Psalm 30, Revelation, and Resurrection: Homily for the Third Sunday of Easter
Readings and Virtual Homily for May 4, 2025, Third Sunday of Easter; With the Class of 2027 at St. Anthony's Dining Room; The Downhill Run at O'Dowd; Those Green Hills Above Mission Boulevard (Are Less and Less Green); May Schedule
Readings for Mass this Sunday:
Acts of the Apostles 5:27-32, 40-41
Psalm 30:2, 4-6, 11-13
Revelation 5:11-14
John 21:1-19
Dear Friends and Family,
I want to look briefly at the first reading and the Gospel passage for today, but where I want to focus my homiletic energies this weekend is on the psalm and on the second reading. The reason for this will, I trust, become clear, in the next few paragraphs.
The first reading from, of course, The Acts of the Apostles, is remarkable for its assurance to us that the disciples, hauled before Jewish religious authority, interrogated and then flogged, left the encounter "rejoicing that they had been found worthy to suffer for the name" (vs. 41). The fear that had sent the disciples into hiding the day Jesus died has been completely banished -- by the power of the Spirit, among whose gifts is courage (Isaiah 11:2).
The Gospel passage is significant. (I mean, as if any Gospel passage were not, right?!) It is significant in that it gives us the tri-fold confession of Peter on the beach with Jesus, weeks after the Resurrection. Three times Jesus asks Peter "Do you love me" and three times Peter answers "Yes Lord, I love you," the third time almost in tears (vss. 15-17). Peter knows he is being asked because he denied the Lord three times. There is so much that could be unpacked here -- about, for instance, how God calls the weak, how God strengthens us for our mission, how God forgives and renews relationship with us, about the astonishing catch of fish which opens the scene and what it represents in terms of Peter's own future ministry...
Another homily.
So...to Psalm 30 and the passage from the fifth chapter of the Book of Revelation...
Psalm 30 is a psalm of Easter. It is a psalm which predicts, in precise detail, the events of Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday. "I praise you, Lord, for you raised me up," the psalm begins, "and did not let my enemies rejoice over me" (vs. 2).
This verse not only predicts the Resurrection, it predicts as well the very short-lived satisfaction of the Jewish leaders, at the death of Jesus. Already, Sunday morning, less than 48 hours after Jesus had died, they have the astounding report from the Roman guards that the body of Jesus is not in the tomb (Matthew 28:11-15). The clear implication from Matthew is that the Roman soldiers either reported the Resurrection itself or they reported, at the least, strange and mystifying events that morning at the tomb. The leaders bribe the guards to say the disciples stole Jesus' body, because if the soldiers tell the truth, news of the Resurrection will spread. And of course, today's first reading, showing the deep trouble the leaders subsequently had with the preaching and the miracles of the disciples, further fulfills the psalm's prophecy. The leaders were continually vexed and perplexed, following Jesus' death. They were not permitted to rejoice.
The psalm then references the descent to the dead. "Lord, you brought my soul up from Sheol; you let me live, from going down into the pit" (vs. 4). Note the language here -- "you brought my soul up from Sheol." That is, Jesus descended to the place of the dead and then returned.
Verse 6 recounts the anguish of Good Friday evening and the joy of Easter Sunday morning: "At dusk, weeping comes for the night, but at dawn there is rejoicing." Verse 12 expands on this theme: "You changed my mourning into dancing; you took off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness." The psalm ends with a very Easter-ish declaration: "So that my glory may praise you and not be silent. Oh Lord, my God, forever will I give you thanks."
The passage from Revelation takes us beyond the joy of Easter to the reality, the eternal reality, of Jesus' glory in the heavenly court. It is worth quoting at length. Countless angels, John tells us
"Cried out in a loud voice 'Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches, wisdom and strength, honor and glory and blessing.' Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and at sea, everything in the universe cry out: 'To the one who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor, glory and might, forever and ever'" (vss. 11-13).
The exalted images of Jesus in the Book of Revelation are deepened in meaning and resonance when they are contrasted with the images of the Messiah, beaten and bloody, increasingly weak, truly helpless (because he will not veer from the plan) on his way to Calvary. The Jesus of Good Friday and the heavenly Messiah are one and the same, as the verses from revelation attest: "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain..."
This juxtaposition of images, the deepest suffering and the greatest glory, serves to remind us of that basic Christian dynamic referenced in last week's homily: through the crucifixion to the Resurrection; through the desert to the Promised Land. From heaven's perspective, all of our sufferings here on earth make sense; they fit in with the glory that we receive in sainthood; indeed, they are where that glory was forged; was bought and paid for.
Just a few reflections on the striking Easter imagery of today's psalm and second reading.
We returned to campus this week at Bishop O'Dowd following what was, for me, a restful and refreshing two-week Easter break. One of the things that happened this week was the last Social Justice Immersion Day for the sophomore class at St. Anthony's Dining Room in San Francisco. I am not teaching the sophomores this semester, as you know. I volunteered to be the lead chaperone on this St. Anthony trip because I wanted to facilitate my professional relationship with the folks at St. Anthony and also simply because, although I am waaaay happy to be spending class time this semester with our seniors, I do cherish my relationship with the sophomores, and this was a chance to be with a group of them who have not had me in the classroom.
St. Anthony's is a lot more than the dining room. They've got a clothing bank, a clinic, a "hygiene hub" (where people can take showers and do their laundry) a year-long residential substance abuse rehab program and a lot more. Half of our teens worked in the dining room, but the other half were with me in the clothing bank, which is a very big operation. There are several work stations before the clothes actually make it out onto the racks in the clean, bright and well-organized clothing store itself. Most of my group divided up among these stations, but a couple of the teens opted to be "personal shoppers" for folks coming into the store; they really enjoyed that.
I wanted the day at St. Anthony's in part to reconnect with staff there, whom I consider colleagues. I had not been there since last fall. Not only were the staff happy to see me, so was one of the guests in the dining room. A fellow named Kurt whom I had met while working the dining room last semester. That time, Kurt saw my collar and called me over to his table (I have found that wearing the collar in the dining room serves almost as an invitation for folks to strike up conversations with me). Kurt was once an altar boy; he has only the fondest memories of his education in San Francisco Catholic schools. His story is a long one, and though I am three years older, anyone looking at us side by side would likely guess him to be ten years older than I; his life has not been easy.
Anyway, I had somehow gotten over to SF without a collar, yesterday. I told my fellow chaperones that I was disappointed in myself precisely because, as I say, the collar invites conversation with folks in the dining room. Well, as it turned out, I did not need the collar. Kurt remembered me. I was walking among the tables, making sure all our teens were getting lunch and trying to encourage them to mingle with the other guests -- many of whom are homeless, all of whom are experiencing some degree of material want. I was walking among the tables when "Fr. Jim!" I heard -- and not from a voice I recognized. Not one of our students. Not a staffer or volunteer at St. Anthony's.
I turned in the direction of the voice and saw Kurt seated by himself at a table -- I recognized him immediately. We had had quite a discussion, last November. I was, all the same, really impressed that he remembered me. He motioned to a chair at his table. We talked half an hour. For all the way life has banged him up and knocked him around, Kurt retains a great good-natured outlook; he thanks God for all the blessings he has received. "I should have been dead four or five times over the years, Father," he said at one point. "But he," and he pointed skyward, "still has work for me."
Our immersion days at St. Anthony's are inspirational.
The spring semester has reached its downhill slope. This week's trip to St. Anthony's was the last of the academic year. All of our retreats are behind us. The Drama Department's Spring Musical starts performances this weekend -- always an indicator that we are very near the end of the school year. I am normally feeling real ready, by the start of May, to finish the school year. This year, as I have made clear in previous e-mails, it's a poignant business. The Class of 2025 is graduating...I have something like forty or fifty "favorites" in this class. And I love all the rest of them, too. It's a good thing I am taking a sabbatical -- I won't be here to miss them, in the fall.
Finally, after a winter of bright green hills thanks to all the wet weather, already the slopes above St. Clement are fading from emerald green to pale green to, in several places, the yellow-brown of summer. I love those hills no matter what color they are, but it is something, how quickly the green fades, once the wet season ends. I read recently that these last three years of normal-to-above-normal precipitation in the state are only the third three-year period since 1978 of normal-to-above-normal precipitation. We have really been blessed, these last three winters. Important to give the Lord thanks and praise for taking care of our perpetually thirsty state.
Hope this finds you well and happy. Best wishes for a blessed Easter season.
Take care. God bless.
Love,
Fr. Brawn
Mass Schedule for May:
Sunday, May 4
930 AM, 1 PM (both Spanish)
Saturday, May 10
5 PM (English)
Sunday, May 11
115 AM, 630 PM (both English)
Saturday, May 24
5 PM (English)
Sunday, May 25
630 PM (English)
I have no parish Masses the weekend of the 17-18 because I am giving a retreat that weekend at St. Clare Retreat Center in Soquel.
Weekday Masses (all 8 AM, all English)
Monday, May 5
Tuesday, May 6
Friday, May 9
Saturday, May 10
Monday, May 12
Tuesday, May 13
Monday, May 19
Friday, May 23
Saturday, May 24
Monday, May 26
Friday, May 30
Saturday, May 31