Feast of St. John Lateran: Mother Church of the World
Readings and Virtual Homily for November 9, 2025, Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran; Virtual Homily; Book Report; Hope for Venezuela?; Greening Hayward's Hills
Readings for Mass this Sunday:
Ezekiel 47:1-2. 8-9, 12
Psalm 46:2-3, 5-6. 8-9
1 Corinthians 3:9-11, 16-17
John 2:13-22
Dear Friends and Family:
Last week, the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time was pre-empted by the celebration of the Feast of All Souls; this week, the 32nd Sunday in OT also gives way to a solemnity, that is, a holy day of such significance that it is even celebrated on Sunday, taking the place of the regular Sunday Mass.
This holy day is a unique one. It is not a feast of Our Lord, Our Lady nor of any angel or saint. It is a feast celebrating a building.
That building is St. John Lateran; the cathedral of Rome. And to do justice to the feast day, it is not, strictly speaking, about a building, since St. John Lateran has been rebuilt several times. It is about a church. A local church, the cathedral of the Bishop of Rome. St. Peter's (the Vatican) is not a cathedral; it is not the central church of the Diocese of Rome. St. John Lateran is. And because it is the cathedral of the pope, it is considered the "mother church" of the entire Catholic world.
The first reading (one of the more readily readable from Ezekiel) describes the Temple of God in far futuristic terms; terms which refer not to the Jewish Temple, but to the Church. There is some beautiful imagery in this reading. The river that flows from the Temple becomes deeper and deeper as it flows, symbolizing the worldwide growth of the Christian faith. Where the waters of the river flow "they refresh; everything lives where the river goes" (vs. 9). The waters of the river are described as reaching "the polluted waters of the sea to freshen them" (vs. 8), often understood to be a reference to the Church's global influence; to the spread of God's grace and truth throughout pagan cultures.
The trees which flourish along the river's banks serve a double life-giving purpose. They are said to be "every kind of fruit tree" and they bear once a month, every month, their fruit never fails (vs. 12). Not just the fruit of the trees but their leaves, too, serve a life-enhancing purpose; they are used for medicine (vs. 12). The metaphor of the fruit trees might be applied to any number of the Church's ministries and apostolates.
The psalm echoes the first reading's images of life-giving water -- "Streams of the river gladden the city of God" (vs. 5). Psalm 46 rejoices in the nearness of God, the presence of God in his house and among his people; it may be argued that the psalm foreshadows the time of the Church and the presence of God in the prayers and the sacraments of the Church, above all the Eucharist.
The second reading considers the Church's one foundation, Christ. It argues that we may build upon that foundation, but cautions us at the same time to be careful how we build (vss. 10-11). In verses not included in today's passage, we get one of the few Scriptural proof texts for the existence of Purgatory, where Paul assures us that if a man's work -- his attempt to build upon the foundation -- does not stand, the man himself may yet "be saved, but only as through fire" (vs. 15). The reading goes on to remind us that we ourselves are temples of the Holy Spirit, who dwells within each one of us (vs. 16).
The Gospel is John's account of the cleansing of the Temple. Jesus undertook this action because the house of God had been turned into "a marketplace" as he put it (vs. 16). The Temple had in some ways become all about money. The shekel was not accepted at the Temple. The Temple had its own currency and the people had to exchange their regular money for the Temple coinage, when they visited. The people were being cheated by the money changers; likewise, they were being over-charged by the vendors of sacrificial animals. The scene as described in John and the other Gospels is one of shocking upheaval; Jesus overturns the money changers tables, spilling all their coins, and he "made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the Temple area," including the oxen, the sheep, the doves (vss. 15-16).
John quotes Scripture, the Hebrew Scriptures, I mean, "Zeal for thy house will consume me," telling us that the disciples recalled this passage from Psalm 69 when Jesus cleared the Temple (vs. 17). In any event, respect for the Temple, a recurrent theme among both the psalms and the prophets, is made startlingly manifest here. And the Temple being the pre-eminent seat of Jewish worship in Jesus' day, this passage underscores the pre-eminence of the church we celebrate today, St. John Lateran.
A thumbnail history of St. John Lateran is that the property and the original basilica were donated to the Church by the wealthy and patrician Laterani family in the early fourth century. The site was consecrated as the cathedral of Rome by Pope St. Sylvester 1 on November 9, 324 (this was under the reign of Constantine, the first Christian Roman emperor). For a thousand years, St. John Lateran was the church and the residence of the popes. It was the site of five ecumenical councils in the later Middle Ages. The current church (there have been several over the millennia) was dedicated in 1646. Beneath the high altar is a fabled relic -- a small wooden table on which it is believed St. Peter celebrated Mass.
Gotta love it -- actual historical fact or maybe something closer to legend, the fact that that table has been there through seventeen centuries and several iterations of the cathedral building itself, is cause for wonder and joy.
On a strictly personal note, St. John Lateran is my favorite church in Rome. I like it better than any of the other patristic basilicas, impressive though each of them is. The four patristic basilicas of Rome are, in addition to the Lateran, St, Mary Major, St. Paul Outside the Walls and St. Peter's. They are all knockouts, but for my money, John Lateran takes the prize. Its architectural lines are clean and smooth; it has a certain stately elegance that to my mind, anyway, invites serenity and quiet reflection. And the colossal statues of the apostles lining the walls are inspirational. From my first visit to Rome with my priest uncle in 1989, the Lateran has been my favorite Roman church.
Meanwhile, the sabbatical continues. Though it has been five months now, I am still more than two months out from my return to the classroom. The last several weeks there has been a shift in focus, though work continues to go forward on all fronts. The past few weeks my pre-eminent focus has been on books. I am working on four, and actually, am even taking notes on the next three. None of which is as impressive as it may sound. All four of the books I expect to finish over the winter have been in development for years and it will be a nice accomplishment, but really, nothing too stunning, if I have them all completed this winter. It is cool, actually, going back and forth between them, as I have been doing, quiet mornings, quiet afternoons and quiet evenings here in the quiet rectory suite. When I feel an inspiration relating to Mary, for instance, I will find myself at work on the book titled ALL ABOUT MARY. When the desire to re-visit Caracas hits, I find myself sometimes writing fifteen pages at a pop, on my Venezuelan memoire, CARACAS STORY.
On the subject of Caracas, a fair number of folks have been in touch with me this autumn about the political news regarding Venezuela; that is, regarding the American military build-up in the Caribbean since late summer. I can only guess, but my guess is not uneducated. I largely attribute this set of developments to Marco Rubio. The Secretary of State is the son of Cuban immigrants, knows well the malevolent influence Cuba has had and continues to exercise in Caracas, and has repeatedly in the past exchanged sharp words directly with some of those in power in the Venezuelan government, assuring them, among other things, that he has orange jumpsuits available in their sizes, and cells reserved in their names in federal prisons in Florida.
Of course, Rubio cannot do anything without the approval of the president, but it appears he has that. I am not knowledgeable enough to comment on the administration's claim that the Maduro dictatorship is essentially a drug cartel masquerading as a government. But I know enough about this brutal regime to believe that anything is possible.
I think it highly unlikely that we are going to invade. In fact, I think it next to impossible. No one wants a shooting war in Venezuela, not even that 67% of the Venezuelan electorate that voted in July of last year to oust Maduro. While one knowledgeable commentator was quoted recently in THE NEW YORK TIMES as saying that a huge number of Venezuelans would welcome American troops with open arms, I think it would be truer to say that a huge number of Venezuelans would welcome any legal stepped-up diplomatic and economic pressure the United States can bring into the equation. That is as much as I can offer, in terms of my own analysis. The situation bears watching and certainly, bears prayer.
Something I am able to do substantially more of, on sabbatical, than during the academic term, is sitting at my windows here in the Hayward rectory, gazing out over the hills which rise immediately above our property line. The Hayward hills enchant me any time of year, and just at the moment they are making me smile with the faint but persistent under-blush of green that they are exhibiting, following the recent rains. I remain traumatized by the drought of 2019-22, and despite three strong wet years in a row I am hoping and praying for another this winter. That light and pretty shade of spring-like color amid the still largely golden hue of the slopes gives me hope.
I'll close it here.
Take good care and God bless.
Love,
Fr. Brawn