The Word of God Never Returns Empty: Sunday Homily for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Readings and Virtual Homily for July 12, 2026, Fifteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Twentieth Anniversary Celebration in the Parish; Muchas Pero Muchas Gracias de Caracas; Deep Summer
Readings for this Sunday:
Isaiah 55:10-11
Psalm 65:10-14
Romans 8:18-23
Matthew 13:1-23
Dear Friends and Family,
All four readings this Sunday rank among my favorite passages from Scripture. It would be easy to construct a unified homiletic theme from them, but honestly, I so love each passage that I would like to just dive in with each one and explore its truth and beauty individually. There will be, in my reflections, a general unifying theme -- that of the power of the Word of God. That observation made, let's take a look at these awesome passages.
Isaiah 55 -- the whole chapter -- is a paean, a deeply poetic tribute to the love, mercy and generosity of God. I sometimes read it on a whim (not quite the right word) when I want simply to remind myself of God's bounty, God's all-encompassing care, God's limitless love for us.
The two verses today are maybe my favorites among the thirteen in the chapter, but I say that conditionally; the rest of the verses are every bit as joyful and reassuring. They are fairly long verses; too long, really, for me to fully quote here. But listen carefully as they are read at Mass this weekend. Their description of the Word of God, going forth out over the earth and accomplishing the mission for which it was sent, and running a parallel with the way that "rain and snow come down and do not return until they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful" (vs. 10), is at once deep theology and engaging poetic expression.
Psalm 65 vies for top spot in my heart and in my mind among all 150 psalms. It, too, describes God's bounty, God's mercies, God's marvels in lushly poetic prose, again employing images from nature.
"You visit the earth and water it, make it abundantly fertile....
you drench its plowed furrows and level its ridges.
With showers you keep it soft, blessing its young shoots.
You adorn the year with your bounty;
your paths drip with fruitful rain" (vss. 10-12).
One verse earlier in the psalm (not included in today's passage) we read of how "Distant peoples stand in awe of your marvels; the lands of sunrise and sunset you make resound with joy" (vs. 9). Among the marvels of the Lord, of course, of which these peoples are in awe, is the Word of the Lord -- received with such astonished joy by the Gentiles, at the preaching of the apostles, and down through the centuries since. Psalm 65 coincides with Isaiah 55 in its assurances of God's powerful and protective love; in its images of soft rains and fruitful abundance -- metaphors for the life-giving nature of God's Word.
The passage from the Letter to the Romans tells us that "creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God" (vs. 19) and that "creation itself (will) be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God" (vs. 21). Attributing something like a natural consciousness to the created world, Paul goes on to write that "all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now" (vs. 22); that is, the redemption won by Jesus is for the entire material universe -- there will be a new heaven and a new earth (Revelation 21:1).
Matthew organizes his Gospel by theme; chapter thirteen is about parables. The chief parable in the chapter is that of the sower. And I will add here that the preacher has an option, this Sunday, to read just the first nine verses, if he so chooses. They give the full parable. The explanation of the parable is included in the longer option (which extends the passage to verse twenty-three).
The seed in the parable, of course, represents the Word of God. The various types of ground on which it lands represent our potential responses.
I have preached a number of times on this parable before; just to make sure I touch on a really salient point, I want to make my standard assertion that we need to avoid reading some kind of endorsement of predestination into this parable. It would be a mistake to draw from the parable an understanding that some people are "hard ground," incapable of receiving the Word of God. No one is created for Hell. I understand the four types of ground to be at least potentially applicable to all of us. But even if we want to argue otherwise, I like to point out that the hard ground might be softened -- by, for instance, the soft, abundant and life-giving rains (of grace) described in both the first reading and today's psalm.
Having allowed for that observation I want to say something about the sower himself. Notice that he throws the seed everywhere. He does not aim just for the good soil. He is, in the judgment I would imagine, of most farmers, downright reckless in the distribution of the seed. I ask my sophomores at O'Dowd about this, when we are studying this parable. "Remember what the seed represents," I say. "Why does the sower throw it about so carelessly?"
Bright students, my O’Dowd sophomores; they inevitably reply: "Because God's Word is for everyone." Amen to that. The sower's manner of distribution coincides neatly with our motto at San Gabriel Media, our maxim, our watchword: "God is for everyone."
So is his Word.
Considering his Word, I want to close with a quote about it that I especially love and which sums up in striking prose the principle point of the foregoing reflections; from the Letter to the Hebrews.
"Indeed, the Word of God is living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword,penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow,and able to discern the thoughts of the heart" (Hebrews 4:12).Enough said!
I have mentioned in passing several times this summer the Mass and reception planned here at St. Clement to celebrate my twentieth anniversary as a priest. Should any of you wish to attend, the Mass is our 1115 AM Sunday Mass on July 26. The reception (and it is shaping up to be rather elaborate) follows, across the parking lot, in McCollum Hall.
I know that friends from Brentwood and Fremont are planning to attend. Several of my colleagues from the high school have told me they will be there. A lot of my family is attending, as well. We will have both of our lots available for parking (parish and school) and the Knights tell me that Moreau's main lot (behind the parish property) will also be open that day. I look forward to it. I have meant to reflect a bit, in one of these summer homilies, on twenty years as a priest, but my attention has been drawn elsewhere. On which point...
I have been getting thank-you notes into the mail every day this week, for donations to my Caracas "boys" and their families. Your response is very generous -- we are truly making a difference for them. I told parishioners here in Hayward this morning, when two of them after Mass handed me substantial checks, "My young Caraquenos and their families will stand in line in Heaven, to say thank you." To say "muchas pero muchas gracias por la ayuda, por el amor."
It is hard for us to grasp the difference one hundred dollars American makes in Caracas. It spends far more like a couple of thousand, in terms of purchasing power. I am deeply grateful for the outpouring of support, and as I say, my wonderful young Caraquenos will thank you, when we all meet up on the other side. Meanwhile, I am thanking you for them, and from the depths of my heart.
More than two weeks after the quakes the number of confirmed dead remains below four thousand, which of course is four thousand too many, but it is beginning to look as if the worst case scenarios are not going to play out. A lot of folks initially reported missing have evidently turned up alive; shocked, bruised and in most cases without an operational cell phone and so for days unable to let family know they survived. Many of the missing have been accounted for -- found alive and well, I mean. But many thousands remain missing. Please keep the prayers coming! I mean it when I say that your prayers may be saving Venezuelan lives.
Finally, well...it's summertime, and the livin' is breezy. Love Hayward in July. Love Hayward year round, but it is especially delightful in the summer. I have watched with some real sympathy our fellow citizens east of the Rockies, dealing with brutal heat and humidity, the past week. Family in both Boston and DC reported "stay inside with the AC on" conditions over the weekend of the Fourth. Kinda too bad, given that this was our 250th birthday.
Meteorological considerations aside, and entirely in line with today's joyful and confident readings, I have to say that it is wonderful to be on summer vacation, largely just right here at my beloved St. Clement, going about my light and bright parishes duties, while working simultaneously on three new books, two of which I expect to have completed at Labor Day. Way back in the day, as a young writer dreaming of literary success, my life had a rhythm that included long summer vacations in Marysville where, relieved of the social distractions of the Bay Area, I could devote myself to my writing. There is something of that peaceful and joyous feeling at work here in Hayward this summer.
But there is something more, of course. Something so much more. There is priesthood. Twenty years of it!
God be thanked. God be praised. May he continue to soften my areas of hard ground with his gentle and life-giving rains, with his every Word, which does not return to him empty, but achieves the purpose for which he sent it (Isaiah 55:11).
Take good care. Hope your summer is bright, breezy and relaxing.
God bless.
Love,
Fr. Brawn