Understanding the Beatitudes: A Reflection on Blessedness and Loss

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for February 16, 2025, Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time; A Blessed February 

Readings for Mass this Sunday

• Jeremiah 17:5-8

• Psalm 1:1-4, 6

• 1 Corinthians 15:12, 16-20

• Luke 6:17, 20-26 

Dear Friends and Family,

Today's readings include Luke's version of the Beatitudes ("Blessed are the...").  The first reading and the psalm reflect the theme of blessedness, of how we are blessed in life.  The second reading -- about the reality of the resurrection -- might, at best, be tangentially related.  I can identify a connection, in any rate; we are surely blessed if our understanding is that Jesus Christ truly rose from the dead.

The reading from Jeremiah echoes today's psalm (which was written first).  Both describe the man or woman who loves the Lord as being like a tree that is planted near a stream of fresh water,  The tree's roots stretch toward the stream and soak in the life-giving moisture even in years of drought (Psalm 1:3; Jeremiah 17:7-8).   

Both passages also give vivid images of the situation of those who ignore God.  Jeremiah describes such people as being like a shrub in a lava waste, barren and desiccated, divorced from all that gives life (vs. 6).  Psalm 1 refers to the state of the wicked as being "like chaff" which is blown away by the wind (vs. 4).

Luke's version of the Beatitudes tracks closely with the psalm and Jeremiah, in that Luke lists four beatitudes, or states of blessedness, and then goes on to list four curses.  Matthew's passage on the Beatitudes lists eight (or nine, depending on how you count) blessings and includes no curses.  

Matthew has Jesus deliver the Beatitudes from a slope above the people, hence it is known as the Sermon on the Mount.  Luke speaks as if it occurred on flat land, which could indicate that Jesus gave this teaching more than once, or could indicate that Luke was reporting it from the perspective of the crowd (whom Matthew agrees, were on flat land) or...well, these are the kinds of minor differences on which Biblical scholars write speculative essays and deliver provocative lectures.

At first glance the Beatitudes might appear counter-intuitive, and certainly counter-cultural, especially when we are talking about contemporary Western culture.  "Blessed are you poor," Luke tells us (vs. 20).  (Matthew's term is "poor in spirit," which can make a difference.)  "Blessed are you who are hungry," Luke continues (vs. 21).  Where, I ask my sophomores at O'Dowd, when we are studying the Sermon on the Mount, is the blessing in being poor, or even in being poor in spirit?  What possible blessing could accrue to knowing hunger?  (We have to allow for a metaphorical understanding as well, of course, of the term hunger.)

As a means of helping my students grasp the value of the teaching, I invite them to propose the "Beatitudes" of Hollywood, of Wall Street, of Madison Avenue, of Silicon Valley, of Sacramento and DC, of Bishop O'Dowd High School.  In these sectors of contemporary American society, what values would be considered blessings?  

"Blessed are the famous," is one that my students frequently apply to Hollywood, along with blessed are the beautiful, the talented, those with good agents and so on.  "Blessed are the rich" (Wall Street); "Blessed are those who move fast and break things" (Silicon Valley); "Blessed are the powerful," (Sacramento and DC) and so on...It can be pretty lively, once the students really start talking about what is valued by whom and where, in our society.   

The principle take-away I want the students to have in their consideration of the Beatitudes is that we are blessed when we are not full of ourselves, when we are not satiated with worldly acquisitions and distractions, because when we are aware that we are missing something there is room for the operation of grace.  The good things of this world, including not just material blessings but also our personal relationships, are just that: good things.  They are rightly called blessings.  But there is a real danger that we might become complacent amid our blessings, forgetting both God and neighbor.

I always share with my sophomores the experience of my twenties, when as a talented young writer, with novels coming forward and an enthusiastic agent representing me in Manhattan, with a cushy little job at Cal that paid the rent, with my rock and roll siblings for housemates and with a cute Japanese American girlfriend who was herself an artist -- I pretty much "had it all" at twenty-five.  God was not my central focus.  In fact, God was almost nowhere on my radar.  

Then came the back-to-back break-ups with my first agent and my most serious girlfriend; then came the move to LA by my musician siblings; then came my dissatisfaction at the thought that my life at twenty-eight consisted of two unsold novels, two major break-ups, one personal, one professional, a McJob on the Berkeley campus and the spare bed in my best friend's apartment...

"Blessed is the author who just lost his agent," might have been a Beatitude written expressly for me, in my late twenties.  For through the losses, I made the most priceless discovery of my life.  I encountered Jesus as (to borrow from our brothers and sisters in the big box churches) "my personal Lord and Savior."

When I explain the Beatitudes in this way, my students gain an insight into the meaning and the reality of the teaching.  We are made for God, and in the end, no substitute will suffice.

I am still responding to birthday texts, mailed cards and gifts, speaking of blessings, this second week of February.  I think I will catch them all up, over the holiday weekend.  Which long weekend also comes as a blessing to me -- one third of the way into the semester, the extra downtime gives me a chance to stop and reflect on how my classes are going, this spring term.  

In a word, things are going swimmingly.  As I mentioned at the outset of the semester, I am teaching a new class this term, three sections of Marriage and Family.  My colleague Liz Remigio, who helped develop this course and continues to teach it, loaded all her lesson plans onto my computer, and I was off to the races from day one.   

The greatest single joy in the new class is that it is upper division, and so I have the chance to re-connect with students I taught last year or the year before, when they were sophomores.  Any student who had me as a sophomore came into this class with a definite set of expectations, and so far, at least, my students assure me those hopes are being met.  I am not really "all that" as a high school teacher, but I do relate naturally and easily to the teens, and that is where learning starts.  Especially with the super set of lesson plans Liz just GAVE me to teach from, I am confident that my students this semester are learning, and -- important to me -- learning in a relaxed and joyful environment.

Finally, I had TWO funerals the same day (Wednesday) this week.  Both were parish families but both were off-site; one at Chapel of the Chimes and one in Palo Alto.  Too much to detail, but in both instances I was a last minute "save" for the family; each family was seriously worried that they might not be able to find a priest for the service.  

As It happened, I had to get a sub for the one class I had on Wednesday, but that was okay.  Once in a while, I have a reason to need a sub.  Both families were hugely grateful, and in fact, so was I.  Not too many experiences remind a priest more of the power of priesthood than does a funeral.  You are dealing with so much: faith in the resurrection; faith in the afterlife; prayers and hopes for the well-being of the deceased; the memories and emotions of the family and the friends; your own ability to stretch yourself into the place where the mourners are, and more. 

As I say, powerful.  I experienced that power in a double-shot this Wednesday, with two of our St. Clement families, and am grateful for it.  Almost any priest will tell you that most of us would rather do a funeral than a wedding.  That may sound almost perverse, but it is a matter of remembering, actually, something very much related to the Beatitudes: where there is loss, where something (someone) is missing, there is suddenly space for and openness to the presence of God.  "Blessed are they who mourn..."

In all, the second month of this year is barreling along as brightly as did the first.  I am not quite counting my blessings this winter; but I am very consciously aware of them.

Think I'll wrap it there.

Take care.  God bless. 

Love, 

Fr. Brawn 

From Sinners to Saints: Embracing God’s Call to Holiness

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for February 9, 2025, Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Birthday Season; Bright Grey Skies

Readings for Mass this Sunday

• Isaiah 6:1-8

• Psalm 138:1-8

• 1 Corinthians 15:1-11

• Luke 5:1-11

Dear Friends and Family,

The readings for this weekend underscore the fact that God calls sinners to repentance and the unworthy to positions of trust and responsibility.  This theme, if so it might be termed, should be obvious.  All of us are sinners and none of us are worthy, in a strict usage of the term, of the work with which God may entrust us.  God's method, so to speak, is to meet us where we are and lead us forward, inviting us to develop our God-given gifts along the way. 

In the course of accepting and living out God's call, we are made, if not entirely worthy, then at least less unworthy; we advance on the path to sainthood.  God sees the work-in-progress that we are here in time and space and God also sees the shining saint, the perfected masterpiece that we are, in eternity.  Like a parent helping a toddler learn to walk, God is always there for us, however many times we might stumble.  

In the first reading, Isaiah finds himself called to prophetic service and recognizing in the holy presence of God his sinfulness, his inadequacy, Isaiah does not feel up to the call.  He in fact seems to dread the very idea of it.  He describes a ritual purification which cannot be taken literally, but which exemplifies the dynamic: accept the call and God will see to your purification through it (vss. 4-8).   

The Gospel passage likewise demonstrates this basic theme.  The tremendous catch of fish, which threatens to sink two boats, after the disciples had had their nets in the water all night and caught nothing, overwhelms Peter.  He sees it for the sign that it is -- he is favored by God, he is called, he is chosen (to use a word that is being used a lot of late given that show of the same name).  Peter feels unworthy; his feelings of unworthiness are intense.  I have always loved Peter's response to the catch, falling to his knees and begging the Lord to leave him.  Peter clearly feels, as did Isaiah, that he cannot live up to the demands of the call (vs. 8).

Jesus' gentle response tells us all we need to know, where our feelings of unworthiness are concerned.  "Do not be afraid," Jesus assures Peter.  "From now on you will be catching men" (vs. 10).  That is, this enormous, this seemingly miraculous catch of fish, which so overwhelms Peter, is almost nothing, as far as Jesus is concerned.  Peter literally has "bigger fish to fry," and Jesus assures him that God has major plans for him.

I can relate easily to the anxiety expressed by both Isaiah and Peter.  When first exploring the possibility of a call to priesthood, I told the young priest I was speaking with that I felt unworthy of priesthood.  He assured me that such a feeling was a good indicator that I was, in fact, being called.  "You cannot wait to be perfect to become a priest, Jim," he said.  "If that were the case, we would have no priests.  Rather, the preparation for priesthood and then later, priesthood itself, will purify and sanctify you.  That is the way a vocational call works.  It's the same for married couples.  Husbands and wives advance on the path to sainthood by living out their vocation to marriage; married life itself can and should be purifying and sanctifying." 

All of which underscores a distinction between classical Protestant thinking on this subject and the teaching of the Church.  I say "classical" because although the doctrinal position has not, to my knowledge, ever changed, you will find very few of our brethren in the other Christian denominations who buy into Reformation anthropology (that is, the Protestant reformers' theory of human nature).

Lutheran (and subsequent Reformation) anthropology asserts that Original Sin so vitiated human nature that we are utterly corrupted; incapable of good.  The doctrine is called total depravity.  In Luther's teaching there are no living saints; there can't be.  What enters heaven is not a human being made perfect by the long process of purification and sanctification which begins here on earth and for most of us is completed in Purgatory.  Rather, what enters heaven is a "dung heap" (Luther's own words, translated, of course, from the original German); a dung heap covered in snow.  God throws a mantle of righteousness ("snow") over us, covering our sins, rather than actually taking them away.

Five hundred years after Martin Luther, we can only speculate as to his reasons for developing such a stark anthropology, such a dismal assessment of human nature.  It was said that Luther (an Augustinian friar prior to his break with Rome) sometimes spent six hours in confession, so tortured was he by his sins; by his apparent weakness in the face of temptation.  Luther, it appears, experienced himself as utterly corrupt, and felt not just unworthy of his religious call, but incapable of living it.   

Luther offers a striking contrast to Isaiah and Peter, who, also acknowledging their sinfulness, nonetheless open themselves to the operation of grace, allowing themselves to move along the path of gradual purification and sanctity; the path to sainthood.  

In fact, almost any Protestant believer you talk with is going to tell you that they believe human beings are capable of doing good, and that we can and do advance in holiness, if we want to.  But the strict theology, based on Lutheran understandings of human nature, is that we are exempt from doing good works above all because we cannot do them.  We are totally depraved.  This is why evangelical Christians will talk about accepting the free gift of salvation -- why they will tell you they know they are "saved."  They are certain of heaven, because -- strictly speaking, in their theology -- they do not have to do anything to earn it.  

The Church does not teach that we can "earn" heaven, either -- salvation is by grace.  But grace does not just save; it empowers.  It empowers in numerous ways but two of them are bedrock understandings of Catholic teaching.  One, grace empowers us to do good works.  According to Scripture itself (which should matter to folks who say that Scripture alone is our guide) faith without works "is dead" (Letter of James 2:14-26).  A living faith is going to show itself in good works; it is going to produce good fruit (Matthew 7:16).   

Two, grace empowers us to fight against our fallen nature, to fight against it and to achieve victories over it.  Grace empowers the development within us of the virtues which make war on our sinful inclinations.  This is what is meant by Matthew 11:12: "The kingdom of heaven is taken by force and the violent bear it away."  We don't get to heaven content to wallow in sin, excusing ourselves with the false notion that we were born depraved and there is nothing we can do about it.  St. Paul repeatedly admits his own struggle with sin; he is anything but complacent about it (2 Corinthians 12:7-10). 

This topic demands and deserves a more thorough treatment, but as this is a Sunday homily and not a chapter in a book, I am going to leave off with it here; I feel I have driven home my basic point.  Put in a maxim I rather admire: God does not call the qualified.  God qualifies the called. 

I have spent quite a bit of time the past ten days responding to texts, e-mails and mailed cards, wishing me a happy birthday.  I am still getting the texts answered; will have responded to all of them before this weekend is out.  There were almost 300 texts alone.  I still have a Facebook account but am never on it -- I do remember receiving 400 and more birthday greetings on Messenger, back in the days when I was active on FB.  If people have sent messages to me via Messenger -- my thanks.  

Two weeks after the day itself, I have birthday celebrations stretching ahead into the second half of the month, including a family brunch at the home of one of my nieces President's Day weekend.  I joke with friends that late January and the entire month of February constitute "the season of Father Jim's birthday."  I really do appreciate the love -- and talk about feeling unworthy!  In any event, I want to acknowledge all the beautiful messages of affection, encouragement and support.  There are several reasons why February is my favorite month; this is one of them.

Speaking of my favorite month.  Thanking the Lord for the wonderful grey skies this week, for the heavy winds and sheeting rain.  After a January that might have been borrowed from Palm Desert, this month's storms are more than welcome.  As I am finishing this e-mail, Friday morning in the rectory (heading to campus in another hour or so; I teach afternoons, this semester) there are bright and billowy clouds above the green hills of Hayward; bright and billowy clouds in several shades of grey.  The sight is as pretty as it is reassuring.  Thank you, Lord, for seeing to California's perpetual thirst!

Gonna wrap it here.  Hope this finds you well and thriving.  Hope that 2025 is off to a good start for you.  It is, actually, off to the best start of any year for me since before COVID.  Just another reason to sing thanks and praise to our loving and merciful God, whose graces abound.

Take care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn

Candlemas: The True End of Christmas and the Beginning of Christ’s Ministry

Readings and Virtual Homily for February 2, 2025, Feast of the Presentation of the Lord; Retreat Season at O'Dowd; Seems it Never Rains in Southern California; The Acacias and the Tulip Trees Are Making Me Smile; February Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday

• Malachi 3:1-4

• Psalm 24:7-10

• Hebrews 2:14-18

• Luke 2:22-40

Dear Friends and Family,

We are celebrating the Feast of the Presentation this Sunday.  This feast, also known as Candlemas, is the traditional (in Fr. Jim's view, the REAL) end to the Christmas season.  Though the Presentation is an event from Jesus' infancy, the readings look to his ministry and beyond; they describe the future Messiah.

The passage from Malachi is actually one of the Old Testament prophecies of John the Baptist, as well as of Jesus.  Malachi predicts the "messenger" who will precede the Messiah, and describes John and his ministry in terms with which we are familiar.  "I am sending my messenger -- he will prepare the way before me" (vs. 1).  

Malachi goes on to describe the Messiah with stark and powerful imagery.  "Who can endure the day of his coming?  Who can stand firm when he appears?  For he will be like a refiner's fire, like fullers' lye" (vs. 2).  Though Malachi directly connects this imagery with the purification of the priesthood and the Messiah's earthly mission, it might also be related to end-times images of Jesus, such as some of those found in the Book of Revelation: Jesus as Judge.

Psalm 24 hails the Messiah in majestic and military terms.  "Lift up your heads, O gates, be lifted, you ancient portals, that the king of glory may enter" (vs 7).  "The Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord, mighty in war...the Lord of hosts, he is the king of glory" (vss. 8, 10).  This striking imagery might be understood to depict Jesus in his heavenly glory.  It is, at the least, post-Resurrection imagery; it is imagery of Christ victorious, Christ triumphant, Christ the conquering king.

And while the passage from the Letter to the Hebrews fully and very deliberately assures us of Jesus' humanity, it at the same time reminds us of Jesus' cosmic powers.  Jesus is described as the one who enters into death precisely to destroy death itself, to gain victory over the powers of hell and so liberate the human race (vss. 14). 

The Gospel scene of the Presentation itself is, as I say, a part of Luke's infancy narrative, this event happens when Jesus is forty days old.  But here, too, the emphasis is on the future saving work, the ministry of the Messiah.  Both of the elderly prophets Luke identifies speak of the baby Jesus in terms of future glory.  Simeon describes Jesus as "a light for revelation to the Gentiles and glory for your people Israel" (vs. 32).  Simeon continues, "this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted" (vs. 34).  The prophetess Anna, too, "gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem" (vs. 38).

Powerful images of Jesus, as Judge, as King, as Conqueror, as Messiah, in today's readings, when we celebrate the Presentation of the baby Jesus in the Temple. 

I am wrapping this homily up on Wednesday, because Thursday and Friday I am away at San Damiano in Danville, with the first (of two) sophomore retreats.  This is the second retreat we have had since the start of the semester, just over three weeks ago.  The first, last week, was the first (of two) senior class retreats.  Both the senior and the sophomore retreats are overnight, two full days for all of us on the retreat, away from campus.  A major fan of San Damiano (if you have not visited it, and you live in the Bay Area, I can and do recommend it highly as a retreat venue) and still being a youth minister at heart, I have zero problem, with back-to-back retreats this month, with our seniors and our sophomores.  

It does complicate lesson plans, of course, as I have to figure out what to give the students that they can do on their own, under the supervision of a substitute teacher (quite often one of our own faculty, whom the students know).  And this business has only grown in complexity over the decade that I have been at the high school.  I mentioned that each of this month's retreats was the first of two.  Time was, before COVID, when we offered just one sophomore and one senior retreat.  Plus three Kairos (junior year, and three-day) retreats.   

Over the last several years our retreat program has expanded to include two each, sophomore and senior retreats, and four Kairos retreats, two in the fall and two in the spring.  Do the math on the days that I am away from my students in class and it becomes...challenging.

I am aided this semester in that I am practically team teaching with a colleague, given that I have a brand new class this semester (Marriage and Family, rather than my typical Christian Scriptures).  I am also assisted by the maturity of my students this semester.  As I mentioned an e-mail or two back, I am accustomed to teaching sophomores; this semester I have an upper division class (all three of my sections are Marriage and Family) and so am teaching juniors and seniors, many of whom had me as their sophomore Christian Scriptures teacher.  There has been an easy bond between me and my students these first few weeks of class; that has also helped.  In any event, so far so good, holding the two sets of responsibilities, retreat work and classroom teaching, in balance.

Well, as of course you are aware, the rains came to southern California, just as predicted, and thank and praise the Lord, the fires have been vanquished.  I am still a little at a loss to know where this precipitation came from, as we got precious little of it here in the Bay Area, even as it was pouring, at times, in LA.  In the end, who cares?  The rain came, the fires are out, there appears to have been minimal mudslide activity...God be praised. 

I am seeing rain in the north state forecast, once again, this weekend and next week, and glad of it.  This has been one bone-dry January.  Hoping the predicted storms bring a lot of snow to the Sierra; we are in need of same, after such a dry mid-to-late winter.   

On the subject of late winter...I had the morning Mass here in the parish, last Saturday, January 25, my birthday.  As I was crossing through the rectory garden after Mass I happened to look up and see, beyond our gate, a stand of mimosa (acacia) trees that I have loved since first arriving here in Hayward, in 2015.  The trees were, all of a sudden, it seemed, in bright, in eye-popping yellow bloom.  I took it as a birthday grace, and remembering my homily of a couple weeks ago, about how graces are flowing in abundance in our day, I gave thanks and praise to the Lord for the unexpected beauty that morning.  

Driving in to campus each morning I am seeing all kinds of blossoming trees, some the white-flowering species I mentioned a couple weeks ago, some pink, and some -- like the tulip trees -- a combination of both colors.  There is a veritable corridor of acacias just before I reach campus -- they are already bright with blooms but will be brilliant, by mid-February, a cascade of shimmering yellow.  I smile, when I see them; that is, I smile each morning, as I near campus.  That's a grace, as well.

Important, I think, to give thanks now and then, for every-day blessings.  California's winter-flowering trees make that list, in my book! 

Take care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn

Mass Schedule for February:

• Saturday, Feb. 8

• 5 PM (English)

• Sunday, Feb. 9

• 620 PM (English)

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON/Seton Campus

• 11 AM (English)

• Sunday, February 16
  8 AM, 1115 AM (both English) 

• Saturday, February 22
  5 PM (English)

• Sunday, February 23
  630 PM (English)

Weekday Masses (English except where noted)

• Mon, Feb. 3, 8 AM; Tue, Feb. 4, 8 AM; Fri, Feb 7, 8 AM;

• Fri. Feb. 7, 7 PM (Spanish); Mon, Feb. 10, 8 AM; Tue, Feb. 11, 8 AM; 

• Tue, Feb. 11, 7 PM; Fri, Feb. 14, 8 AM; Mon, Feb. 17, 8 AM; 

• Sat, Feb. 22, 8 AM; Mon, Feb. 24, 8 AM; Tue, Feb. 25, 8 AM;

• Sat., March 1, 8 AM

Understanding God's Gifts: Called and Gifted in Christian Life

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for January 26, 2025, Third Sunday of Ordinary Time; Fire in LA; Snow in New Orleans 

Readings for Mass this Sunday

• Nehemiah 8:2-6, 8-10

• Psalm 19:8-10, 15

• 1 Corinthians 12:12-30

• Luke 1:1-4; 4:14-21 

Dear Friends and Family,

The first reading and the Gospel passage today continue the theme of abundant graces in play which we looked at last week.  Rather than try to find new ways to talk about a "year of favor from the Lord" (today's passage from Luke) with this homily, I want to zero in on the twelfth chapter of the First Letter to the Corinthians, in which Paul continues with the theme of last week's passage, the theme that the Spirit gives gifts to all believers.  

After a fairly extensive metaphor in which Paul compares the workings of the Christian community to the workings of the human body -- each part with its own function and importance, but all parts together necessary for the body to function -- the apostle then lists various giftings, or charisms from the Spirit to individual believers.  Paul lists numerous sets of skills and abilities entrusted to members of the community, from those called to be apostles, prophets and teachers to those whose gifts vary from administration to speaking in tongues (vss. 28-30).  

In our time, the Church has utilized a variety of methods to help priests, parish staff, lay leaders and volunteers understand and deploy their gifts and abilities, two of which, the Gallup-based Strength Finders battery and the Siena Institute's Called and Gifted workshops, I have taken.   

Both of these assessments employ a "forced choice" method of discernment; that is, the person taking the "test" identifies one priority over another over a very wide range of choices, until an eventual pattern appears.  This method is utilized in a number of standard personality and character-strengths batteries such as the Minnesota Multi-Phasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), the Miller Analogies Test and the Edwards Personal Preference Test.  

I had to take a couple of these inventories as an undergrad at Berkeley, being an RA, that is, a member of the staff in the dorms.  The Housing Office brass wanted us RAs (the initials stand for Resident Assistant) to know our strengths and weaknesses, with regard to being in a position of authority over 200 students living in our particular dorm.  There were, at that time, four RAs per dorm, and the hope was that among the four of us most of the strengths would be represented, so that a fair and easy administration of Housing Office policy might naturally emerge.  Gifts distributed, in other words, for the overall benefit and functioning of the community.

Twenty years after my time at Cal, as a member of a parish staff, not yet a priest, I twice in five years attended a Called and Gifted Workshop, developed by the Siena Institute (a Catholic organization dedicated to, among other things, helping to develop leadership among the laity).  The "test" (assessment is a better word) administered during these workshops identified some core elements in my own future discipleship, including a likely charism for celibacy and a deep capacity for evangelization (that is, teaching and exemplifying the faith).  

Later, as a seminarian, I underwent a series of psychological assessments, including the MMPI and the Meyers-Briggs battery -- which told me I was an artist as well as a likely evangelist.  My priestly formators (that is, the men and women charged with seeing to my progress toward ordination) were very respectful of the fact that the "tests" were consistently telling them that, in Brawn Sullivan, they had an artist on their hands; a writer, independent and inclined to think for himself.  These understandings assisted my mentors in assisting me, on the path toward ordination, which path, after all, requires some real submission to outside authority.  Independent thinking is all well and good, insofar as it goes.  The understandings of a properly formed conscience, and an intuitive respect for magisterial authority, can serve to temper and guide this strength toward productive ends.  

Finally, as a priest in the parishes, back twelve, fifteen years ago, I twice took, along with the entire parish staff, the Gallup Strength Finders assessment -- a specifically Catholic version of which had been developed, precisely to help priests and parish staff identify their greatest strengths.  Too much to detail here, but both times that I took the Strength Finders assessment, I came up not just "strategic" but doubly so -- that is, on two different measures both times that I took this assessment, I was revealed to be, above all, a strategic thinker.  

I remember being blown away by this, the first time it happened (at Our Lady of Guadalupe in Fremont, maybe 2010).  I saw the word "strategic" and just drew a blank.  I knew what some of the other strengths were -- empathic, encouraging, empowering, evangelizing -- and I had assumed that one of them would prove to be my deepest strength.  I was very surprised to see the word "strategic" uppermost in my assessment summary.

Then I read what this strength entails.  And well, shut my mouth, as the saying goes...I was nailed to the wall.  The description fit me like a glove.  I remember smiling, when I read the description of the person whose deepest strength is strategic thinking.  It described me to the "t" and going back to my late teens.   

All of which is just to say that all of us are, indeed, called and gifted.  And the order of the words there, called and gifted, is often the way the process works.  You experience the call (and respond) and THEN you are gifted.  Gifted with the capacity to fulfill the demands of that particular set of responsibilities, from being a director of a parish program to being a good parent.  Called -- into a certain place and position of responsibility -- and then, once we have accepted the call, gifted to succeed at it.

It can work the other way as well, of course.  We might well intuit a particular gift or ability and seek its development on our own -- that describes me and my writing.  But anything at all related to my work for the Church, from being Confirmation teacher, to becoming youth minister, to seminary to priesthood and now to the chaplaincy at Bishop O'Dowd -- all of that followed the called first, gifted as I went, pattern.  The point is that we may not guess what we are capable of -- but God knows what we can do, maybe it is better to say what the Spirit can do through us, when we cooperate with grace.  

Well it is going on midnight Thursday, the 23, as I am wrapping this and as of late this afternoon the Eaton and Palisades fires are still not fully contained; meanwhile a new blaze near Santa Clarita has burned ten thousand acres.  At the same time, New Orleans got ten inches of snow Tuesday, the most in 130 years.  (I was surprised, actually, to read that New Orleans had EVER before recorded so much snow.)  That is two and one half times as much snow in one day as has fallen in Anchorage so far this winter.  (I guess southern Alaska is also enduring drought conditions.)  Reading about children using pool floats (blow ups of swans and dolphins, for instance) to sled down snowy inclines in Pensacola lent a lighter touch to my perusal of the weather news out of the Deep South, but it underscored the plight of our neighbors in the south state, where, finally rain is in the forecast. 

I do not know where this rain is coming from since there is none in the Northern California forecasts, neither here in the Bay Area nor in the Sacramento Valley.  But rain is rain and I am sure that at this point Angelenos will take it anyway they can get it.  It does not look like a lot -- which is itself a mercy as drenching rain at this point would trigger mudslides in all the burn areas.  We are nearing the end, meanwhile, here in the north state, of one of the driest Januarys on record.  Thank God for our very wet start to the rainy season -- it is startling to think that without that good wet start, we could be dealing with wildfires here.

So my prayer for rain as January moves toward its end includes the whole state, at this point, and while I am at it, I will pray for snow in Anchorage and for a thaw and a return to normal winter weather across the eastern two thirds of the country.  What a wild start to 2025.  

We have been exceptionally blessed here in the Bay Area, to be spared any part of it.

Take care.  God bless.  

Love,

Fr. Brawn

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