Grace Abounds: Understanding the Limitless Generosity of God

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for January 12, 2025, Second Sunday of Ordinary Time; January is Bustin' Out All Over 

Readings for Mass this Sunday

• Isaiah 62:1-5

• Psalm 96:1-3, 7-10

• 1 Corinthians 12:4-11

• John 2:1-11

Dear Friends and Family,

Joy and confidence in God's abundance and in God's power to flood our lives with blessings might be termed the theme of this Sunday's readings.  Though I want to pay special attention to the Gospel passage (the wedding feast at Cana), the other readings so powerfully support this general theme that I want to take each in turn, and -- frankly, delight -- in all they say to us about the limitless generosity of God.  

The reading from Isaiah might be understood in several different ways, none of them mutually exclusive.  It might be said to apply to Jerusalem at the time of the Incarnation, that is, to the time when Jesus walked the earth.  It might be said to apply to the Church, the New Jerusalem, in all the centuries since.  It might be said to apply to the Parousia, that is the Heavenly Jerusalem existing in eternity. 

However we want to interpret the passage, it assures us of the manifold workings of grace in our lives, it reminds us that God created us out of love and for love and that, in love for us, God stands ready to bless and redeem every aspect of our lives.  Listen to the initial verses: 

For Zion's sake, I will not be silent, for Jerusalem's sake I will not keep still, until her vindication shines forth like the dawn, until her salvation like a burning torch.  Nations shall behold your vindication, and all kings your glory; you shall be called by a new name bestowed by the mouth of the Lord.  You shall be a glorious crown in the hand of the Lord, a royal diadem in the hand of your God (vss. 1-3).

That Jerusalem will be called by "a new name" may be interpreted as a reference to the Church, the New Jerusalem.  (There are also other possible interpretations.)  Applied to us, this passage offers bright and joyful reassurance of the healing and redeeming presence of God in our midst.  We can get a deeper grasp on all of our advantages simply by contrasting our circumstances with the realities of Isaiah's time, that is, the time at which this prophecy was written.  The Jews were waiting for this bright prophecy to be realized.  In our time, it is realized.  

The Messiah, after all, has come.  His teachings have spread around the globe, transforming uncounted billions of lives.  He is present to us in the Sacraments, and most especially so in the Eucharist.  Grace abounds in our lives, through the Sacraments, through prayers and devotions, through the ministries, apostolates and countless good works of the Church, through magisterial teaching, through the array of possibilities to receive blessings from our faith, from the intercession of the saints to the blessing of a car.  

Some of the most powerful of these blessings come to us through our own grace-guided efforts.  That is, we are invited by God to enter into the work of redemption.  That is what the passage from the First Letter to the Corinthians is all about.  Paul lists gifts of the Spirit, granted to the Christian community, both individually and corporately, and assures the disciples at Corinth that this wide variety of gifts, bestowed upon us for the building up of the community and for the benefit of the world, all the same brings graces to the grace-bearers.  That is, when we engage in the ministries and apostolates of the faith, we ourselves receive graces in abundance, as St. John puts it, "For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace" (John 1:16).

In writing to the Corinthians, Paul exemplifies the fulfillment of the prophecies of Psalm 96, that all the nations will come to joyfully recognize that the God of the Jews IS God.  The Corinthians, after all, were not Jewish.  They were Gentiles; Greeks, to be precise.  "Sing to the Lord a new song," the psalm exhorts, "sing to the Lord all the earth...Tell his glory among the nations, among all peoples, his marvelous deeds" (vss. 1, 3). 

The psalm's emphasis on the joy of the Gentiles in their encounter with the true God underscores our reality today, when the Christian faith is found in every nation on earth.  "Give to the Lord, you families of nations," Psalm 96 continues, "give to the Lord glory and might...Bring gifts and enter his courts...declare among the nations: The Lord is king" (vss. 7-10).

Finally, the passage from John is a pure and unalloyed example of what can happen when we trust in the abundant love of God for us -- even in a little thing, which we might be tempted to argue, wine at a wedding is.  I mean, for this, to save a family from embarrassment at a wedding feast, Jesus is going to risk "outing" himself as the Messiah?

Number one, yes, the Lord cares even about the little things (and I realize it is arguable whether the host family running out of wine at a several-day-long wedding feast in first century Israel might, in fact, be something other than a little thing).  Number two, and this is an important take-away from the passage: Jesus does as his mother asks.  

"Woman," Jesus asks his mother, upon her request, "how does your concern affect me?  My time has not yet come" (vs. 4).  

What is verse 5?  "His mother said to the servers, 'Do whatever he tells you.'"  That is, Mary did not even bother to reply to Jesus' protest.  She simply told the servers to obey him, and walked away, knowing the problem was resolved.   

On the twin subjects of little things and Mary's intercession, I am reminded of a frequently repeated prayer by a priest friend of mine, a man who earned a Roman doctorate and a law degree from Boalt Hall (UC Berkeley): Hail Mary, full of grace, help me find a parking space.  

I have seen this prayer answered and answered rapidly on more than one occasion.  As I say, grace abounds.

I am going to wrap with an example from my own experience, just this past week.  On Saturday morning, our new pastor, Father Jesus, asked if I could cover for him at confessions that afternoon.  But for the Vigil Mass at five, I actually had last Saturday free, so of course I said yes.  I love hearing confessions regardless and am sure I'd have experienced my usual sense of joyful satisfaction in spending ninety minutes with our people here in Hayward, in the confessional.  

It happened, however, that an eighteen year old -- I am going to call him Jose because that is NOT his name -- a recent graduate of Arroyo and currently studying at CSU East Bay, came to confession Saturday afternoon.  He is a member of a different Hayward parish; he came to St. Clement in part because he does not know the priests here.  (I know how that goes!  I used to priest-shop, myself, as a young penitent.)

Anyway, as sometimes happens in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, Jose and I got talking.  I evidently made a very favorable impression on him.  He went from a little nervous at the start to relaxed and easy; himself.  He told me he had never had such an open and breezy conversation with a priest before, and said he hoped he could see me again; we exchanged cell numbers.  The next day, as he was leaving Mass in his parish, he thought of me and texted, thanking me again for the time in confession and reassuring me that he hopes to be able to seek me out for advice, now and again.  I told him he knew where to reach me.

It goes without saying that this connection would not have happened had I resisted the invitation to grace, Saturday morning; had I said to myself, "Man!  Just when I have practically a whole day free!" and told Fr. Jesus "Sorry, bro, can't cover confessions for you."  Our openness to the movement of grace in our lives does not just benefit others.  It benefits us.  And that happy reality lies at the heart of today's readings.   

Well, if you are still with me...and speaking of openness to God's abundance.  In a week where even Florida was being hit with freezing temperatures, I noticed Wednesday morning, driving in to campus, several trees along Mission Boulevard in full and bright white bloom -- I am not sure which species this early-bloomer is, but we have a row of them along 98th at the high school as well.  Though, of course, plenty of flowers bloom all winter here, it is the blossoms in the trees that, to me, herald the coming of spring.  

Not that I am typically in any hurry to exit late winter: My birthday is in late winter.  Late winter is actually one of my favorite times of the year.  But it is so in part precisely because this white-flowering tree is already sometimes in bloom at New Year's, and the acacias are not far behind.   

I realize that plenty of folks LIKE snow.  I have no use for it, am glad the only places we ever get it in the East Bay are the upper slopes of Mount Diablo, and driving in to work Wednesday morning and catching sight of those trees in full blossom along Mission, and realizing that two thirds of the nation was in the icy grip of the Polar Vortex, I -- gave joyful praise and glory to God for being Californian, acknowledging and receiving the many graces attendant on that happy fact.  As today's readings insist, grace abounds.

That'll wrap it for this one.  Hope your new year is off to a grace-filled start.  Keeping Los Angeles in prayer.

Love, 

El Padre

Reflecting on the Baptism of the Lord and the Mystery of the Trinity

Readings for Sunday and Virtual Homily for January 12, 2025, Feast of the Baptism of the Lord; The Class of 2025 Makes Me Smile; Prayers for LA 

Readings for Mass this Sunday

• Isaiah 40:1-5, 9-11

• Psalm 104:1-4, 24-25, 27-30

• Titus 2:11-14; 3:4-7

• Luke 3:15-16, 21-22

 Dear Family and Friends,

This Sunday marks the official liturgical end of the Christmas season, though in fact, our tradition going back to the fourth century and perhaps earlier, has had an understanding that the Christmas/Epiphany season extends until Candlemas, that is, February 2, that is the Feast of the Presentation.  Given my diatribe on the neglect of the Epiphany in last week's homily it will probably come as no surprise to you when I say that, so far as I am concerned, Chrismastide (that is, the Christmas season) concludes February 2.  

This has nothing to do with getting Christmas cards out at New Year's.  It has to do with the psychological and spiritual value to be experienced in properly celebrating liturgical seasons.  I have not been to Caracas (the Venezuelan capital) in more than a decade.  But I went there several times a year, as most of you know, for half a dozen years back in the day, and I was there, each of those years, every January.  The reason was that I wanted to celebrate my birthday in Venezuela.  

I remember being impressed with how Caracas' Christmas lights, on the streets, in the stores, in the hotel lobbies, in the restaurants and in the bars, were still on, displayed along with holiday garlands and poinsettias and creches, the week of my birthday, which is January 25.  Something about these displays of fidelity to the ancient understanding of the Christmas season went deep with me.  "Christmas OUGHT to be celebrated for forty days," I remember saying to myself, those half dozen Januarys that I so happily spent my birthday, amid Christmas decor, in Caracas.  "I was, in fact, born in the Christmas season.  It took coming to South America for me to realize it." 

All of which is simply beside the point of this week's homily -- which is about the Baptism of the Lord.  My digression above is simply to underscore the fact that much of the Western world (not all of it, obviously; Caracas is excepted, as is much of Latin America) simply gets the whole Christmas thing wrong.  The celebration of the "season" starts in the department stores and the trendy boutiques at Hallowe'en, and the decorations come down and the end-of-the-year clearance sales start December 26...

Oh well.  I will persist in hope, on this score.  As I said last homily, I look forward to the day when we will see Epiphany sales at Macy's.  With God, as Gabriel assured Mary, in a very Christmas-oriented message, all things are possible (Luke 1:37).

So. the Baptism of the Lord.

There are a variety of possible "takes" a homilist might employ with today's readings.  I know I have in previous homilies explored how it was that Jesus even chose to be baptized, explored the theology of the Sacrament of Baptism.  So I have decided with this homily to go with the "take" that today's feast recognizes the first explicit revelation of the Trinity in Scripture.  The Son is in the water.  The Spirit descends from above, the heavens having been torn open.  A voice is heard from the suddenly revealed heavens, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased" (Luke 3:21-22).

Though their Scriptures are rife with references to both the Word and the Spirit of God. our "elder brothers in the faith" (to quote some Vatican document or other), the Jewish people, have no concept of the Trinity.  The Word of God is said to burn in the prophet Jeremiah (Jeremiah 20:9; also 23:29) and the Spirit of God is said to rush upon David (among others) (1 Samuel 16:13).  The Jewish understanding is that the Word and the Spirit are aspects of the divinity, not distinct Persons.  In fact, however, we get a sense of plurality in the Godhead from the very start of Scripture: "Let US make man in OUR image" (Genesis 1:26).   

With today's Gospel we have the first explicit revelation of the Trinity in Scripture.  The reality of the Trinity might almost be said to be a necessary precondition for the Incarnation, for God becoming man.  The Second Person incarnates, according to the plan of the First Person and the power of the Third Person, but God does not have to abandon heaven, to come to earth.  

This, of course, is how it is that Jesus can say that he is the Son of God, that he is one with the Father, that no one comes to the Father except through him, and so on (see the Gospel of John, chapters 1, 5 and 8 in particular).  With a Trinity of Persons, it is possible to speak this way of the Divine Being.  Without an understanding of the triune Godhead, such talk could only be construed (as it was, by most of the religious leaders of the time) as heretical, even blasphemous.  

The Trinity is the deepest mystery of our faith, and I cannot go deep with it in a Sunday homily.  But I can show, as I do with my sophomores, ways in which three things can be one thing, and that is how I want to end this Sunday's reflection.  

From the world of mathematics we can draw a metaphor to Trinitarian Being in the equilateral triangle.  Three equal sides, one triangle.  From nature, we can employ the metaphor used by St. Patrick in his efforts to convert my Irish ancestors: the shamrock.  Three leaves, same size, same shape, same color.  One shamrock.  

Other examples abound, but the one that most impresses me (and which seems to switch the light on, so to speak, with my bright pupils at Bishop O'Dowd) is the metaphor from light.  You have a darkened room.  It has three lamps.  Each lamp is equipped with a one hundred watt bulb.  You turn on the first lamp and you have light -- one hundred watts' worth of it -- throughout the room.  You turn on the second lamp and you have two hundred watts' worth of light throughout the room.  Turn on the third lamp and you have three hundred watts' worth of light throughout the room.  You cannot say that "this light over here in this corner is from this lamp that is closest" because if you switch off that lamp, you still have light in that corner.  The light is one.  Its sources are three.

We say in the Nicene Creed that Jesus is Light from Light.  This last metaphor is, I think, actually more than just a metaphor.  Light is an attribute of the divine nature.  The image of the three sources and the one light may be said to be an actual image of God.  

We returned to campus this bright, sunny first full week of January, and bright and sunny are good modifiers for how I have experienced the week.  In ten years at the high school, I have taught one class -- Christian Scriptures -- to the sophomores.  The high school administration wanted to have their on-site priest both teaching the "Jesus class," which obviously, Christian Scriptures is, and they wanted me meeting students early enough in their careers at O'Dowd, so that they would know me, most of their time at the high school. 

There was one exception to this routine.  In the fall of 2021, I taught a freshman section of Hebrew Scriptures, in addition to my three regular sections of sophomores.  A new hire who had signed a contract with us in May of that year let us know August 1 that he was not coming after all.  Classes started August 12.  Five of us in the Religious Studies Department had to scramble to pick up his course load -- I landed my first-ever freshman class.  

There were 27 students in the class.  Bright-eyed, happy, HIGHLY talkative (not especially about course material), just-off-remote-learning-for-their-entire-eighth-grade-year-and-so-slightly-feral -- 27 members of the Class of 2025.  

It should be noted that, in the fall of 2021, I was thinking seriously of taking a sabbatical in the fall of 2024.  There were good reasons to believe that by 2024 we would be at a point of development at San Gabriel Media (my media ministry apostolate, which extends far beyond the publishing of books) so as to necessitate some full time focus on my part at San Gabriel; that is, 2024 looked like the year for a sabbatical.

Then I met the Class of 2025.  I will likely be making reference to this remarkable set of teens throughout the spring semester.  So let me say only here that. teaching them as freshmen in 2021, I was so enchanted that I pushed plans for the sabbatical back a year.  Even though I only planned the sabbatical to be an autumn semester away from the high school, I did not want to miss any part of the senior year of the Class of 2025.

I mentioned that, but for teaching Hebrew Scriptures (Old Testament) to the Class of 2025 when they were freshmen, I had never taught anything but Christian Scriptures (New Testament) and to sophomores.  The fact that I taught 27 members of the class of 2025 as freshmen meant, of course, that I might actually teach some of them twice, as they entered their sophomore year and took the Christian Scriptures course.  In fact more than half of them had me as their teacher sophomore year and, of course, I got to know 150 more members of the class, teaching them as sophomores.  This expanded acquaintance with the Class of 2025 confirmed me in my decision to remain at the high school until they graduated.

This spring I am, for the first time in ten years at O'Dowd, teaching an upper division elective: Marriage and Family.  (I know, I know, right?  The PRIEST, teaching the Marriage and Family course!  Long story, but it is all good.)  I have three sections -- almost eighty students.  And about two thirds of them are -- members of the Class of 2025.  In other words, this one class, which so enchanted me their first semester on campus, is also the one class in my ten years at O'Dowd, that I will be teaching as seniors, and not just seniors, but second-semester seniors.  I had them their first semester at O'Dowd; I have them their last.  

This is so cool I lack the modifiers to describe it.  Suffice it to say that we are off to one great start, my students in Marriage and Family and I, this brand new semester.  I am delighted to be able to be with some of my all-time favorite students, once again, in the classroom, the last semester that they will be at O'Dowd.

Finally, just a note on the situation down south.  I have a lot of family and many friends in Los Angeles -- and in fact many of them live just outside the evacuation zones of this week's fires.  As of this evening (I am writing this on Thursday) everyone I know in LA is safe.  I am checking the news every two or three hours, always hoping to read that the Santa Ana winds have died down.  They have reached hurricane strength in some gusts around the hills, as I imagine you are aware.  

Something about these fires -- maybe it is that this is happening in JANUARY, when fire season even in the south state always used to end by Thanksgiving -- something about these fires has really hit home with me.  I am praying for the safety of everyone in harm's way, for strength and resources in rebuilding, and especially for the relief and back-up our exhausted first-responder crews are in such need of.  What a tragedy.  May God's mercies be felt in abundance in the coming weeks and months, among our neighbors down south.   

Hope this finds you well.  Abundant blessings as 2025 begins to roll out.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Celebrating the Feast of the Epiphany: The Revelation of Christ to the Gentiles

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for January 5, 2025, Feast of the Epiphany; The Late Brawn Sullivan (Has Got an Excuse!); Attending to Infrastructure (While I Can) 

Readings for Mass this Sunday

• Isaiah 60:1-6

• Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 10-13

• Ephesians 3:2-3, 5-6

• Matthew 2:1-12

Dear Friends and Family,

Like the Feast of Christ the King, which ends the liturgical year and occurs just before Advent, the Feast of the Epiphany, which many think of as ending the Christmas season (technically, no, it does not do that) is one of my favorite feasts of the year.  And like the Feast of Christ the King, the Epiphany gets, in my view, less attention than it deserves.   

This is the feast of the revelation of Christ to the Gentiles.  That is, this is the day that the Church celebrates the conversion of the world.  Is there anything more important than that? 

Well, technically, yes, there is.  There is Christmas, the birth of the God-Man, the Savior.  There is Good Friday, the saving and sacrificial death of the God-Man, the Savior.  And there is Easter Sunday, the Resurrection of the God-Man, the Savior.  Without these three events we can't get to what we celebrate today, the revelation of Christ to the Gentiles and the conversion of the world.  

That said, I still maintain that the Feast of the Epiphany is underrated -- even in those cultures (such as Latin America) where a pretty big deal is made of the Epiphany.  The Epiphany, in my view, should be the third great holy day and holiday of the Christmas season -- by which I mean that the secular culture should celebrate it.  

It would make sense, commercially.  Instead of "After-Christmas Clearance Sales," department stores could offer sales based on the very idea of gift-giving: the visit of the Magi, who came to Bethlehem bearing gifts (today's Gospel passage).  Their marketing managers could exhort customers to imitate the wise men and "bear gifts" to their families and loved ones in one last great expression of the holiday spirit, with Epiphany brunches at fancy hotels and restaurants and extended-family dinners while watching The Epiphany Bowl on CBS or CSpan or ESPN and well -- take it from there.

Alas.  The feast of the conversion of the world is overlooked and underrated, not just by the marketing managers at Bloomingdales and Nordstroms, but (in my view) by many Christians.  The conversion of the world -- an ongoing and dynamic process -- is one engaging and exciting story.  It deserves more attention than it gets, each Christmas season.  

Because I have preached at length on this feast, both vocally and virtually, I am going to restrict myself here to a few quotes from today's readings, to give a sense of the bright joy, the deep hope, the global reality of today's feast.

From Isaiah: "Arise!  Shine, for your light has come...though darkness covers the earth and thick clouds the peoples, upon you the Lord will dawn...Nations shall walk by your light, kings by the radiance of your dawning..." (vss. 1-3). 

From Psalm 72: "May he rule from sea to sea, from the river to the ends of the earth...May the kings of Tarshish and the islands bring tribute...May all kings bow before him, all nations serve him..." (vss. 10-11).  

From the Letter to the Ephesians: "...it has now been revealed to his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit, that the Gentiles are co-heirs, members of the same body, and co-partners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the Gospel" (vss. 5-6).

From the Gospel of Matthew: "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem...behold, magi from the east...prostrated themselves and did him homage.  Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh" (vss. 1, 11). 

I'll just quickly note in passing that, with regard to the psalm's reference to "the islands," it is generally agreed that Old Testament references to "the islands" or "the coastlands" are, in fact, Spirit-guided prophecies of the island continents, the Americas and Australia, whose existence was not known at the time the psalms were being written.  Psalm 72 predicts Christianity in the Americas and Australia. 

Additionally, it hardly needs to be underscored, but I will do so anyway: the magi are NOT Jewish.  They recognize Jesus as the new Jewish king (vs. 2) but what is so telling in the passage is that the wise men recognize that Jesus is also their king.  He is a king -- he is the King -- to whom all the nations owe homage.

That's as far as I am going to take it with this one.  I look forward to the days when Macy's holds Epiphany sales.

So...Last week I mentioned that I was working happily on my Christmas cards a day or two after Christmas, and that I hoped to have them all postmarked by New Year's.  Alas, the best laid plans of mice and men... 

I had a scary incident involving my left eye, right at the end of last week -- a sudden explosion of floaters (those of you with retinal issues know what I am talking about here) and -- a symptom much to be concerned by and which I have never experienced before -- an infrequent but unmistakable "flash" of what seemed to be light on the periphery of my vision.   

Worried that the holiday week might make seeing my ophthalmologist dicey, I called his office and secured an appointment at his Concord office, for Tuesday, December 31.  New Year's Eve!  God bless Dr. Brinton for even being at work that day, never mind that it was in Concord.  

I received the best possible news from Dr. Brinton -- there was no retinal tear, no damage to my eye at all, just a separation of the vitreous matter in the eye, which some of us are prone to as we age.  These separations can give rise to symptoms which mirror a retinal tear or even detachment, but in fact, they are harmless events.  The symptoms were already abating, by the time I saw my doctor.  And they have cleared up entirely as I am writing tonight (this is Thursday, January 2).  

So here's the thing.  Between four hours spent Tuesday late morning into early afternoon getting to and from Concord and then being essentially incapacitated by the fact that my eyes were dilated and everything was for several more hours flooded with light -- a couple hundred Christmas cards meant to go out with a New Year's Eve postmark went out Thursday, January 2, instead.

I so much appreciate the good-natured teasing and joshing I have had from several of you, regarding my "Christmas" cards sent at New Year's!  You have kept me amused even as, I guess, I have also amused you. 

In any event, almost all of my cards are out now, and way over half of them with a 2025 postmark.  As my sainted mother used to say, setting the bar really rather low, "If it is postmarked by January 6 (that is, by the Epiphany) it is out on time."

Other than a big family party at the start of the week, at the home of one of my nieces, I have been laying low all week.  Not just to get the cards done, but also to attend to a number of everyday agenda items that are almost impossible to take care of, during the academic term.  Seeing my MDs (and my dentist) is something that falls into this category of what I call "personal infrastructure," so it is fitting that I saw my ophthalmologist this week.  

But such utterly mundane and routine things as getting standard maintenance done on my car, clearing out and cleaning up my rooms, making appointments for later this winter with my tax people, with my other MDs, finding the time to get to the Apple Store for cloud storage and so on...I do not know how it is, but I learned my first year on the job at O'Dowd (and my colleagues echo my experience here as theirs): You get at personal needs while on vacation or you wait through the subsequent academic term to attend to them.

This reality -- and reality it is, though I know it is hard to understand if you are not experiencing it -- is one of my few complaints about the assignment at the high school.  It is not at all like being a parish priest where you set your own schedule.  Not at all. 

So...I have been attending to basics, most of this week, and am feeling good about where things will be, when we return to classes, next Tuesday.

That's gonna do it for this one.   

Take care.  God bless.  

A joyful Feast of the Epiphany to you, and Happy New Year!

Father Brawn

Jesus in the Temple: Understanding the Faith of a Twelve-Year-Old

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for December 29, 2024, Feast of the Holy Family; Christmas in Casablanca; The Late Brawn Sullivan (that is, Christmas cards are coming); January Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday

• 1 Samuel 1:20-22, 24-28

• Psalm 84:2-3, 5-6, 9-10

• 1 John 3:1-2, 21-24

• Luke 2:41-52

Dear Friends and Family,

The readings this week reflect, of course, the Holy Family, whose feast this Sunday is.  I have preached often enough (in person and in these virtual homilies) on the humanity exhibited by the twelve year-old Jesus, who just so does not get it, about the anxiety that he caused his parents, ditching the family and the caravan back to Nazareth, in order to hang at "his Father's house," the Temple.  I am going to avoid going there, this weekend, with that homily.  I will look, rather, briefly at each of the readings and leave it to the Spirit to connect the dots (if connected they may be).

In the first reading, Hannah (mother of the prophet Samuel) makes good on her vow to offer her infant son, once weaned, to the Lord.  Hannah had been thought barren.  The birth of Samuel was literally an answer to her most desperate prayers, and in her joy and gratitude at what the Lord had done for her, she kept her promise to God -- to bring the baby boy to Shiloh (site of a major shrine which Hannah and her husband visited several times a year) and leave him there with the priests, that Samuel might, in Hannah's own words, "be dedicated to the Lord" (vs. 28).  

Eli, the chief priest at Shiloh, and who has a history of acquaintance with Hannah, accepts Samuel and agrees to raise him there at the shrine, where over the years, of course, Hannah is able to visit him.  In verses beyond today's reading, Eli prays that the Lord will "repay you with children" for the gift of Samuel and sure enough, Hannah, who again, had been thought barren, has three more sons and two daughters (Ch. 2, vss. 20-21).

We could take an obvious direction with this homily to point out, for instance, that the Lord is not outdone in generosity.  Hannah could not have known that five more children would come, when she gave Samuel, her first and at that time only child, to the priests.  All that mattered to her was that God had granted her her most fervent desire -- to be a mother.  As God had given her Samuel, now she in turn, would give him to God -- that was enough for Hannah (vs. 27-28),  

But God had other plans for her, and they involved her having five more children.  Again, the Lord will not be outdone in generosity.  Jesus himself assures this of what we stand to gain, whenever we offer something prized and precious to the Lord -- we will receive back from the Lord many, many times over that which we have given (Mark 10:29).  

I could construct an entire homily just exploring this dynamic, but let's move on to the psalm.  Psalm 84 is a natural match for today's Gospel passage -- the boy Jesus finding himself so at home in the Temple.  Listen to a couple of its stanzas: 

How lovely is your dwelling, O Lord of hosts!  My soul yearns and pines for the courts of the Lord (vss. 2-3).

Blessed are those who dwell in your house!  They never cease to praise you (vs. 5).

The twelve year-old Jesus evidently found agreement with the psalmist -- for three days while his folks sought him "sorrowing," to use his mother's term (vs. 48) Jesus was at home in his Father's house.  Those who "dwelt" there, including, in Luke's telling, the aged prophets Simeon and Anna, did, in fact, "never cease to praise" God.  Anna, Luke tells us, "never left the Temple, but worshipped night and day with fasting and prayer" (Luke 2:37).  It is, of course, this faithfulness to God that empowers Anna and Simeon to recognize the infant Jesus as the Messiah, when his parents bring him to the Temple, to be dedicated to the Lord (as Samuel had been) according to Mosaic law. 

The passage from the First Letter of John may, without too much massaging, be brought into general alignment with the theme of the day's readings in that John starts out assuring us that God is our Father (vs. 1).  And it is to the Father's house that the twelve year-old Jesus is so relentlessly drawn.  What is more, a deeper union with the Father is predicted by John, and this prospect, we may suppose, engaged and excited the mind and heart of the twelve year old Messiah.  John writes 

“...we are God's children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed.  We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is" (vs. 2).  

There is much speculation, in one branch of Christology, that those three days in the Temple were an awakening for the boy Messiah: Jesus was, in those days in his Father's house, discussing theology and salvation with the learned men of Israel, perhaps for the first time intuiting his own origin and destiny.  

Look.  This is a Sunday homily.  I can't get into anything close to a deep discussion regarding this debate (and a debate it is) among Christologists.  I merely point out that, if nothing else, those three days in his Father's house clearly captivated the twelve year-old Jesus.  And in his wonder and rapt engagement in those discussions with the leaders of Israel, the boy Jesus was, truly, perplexed, trying hard to grasp, how he could have caused his parents such anxiety.  "Why were you looking for me?  Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" (vs. 49). 

Twelve year olds!

Well, we "visited" the Venezuelan capital last week, in the homily, with regard to the hugely generous gift friends of mine in Brentwood made to my Caracas ministry.  This week, we are "going to Casablanca" where my young friends have been texting, Facebook message-ing and WhatsApp-ing me with Christmas greetings.  

I have remarked upon this interesting (and for me at least, initially, entirely unexpected) fact: Christmas is celebrated in Casablanca.  Of course, my young friends there know that I am a Catholic priest and that the holiday -- holy day, as they would be quick to call it -- means a lot to me.   

But it means a lot to them, too, because the Muslims revere Jesus as the greatest of the prophets until Mohammed.  They do not believe he is God.  That is the difference; that is what, more than anything else, separates us.  But they do revere Jesus.  And in revering Jesus, Casablanca celebrates Christmas as a RELIGIOUS holiday, not just a chance to make money in the malls.  

I am anxious to get back to Casablanca.  It has been five years now.  The fact that my young Moroccans and I remain in such easy and vibrant touch is a proof to me that these connections are not by accident, they are not "coincidental."  They are from God, and I hope to be in the Moroccan metropolis again this new year, and in fact, since I am taking a sabbatical in 2025, I hope to be there more than once.

Inshallah, as our Muslims cousins say -- "if God wills it."

Finally, it is Thursday, December 26, the Second Day of Christmas and the Feast of St. Stephen, the first martyr, as I am writing this.  And I am just now getting at my Christmas cards -- some 350-400 total to go out between now and, well, whenever I wrap the project.  In those winters when I am not traveling the week between Christmas and New Year's, this is my customary occupation: writing my Christmas cards.  My mom always said that any Christmas card sent by the Epiphany (January 6) was sent on time.  I hope to have all mine sent with a 2024 postmark; that is more or less my own standard with regard to this business.   

But I will take the time here to just point out that, though my frequent lateness with my cards is no doubt indicative of an overall set of character traits which really do define me (the Late Brawn Sullivan) -- it is all the same entirely cool that my Christmas cards will be arriving in what is actually the CHRISTMAS SEASON.  That season actually extends 'til February 2, not that I want to be sending cards at the start of February.  Just that secular culture starts celebrating the Christmas marketing season at Hallowe'en, and is done with it the very day -- December 25 -- that the SEASON actually begins.  My "late" Christmas cards might be understood as a defiant protest to that secular, society-wide reality.   

On the other hand, maybe...nice excuse, for NOT getting my cards out early!

Love you! 

Merry Christmas! 

Fr. Brawn

January Mass Schedule

New Year's Day
Feast of Mary, Mother of God
9 AM (English)

Saturday, January 11
5 PM (English)
Sunday, January 12

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON (Seton Campus)
11 AM (English) 

Saturday, January 18
5 PM (English)

Sunday, January 19
8 AM, 11:15 AM (both English)

Sunday, January 26
8 AM, 6:30 PM (both English) 

Weekday Masses (all English, all 8 AM except where noted)
Friday, Jan. 3
Saturday, Jan. 4
Monday, Jan. 6
Friday, Jan.10
Monday, Jan. 13
Friday, Jan. 17
Saturday, Jan. 18
Monday, Jan. 20
Wednesday, Jan. 22 (8:30 AM -- ST. CLEMENT SCHOOL MASS -- open to all)
Saturday, Jan. 25
Monday, Jan. 27
Wednesday, Jan. 29 (again, school Mass at 8:30)
Saturday, Feb. 1

Embracing God’s Will: A Personal Reflection & Christmas Mass Update

Change in the Christmas Mass Schedule; Readings for December 22, 2024, 4th Sunday of Advent; Virtual Homily; My Brilliant Sophomores; Christmas in Caracas (and a BIG Thank You to Brentwood!)

Readings for Mass this Sunday

• Micah 5:1-4

• Psalm 80:2-3, 15-19

• Hebrews 10:5-10

• Luke 1:39-45

Dear Friends and Family,

We've made a change in the Christmas Mass schedule that I want to make folks aware of: I now have the five PM "family Mass" on Christmas Eve, in addition to the ten PM "midnight" Mass and the nine AM Christmas morning Mass.  All three of these Masses are in English.  The family Mass at five on Christmas Eve is very popular; I recommend arriving early if you want to be able to sit.  

Though preachers around the world this Sunday may choose to go in any of several different directions with today's near-Christmas readings, I want to focus on their Marian element; it has deep resonance for our lives.  

The first reading from Micah is one of the several direct prophecies of the Blessed Mother found in the Old Testament.  "...when she is to give birth has borne" the prophet writes, then great things will begin to happen for Israel (vs. 2).  And not just Israel.  Micah continues: 

Then the rest of his kindred shall return to the children of Israel.  He shall take his place as shepherd by the strength of the Lord, by the majestic name of the Lord, his God; and they shall dwell securely, for now his greatness shall reach to the ends of the earth...(vss. 2-3).  

Micah foresees, in the birth of the Messiah, the salvation of the world.  "...she who is to give birth" may have seemed a cryptic and shadowy reference to the Jewish people of Micah's time, but we, of course, in retrospect, see the Blessed Mother and her huge role in salvation history clearly delineated in this prophecy.

The Gospel passage is, of course, the Annunciation; Gabriel inviting Mary to become the mother of the Messiah.  I actually gave my in-person homily last week on this very passage, the week having been huge with Marian energy in the parish, given both the Immaculate Conception and Our Lady of Guadalupe.  I focused in the spoken homily on Mary's "yes" and what that yes entailed.  Among other things, it entailed standing at the foot of the Cross, thirty-three years later, but much more proximate to Gabriel's visit, it entailed the Blessed Mother having to deal with Joseph's intention to "divorce her quietly" upon his discovery of her pregnancy (Matthew 1:19).

My point last Sunday and this is that we never know what we are signing up for, when we say "yes" to God.  My married siblings and cousins have assured me that the day they took their vows, they essentially took a leap in the dark.  Married life has proved to be the fulfillment of many of their hopes and dreams but also an invitation to adventures, some of them stormy and at times perilous, that they never saw coming. 

I can draw a parallel with priesthood.  When Bishop Vigneron ordained me on May 20, 2006, I imagined I was saying "yes" to fulltime parish ministry for most, if not all, of my years of active service as a priest of Oakland.  And that seeming likelihood made me very happy; I had had enough experience of parish ministry, at that point, to know how much I loved it.  The thought of a high school chaplaincy never entered my head.  

But in fact the O'Dowd assignment was wrapped up in my "yes," in my promise of obedience to Bishop Vigneron and his successors.  And a telling aspect of it all is that the assignment to O'Dowd was over two decades in the making, in that the Spirit had been preparing me for it all that time.  

My "yes" to priesthood dates to July, 1992, when on a seven-day silent retreat at Christ the King, the Passionist retreat center in Citrus Heights, I was able to recognize and respond to a clear invitation from the Lord to consider life as a priest.  Within days of my completing the retreat I found myself with an invitation to minister to teens: Sister Evelyn Schwall, then Director of Faith Formation in the Marysville parish, asked me if I would be willing to assist in teaching one of the Confirmation classes.  Two years later I was running the parish Confirmation program and a year after that, because the Marysville teens were asking for me, I became the parish's youth minister.  

Twenty-three years before I took up the assignment at O'Dowd, in other words, the Spirit called me into teen catechesis and youth ministry.  This was, to borrow from Mother Teresa, "the call within the call," though I did not recognize it at the time.  I came to understand that my call to serve the young was a lifelong matter, a true vocational call, only with the assignment to O'Dowd.  Right up to that point, that is, right up to 2015 and nine years after my ordination, I had assumed that I would become a pastor and finally relinquish teen ministry.

Instead of which, prepared by the Spirit with twenty-three years of experience for it, in 2015 I stepped into the greatest teen assignment of my life.  Youth ministry has changed me, changed my life.  And it has defined my priesthood.   

Doubtful and reluctant as I was to accept the assignment to the high school, now in my tenth year at O'Dowd, I could not be more deeply certain that this was and is God's will for my priesthood.  I can see, I can feel, the difference God is making in the lives of our precious teen-agers at Bishop O'Dowd. This is a somewhat rarefied ministry; I am amazed at how the Spirit has moved through my life now, for thirty-two years, in service to the young.  I did not see it coming; not in 1992, and not even in 2015.  But it was there from the start, in my "yes" to God.   

On the subject of teens, we are done for the semester at O'Dowd.  This was Finals Week, and though I had no finals, I did have my students' final project to grade, this week.  I described the project an e-mail or two back -- write up the Resurrection Narratives as though you were a reporter for the WaPo or the WSJ or ABC News --and I remember saying how much I enjoyed reading what my students would come up with, in these "news reports" of the Resurrection.   

The final project is a 100-point assignment (one of only two 100-pointers all semester).  Oh my gosh.  I was counting up how many 100s I gave, this week, as I was calculating semester grades, and...I smiled.  Almost one-third of my students this fall scored a perfect 100 on the final project.  That is how detailed, how imaginative, how well-laid-out and illustrated, how deeply reported, the accounts by my young "investigative journalists" were.   

It was a genuine delight to read their interviews with Mary Magdalen, with Joanna, with Judas, with Pilate, with Peter and John, with the Roman guards, with Cleopas (who encountered the risen Lord on the road to Emmaus Easter Sunday afternoon).  I loved looking at the many paintings and photos (of statues, of places in the Holy Land, etc.) that my sophomores used to brighten up their reports.  They made the page layouts eye-catching and attractive, using different fonts, brightly colored borders and so on.  I had fun, as I knew I would, grading the final report, this past week.  I am proud, of O'Dowd. 

With school off my radar I have had time this week for other ministry considerations, including my young men in Venezuela, and their families.  Friends in Brentwood (whom I am certain would ask for anonymity here) and I got together for a holiday lunch early in the week and they gave me a very generous donation for Caracas.  I have been hearing from my Caraquenos all week as a result: astonished gratitude at what they will now be able to do for their families for Christmas.  Even $100 American goes a very long way in impoverished Venezuela.

That obnoxious (but completely accurate) phrase -- "impoverished Venezuela" -- bespeaks more than simple misrule by the "socialist" clique that has a stranglehold on the country.  It illuminates countless mortal sins on the part of the gang of criminals that styles itself the Venezuelan government.  As I have admitted before, I abandoned hope that this crew might be rooted out anytime this decade, back before this decade started.  I abandoned hope for a free and once-again prosperous Venezuela when the 2019 uprising, supported by more than fifty nations around the world in their recognition of Juan Guaido as the rightful leader of the nation, collapsed.  TMI if I go on (and believe me, I could go on and on...I will spare you.)

For this e-mail's purposes I will just observe that Brentwood gave Caracas a kiss this week; my hard-working and highly responsible young friends in that beautiful but captive metropolis are having a much merrier Christmas than they and their families would have had, otherwise.  THANK YOU, Brentwood!

All right, it is Saturday morning as I am finishing this and I need to get it out.  Take good care and God bless.  

And Merry Christmas! 

Love and joy,

Fr. Brawn

Joyful Reflections on Gaudete Sunday: Advent's Message of Hope

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily, December 15, 2024, Third Sunday of Advent; Semester Wrap at O'Dowd; Christmas in California; Our Lady of Guadalupe at St. Clement

Readings for Mass this Sunday 

• Zephaniah 3:14-18

• Isaiah 12:2-6

• Philippians 4:4-7

• Luke 3:10-18

Dear Friends and Family,

This Sunday's readings extend and deepen the theme of joy evident in last week's Scripture passages.  And not surprisingly, as the Third Sunday of Advent is also known as Gaudete Sunday, that is the Sunday of joy.  This is the Sunday when the pink candle is lit in the Advent wreath; the Sunday when, if he so desires, the priest may appear in rose-colored vestments.  Pink rose, I should say, or even, really, salmon-colored vestments.

I don't wear same, myself.  Not since my first couple of Advents as a priest in Pleasanton where parishioners good-naturedly assured me that "salmon is NOT your color, Father!"  Traumatized, I have donned regular Lenten purple every Gaudete Sunday since.

But seriously, and on the subject of Advent's "serious joy," this Sunday is set aside for special consideration of the joys of the season, marking as it does the half-way point (usually, it is beyond the half-way point) of Advent.  We are drawing closer to Christmas, closer to the coming of the Light, and for that we celebrate with a special emphasis on joy.

The reading from Zephaniah exhorts Jerusalem (that is, the people of God) to "be glad and exult with all your heart," for the Lord has "removed the judgment against you; he has turned away your enemies" (vss. 14-15 ).  In what may be read as a prediction of the Incarnation, the passage asserts the presence of God among the people: "the King of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst; you have no further misfortune to fear" (vs. 15).  This last verse suggests that it is the New Jerusalem, that is, the Church, to which the prophet refers.  This prophecy is not just for the years when Jesus walked the earth, but is for all succeeding ages.  The Eucharistic Lord is indeed in our midst, and will be so until the end of time. 

In place of an actual psalm this week, we have a passage from Isaiah which can easily be made to read like a psalm.  This passage also refers to God's presence among the people, and predicts the coming era of apostolic evangelization: "among the nations make known his deeds...sing praise to the Lord for his glorious achievement; let this be known throughout all the earth" (vss. 4-5).  Joyful proclamation of the "glorious achievement" of God (in the life, death and Resurrection of the God-Man) is a consistent note in the preaching of the apostles.  Isaiah foresees the times described in Acts of the Apostles, when the first-century Mediterranean world was electrified by the Good News.

The reading from the Letter to the Philippians resonates with the theme of joy; Paul recommending that we "Rejoice in the Lord always.  I shall say it again: rejoice!" (vs. 4).  Paul goes on to assure the Philippians that "The Lord is near.  Have no anxiety at all...the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus" (vss. 5-6).  Exhortations to joy are frequent in the letters of Paul.  The Resurrection was, in the first century, a very recent event; more than that, it was an unheard-of event.  I think it can be hard for us twenty-first century Christians to really grasp just how astonishing news of the Resurrection was, to first-century believers.  It changed the way they thought about life.  It filled them with an entirely new hope and the most profound joy.

 The preaching of John the Baptist is the subject of today's Gospel passage and while many other things might be said about it, what I want to take note of here is that when the people ask John what they must do to make themselves ready for the Lord, John asks nothing extraordinary of them.  He tells those who have extra that they should share with those who are in need.  He tells the tax collectors not to cheat anyone.  He tells the soldiers not to abuse their position of authority, and to be satisfied with their wages (vss. 10-14).   

Basically, John says that the way to "make straight the path of the Lord" is to do our duty.  Attend faithfully to those responsibilities which have been entrusted to us.  See the good we can do and try to do it.  Such efforts are pleasing to God, and are, actually, all that God is asking of us.  St. Teresa of Calcutta once said that we can do no great things for God; only small things with great love.  This reality, when we reflect on it, might in and of itself be a reason for great joy.

Well, we have finished classes for the autumn semester at the high school.  I have no finals next week, as mentioned last e-mail, because my students opted for a final project, which they completed in class this week.  I'll be grading that, but otherwise am done with the semester.  I am off until January 7.  Talk about reasons for joy!

Despite the abundant free time the next several weeks, I am not traveling this winter.  Last year, as many of you are aware, I went to London and Paris the week between Christmas and New Year's.  That is, I went to London and tried to go to Paris.  Flooding in the Thames River tunnels on Saturday, December 30, resulted in 41 canceled trains to Europe, including mine.  There was no way to fix it.  Try getting a seat on a train to Paris for New Year's Eve, the day before New Year's Eve.  I spent my first New Year's in London, as a result, which had definite advantages and some very real joy, to revert to today's principal theme.  

I had spent several New Year's (no clue how to make that plural!) in Paris before COVID, and had given real thought to being there this winter, but duty called -- in the need for focus at San Gabriel Media, where we are rolling out the first of several marketing strategies this winter, where I am finishing a new book this winter, and where an assembly-line of responsibilities with regard to our You Tube programming awaits my attention this winter.  

I am planning to be on sabbatical the entire second half of 2025, and though the time off is, again, largely to serve our efforts at San Gabriel, with seven months free, I will get back to Paris.  Back to Casablanca, too.  Meanwhile, this winter, I am hanging here in the Bay Area, "taking care of business" as the song says. 

Finally, it is Thursday evening, December 12, as I am getting this baby wrapped -- the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.  Though I was only able to attend the huge Mass and reception this evening, we have been celebrating in the parish all day.  Our observation of the feast started with a Rosary at 430 this morning, and has included Mananitas, a Mass at dawn, Masses at eight AM and five PM, and devotions at several points during the day.

I have loved our Guadalupe celebrations here at St. Clement since December, 2015, my first winter here.  The celebrations actually start two days before -- with evening Masses on the tenth and the eleventh -- and the church looks almost like a shrine to Our Lady, this week.  The flowers alone are breath-taking.   

Our new pastor, Father Jesus Hernandez, gave the homily this evening and I was impressed.  He weaves deep faith with history, culture and even philosophy, and his preaching style is very relaxed and interactive.  Unlike me, Jesus is not in need of the ambo; he steps down from the altar and talks to the people directly, asks them questions, engages in exchanges of faith.  He is soft-spoken but direct and his pastoral style is gentle and affirming.  I feel deeply blessed personally, to have such a brother here in the house with me, and I am really pleased for the parish, to have such a disciple as our leader.  I look forward to working with him for years to come.  Just one more reason for Advent's serious joy.

That's all he wrote for this one!  Hope your Advent is progressing with grace, with peace, with joy.  

Take good care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn

Finding Joy in Advent: A Priest’s Journey Through Faith and Ministry

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily, December 8, 2024, Second Sunday of Advent; Crunch Time at O'Dowd; The Gift of Health

Readings for Mass this week

• Baruch 5:1-9

• Psalm 126:1-6

• Philippians 1:4-6, 8-11

• Luke 3:1-6

Dear Friends and Family,

More than twenty years ago, while I was studying for ordination at St. Patrick's Seminary in Menlo Park, a young priest there, a member of the faculty, once described Advent to us as a season of "serious joy."  This same young priest, whose intellectual bona fides were backed up by a couple of advanced degrees from the Roman seminaries, also described Lent as a season of "bright sadness."  

Lenten in my own spirituality, that is, a Passionist at heart, I took note of this second description, at the time, more so than the first.  "Bright sadness" was as close as anyone had ever come to describing my experience of Lent.  It was not at all that I thought the young priest's description of Advent inadequate; I just paid it little note because honestly, right up into the years that I was at seminary, I paid Advent little notice.  

That changed, of course, once I became a priest and entered fully into the liturgical life, so deep. so rich, so substantive, of the Church.  I remember my first Advent -- December, 2006 -- in Pleasanton.  I remember the special evening liturgies -- especially the Advent Reconciliation Service at which Fr. Dan (Dan Danielson, Pleasanton's legendary pastor for 22 years) had me preach.  I remember how ministry-leader friends in the parish sort of held their collective breath, as their brand new associate, Fr. Brawn, the "baby priest" (at 50!) got up to address not just the many hundreds of parishioners there that evening for the Sacrament of Reconciliation, but also to address Fr. Dan and maybe twelve or fourteen of my brother priests, all more experienced than I, who had come to help with hearing confessions that night.

I have no memory at all of what I said that evening.  But I do remember the response of my community -- the sense of pride, of joy, of "mission accomplished!," of (frankly) relief, that I had not blown it.  People -- I mean, a number of Pleasanton's leaders in ministry -- stood in line, after the service, to thank me for whatever it was that the Spirit said through me.  Meanwhile, in addition to preaching on some Advent theme or other, I had that evening at St. Augustine's heard somewhere between twenty and thirty confessions, and I had already discovered -- discovered six months before -- that after celebrating the Mass, hearing confessions was my second favorite priestly responsibility. 

I remember the line of my fellow parish ministry leaders waiting to congratulate me, after the service had ended; I remember our breath fogging in the chilly night air; I remember the sense of, at once, both satisfaction of what we had just done and anticipation of what lay directly ahead -- my first Christmas as a priest, there with my wonderful community in Pleasanton.  And I had a sense, that evening, of the "serious joy" of Advent.  

Today's readings are all about joy.  Listen to Baruch, a close associate of Jeremiah (the "prophet of gloom and doom") and whose book follows not just Jeremiah's, but the Book of Lamentations, which expresses the heartbreak of the people, once the dreadful prophecies of Jeremiah have come to pass.  Listen to Baruch, encouraging the people in their exile in Babylon.

Jerusalem, take off your robe of mourning and misery; put on forever the splendor of glory from God...For God has commanded that every lofty mountain and the age-old hills be made low, that the valleys be filled to make level ground, that Israel may advance securely in the glory of God...For God is leading Israel in joy, by the light of his glory, with the mercy and justice that are his (vss. 1, 7, 9). 

The psalm is a veritable paean to joy -- it describes the wonder and awe of the Jewish people as they returned, against all historical odds, to Jerusalem from their period of exile in Babylon.  You know this psalm; it is famous.  Among its other stanzas, there is this: "They shall come rejoicing, carrying their sheaves" (vs. 6).  The psalm exults in the joy of the liberation of the Jews from Babylon (in 539 BC, after a near half-century in exile there).  Listen:

When the Lord restored the captives of Zion, we were like men dreaming.  Then our mouths were filled with laughter; our tongues sang for joy.  Then it was said among the nations, 'The Lord has done great things for them'" (vss. 1-2).

The second reading describes the author's (likely Paul) love for the community at Philippi and the great joy he takes in thinking of the community and praying for them.  It is a bright and -- well, joyful -- set of verses from the letter that we are studying in today's Scriptures.  Paul's delight in his community at Philippi makes me smile -- I knew a similar delight in my first community as a priest, in Pleasanton.  

And I have known that joy in every assignment since -- Our Lady of Guadalupe in Fremont, Immaculate Heart of Mary in Brentwood, and now, and doubly blessed, Bishop O'Dowd High School and St. Clement, my parish home now, for ten years.  I have told my parishioners here in Hayward time and time again that I am empowered to do what I do at the high school because of them, because of their love and enthusiasm and support, because of the way St. Clement rolled out the red carpet for me here in Hayward the summer I arrived.  I hope my St. Clement parishioners believe me, when I assure them that my success at the high school is directly reliant on their encouragement and support of me; so help me God, it is true.  I love my teens and I love the high school; I would not trade my assignment to Bishop O'Dowd.  But I remain, at heart, a parish priest.  And St. Clement is my parish.

We come finally to the description from Luke of John the Baptist in the desert -- though quoting Isaiah, Luke echoes the images of Baruch.  Prepare the way of the Lord.  Make straight his paths.  Every valley (of despair, of self-doubt and/or loathing) shall be filled (with a proper sense of one's dignity and ultimate value as the child of a loving God).  Every mountain and hill (of pride, of self-centeredness, of self-seeking) shall be made low (that is, the selfish and prideful will have a much-needed reality check that will assist them in getting back on the straight and narrow...)  (vss. 4-6; summarized).

These readings invite us to enter into the "serious joy" of Advent; to encounter head-on the astonishing reality, that God so loved the world that God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, the One through Whom all things were made, became for us, and for our salvation, incarnate in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Became a baby, in her arms.

God.  A baby.  In Mary's arms.

Think about it.   

Rejoice in it.  Even, seriously rejoice in it.

I do not know how much joy was involved with it, but "serious" was the word for affairs at the high school this first week back after Thanksgiving.  Also, next week, the last week of classes.  My students opted for a final project rather than a standard exam, and in so doing brought my class to a close a week early.  That is, this coming week, my students will be working on their final project, rather than reviewing for a final exam two weeks hence.  

I was totally down with their decision in part because it frees me of having to show up during finals week; in part because it frees me of having to grade eighty final exams (though, of course, I do have the project to grade, but that is much more subjective and enjoyable).  

I was also down with this decision on the part of my students because of what the final project is -- they are to approach the Resurrection Narratives as if they were reporters from the WSJ or the WaPo or CNN; they are to take the four Gospel accounts of the Resurrection as their baseline, their primary source material, and then develop the story.  Interview witnesses.  Describe scenes and developments, such as the encounter with the risen Christ by the two disciples on the road to Emmaus.  Detail differences in the accounts and supply rationales for why, let us say, Matthew may have mentioned the earthquake when none of the other Gospel writers did.

You get the idea.  This project is typically accompanied by illustrations (that is, the students include paintings, statues, etc. in the course of their reports).  Some of the more adventurous include advertisements ("Join the Roman Legion and See the World") and sudoku and crossword puzzles based on first-century Israel realities.  It is a blast, seeing what my sophomores come up with each semester, when they choose this project over a final exam.  (And yes, most of my classes since COVID, when I started offering the option, have chosen the project over the exam.)

Finally, and on the subject of joy, I am feeling something akin to same this Friday evening that I am getting this homily into shape, in that I have made about a 90% recovery from a nasty winter virus which started sweeping the high school in early November.  When we got to Thanksgiving and I had not yet contracted it I counted myself blessed, and given that these things have a "shelf life" of just a few weeks, each season, I dared hope I had dodged the bullet with it. 

Uhhh...no.  I came down with it Sunday (didn't stop me from having a stellar day, with three Masses here in the parish and an important Zoom meeting; just that I felt that I was coming down with something).  It hit full strength Monday and I called in sick at O'Dowd -- missing class due to illness for the first time in my ten years at the high school.  Same thing, Tuesday, a day I largely remember as one of viewing my sheets and blankets from a variety of perspectives.  I think I was up and out of bed about three hours, mid-day Tuesday, and then again about four, Tuesday evening.  Wednesday and Thursday I went in to campus only to teach my classes.  That is, two and one-half hours Wednesday afternoon and 75 minutes Thursday morning. 

In fact, by Thursday, I was much better.  And today, I am, as I say, 90% back to normal and thanking the Lord for the fact.  It does give me reason to stop and think, as I really only rarely do, about the gift of health, and about how blessed I have been, in this regard.  I spent two nights in the hospital in August, 1957, when, as a 19-month old, I had contracted St. Louis Variety Encephalitis (from a mosquito bite).  I have not been in the hospital overnight since.

This is NOT something to be taken for granted.  It is something for which to give thanks and praise to God.  It is something to be --well -- seriously joyful about.  The day will come when my health will fail.  In the meantime, that I have been so abundantly blessed in this regard is something for which, truly, I can only in humility accept from God and ask to be made worthy of the blessing.  While you give me the power to do so, Lord, help me to be a messenger of your love, your peace, your serious joy.

A (seriously) joyful Advent to all of you!

Much love,

El Padre

Are We in the End Times? A Biblical Perspective on Fear and Faith

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for December 1, 2024, First Sunday of Advent; A Restful Week; My Favorite Holiday (and my Favorite Holy Day); December Schedule

Readings for this Sunday

• Jeremiah 33:14-16

• Psalm 25:4-5, 8-10, 14

• 1 Thessalonians 3:12-4:2

• Luke 21:25-28, 34-36

Dear Friends and Family,

Advent readings, as I have said often enough, tend to focus on one or the other of the two comings of Christ; either his coming as a baby in the manger in Bethlehem two thousand years ago or his coming in glory at the end of time.  Though the first reading and the psalm both suggest the earthly visitation of the Messiah and his final coming in glory, the emphasis, this Sunday, is on the Second Coming. 

The Gospel passage from Luke is entirely Second Coming in its focus.  Jesus' own words describe the momentous events -- cataclysmic and really, unmistakable.  When we really are at the end of the world, we will not have to be asking ourselves if we are at the end of the world.

A point I really want to stress here, precisely because so many people in our generation ARE asking if we are at the end of the world, including a fair number of Catholic media influencers.  I have worked with some of these people.   They are online, with websites, with You Tube channels, with books and videos, with all the usual social media presences, from Facebook to Instagram to Twitter or whatever Elon Musk is calling it now.  While some of these folks are relatively balanced and nuanced in their analysis, others lack, to put it kindly, an objective take on the question of whether we are living at the end of time.   

The point I want to stress again -- when we really are at the end, we will not need to be asking if we are at the end.  Listen to Jesus in today's passage from Luke

There will be signs in the sun, the moon and the stars, and on earth, nations will be in dismay, perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves.  People will die of fright in anticipation of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken (vss. 25-26).

A couple of observations to help put this into its proper perspective.  "Signs in the sun, the moon and the stars" and "the powers of the heavens will be shaken" are phrases that have long been interpreted by qualified and responsible Catholic scholars as a comet or asteroid headed toward earth.  Due to our advances in technology, particularly the great orbiting telescopes, we will have advanced notice of this "doomsday rock's" approach.  As Jesus predicts, people will die of fright at what is coming...The nations will be in distress at the roaring of the waves...

Scientists tell us that a comet or asteroid striking the earth would be an ELE, that is an Extinction Level Event.  Indeed, it is reliably theorized that just such an event occurred sixty-five million years ago, wiping out the dinosaurs.  But what we may infer from both Gospel passages such as this and from the mystical tradition of the Church is that this event, cataclysmic as it will prove to be, is NOT the end.  It is only one -- one huge -- event that will occur near the end.  

Not at it; near it.  The Book of Revelation may be prophesying just such an event when it describes "something like a mountain of fire" crashing into the sea.  A third of the ships at sea, Revelation tells us, and a third of the sea creatures, will die as a result (Revelation 8:8).  As I say, cataclysmic, but not yet the end.  The Book of Revelation goes on for chapters, with further predictions about the events which will accompany the end of time, all of which occur AFTER the "mountain of fire" has crashed into the sea.  

Jesus' prediction in today's Gospel passage may be directly tied to the image from Revelation.  Jesus refers to "the roaring of the sea and the waves."  A direct hit by a comet or an asteroid in one of the oceans would produce tsunamis (note the use of the plural, it would be more than one tidal wave) a mile or more high.  These waves, rushing ashore at 500 miles per hour, would obliterate everything in their path.  The mystical tradition indicates the likelihood of just such an event near, not actually right at, the end of time.  The tradition (I am talking here of approved revelations to various saints down through the centuries) suggests that the ocean to be so affected is the Atlantic.  

About a decade ago there were, in fact, a large number of predictions of just such a meteor or comet strike, in the north Atlantic, northeast of Puerto Rico.  These claims were all over the internet, including a number of Catholic sites.  They were nothing short of cataclysmic in their assessment of what lay directly ahead for all humanity.  And they were very specific in their aim: The comet would hit the water on September 23, 2015.  

I don't know exactly how the owners of these sites were faring, in terms of audience, subscribers and so on, on September 24, 2015.  But I do know that hysterical claims that we are "right on the verge" of global catastrophe abound today, including on Catholic websites, as surely as they did in 2015.

For what it is worth, I happen to be persuaded that we have entered the last days, the end times.  I have studied this subject since I was in my teens.  But the Church's take on the end times is that they last a long time, generations; even centuries.  The best advice is to live your life as though you expect to die at ninety, peacefully, at home or maybe in the hospital, surrounded by your family and friends.  Because in fact, that is far likelier how you are going to leave this world than is a meteor strike on the Atlantic.

I confess to being perplexed (and, to use a word that rhymes, at times simply vexed) at the hysterical claims put out there by people, Catholic writers, speakers, bloggers, You Tubers, etc., who really ought to know better.  It is a vexation I have on occasion mentioned to my spiritual director, in the context of sacramental confession.  That is, more than annoyance, the outright anger I feel toward these "influencers" is probably sinful -- sinful even if I am entirely right, in my assessment of their claims.  These are no doubt well-intentioned people, however misguided.  They deserve compassion and prayer, not anger.  

But I feel the need to issue a word of caution with regard to these folks.  Because I think a "faith" born of fear and panic is a betrayal of the true faith, which is born of love and gratitude.  Because I think a "discipleship" that needs to draw on dread and terror for its sustenance is the opposite of true discipleship, which seeks only to accomplish the loving will of God in the present moment.  Heaven knows (literally, Heaven knows) how much our world is in need of such discipleship.

All of us will face a personal "Second Coming," so to speak, at the moment of death and in the particular judgment.  A mature Christian faith compels us to so order our lives as to let the love of God pour through us into a world so much in need of that love, and to leave the rest to God.  Our job, as disciples, is to love; to love deeply and well.  It is not to fear.  It is not to sit around endlessly speculating about whether this or that "sign" has now appeared.  This kind of thing can become an obsession; it can become a parlor game.  When it does, it serves absolutely no useful purpose.   

End of sermon.

We are at the start of the season of Advent, Thanksgiving just behind us and the rest of the holidays ahead.  I have had a very quiet and restful week here at St. Clement, greatly enjoying my role simply as a priest of the parish.  I do love St. Clement's!  Talk about reasons for thanksgiving.  I wake up here -- now in my tenth year -- every single morning giving thanks and praise to the Lord (and to Mama Mary, whom I credit with bringing me here) for the fact that I am one of the priests at St. Clement. 

And as I mentioned in my Thanksgiving homily here in the parish, this is my favorite holiday.  Even as a little boy, I loved Thanksgiving the most, among the holidays, more than Christmas, more than Easter.  There was one other day each year that I loved with the intensity that I loved Thanksgiving.  That day was Good Friday.   

Just sayin'.  All the good things, all the countless blessings for which we have been giving thanks to God, this past week, are directly attributable to the events of Good Friday.  It was then and there and in those circumstances of such affliction and ignominy that the Lord, our God, won for us every blessing that has since been ours to claim.  

To me, the two days are inextricable, one from the other.  They are necessarily connected.  There would be no possibility of Thanksgiving, had the Lord not done for us what he did do for us, on Good Friday.  So that here in the waning days of November, and in the midst of much joyous celebration, I have found myself quietly reflective, this otherwise quiet and reflective week, on a day in mid-spring; a Friday in March or April, when our focus tends to be elsewhere, not the joyful focus of Thanksgiving.   

But truly, the one day could not be without the other.  And for that, for Good Friday and the winning of the war, the salvation of the race, all praise and all thanksgiving, to Jesus Christ our Lord and King.

Take good care.  God bless.  A serene and joyful Advent season to you.

Fr. Brawn

December Mass Schedule

Saturday, November 30
5 PM (English)

Sunday, December 8
8 AM, 6:30 PM (both English)

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON, Seton Campus

11 AM (English)

Sunday, December 15
8 AM, 11:15 AM (both English) 

Saturday, December 21
5 PM (English)

Sunday, December 22
6:30 PM (English)

Christmas Eve

10 PM ("Midnight Mass;" English)

Christmas Day

9 AM (English) 

Sunday, December 29

8 AM, 1115 AM (both English) 

New Year's Day (Feast of Mary, Mother of God)

9 AM (English)

Daily Masses (all at 8 AM, all English)

Monday, Dec. 2

Friday, Dec. 6

Saturday, Dec. 7

Tuesday, Dec. 10

Friday, Dec. 13

Monday, Dec. 16

Saturday, Dec. 21

Monday, Dec. 23

Tuesday, Dec. 24 

Thursday, Dec. 26

Saturday, Dec, 28

Monday, Dec. 30

Friday, Jan. 3

Saturday, Jan. 4

TWO SPECIAL MASSES

Monday, December 9 (Feast of the Immaculate Conception)
5 PM (English)

Monday, December 23, Simbang Gabi Novena Mass
6 AM (English)