder question:

What kind of fruit am I producing with it?

We don’t have to produce perfect fruit. We’ll mess up. We’ll miss opportunities. There will be seasons in life when our lives will seem fruitful and times when they will appear barren.

Yet, God continually invites us to cultivate what has been given.

So this week, perhaps you might pick something that God has entrusted to you–a relationship, a gift, an opportunity, or merely your presence–and intentionally use it to create a little more love, mercy, hope, and belonging within someone else’s life.

Because ultimately, the vineyard does not belong to us.

It belongs to God.

We simply have the extraordinary privilege of helping it bear fruit.

God is for everyone.

September 27, 2026, Gospel: Conversion, Mercy and True Discipleship

Readings and Virtual Homily for September 27, 2026, Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Retreat Season at O'Dowd; St. Clement Celebrates 75 Years (And Guess Who is the Parish's Longest-Serving Priest?); Start of October Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Ezekiel 18:25-28

• Psalm 25:4-9

• Philippians 2:1-11

• Matthew 21:28-32

Dear Friends and Family,

In general the readings this Sunday once again address the questions of sin and forgiveness, of God's ready mercy, and of the demands of real discipleship.  

The first reading from Ezekiel foreshadows the Gospel passage, in that it describes "righteous" people turning from the path of righteousness at the same time that it acknowledges the mercy and forgiveness the wicked will encounter, the moment they turn from evil and to the Lord (vss. 26-28).  The Gospel passage illuminates a similar dynamic among the two sons of the landowner.  We'll get to that in a moment.

The psalmist urges God to "remember not the sins of my youth," while reminding God that his compassion and mercy "are ages old" (vss. 6-7).  The psalmist exemplifies the spiritual dynamic expressed in Ezekiel; he (the psalmist) has left his sins behind, and trusts in God's saving love.  Giving a general assurance of that saving love, the psalm continues "Good and upright is the Lord. therefore he shows sinners the way" (vs. 8).

The Gospel passage is perhaps best understood as making a clear distinction between active discipleship and lip-service to God.  The second son tells his father he will obey, and go into the vineyard to work.  In his "yes," this son appears to be righteous.  But he does not follow through.  The first son, who initially refuses, subsequently changes his mind and heads out to the vineyard, in fulfillment of the father's request.  

I want to be careful about how I say this, because I don't want to put myself in the position of judging the depth or quality of anyone's faith, but it is certainly possible to be someone who says "yes" in terms of checking the boxes, but who does not follow through by living a life of genuine discipleship.  The Pharisee in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector is a case in point.  He goes to the synagogue and lists his "checked boxes" (tithing, attendance at services, observing the Sabbath, etc.), not for one minute suspecting that his faith is hollow (Luke 18:9-14).  The parable leaves us with the impression that the Pharisee says yes to rules which do not greatly inconvenience him, while ignoring the hard demands of being a disciple -- as just one example, having love for his neighbor (in this case, the tax collector whom he looks down upon).

True discipleship involves conversion of heart -- as the first son evidently experiences, in today's Gospel passage.  Conversion is an ongoing process.  If we are honest with ourselves, we can admit that we never reach the state of perfection the Pharisee imagines he has attained.  The tax collector, in his acknowledgment of his failures, opens himself to the movement of grace, just as the first son in today's passage evidently does.  There is an important virtue at work here, in both instances.  That virtue is humility.  Which brings us back to the psalm: the Lord "guides the humble in righteousness, and teaches the humble his way" (vs. 9).  

As you know from last week's e-mail, I gave a retreat on Franciscan spirituality at St. Clare in Soquel last weekend.  Got back to Hayward Sunday afternoon and had just two days in class with my sophomores before heading off to San Damiano in Danville for our first (of four) Kairos retreats with the juniors.  Kairos is a three-day retreat and it is pretty intense.  The teens often describe it as "life-changing."  I have made over thirty Kairos retreats now, with the high school, and have the drill way down, but each experience is unique because, of course, it is different sets of students each time.  As I say, it is an intense three days.  I have learned not to schedule anything for Friday evening, following a Kairos.  

This coming week I will return to San Damiano Thursday and Friday for our first sophomore retreat; and the following week, will be there again Thursday and Friday for the first senior retreat.  My students see more substitutes than those of any other member of the faculty; I warn them of my retreat-related absences at the start of the semester.  It keeps me on my toes, trying to maintain the pace with all the other sophomore religion teachers; I have to cover the same ground despite significantly less class time with my students.  

But our retreat program at O'Dowd, which has expanded significantly in my twelve years on campus, is exceptional; it is powerful.  It is worth whatever it takes on my part, to be effective in the classroom and at the same time, available for all of our retreats.  

I am getting this done as it is going on noon, Saturday.  Beyond my windows there is the music, there are the announcements of the parish festival, the start of which I opened with a blessing just an hour ago.  It's a special festival, this year; we are celebrating St. Clement's 75th anniversary.  I love our festival regardless; it has been one of my favorite weekends in the parish since I arrived here.  But it is bigger this year because of the anniversary; a lot of priests associated with the parish will be here, celebrating Masses, this weekend.  The fact of their presence leaves me largely free all weekend to -- relax and enjoy the party.  It is a very well-timed break; since my aunt's death over Labor weekend, September has largely been a blur.  

On the subject of priests associated with St. Clement, parish leaders informed me sometime during the summer, as they were preparing for this weekend's many presiders at the Masses, that of all the men who have served here, no one has served anywhere near as long as I have.  I am in my twelfth year here at St. Clement, just as I am at O'Dowd.  A couple of the parish's former pastors reached eighth and ninth years here, but no one -- except me -- has gone twelve.  The fact makes me smile.  I love this parish.  I love Hayward.  And I have no plans to leave!  

Gonna wrap it because it is already noon Saturday.  Sorry to be a little behind with this one -- the week left no room for error, and no time for the homily!

Take care.  And stop by St. Clement, if you want, today or tomorrow.  The food's great.  The entertainment is, in fact, entertaining, and the weather is just about perfect.

God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Thanks entirely to yours truly, Father Jesus has not yet been able to make up the Mass and confession schedule for the autumn.  I am getting him my availability this weekend, and will have a full October Mass schedule out next e-mail.  But for the moment, here is what is on the calendar (all Masses English):

Saturday, October 3, 500 PM

Sunday, October 4, 630 PM

Sunday, October 11 

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON (Seton Campus)

11 AM

God Welcomes All: September 20, 2026 Virtual Homily

Readings and Virtual Homily for September 20, 2026, Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time; My Aunt's Farewell; Six Weeks in at O'Dowd; Franciscan Retreat

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 55:6-9

• Psalm 145:2-3, 8-9, 17-18

• Philippians 1:20-24, 27

• Matthew 20:1-16

Dear Friends and Family,

A deep and abiding sense of the bountiful mercies of God is one theme that we may take away from this week's readings.  The readings for Mass the last few weeks have centered on sin and forgiveness; those this week center on the abundant mercy, compassion and steadfast love of God.  They urge us to trust in that love.

Isaiah advises the wicked to turn from their sinful ways and throw themselves on the ready mercies of God.  "Let them turn to the Lord to find mercy; to our God who is generous in forgiving". (vs. 7)  

The psalm assures us that God is merciful toward his works -- almost as if to say, why would God have created you except to love you? 

"The Lord is gracious and merciful;           

slow to anger and abounding in mercy. 

The Lord is good to all,

compassionate toward all your works" (vss. 8-9). 

The psalm continues,

"The Lord is....merciful in all his works.  

 The Lord is near to all who call upon him" (vss. 17-18).  

The second reading -- as is often the case -- does not particularly relate to the overall theme of the others.  I do like this passage very much, though, for what Paul says about his being ready to go home to the Lord which "is far better" than remaining here (vs. 23).   Paul acknowledges that "if I go on living in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me" (vs. 22), and clearly, he is down with that.  But he makes it clear that his thoughts and his aim increasingly are toward the attainment of the ultimate goal of our life's journey.  He is ready to go anytime; has no fear where his earth-bound mortality is concerned.  

This strikes me as a blessed state of being, and I would like to get there myself.  Not for one minute that I am there right now; nor even close.  I sense too much "fruitful work" ahead.  But it must be a serene joy to reach a point in life where one might say, as Paul does elsewhere, "I have run the race; what awaits me now is the crown of glory." (That's more less; I am paraphrasing both 2 Timothy 4:7 and 1 Corinthians 9:24).  

The Gospel passage reminds us that God welcomes all; that our salvation is not contingent on how much "fruitful work" we have done nor how long we have been at it.  The Church is steadfast in its teaching that deathbed conversions are real and result in the salvation of even the most hardened sinners.  That, of course, is the easy and straightforward understanding of the parable here (the workers in the vineyard; some of whom worked all day and some for one hour).  

There is, in fact, another way to look at this parable.  Clearly, those who come to the vineyard at five in the evening receive a reward out of all proportion to their effort.  They have been spared the long hours in the sun that those who arrived at six AM endured.  But setting aside the timeline, and looking at the parable in terms of reward, in terms of what people are given by a loving and merciful God, it is possible to say that the laborers who arrive at five PM are cradle and lifelong Catholics who have had at their disposal the graces of the sacraments, the graces of the prayer, the teaching and the ministries of the Church.  These "workers" have had it easy, compared to those less blessed, compared to those whose experience of life cannot be put into the context of faith.   I wrote my master’s thesis with the Dominicans on this subject; the good non-believer who will do the right thing with no thought of reward, but simply because it is the right thing to do.  

The great gift of the Catholic (and Orthodox) faith gives our labors meaning, purpose, direction, clarity and support.  We receive unmerited graces and in abundance merely because we were baptized as infants.  (And yes, the counter argument comes to mind here: it may actually be harder, at times, to be a believer in this world, than to not believe.)  In any event, I just want to acknowledge that Catholic and Orthodox Christians have a clearly defined path and a strong set of guardrails making our way toward life's ultimate goal -- the goal Paul says he is ready to reach in today's second reading.  I wonder, now and again, how my non-believing friends, good people who, as I say, do the right thing simply because it is the right thing, make sense of a lot of what happens in life.  

Just a different perspective on the parable.

I was in Los Angeles at the start of this week for my beloved Aunt Rita's funeral.  As I was crossing up into the Tehachapis it occurred to me that for the first time in my life, Aunt Rita was not on the other side of the mountains, waiting for me.  There will be a lot of other firsts, over the coming year -- such as next January 11 when I will not text or call or make sure a card has been sent to celebrate her birthday (two weeks before mine; we several times celebrated them together).  

It was, in any event, three beautiful days with the family -- my cousins, of course, but also all their spouses and children, all my siblings and in-laws, several of the Sullivan-side nieces, a set of cousins from the other side of the family, and...Rita's friends from all over.   

Of course, if one reaches ninety, as Aunt Rita did, many of your family and friends are going to be on the other side, waiting for you.  My cousins and I smiled at the thought of Rita's reception, in eternity.  But my aunt remained connected to those she loved right through this summer, and she had friends of all ages; our family is large, but her circle of friendship was larger.  A lot of people came to honor her that day.

I got back Tuesday evening and was on campus Wednesday; back at it with the teens.  We have just completed the sixth week of the semester -- that is, we are one third of the way into the term, and it is only mid-September.  It's that time in the semester when you realize you've long since left the runway behind.  You are in the air with your classes and your students, and are gaining both speed and altitude.  It is still early enough, though, to feel very little pressure, to feel that there is time for everything.  A month from now, my experience tells me, that feeling of spaciousness in the semester will be gone; so I am doing what I can to be on track and on pace with my sophomores, as we head into the middle of the term.  I do love this autumn's sophomores.  They are lively and -- most of the time -- engaged.  They are fun to teach.  

Speaking of teaching, I will be giving a retreat in Soquel this weekend (at St. Clare) on Franciscan spirituality.  The sisters there (who are Franciscan) suggested the topic.  I have had to educate myself -- other than the whole "brother sun, sister moon" reverence-for-creation-thing I knew almost nothing about this particular spirituality.  My own inclinations with regard to spirituality are, in no particular order, Passionist, Marian and Eucharistic.  Diving into the Franciscan way, I thought it commendable to take a brief look at all the major Catholic spiritualities, in order to give an initial talk placing Francis among, for instance, Augustine, Benedict and Dominic.  As I say, I've learned some stuff, the past few weeks, prepping for this retreat.  Looking forward to it.

I'll sign off here.  Hope you are all well and thriving.  Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

“As Far as the East Is from the West”: God’s Mercy and Forgiveness

Readings and Virtual Homily for September 13, 2026, Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Caracas Accounting; Loved by St. Clement; We're Having a Heatwave; September Schedule

Readings for Mass this week:

• Sirach 27:30 -- 28:7

• Psalm 103:1-4, 9-12

• Romans 14:7-9

• Matthew 18:21-35

Dear Friends and Family:

Once again the readings this Sunday have to do with the business of forgiveness, the focus this week being on the requirement that we, as disciples, forgive generously and well.  The Gospel passage is well-known, and pretty much self-explanatory.  I will look at it, of course, but it is the richness of the teachings in the first reading and the psalm that I really want to focus on, in this virtual homily.  

Just so that we are sure to touch upon it the Gospel passage is the parable of the ungrateful and unforgiving servant.  This servant owed his master a debt he could never pay.  When the master demanded payment, the servant threw himself on his master's mercy and received it -- received it in astonishing abundance.  The entire debt was canceled.  

Meeting up shortly after that with a fellow servant who owed him a very small amount, the first servant demanded that he pay it back immediately and in full.  The second servant threw himself on the first servant's mercy only to discover that there was none to be had: the first servant, whose huge debt had been entirely forgiven, had the servant who owed him such a small amount thrown into prison.  

Other servants observed this and went to the master with the news.  The master then summoned the ungrateful servant and reprimanded him, calling him wicked, and reminding him of the mercy he himself had received.  Then he had the first servant thrown into prison until the enormous debt should be paid.  

I don't see a whole lot of need to go into explanations here.  The parable's moral seems to me to be self-evident.  Mercy should beget mercy.  And we are called to practice mercy, just as God "practices" it with us.  (It is truer to say that God's mercy is an aspect of God's very being, but we are not going to go further with that here.)

Let's take a deeper look, rather, at the first reading and the psalm, on this matter of forgiveness and mercy.    

The passage from Sirach warns us that "wrath and anger" (such as that exhibited by the unforgiving servant) are "abominations" (vs. 30).  Not only will the vengeful "face the Lord's vengeance," but "indeed, he remembers their sins in detail" (vs. 1).  The passage urges us to be merciful with one another, to forgive each other's faults, even as God forgives us.  "Can one refuse mercy to a sinner like oneself, yet seek pardon for one's own sins?" (vs. 4).  

The passage issues a reminder of our ultimate destiny, and the need to prepare for a merciful judgment.  "Remember your last days and set enmity aside; remember death and decay, and cease from sin!....Remember the covenant of the Most High and overlook faults" (vss. 6-7).

The psalm is positively joyous in its declarations of God's mercies and abounding forgiveness.  "Bless the Lord my soul….who pardons all your sins and heals all your ills.  Who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with mercy and compassion" (vss. 2-5).

Psalm 103 continues

He will not always accuse, 

and nurses no lasting anger;

he has not dealt with us as our sins merit,           

nor requited us as our wrongs deserve. 

For as the heavens tower over the earth,

so his mercy towers over those who fear him. 

As far as the east is from the west,

so far has he removed our sins from us. (vss. 9-12)

 This is some of the most elevated language in Scripture on the subject of God's mercy and it sets a high bar for us, where forgiving others is concerned.

Forgiveness is a subject on which I can speak with some real authority.  I could illustrate my points here with a personal experience or two (or three or four...I have got a real track record, at this point, where forgiveness issues are concerned).  Suffice it to say that...

I have said this before.  I said some of it just last week.  Forgiveness is deeper than the emotions.  The analogy I use with my sophomores is that of a hurricane on the surface of the Atlantic.  Powerful waves, driving rain, fierce winds.  Deal with the hurricane on the surface, because you have to.  No good, denying your emotions, and especially if you have been badly treated and are angry about it.  As I said last week, you have a right to that anger.  It must be acknowledged and accepted and worked through and just so you know, I have had a couple of forgiveness issues in my life where I was several years dealing with the anger.  

But far below the surface of the Atlantic is the Gulf Stream.  It flows steadily, confidently, purposefully, undisturbed by the storms on the surface.  The Gulf Stream is, in the analogy, your deepest self, your best self, your character.  That is where the decision to forgive is made.  It is unaffected by events on the surface.  You can forgive down there at the level of the Gulf Stream, and still be dealing with the wind and the waves at the surface.  I know.  I have done it.  Several times.

So...Caracas.  I am STILL getting thank-yous out to those many of you who have sent me money to help my Caraquenos and their families, following the earthquakes.  To date, I have received almost $7000 from you, to assist my young guys and their families.  Add to that what I have sent on my own, and as I mentioned last e-mail, that amount is substantially more than it would have been in a normal summer, because of extra work and my anniversary celebrations -- and well, trust me, we have met the needs of my Caraquenos and their families, both in the immediate aftermath of the disaster and for the autumn.  

Three of my "boys" were out of work, following the earthquakes.  Their places of employment (a country club, two high-end restaurants) were damaged and repairs had to be made before they could re-open.  There is no safety net in Venezuela for the working class, in a situation such as this.  The safety net my young men found themselves falling safely into was the one spread by your generosity.  They were out of work for several weeks, one for two full months.  Their families were spared genuine hardship because of your generosity.

A perhaps even more inspirational story is that of the family (parents, three children aged four to fourteen, plus grandma) who were out of their home because of the earthquake.  Cracks had appeared in the outer walls of their multi-story apartment block.  Along with many of their co-residents they pitched a tent in the park across the big and busy Caracas boulevard on which the building stands.  A line of port-a-potties was delivered by the city government, while the national government scouted possibilities for housing displaced people in camp-like facilities.  That might have been their life, this summer.  

Thanks to you, just a week after the earthquakes this family was able to rent an AirBnB not far from their neighborhood.  It is spacious, clean, comfortable and safe.  They are there until they can move back into their apartment; the hoped for date was September 15, but has been moved to October.  Whether October or even November, this family has what they need to stay where they are, until their building is declared habitable.

It is hard to say what seven thousand dollars translates to, in today's Venezuela.  It is many times over that amount, in terms of American spending power.  Many times.  It goes a very long way.  We made a difference, this summer, for good people who truly needed whatever help they could get.  Your efforts on their behalf might be termed mercy, in fact.  Mercy is, as I often observe, love, generosity, goodness coupled with power.  All ten of my young Venezuelans and their families counted, there are close to one hundred people in Caracas who have breathed a lot easier this summer -- because of you.

Gracias Gracias Gracias.

It is Tuesday evening as I am writing this; I started it last night, thinking I would need to have it done early, given my aunt's funeral services in Los Angeles.  My cousins were aiming for late week.  But they were only able to meet with the mortuary folks this morning, owing to the holiday, and given the number of folks expected to be coming from all across the country, the date was set for next Monday.  I opted to finish the homily tonight regardless, as it was in robust shape, and after all, the last two got sent late.

This is the second death in the family since I arrived at St. Clement over a decade ago.  My sister Flo died four years ago and I saw then how this parish responds to grief.  It is nothing less than love in action.  Just as they did with my sister, my parishioners have simply surrounded me, since hearing of my aunt's death -- surrounded me and supported me.  Their prayers accompanying Aunt Rita in her transition give me real consolation and joy.  I mean, I believe in the communion of saints.  Aunt Rita is aware, as she enters eternity, of my wonderful, loving and faith-filled parishioners, sending her grace upon grace.  

Hope your summer is wrapping up well.  On the subject of which -- how very Bay Area -- the hottest temperatures of the year are only now beginning to appear!  I was out with friends in Pleasanton last Friday evening and we were remarking on what a pleasant summer it has been, in terms of temperatures.  We all agreed we might expect to get hit with heat several times, in the next six or eight weeks.  We got that right!

That'll do it for this one.  Take good care.  God bless.

Fr. Brawn

The rest of the schedule for September:

 Sunday, September 13

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON (Seton Campus)

11 AM (English)

Sunday, September 20

630 PM (English)

Sunday, September 27

8 AM (English)

Saturday, October 3

5 PM (English)

Sunday, October 4

630 PM (English)

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

Sat., 12th

Tue., 15th (7 PM/Spanish)

Mon., 21st

Fri,. 25th

Sat., 26th

Mon., 28th

Fri., October 2

The reasons for the scarcity of weekend Masses the rest of this month are several.  We have a missionary priest visiting this coming weekend, and Fr. Jesus has assigned him to all six Masses.  I am giving a retreat (on Franciscan Spirituality, in this year when we are celebrating the 800th anniversary of the death of St. Francis) at St. Clare Retreat Center in Soquel, the weekend of the 18-20.  The last weekend of the month is our parish festival.  

We are celebrating the 75th anniversary of the founding of the parish, and to increase the sense of the weekend's specialness, Fr. Jesus invited several priests associated with St. Clement to come back that weekend and celebrate a Mass.  I love that idea and I am sure the priests who will be with us that weekend do, as well.  This is an anniversary we really want to mark.

Forgiveness Is an Act of the Will

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

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Ezekiel 33:7-9

• Psalm 95:1-2, 6-9

• Romans 13:8-10

• Matthew 18:15-20

Dear Friends and Family,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God bless you.

With love,

Fr. Brawn

Mass schedule for this weekend (all English):

Saturday 5; Sunday 8, 1115, 630

Also, 8 AM Labor Day

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

God's Plan Is Greater Than Anything We Imagine

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

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Jeremiah 20:7-9

• Psalm 63:2-6, 8-9

• Romans 12:1-2

• Matthew 16:21-27

Dear Friends and Family,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love and God bless,

Fr. Brawn

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

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

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 22:19-23

• Psalm 138:1-3, 6, 8

• Romans 11:33-36

• Matthew 16:13-20

Dear Friends and Family,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gonna close it here.  

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

El Padre