April 27, 2025: Celebrating Divine Mercy and Remembering Pope Francis

Readings and Virtual Homily for April 27, 2025, Second Sunday of Easter; Thinking About Pope Francis

Readings for Mass, April 27, Second Sunday of Easter:

• Acts of the Apostles 5:12-16

• Psalm 118:2-4, 13-15. 22-24

• Rev, 1:9-13, 17-19

• John 20:19-31

Dear Friends and Family,

The Second Sunday of Easter has been, since sometime in the reign of JP 2, also known as Divine Mercy Sunday.  Not surprisingly, this week's readings focus on and underscore the mercy of God.  Rather than try to synthesize some grand homiletic ambition with these readings, I am just going to take each in turn, letting it speak to us in its own fashion, about this attribute of the Divine Being -- the attribute of mercy.

The first reading from Acts of the Apostles gives vibrant testimony to the mercy of God in its description of the cures and healings which abounded in the time of the apostles and the founding of the Church.  This outpouring of the Spirit among the disciples resulted in "great numbers of men and women" becoming Christian (vs. 14); that is to say the mercy of the Lord, in working so many miracles of healing, built up the early Church.  

The psalm is going to sound a lot like Easter Sunday's psalm because it is, once again Psalm 118.  Not only the same psalm as was read at Easter, but even some of the same verses.  The passage this week begins with an affirmation of God's merciful love, 

"Give thanks to the Lord for he is good; his mercy endures forever.  Let Israel say: his mercy endures forever.  Let the house of Aaron say: his mercy endures forever.  Let those who fear the Lord say: his mercy endures forever" (vss. 1-4).

Folks sometimes say to me that God as described in the Old Testament (the Hebrew Scriptures) is a God of vengeance and punishment.  They usually add that they cannot relate to such a description of God.  I typically answer that passages in the Old Testament which so depict God should be carefully interpreted.  In fact, the Hebrew Scriptures give abundant evidence of the Jewish faith in a God of love, of forgiveness, of abundant mercy; mercy which, indeed, "endures forever."  Psalm 118 is a good example of this understanding.  

The passage from Revelation, describing in part John's vision of the heavenly Messiah, suggests Jesus' mercy, even though John is so struck by the vision that "I fell down at his feet as though dead" (vs. 17).  John goes on to assure us that Jesus "touched me with his right hand and said. 'Do not be afraid.  I am the first and the last, the one who lives.  Once I was dead, but now I am alive forever and ever'" (vss. 17-18).  

The image of the Messiah John encounters is one of great power; this is significant as to be merciful, one must have some degree of power.  Mercy derives from a loving power -- or powerful love, if you prefer.  Jesus assures John he has the power to show mercy; he assures John as well that "I hold the keys to death and the netherworld" (vs. 18).  As he holds these keys, Jesus has the power to deliver us from death and the netherworld.  He died to bring about that deliverance; we should trust in his mercy.

Finally the Gospel passage from John is the "proof text" of the Scriptural basis of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  It is Easter Sunday evening and the disciples (except Thomas, evidently) are gathered at the big house in Jerusalem.  We know from last week's passage from Luke that the two disciples who had encountered Jesus on the road to Emmaus had just returned, breathless, to the gathered community, and that as they were telling their story, Jesus appeared in their midst (Luke 24:33-36).  Mark also attests to the Easter Sunday evening appearance of Jesus to the gathered disciples (Mark 16:14).

Only John includes the rather significant detail that Jesus breathes upon the apostles and says "Receive the Holy Spirit, whose sins you forgive are forgiven them; whose sins you retain are retained" (vss. 22-23).  The Catholic and Orthodox churches understand that this power, the power to forgive sin, is a component of ordained priesthood.  As with all other priestly powers it is passed down through the generations by the Apostolic Succession, guaranteed by the unbroken line of bishops going back to the apostles themselves, on whom this power was first conferred,

If that last paragraph seems like a theological mouthful, that would be because it IS a theological, an ecclesiological, a sacramental mouthful.  Books have been written on the Apostolic Succession; academic careers built up on it.  The point I want to make is that Catholic and Orthodox understanding of this passage is that the power to forgive sin is an extension of Jesus' priestly ministry throughout the ages, and Jesus himself conferred this power upon his priests.

The Protestants, of course, have a different interpretation.  What I have most often heard in terms of the Protestant understanding of this passage is that the power was granted to the apostles only and that this aspect of Jesus' ministry died when they did.  That is, the forgiveness of sin by men ceased with the apostolic age.  You have probably heard Protestant Christians say that they have no need of a priest -- they confess directly to God.  Our reply is largely outlined above.  I will add that, in nineteen years as a priest, I have seen the floodgate of graces that accompanies sacramental confession.  I have been witness, countless times, to the mercy of God, in this sacrament.  And I have, of course, in my own confessions, been the recipient of that mercy myself.  

I do not want to take more time with this, because this homily is long enough, but I want to close in pointing this out: The Sacrament of Reconciliation is itself the very embodiment of God's mercy.  It is the reason Jesus hung on the cross: to forgive our sins.  The Sacrament of Reconciliation is God's mercy made manifest.  It is that mercy which we celebrate today.  

I woke up Monday morning around 720, ahead of my alarm, set, as always when I have the parish morning Mass, for 730.  As (almost) always, I reached over for my iPhone, turned off the alarm and took a quick look at my messages, texts first, e-mails second.  Not too many come in over the course of the night, but this all the same is how I tend to start my day.

I was surprised at the number of texts, which I looked at first.  And then I was really surprised, as I began to read the texts.  The Pope had died just a few hours earlier.  A dozen or more of my friends had sent me the news by the time I woke at 720.  By the time I came back up into my rooms after the Mass, at about 840, there were several dozen texts and maybe fifteen e-mails; friends and parishioners wanting to make sure I knew that Francis had died.  The tone of several, more than several, quite a few of these texts and e-mails, was one of condolence.  Shock, yes; everyone I think, felt that.  But many of my friends and acquaintances were trying to console me on the death of our Pope, almost as if I had known Francis personally.

I really appreciated that.  I appreciated, as well, the shock and sadness of my parishioners at the morning Mass Monday.  All of us had seen the bright and joyful photos and video out of Rome only the previous day: Francis in the Popemobile, greeting the Easter Sunday crowd in St. Peter's Square.  Most of us were aware that he had met with J. D. Vance Sunday afternoon, as well.  It had seemed that Francis was beginning to resume some aspects of his regular schedule; it had seemed that he was better.  

I never met Francis, but I saw him several times up close, at World Youth Day in Rio de Janeiro, in July, 2013.  This was just months after his election to the papacy.  I remember being in the long long line of us, I mean a line that stretched three or four miles, Catholic leaders, lay and clerical, and so many, many teens and twentysomethings, standing eight or ten deep on each side of the broad promenade along Copacabana Beach, as the Popemobile, open to the beach breezes and the crowd, came into view.  I remember how Francis would have the little vehicle stop, whenever he saw someone in a wheelchair -- and it happened every evening and several times.  He would have the vehicle stop; he would get out and walk over to the person in the wheelchair; he would embrace that person.  You could see that it drove his security team frantic, God bless them.  I mean, I got and get their concern.  Anyone with assassination on his/her mind might have pulled up to the front of the crowd in a wheelchair and been hiding a revolver under their blanket...

Nonetheless, Francis stopped the motorcade repeatedly, each evening, there in the blue-grey tropical twilight of Copacabana; he insisted on embracing anyone who had made it to the promenade in a wheelchair.  He also kissed a lot of babies, who were put forward to him again and again and again.  And again and again and again.  

That is really my only personal memory of Francis. Though I at various times during his papacy talked of leading an Italian pilgrimage, where we could see him in the general audience on Wednesdays in St. Peter's Square, for one reason and another, I never did lead that hypothesized pilgrimage.  

I admired Francis for his love of Mother Mary (he honored her at every single Mass).  I loved his outreach to leaders of other faiths, especially his outreach to the Muslims, among whose leaders he counted several good friends.  I loved his admonitions to bishops and priests that we be real shepherds to the flock; I love that he had no tolerance for "airport bishops," that is, bishops who were always jetting off somewhere for some important set of meetings with other high-ranking clergy, rather than being with their people in their dioceses.  On the subject of today's homily, I loved his insistence that we priests make manifest to the people in the confessional the mercy of God.  I loved his emphasis on the need to take Matthew 25 seriously: "I was hungry...thirsty...naked... a stranger...ill...imprisoned."

The Good News, really, is pretty basic, pretty simple, pretty direct.  Francis got that, and he put that understanding into practice in a way that changed the way a lot of the world, the non-Catholic world, I mean, views the Church.   He didn't just theorize about evangelization.  He lived it.  And the world took notice.

The Good News, after all, IS GOOD NEWS.  It is joyful, not angry.  It is hopeful, not fearful.  It is generous, not mean-spirited.  It is understanding, not condemnatory.  It is humble, not self-righteous.  It is loving, not hateful.  And it is for everyone, not just the fortunate few.  

Francis got that.  Francis lived that.  And the world, as I say, was engaged.  I am talking here about literally hundreds of friends, acquaintances and family members.  People who never gave the Catholic Church a second  thought; dismissed it out of hand as, at best, irrelevant, at worst, arrogant and hateful.  I am talking about people out there in contemporary culture, un-evangelized, who took a moment to take second look at Francis.  He gave them reason to consider whether there just might be something in this whole "Christian message thing." 

Jesus shocked the Pharisees.  "This man eats with sinners," the self-righteous leaders of first-century Judaism said, in objecting to Jesus (Luke 15:2).  It never seemed to occur to the Pharisees that the same would have been true, when Jesus ate with them.  But though Jesus shocked and enraged the self-satisfied and (to their minds) holy ones of Israel, he attracted those who needed what he had to offer.  

So did Francis.  I am grateful to him for that.  A lot of the non-Catholic world is grateful to Francis, for that.  In my view, Francis' papacy was Evangelization 101.

May he rest in peace.  In peace and more.  In joy, in light and gratitude, amid graces abounding.  May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God -- which we celebrate today -- rest in peace, rest in joy.

That'll do it for this one.  Take care.  God bless.  A bright and joyful Easter Season to you.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Easter Sunday Homily 2025: The Road to Emmaus and the Joy of Resurrection

Readings and Virtual Homily for April 20, 2025, Easter Sunday; The Basic Dynamic

Readings for Easter Sunday Masses:

• Acts of the Apostles 10:34, 37-43

• Psalm 118:1-2, 16-17, 22-23

• Colossians 3:1-4 

• or 1 Corinthians 5:6-8

• John 20:1-9

• or Luke 24:1-12

• or Luke 24:13-35

Dear Friends and Family,

Depending on which Mass you attend this weekend, you will hear some combination of the above readings.  All of them, of course, enunciate the joy and the wonder of the Resurrection.  I'll look briefly at the first reading and the psalm, as they are common to all Masses this Easter.  Then I will go to the last of the Gospel options, in part because I have the evening Mass this Sunday, and that will be the Gospel I preach on.

In the passage from Acts of the Apostles, Peter and other disciples witness the descent of the Holy Spirit upon Cornelius, a Roman official, and his household.  This event, astonishing to the disciples, opens Peter's heart and mind to the great realization that in Jesus, God has acted not just on behalf of the Jews, but for all peoples at all times.  "In truth," Peter says, "I see that God shows no partiality" (vs. 34) adding that those who seek God in "every nation"  are acceptable to him (vs. 35, and not among the verses in today's passage).  

This realization is huge; it opens the way for the proselytization and conversion of the Gentiles, with which much of the rest of the book of Acts concerns itself.  It can be surprising to us, twenty-first century believers living in a land not yet known to exist by the apostles, that Peter and the others at first thought Jesus' message was only for the Jews.  That is, that they thought their mission was the conversion of Israel; after that, they might concern themselves with the conversion of the world.  Rather, it was the Gentiles who flocked to the Good News at the preaching of Paul, Barnabas and others; it was the Gentiles -- our ancestors -- who came to make up the infant Church.

Psalm 118 is almost ebullient in its joy.  It briefly describes the difficult path of the Messiah and then resonates with praise and thanksgiving to God.  Verse 22 is the famous line, "The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone."  This line reflects the future conversion of the Gentiles -- Jesus, rejected by his own people, becomes the cornerstone of the faith of the nations.  "By the Lord has this been done," the psalm continues.  "It is wonderful in our eyes" (vs. 23).  The passage today concludes with the very Easter-ish acclamation, "This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" (vs. 24).

The morning-Mass Gospels today, of course, recount the story of Mary Magdalen at the empty tomb.  Luke's Gospel (for an afternoon or evening Mass) is the story of the two disciples on the Road to Emmaus. I have preached and written before on this passage and at some length.  What I want to say here about it is to reiterate my conviction that these two disciples are the uncle and the aunt of Jesus, they are Clopas (whom Luke names; the translation sometimes is Cleopas or Cleofas) and his wife, Mary.

Mary is the "sister" of the Blessed Virgin Mary (that is, she is likely the sister of St. Joseph, hence, the Virgin's sister-in-law, and Jesus' aunt; we read this in John 19:25).  We know from Mark's Gospel that Mary was the mother of an apostle (she is described among the women at the tomb as "Mary, the mother of James," Mark 16:1).  Mary, wife of Clopas, mother of James and aunt of Jesus is a very significant disciple -- and not just because of her family connections.

As mentioned above, Luke names only Clopas (Cleopas, Cleofas) in his account of the two disciples who encounter Jesus on the road to Emmaus.  The second disciple is not named and does not speak.  Given standard attitudes of the time and place, these two facts by themselves argue for the disciple being a woman.  But so does the fact that the two disciples live together.  They reach their home in Emmaus as it is getting toward dusk and they invite Jesus, whom they do not yet recognize, to stay with them (vs. 29).  

Yet another reason to believe that the second disciple is Mary, Jesus' aunt, is that, clearly, these disciples were important: Jesus comes after them, after they have left the community gathered at the house in Jerusalem.  What is more, Luke tells us at the outset of the passage that the two of them were "conversing and debating" the things that had happened the past three days (vs. 15).  If the second disciple is indeed Jesus' Aunt Mary, you may imagine there was a debate taking place.

Mary: "I am telling you, he is risen.  I saw him with my own eyes.  So did the other women.  You heard the testimony of Mary of Magdala, of Joanna, of Salome."

Clopas: "Female hysteria, my dear.  Entirely understandable and no one judges any of you for it.  This has been very hard on all of us."

Mary: "Our nephew is alive.  He IS the Messiah.  God has raised him.  You will see."

Clopas: "I know how distraught you are, dear."

Mary: "We should not have left Jerusalem.  He said his brothers will see him."

Clopas: (Sighing) "Yes, dear.  Yes, yes."

In any event, we all know how THAT debate was resolved.  One of the details that I love in the passage is that, once at table in the house, it is in the breaking of the bread that Clopas and Mary recognize Jesus (vss. 30-31).  Another detail I love is that, though it is getting toward sunset, Mary and Clopas race back to the community, gathered, most likely, at Joanna's home in the city, as Joanna was wealthy and her home would have been large.  

This is just beyond today's passage, but as they reach the other disciples and start to tell their story, there, "in their midst" Jesus suddenly appears.  "While they were still speaking" of their encounter with him, Luke tells us, Jesus appears (vss. 36-37).  This time everyone sees him (except Thomas, evidently); the doubts and the skepticism of the male apostles are laid to rest.

I always want to add -- so, when Jesus broke the bread, and they recognized him, and he disappeared...Do you think Mary looked at Clopas and said, "I told you so"?

It would be remiss of me not to add this, before wrapping this one.  As you know from e-mails sent a year and more ago, I came through two very hard and sad, deeply challenging and difficult years, 2022, 2023.  I in fact "honor" 2023 by placing it in the company of 1984 and 2002.  2023 was one of the three hardest years of my life.  

Even in the midst of it, I knew that "this, too, shall pass."  I had the experience, if nothing else, of 1984 and 2002, to look back on.  1985 was one of the most joyful years of my life; a real Resurrection year.  And several years which followed 2002 were also filled with blessings, the greatest of these, of course, being my ordination in 2006.

Well, 2025 is a Resurrection year for me, following the deep sadness and steep difficulties of 2022 and especially 2023.  As I have mentioned previously, last year was a year of tangible graces, a year of rest, recovery and restoration.  But 2025 is different.  The graces are more than just tangible.  They are shot through with light and joy -- they run a metaphorical parallel for the basic Christian understanding of life, the basic dynamic of darkness followed by dawn.  

Crucifixions are followed by Resurrections.  The desert gives way, sooner or later, to the Promised Land.  I held on in a sometimes gritted-teeth sort of way, throughout 2023, sometimes saying outright to the Lord, "I do not know why you have permitted this, but I do know that nothing bad happens but that you don't bring good out of it.  Can't get to the good fast enough here, Lord."  

This year, the Lord is showering "the good" upon me.  I'll report further, I imagine, on this year's joys in future e-mails.  This one needs to wrap here, as it is 430 Good Friday afternoon, and I have the 5 PM service!

Take good care.  God bless.

A bright and joyful Easter to you.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Palm Sunday 2025: Exploring the Depths of Jesus' Sacrifice

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily, April 13, 2025, Palm Sunday; Two Weeks Off; Beginning to Feel it -- the Class of 2025 is Getting Ready to Leave

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Processional Gospel: Luke 19:28-40

• Isaiah 50:4-7

• Psalm 22:8-9, 17-20

• Philippians 2:6-11

• Luke 22:14-23:56

Dear Friends and Family,

This Sunday's readings are, of course, all related to the Passion.  

The Processional Gospel (the Gospel passage read before the start of Mass) is Luke's account of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the event we commemorate this Sunday.  All four Gospels attest to the rock-star-like reception Jesus received, John specifically tying it to the raising of Lazarus, which had likely happened just days, maybe a week or two, earlier (John 12:9-11).  In any event, the readings within the Mass proper all focus on the suffering of Jesus.

Isaiah starts with the observation that "The Lord has given me a well-trained tongue...I have not rebelled, I have not turned back" (vss. 4-5).  Jesus' silence in his Passion was one of his weapons, as was his obedience.  To defeat the powers of Hell, Jesus employed weapons about which they knew little.  

"I gave my back to those who beat me," Isaiah continues, "my cheeks to those who plucked my beard; my face I did not shield from buffets and spitting" (vs. 6).  These are direct predictions, clearly, of the suffering, both physical and emotional, of Jesus on that first Good Friday.  "The Lord God is my help," the passage goes on, "therefore I am not disgraced; I have set my face like flint, knowing I shall not be put to shame" (vs. 7).  Luke quotes this passage (Luke 9:51), describing Jesus, as he makes his way to Jerusalem, resolute in his determination to fulfill his mission.

Jesus quotes Psalm 22 from the cross.  "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" (vs. 1).  Psalm 22 IS the crucifixion reported from the inside, so to speak, as though the psalmist were experiencing it himself. "All who see me mock me," the psalmist writes.  "They curl their lips and jeer...'He relied on the Lord, let him deliver him" (vss. 8-9).  In striking and graphic terms, the psalmist continues, "They have pierced my hands and my feet; I can count all my bones" (vss. 17-18).  With pin-point prophetic accuracy, the psalmist declares, "They divide my garments among them; for my vesture they cast lots" (vs. 19).  

Psalm 22 does "turn around," of course.  The last third of the psalm is a paean of joy and thanksgiving to God; after having given this astonishingly accurate account of the crucifixion, the psalmist foresees the joy of the Resurrection.  The final verses in today's passage reflect this bright reality.    

The second reading is a testament to high Christology (that is, reminding us that Jesus is God) while at the same time reminding us that Jesus is also fully human.  He "emptied himself, taking the form of a slave...becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross" (vss. 7-8).  

The first reading expresses the Messiah's certainty that he will not be put to shame; the psalm emphasizes the great joy which follows the crucifixion; the second reading likewise informs us that, because of Jesus' sacrifice, "God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend...and every tongue proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord" (vss. 9-11).  All three readings, in other words, underscore the basic Christian understanding, the dynamic that resurrection follows crucifixion, that after the desert comes the promised land.  All three encourage us to hold on in hope, even in the darkest moments.

Luke's Passion Narrative, as is the case with those of the other three Gospels, speaks eloquently for itself.  It starts with the Last Supper and proceeds through to Jesus' death.  Luke alone gives us the details of Jesus' sweat of blood in the garden (22:44), of Herod attempting to interrogate Jesus (23:6-12), of the weeping women of Jerusalem (23:27-31), the Good Thief (23:39-43) and Jesus' prayer for his executioners, "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do" (23:34).

I have, as most of you are aware, never tried to preach on Palm Sunday; never tried to preach on Good Friday.  The Passion narratives are not going to be "deepened" or "made relevant" or "improved" by anything any preacher might try to add.  

But while I feel I can add nothing to the accounts of the Lord's suffering, I can maybe provide something of value in offering a limited analysis of why God chose to save us in this way.  Because theologians argue that God might have saved us with a word of forgiveness in the Garden of Eden: "Hey, the serpent was smarter than you.  You should not have listened to him.  Don't do it again.  Too late to get your innocence back, but I can forgive the offense and move you forward regardless."

God did not so choose to save us.  There may be many reasons for this fact; here are three I think worthy of our reflection. 

One, Jesus shows us in "becoming sin for us" (to quote St. Paul, 2 Corinthians 5:21) how ugly sin is; how deeply it mars the divine image in us.  The wounds and lacerations of Jesus' body, the disfigurement of his face (swollen and bruised and bloodied) -- these mirror for us the effect of sin on our souls.  The wounds of Jesus might be understood as a living metaphor of how sin wounds us.

Two, in entering into the fearful mysteries of human suffering and death, God Himself (that is, the God-Man) is able to relate to our sufferings.  God is not remote or removed from human suffering, whether it is physical, emotional or spiritual.  God knows suffering, you might say, from deep personal experience of it; the experience of it suffered by the God-Man.  When we suffer, we can turn to Jesus, knowing he knows what we are going through.  

Related to the above, God also knows what death is, having entered into it himself.  This is really pretty mind-blowing, when we stop and think about it.  Jesus is the Second Person of the Trinity, God from God, Light from Light, the One through whom all things were made...the Author of life itself dies a human death and so enters the place of the dead and...liberates everyone there, and liberates all of us, as well.  Death, in the Christian understanding, is no longer a place of shadowy forgetfulness, the place the Jews called Sheol and the Greeks called Hades.  Death is transformed, in and through Christ, into the shining portal to eternity that the Church describes (and which has been attested to, anecdotally, by tens of thousands of human beings who have had the near-death experience).

Three, and this is a chief consideration; this one, I think, nails it.  In deciding to save humanity through the crucifixion, we rightly ask ourselves, what more could God have done, to show us how much we are loved?  What more could God have given?  What more could Jesus, a human being, have done, to demonstrate God's love for us?  Jesus literally gave all he had; his body, his blood, his last breath for us.  He spared himself nothing.  On top of that, right at the end he gave us something priceless, in the maternal love of his mother.  There was nothing he had, including his mother's love, that Jesus withheld from us.  In his self-sacrifice, he gave everything.  Everything for us.

Because he wants us to understand that God's love for us is boundless.

Just some insights running alongside the powerful descriptions in today's readings of the suffering of our Savior.

With Palm Sunday weekend and the start of Holy Week, of course, we have reached Easter break, at Bishop O'Dowd.  I am a little at sea with how rapidly the middle third of the semester shot by.  From President's Day to this weekend it has been eight weeks, but I seem almost not to have noticed the time; it has really gone quickly.  All those retreats, of course, no doubt contributed to things moving at lightning speed.   

I am normally way up, emotionally, by this time of the academic year because regardless of the "grade" I may be giving myself for the year, in fact, by Easter break, we are moving to a successful close of the academic year.  I am looking forward to the break and I am looking forward to the last few weeks of the spring semester, but...the Class of 2025 are now short-timers at O'Dowd, and that fact leaves me with mixed emotions..  

I have joked with colleagues and friends and indeed with the seniors themselves that it is a good thing I am going on sabbatical the rest of this year, as returning to campus in August absent the Class of 2025 would be a sad business for me.  In fact, the sabbatical is only happening this summer and fall because I postponed it, in order not to miss any part of the senior year of the Class of 2025...

I'll make the most of my time with the seniors, after the break.  And then...well, of course, I really DO want them to move on; we all do.  We have done, my colleagues and I, our best for them, we have met our deep responsibilities to prepare them for their own future -- for about 98% of them, that means college, of course.  They've mostly found out, now, where they got in and are making decisions about next year; it is exciting to think about how their young lives will open up and out to the wider world, in just a few months.  

All the same, I will miss them, and think of them often and fondly; with real gratitude for having met them.

Gonna close this one.  Hope your Lent is wrapping up well.  Take good care, God bless and here's to a serene, deep and -- well, holy -- Holy Week!

El Padre

Fifth Sunday of Lent Homily: God Makes All Things New

Readings and Virtual Homily for Mass, April 6, 2025, Fifth Sunday of Lent; At San Damiano with the Sophomores; Feeling Grateful

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 43:16-21

• Psalm 126:1-6

• Philippians 3:8-14

• John 8:1-11

Dear Friends and Family,

There is a clear connecting thread running through this Sunday's readings, a theme which might be summed up as letting go of what has been in order to grasp, and grasp joyfully, that which is to come.  It is more than just a theme of hope.  It is a theme of certain joy in the revelation of the Lord's plans.  

In the first reading, Isaiah invites the people to consider God's great wonders and mercies of the past, particularly the victory over the Egyptians at the Red Sea (vss. 16-17).  The passage goes on, however, to encourage the Jews to look forward to wonders and mercies that are yet in the future, but near at hand.  "See, I am doing something new!  Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" (vs. 19).  We have an idea of this new thing that God is doing, continuing with verse 19: "In the wilderness I make a way, in the wasteland, rivers."  This phrasing echoes other prophecies of the ministry of John the Baptist; of the way that would be made straight for the Messiah.  The overall intent of the passage would appear to be to inspire not just hope, but joy, in God's "doing something new."

This joy is wonderfully expressed by the psalm, which is one of my favorites of all the psalms.  Psalm 126 recounts the astonished joy of the Jewish people, as they were returned to Jerusalem after their near fifty-year exile in Babylon (539 BC).  "When the Lord restored the captives of Zion," the psalm begins, "we thought we were dreaming" (vs. 1).  

The release from Babylon must indeed have felt like a dream to the Jews, because (although the prophets had predicted it) the people could never have foreseen the way in which God would bring it about.  Babylon, the most powerful empire in the world at that time, fell to the Medeo-Persian armies under the command of Cyrus, and Cyrus, somehow recognizing that the Jews were in a special way God's people, asked them to return to Jerusalem, rebuild the temple and once again worship God in their land.  This development was so completely unexpected that the people, indeed, felt almost as if they were dreaming.

The psalm, written long after the return, seeks to remind the Jewish people of this astonishing turn of events, and to encourage them to trust in God's ability to bring about rescue and restoration in any set of circumstances.  "Those who sow in tears," the psalm urges its readers/hearers to believe, "will reap with cries of joy.  Those who go forth weeping, carrying sacks of seed, will return with cries of joy, carrying their bundled sheaves" (vss. 5-6).  A better translation, in my view, reads simply, "they shall come rejoicing, carrying their sheaves."  

We should not dwell on the past, the psalm urges us, but realize that God has already prepared a bright future for us, never mind our sins.  God is, indeed, "doing something new" for us, and his deliverance from present difficulties or sorrows may very well be in a way that we could never have seen coming.

In the passage from the Letter to the Philippians, Paul says, "forgetting what lies behind, but straining forward to what lies ahead, I continue my pursuit toward the goal, the prize of God's upward calling in Christ Jesus" (vss. 13-14).  Paul, maybe more than most, had reason to throw himself on God's mercy, to leave the past behind and to trust in God's designs for the future.  

And the Gospel passage perfectly enunciates this theme in the experience of the woman taken in adultery, and brought before Jesus.  A couple observations about this passage, before closing out the homily.  One, the woman was "caught in adultery" (vs. 3) and brought by the scribes and the Pharisees before Jesus?  So, if she was caught in the very act, where was the man?  Why was he not brought before Jesus?  Number two, how exactly did the scribes and Pharisees manage to "catch" the pair in adultery?  Did these guys have nothing better to do with their time, as supposed leaders of the people of Israel, than to skulk about looking for illicit affairs, or listen to gossip and make arrests (sexist arrests -- the man evidently got off scot-free)?  

I could go on, but only at the price of distraction from our primary theme here, which is not the sexism of the religious leaders of Jesus' time, but rather, the way that God can "make all things new."  Jesus clearly does that for the woman brought before him here.  After "Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger" (vs. 6), he said to the woman's accusers, "Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her" (vs. 7).  Jesus then returned to the business of writing on the ground (vs. 8) and in response the woman's accusers "went away one by one, beginning with the elders" (vs. 9).  

It is widely, and I think accurately, conjectured here that what Jesus was writing on the ground were the sins of the woman's accusers.  Faced with their own evil, and its public declaration, the "holy ones of Israel" melted away, leaving the woman alone with Jesus.  Jesus asks her where her accusers have gone, asks if in the end, then, no one has condemned her.  She answers, "No one, sir" (vss. 10-11).  Jesus assures her that he does not condemn her, either, and advises her to avoid such sin in the future (vs. 11).

In Franco Zeffirelli’s JESUS OF NAZARETH (late 1970s tv mini-series) the woman taken in adultery was played by Italian actress Claudia Cardinale.  When Jesus assures her that he does not condemn her, and recommends that she move forward with a blameless life, that, in other words, she let God "do something new" in her and for her, Cardinale plays the woman's reaction with perception and precision, turning to look at Jesus, and turning to look at him again, as she leaves him.  It is clear, in the actress' eyes, that a conversion has taken place, that indeed, God has done, and will do, something new in her life.

God is always at work, "doing something new" in our lives.  Especially in times of difficulty and setback, disappointment and sorrow, it can be really hard to remember this.  But we will help ourselves in those dark times, if we can remember it, and trust in it, even trust joyfully in it.  That would seem to be the principal theme in today's readings.  

I am writing this on Thursday evening from San Damiano in Danville, where we are on retreat with the sophomores, the last retreat of this academic year.  The sophomore retreats (there are two each year, though starting next year there will be three) are largely directed by the seniors -- by leadership members of the senior class (Associated Student Body, Campus Ministry Team, etc.).  As you know from previous e-mails, I am deeply enamored of this year's seniors.  The Class of 2025 simply stole my heart, and they did it as freshmen -- and they are the only class I have ever taught, as freshman.  And now, this semester, they are the only class I have ever taught as seniors.  It is a real joy to be here at beautiful San Damiano yet again, with members of the Class of 2025.

But the retreat itself is for the Class of 2027, and as I said in my homily at the Mass this afternoon here, when I feel sad at the thought of 2025 leaving, I stop and remember the Class of 2027.  I have for almost two years now referred to them as "the hard-charging class of 2027."  There are various reasons for this, but one of the most prominent among them is the fact that, as freshmen, the Class of 2027 nearly upended all expectations and long tradition here at O'Dowd, when they came within a hair's breadth of winning the trophy for Spirit Week -- that is, for showing the greatest enthusiasm and class unity, in the Spirit Week activities, back in the fall of 2023.  This class impressed the entire faculty and staff for their energy and optimism, and now, having taught many of them, this year, I feel a personal connection with 2027 and...

That connection consoles me, as I realize that we are just two months away from the graduation of the Class of 2025. 

Speaking of the Class of 2025, and connecting to today's homily -- I owe it to the Lord to give thanks and praise for this year of 2025, which is beginning to look like one of the best of my life.  I know that I have shared, in e-mails back maybe eighteen months, two years ago, that I came through two rather harrowing years, in 2022 and 2023.  I think I have shared that 2024 was a year of deep rest and restoration, after two such very trying and sad years.  In keeping with the theme of today's readings, 2025 seems to be a year of coming "rejoicing, carrying their sheaves."  Too much to detail in this homily, but maybe I will be able to share more later this year.  Suffice it to say at this juncture that I am experiencing existential proof that the Lord does, indeed, bring good out of evil; the Lord does, indeed, "make all things new."  

I am waking most mornings in Hayward, this spring, thanking and praising the Lord for the high school, the parish, ministry beyond the high school and parish, and for San Gabriel Media.  This winter and spring are truly a season of grace for me.  

Gonna leave it at that.

Hope this finds you well and happy.  God bless.

Fr. Brawn

Laetare Sunday: Rejoice in God's Grace and Renewal This Lent

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for March 30, 2025, Fourth Sunday of Lent; Those Baby Robots Are Driving My Teens Crazy; April Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Joshua 5:9-12

• Psalm 34:2-7

• 2 Corinthians 5:17-21

• Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

Dear Friends and Family,

Once again just the reminder that the readings above are Cycle C; parishes which use the Cycle A readings for the third, fourth and fifth Sundays of Lent will have that set of readings, not these.

We are right at the mid-way point in Lent; three weeks past the first Sunday and three weeks yet to Easter.  The Fourth Sunday of Lent is also called Laetare Sunday -- the word is Latin for rejoice.  This Sunday has for centuries been set aside as a "day out" from Lenten practices of austerity; it mirrors Gaudete Sunday, in mid-Advent, in this regard.  

It follows that today's readings are bright with joy and hope.  The first reading, for instance, tells us of how, having crossed at last into the Promised Land, the Israelites celebrated their first Passover in Canaan.  This celebration was notable for several reasons; first of all the fact that God assured Joshua, Moses' successor, that "Today I have removed the reproach of Egypt from you" (vs. 9).  The sins of the Israelites, in other words, had been excised in their long desert trek; they entered the new land a new people, cleansed. purified, reconciled.  

The reading from Joshua tells us as well that the day after that first Passover in the new land, the people "ate of the produce of the land, the manna ceased" (vs. 12).  This occurred on the fertile plains of Jericho.  "That year," the passage continues, the Israelites "ate of the yield of the land of Canaan" (vs. 12).  One senses the joy of the people in being able to do so, after forty years in the desert.

The psalm, too, encourages hope and joy in the Lord and his love for us.  "I will bless the Lord at all times," the psalm begins, "his praise shall be always in my mouth" (vs. 2).  "I sought the Lord and he answered me, delivered me from all my fears" (vs. 5).  "Look to him and be radiant," vs. 6 advises, and the psalm continues (beyond today's passage) to encourage an ardent and joyful confidence in God's loving plans and abounding graces.  

The second reading picks up on both the first reading's theme of reconciliation, of being purified and made new, and also reflects today's general theme of joy.  "So whoever is in Christ is a new creation," verse 17 declares.  "The old things have passed away; behold, new things have come."  In language which echoes the prayer of absolution recited by the priest in confession, Paul writes that "God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting their trespasses against them (meaning, the peoples of the world) and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation" (vs. 19).  Paul goes on to write, beautifully, in my view, that "So we are ambassadors for Christ, as if God were appealing through us" (vs. 20).  

The Gospel passage, the parable of the prodigal son, encapsulates the themes outlined above.  The son is reconciled to his father, but that is only the start.  Expecting to assume the role of one of his father's servants, the wayward son is taken back with open arms and great rejoicing.  He is restored to the family.  He is basically made new.  Like the Israelites who were purified by their journey through the desert, the prodigal son returns from his misadventures to find himself acquitted; the "reproach of Egypt" (in his case, the reproach of deep personal sin) is banished.  As the Israelites rejoice at their first Passover in the new land, the prodigal son rejoices at the banquet his father spreads for him.  

The clear take-aways for us in today's readings include finding hope and joy in reconciling with God; in becoming "a new creation" in Christ; in rejoicing, even rejoicing radiantly, in God's saving graces, God's overflowing bounty of mercy and love.  It can be so very easy to lose sight of all of this -- to lose sight of how God is, in fact, effecting our salvation through our trials and setbacks, as well as our joys and accomplishments.  

Today's readings emphasize the bright side; they encourage us to embrace a sunny joy and confident hope, not just in life's brighter moments but even as we negotiate difficulties and sorrows.  These experiences serve to remove the "reproach" of sin in our lives; they serve to purify and reconcile, they make us new in Christ.  Made new, we become emissaries of Christ; ambassadors of hope and joy to a world very much in need of both.

I mentioned a couple of weeks back that my students this semester are flocking to the opportunity to "have a baby" for twenty-four hours.  That is, one of the options for a major assignment in the Marriage and Family sections is "taking care of" a robot infant, which robot infant is programmed to start crying when it wants to be fed, burped, have its diaper changed and so on.  The twenty-four hour period of custody guarantees that the "baby" will wake the teen up at least once at night; and they also go off in class, in the gym, on the practice fields, during meals and so on.  It is very much a semblance of the experience of having a real baby and...

Well...It's downright funny, some of the reactions my students are having.  "I'll NEVER have a kid!" one of my girls, a junior, told me, after the baby woke her up three times overnight.  "This is torture!" another of my girls, this one a senior, groaned, lifting the robot carefully into her arms to take it out into the hall, when it started crying in class.  

I was surprised by how many of the boys want the baby experience; more surprised yet that the only 100% score any of my students have so far received was earned by one of my boys.  (The robot generates an e-mailed report on its handling.)  Another male student, sporting an "O'Dowd Dad" sweatshirt (his father's, I guess) managed an 89% -- a very good score.  Some of the kids aren't just getting F's in terms of their handling of the baby's needs, they are actually in negative territory -- their scores are below zero.  This can happen in a number of ways -- if the student misses too many feedings (or is late with them), for instance, if the baby has been roughly handled, if the baby's neck is not constantly supported and so on.  

The Marriage and Family class is, as I have discovered, teaching it for the first time this semester, really a "life lessons" class (as opposed to a rigorous academic course) and with these little baby-robots, my students are absolutely getting a lesson in parenting.  They are generally being very good-natured about it, even the ones who are getting the lowest scores.  The grade for the assignment is weighted heavily on the student's written reflection on what it was like, "taking care of a baby;" so a negatively scored report from the robot does not doom the student's grade.  But it definitely gives the student something to reflect on!

It is brisk, grey and windy out as I am wrapping this up Thursday afternoon.  The forecast is for rain tonight and then again at least two or three days next week.  With the April 1 snow survey right around the corner, I hope that all this late season precipitation is bringing the snowpack to normal or above-normal levels.  We've had three wet years, but I have not forgotten the last drought.  I'll be glad to welcome the dry season when it arrives; I prefer the sun.  But I will not be complaining, from under my umbrella; neither tonight nor next week.  

Hope this finds you well and happy.  Hope your Lent is progressing serenely.

Take care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn

April Schedule (All Masses English except where noted):

Palm Sunday, April 13 
8AM

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON, Seton Campus
11 AM

Holy Thursday, April 17
630 PM (bilingual; concelebrant)

Good Friday, April 18
5 PM (English; main celebrant)

Holy Saturday, April 19
8 PM (bilingual; concelebrant)

Easter Sunday, April 20
630 PM

Weekday Masses (all 8 AM; English)

Mon., Apr. 7
Fri., Apr. 11
Mon., Apr. 14
Mon., Apr. 21
Fri., Apr. 25
Sat., Apr. 26
Mon., Apr. 28

Third Sunday of Lent Homily: Trusting in God’s Mercy and Timing

Readings and Virtual Homily for March 23, 2025, Third Sunday of Lent; On Retreat With the Class of 2025; Hitting Our Stride at San Gabriel Media

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Exodus 3:1-8

• Psalm 103:1-4, 6-8, 11

• 1 Corinthians 10:1-6

• Luke 13:1-9

Dear Friends and Family,

Before I say anything about this week's readings, I suppose I should remind everyone that if your pastor has okayed the Cycle A readings for the next three weeks (to accommodate those in the RCIA process) those readings are, of course, different than what I have posted above and on which I am speaking, below.  Here at St. Clement we do not do the Cycle A readings except in Cycle A years, so my homily is based on the Cycle C readings, listed above.  

I confess, as I have done on other occasions, that I am hard-pressed to see any unifying theme in today's readings that cannot be reached short of artificial means.  I know the "committee in Rome" which provides the lectionary for us deliberately pairs the first reading and the Gospel, and in general arranges the second reading according to the principle of continuous reading, that is, the second reading is not chosen according to the theme that is supposed to unite the first reading and the Gospel passage.  But there are times, and this is one of them, when there is to my mind no clear connection between any of the readings.

When I hit a wall like this, in terms of identifying a theme, my general tendency is to simply take each reading as we find it, and identify relevant aspects in terms of our experience as twenty-first century disciples.  So...here goes.

The first reading is famous.  You have likely seen it acted out by Charlton Heston in THE TEN COMMANDMENTS.  Moses, having led the flock of his father-in-law Jethro to pastures below the "mountain of God, Horeb," sees an amazing sight on the slope -- a bush that is on fire and yet which is not consumed by the fire (vs. 2).

It is important to remember just how little likely education in the Jewish faith Moses had, at this point in his life.  It is, actually, important to remember just how primitive the understandings of the Jews themselves were, with regard to their God and his promises, at this time.  This was before the Jewish priesthood (that started with Moses' brother Aaron -- Exodus 4:27-28, and beyond).  This was before the writing down of Scriptures (that may have been started with the song of praise sung by Moses' sister Miriam, on the far side of the Red Sea following the defeat of the Egyptians -- Exodus 15:20-21).  This was before God gave the people his law, at Sinai (that is, Horeb) in the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:1-17).

What the Jews knew (and which Moses may not have known) was that God had made a covenant with their remote ancestor Abraham.  The people would be held captive in a foreign land for several centuries but God would deliver them (Genesis 15:13-14).  They knew that God would bring them back to the land he had promised them; they were, by the time of Moses, eagerly looking for their deliverer.

Moses himself was sufficiently unschooled in Judaism (he had been raised to honor the gods of Egypt) that he has to ask God his name.  This is Exodus 3:15-16, a bit beyond the passage for today's Mass.  God promises Moses that he is now about to keep his long-ago promise to Abraham: The time has come for the descendants of Abraham to be set free of Egypt and brought to the land God first promised them (vs. 8).  

A takeaway for us today is to realize that God keeps his promises.  God is faithful when we are faithful.  But in fact, God remains faithful, true to God's word and intent, even when we have strayed.  If the Lord wills it, whatever "it" is, it will come to be, one way or another, with or without our cooperation.  It is generally a lot easier on us, if we cooperate -- "cooperation with grace" is one of the Church's strongest recommendations for not just our spiritual health, but our temporal well-being, as well.

The psalm encourages a joyful confidence in the love and mercy of God.  It contains some fairly well-known verses, for instance, verse 8: "Merciful and gracious is the Lord, slow to anger, rich in kindness," and verse 12 (beyond our passage today): "As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our sins from us."  The psalm urges a bright and grateful trust on our part, in God's abundant love.

The psalm's considerations on the fathomless mercy of God may, of course, be readily connected to the promise of the Lord to Moses, in the first reading.  God has heard the cry of his people in Egypt and in his mercy he intends to rescue them.

The second reading recounts the experiences of the Jews and Moses in the desert.  It reminds the new Christian converts in Corinth and all of us today of the mercy of God, but also of God's righteousness, and of God's judgments.  Paul uses the example of rebellion among the Jews in the desert to admonish Corinth's large and growing Christian community (vss. 5-6).  The connection for us today is fairly obvious.  God desires our salvation, and provides us with a roadmap to attain it.  It is up to us to use the map.

Finally, there is the Gospel passage from Luke, in which Jesus assures his hearers that acknowledgment of sin and repentance are necessary; that it is a mistake to assume that people who have suffered calamities are being punished while we are exempt (vss. 1-5).  Calamities happen; regardless of whether they happen to us, everyone is in need of forgiveness and grace. 

Jesus encourages his hearers to throw themselves on God's boundless mercy, just as the psalm does, when he offers the parable of the fruitless fig tree (vss. 6-9).  God wants us to thrive, to succeed in his plan for us as disciples.  Our way will be much easier for us if, again, we cooperate with grace, but God is patient and God is kind, as the psalm says, and God will give us many opportunities, if we are far from him, to find our way back.  

As most of you know, I have deep personal experience of the truth of this dynamic; I wandered far from God for most of a decade (the decade of my twenties) but the Lord was kind and merciful, slow to anger and rich in forgiveness, and, as Jesus assures us in the Gospel passage, God continued to "cultivate" the possibilities of my discipleship until they did indeed begin to bear fruit.  God did not cut down the fruitless fig tree that I was in my twenties.  He kept cultivating the soil.  And oh my gosh am I forever grateful.

So...I guess if there is any unifying theme among today's readings, it would be to trust in the love and mercy of God.  

And that is as far as I can go, with this set of readings, in terms of working up a unified, thematic, message-oriented homily.  As I say, some Sundays, to borrow from Ringo, "it don't come easy."

I am finishing this homily late Thursday night at San Damiano where we are on retreat, yet again, this time with the seniors -- a retreat geared to help our soon-to-be-graduating class consider imminent major transition in their lives, within a context of faith, hope and trust in God's plan for them.

I have to admit to feeling a little bittersweet, at this retreat.  The Class of 2025 stole my heart like none before here at O'Dowd.  I have had special classes here at O'Dowd before, specifically, 2019 and 2022.  And don't get me wrong, I have loved all my graduating classes here; it is just that with some years, there is, for one reason or another, a special connection.  

With the Class of 2025, "special connection" is insufficient wording.  I have so many "favorites" among them that it renders the meaning of the word "favorite" basically inoperable.  They are the only class I taught here as freshmen.  They are the only class I have had as students now, three years: as freshmen. as sophomores and now, this spring, as seniors.  They are the only class I ever -- in ten years at the high school -- yelled at.  That memorable moment was when they were freshmen.  It was in fact through that experience that I so bonded with them, and they with me.

I told my small group here this morning that I do not want to see them leave.  Then I said that, of course, I DO want to see their graduation day.  I greatly look forward to it, because I want to see these amazing teenagers advance into the next exciting stage of their lives.  I told my small group that I understand that we -- the high school faculty and staff -- have met our responsibilities to them.  We have done our best to form them for the next stage in their lives, and I look forward with real anticipation to what they will accomplish.  

But I will miss them when they are gone.

Then I told my small group -- "You know what?  It is all good because I am going to be gone, too.  I will be on sabbatical, next fall, when the high school returns to business and the Class of 2025 is not there.  I won't be there, either!  All good."

The kids loved that.  

I will be on sabbatical this summer and next fall, and certain developments at San Gabriel Media assure me that this year, not last, not 2023 (which years had also been candidates for the date of this sabbatical) is the year that it was meant to be.  Leave aside the fact that I came to realize that the sabbatical could not happen until the Class of 2025 had left O'Dowd.  The fact is that San Gabriel is at a point now where we can use me full time (by which I mean, 50-60 and more hours a week).  As recently as last fall, this would not have been the case.  Far too much to go into here, and it would likely bore you in any event.  But developments at San Gabriel this past half year now augur for a highly productive sabbatical in a way they could not have, had I taken the time off earlier.  My love for the Class of 2025 was evidently fore-ordained; precisely to keep me at the high school until San Gabriel was ready to fully utilize my time away.  

We have been prepping for a marketing launch at SGM for well over a year now.  We are ready, this spring, to take the initial steps in that effort.  This fact dovetails unmistakably with my leaving the high school for a few months, to attend to our efforts at San Gabriel Media. 

I am marveling at God's timing with it all.  

And I am consoling myself that -- though my beloved Class of 2025 will not be at the high school next fall, it is all good, because I won't be either!

So, yeah...The classes of 2026, 2027.  I've taught them and oh yeah, I love them.  I am NOT abandoning them!  But this is the year for the sabbatical.

Gonna wrap it.  Hope your Lent is deepening in wonderful ways.

God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Second Sunday of Lent Homily: Transformation and the Glorified Body

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for March 16, 2025, Second Sunday of Lent; The Class of 2026 Has a Question for El Padre; Paying it Forward for the Marysville Youth

 Readings for Mass this Sunday

• Genesis 15:5-12, 17-18

• Psalm 27:1, 7-9, 13-14

• Philippians 3:17-4:1

• Luke 9:28-36

 Dear Friends and Family,

The Gospel passage this Sunday is Luke's account of the Transfiguration.  The readings in general may be said to focus on transformation.  In the first reading Abraham, childless and of advanced age, is promised an astonishing transformation -- he will have more descendants than the stars in the dark-night ancient sky.  In the Letter to the Philippians Paul speaks of the transformation of the human body at the general resurrection.  I want to spend some time with this last; I want to make the glorified body the real subject matter of this homily.  But I also want to make a few observations about the first reading, remarkable as it is.    

One of the things to remember, when we read Genesis chapter fifteen is that, at the time of Abraham, every nighttime sky was what we today refer to as a "dark sky."  That is, there were no urban light haloes obscuring the Milky Way.  When God told Abraham to "count the stars, if you can" (vs, 5), Abraham was looking into the bright and shining heart of the galaxy.  He was not just seeing all the stars "out our way," that is, the ones in our neighborhood of the Milky Way.  He was seeing the galaxy itself.

The closest I have ever in life come to seeing a true "dark sky" was on the beach at Bodega Bay when I was in college -- the annual September RA retreat (RA standing for Resident Assistant, that is, student staffers in the dorms).  I remember being astounded at how many stars we could see -- I had never seen Orion's scabbard, for instance.  But even there, we had the lights of the retreat center to contend with; it was not truly a "dark sky."  What Abraham saw was something still more impressive.  It would have been an impossibility, of course, to count the stars, but that was the Lord's point.  

Among the Jews alone, from the time of the Patriarchs to our time, the number of descendants given Abraham and Sarah is uncountable -- very likely scores, perhaps hundreds of millions.  And when we consider that not just the Jews but Christians and Muslims as well call Abraham father, and that followers of those two faiths have, over the centuries, numbered billions...well, you can see why God gave Abraham this metaphor.

The encounter with God seems to place Abraham in something resembling a trance-like state (vss. 12, 17) and a change in mental state also is reported in today's Gospel for the three apostles witnessing the Transfiguration.  Peter is so "transported" one might say, by the experience, that he wants it to continue indefinitely (vs. 33).

Brilliant as the Lord's appearance becomes in this moment, the three apostles are not seeing Jesus in his full majesty; they are not gazing upon the unveiled Second Person of the Trinity -- mortal eyes could not withstand such a vision.  It has been speculated that they were seeing Jesus in his glorified, that is, post-Resurrection, body.  This is only speculation, but it seems reasonable, in that all three Gospel accounts of the Transfiguration tell us that Jesus' appearance was changed, became radiant (Luke vs. 29; see also Mark 9:2-3 and Matthew 17:2).

Which brings us to the second reading.  Paul tells us that, at the general resurrection, the Lord will transform "our lowly body" to be like his in glory (vs. 21).  This bright promise is echoed in a preface to the Eucharistic Prayer at funeral Masses.  As this is not a topic I have addressed previously in a written homily, I am going to spend a little time today, discussing our future, glorified, eternal bodies.

The glorified body will be incapable of injury or disease.  We will only possess it, of course, in a place (Heaven) where injury and disease themselves are banished, but all the same, it will be impervious to either.  

We will not have to eat, to maintain our glorified bodies, but all indications are that eating -- feasting, more like it -- is a frequent activity "over there" on the Other Side.  Never fear if, once you find yourself safely beyond the Pearly Gates, you decide to go ahead and indulge at some banquet or other -- the glorified body will be so ordered as to utilize all nutrients by some perfected mechanism of metabolic processes about which, this side of Paradise, we may only speculate.  Not that gluttony is a possibility among the saints, but...you will be able to feast as you please and you will never regret it, you will never find yourself out of shape. 

The glorified body will be capable of some of the miracles the disciples witnessed, in terms of Jesus' earthly body.  He could walk on water; he could pass through locked doors.  An understanding of particle physics helps us today to explain that, in fact, if we could simply line up all our molecules the right way, we too could walk on water or pass through solid objects.  This is, of course, because those objects, and indeed, our own bodies, are not, actually, "solid."  At the quantum level, matter is far more open space than not.  To give an example, if the nucleus of an atom were Dodger Stadium, the first electron in orbit around that nucleus would be in the San Fernando Valley.  That is how "spacious" matter actually is, at the level of its building blocks.  If we could simply "line up" our molecules with those of the door, so that none of ours touched any of its, we could pass through it, just as Jesus did.  

The glorified body will be in full harmony with the mind, with the soul.  As such it will be so ordered as never to be "in rebellion;" it will not know stomach aches or headaches or fever or any other kind of disorder.  It will not need sleep -- and I have to admit here that my own research on this point falls short.  I do not know if sleeping, like eating, will be an option, "over there."  I have to admit that sleep, at times, to me, feels like Heaven!  But in the eternal moment, who knows?  We may look back on our earthly lives from there and say, "Oh yeah!  Remember sleep?"

The glorified body is one built literally to last forever.  It will be incapable of aging.  Thomas Aquinas speculated that in Heaven everyone is 33 -- the age we believe Jesus was, at his death.  Only speculation, and personally, I preferred myself, physically, I mean, at 43, in fact, at 53, to 33.  (I was too skinny at 33!)  I suppose that the age we experience in Heaven will be one we find ourselves right at home with, one that eminently suits us, one we can literally "live with" forever.

C. S. Lewis, in THE GREAT DIVORCE, described the saints as having vibrant youthful appearances, but when you got up close and looked into their eyes, you were suddenly aware of age -- at least among those who attained to middle- or old-age here on earth.  This is solid speculation, as we take everything (but our sins) into Heaven with us.  All our experience is there with us, in us, through us, making us, well, making us the saints we will be.  It is just that, from Heaven's perspective, all of our experience is transformed -- we might even say, transfigured -- it is shot through with light, a light which finally makes full understanding possible.  Lewis and others argue that from Heaven we will look back on the most difficult experiences of our time on earth and bless those trials deeply, for we will see the graces set flowing in those times, see how those graces moved us through the darkest moments, see how those graces forged in us our very sainthood itself.

I could go on, but you get the idea, and in any event, this one is long enough!  Gonna wrap it here.  Just something to think about -- as we consider Jesus transfigured.  One day we shall be, as well. 

I spoke with Fr. John Prochaska, our Vicar for Clergy at the Diocese this week about my upcoming sabbatical.  It is slated to start June 1 and to run through New Year's.  It has begun to get around among the students that "Father Jim is not going to be here next semester," and I am getting some alarmed questions from members of the junior class, the Class of 2026.  Next year, after all, is their senior year.

I deliberately delayed the sabbatical in order NOT to miss any part of the senior year of the Class of 2025.  I have a lot of love for this year's juniors, as well, but if I am serious about this time off (and I am) then it just comes down to this: I am going to miss the fall semester of one class's senior year or another.  And the way it has shaped up, that class is the Class of 2026.  

Generally, the anxiety I hear in a student's voice derives from a misapprehension; they breathe a sigh of relief when they hear that not only will I be returning next January, I am also going to be on all the retreats next fall.  There are four retreats scheduled for the autumn semester and the senior class will be involved in three of them...Retreats are a substantial part of an O'Dowd education and I do not want to miss these experiences with next year's seniors.  

I am deeply touched, though, to have members of the Class of 2026 coming up to me, wanting to know the score.  The day will come when I really will be saying good-bye to the high school.  This is not that day.  

Finally, some really cool news from my hometown and home parish came my way this past weekend.  One of the leading members of the old Marysville youth group texted me Saturday evening to say that he had been asked to consider taking the youth ministry position at St. Joseph (Marysville's parish).  He said, basically, "after all I got out of it, because you said yes to it, and thinking about our teens in Marysville today, how could I say no?"  His name is Fonz and he is himself the father of two teens in the parish.

I practically levitated, reading Fonz's texts.  I texted back assuring him that I will be his number one backer, with energy, with ideas, with advice, with money.  He texted back that he had said yes to the position in part relying on just that support.  The first thing I have to do for him and the Marysville teens is cover this effort in prayer.  A second generation of Marysville teens being guided by one of MY Marysville teens, now in his early forties!  (Just the age I was, in fact, when I ran the youth group.)  A brand new intention for my daily Rosary.  I'll report on developments regarding this joyful turn of events.

Talk about paying it forward!  Go Fonz!

Hope this finds you well and happy.  Hope your Lent is going well.

Take good care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn

Lenten Reflections: Understanding the Three Temptations of Christ

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily, March 9, 2025, First Sunday of Lent; Retreat Season; My Teens and Their 'Babies'; March Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday 

• Deuteronomy 26: 4-10

• Psalms 91:1-2, 10-11, 12-13, 14-15

• Romans 10: 8-13

• Luke 4: 1-13

Dear Friends and Family,

Well, it is the first Sunday of Lent and we find ourselves in the desert, facing temptation, with regard to the readings.  The passage from Luke this Sunday is that of the temptation of Jesus.  This experience (omitted by John) is also reported by Matthew and Mark.  It is testament to the humanity of Jesus, among other things.  And while there is a variety of possibilities, with regard to structuring a homily this weekend, I want to just stay with the three temptations themselves.  Between them, I think, most of us can find resonance with Jesus, in his humanity, in his susceptibility to temptation.  That fact should comfort us.  As the author of the Letter to the Hebrews points out, Jesus was tempted in every way, just like us -- but never sinned.  Having himself been tempted, though, Jesus is able to identify with us in our temptations and he is eager to forgive us our sins (Hebrews 4:14-15).

The first temptation, not surprisingly, given that Jesus has been fasting for forty days, is to turn stones into bread (vs. 3).  Jesus would have known genuine hunger, maybe also thirst, and the fact that he COULD turn stones into bread evidently tempted him.  

Something to be aware of here: the demons know our weaknesses.  They know them because they have tempted us and have seen where we are vulnerable.  No tempter angel worth his damnation is going to bother trying to tempt a person with a naturally calm, easy-going and forgiving temperament with the sin of anger.  But seeing that this same person is weak in the invitation to lust, that is the sin the demon will work with.  

After forty days of fasting, it could reasonably be assumed that Jesus was hungry.  The devil knew as much; reasoned that Jesus would be susceptible to the temptation to break his fast.  Hence, the first temptation.  

Jesus replies simply by quoting Scripture (vs. 4).  There might be something in this for all of us, when facing temptation.  In any event, Satan moves on to a more elaborate attempt to get Jesus to sin.  

The second temptation, of course, is that the devil shows and offers to Jesus "all the kingdoms of the world" in an instant (vss. 5-7).  It may be speculated here that it was not just the first-century kingdoms that Satan showed Jesus, but all the nations, all the empires, all the kingdoms of the world for all time.  It may be inferred that Jesus was shown the empires of the Aztecs and the Incas, the caliphates of twelfth-century Islam; that he was shown sixteenth-century Spain when Madrid ruled the seas, shown Victorian England and the extent of the British Empire, shown contemporary America, China, Japan and Western Europe.  The kingdoms of the world, the devil assures Jesus, were his to give to whomever he pleased (vs. 6).

In this event, Satan would have been offering a different sort of "deal" to Jesus -- a co-rulership that would go on 'til the end of the world.  All that Jesus needed to do, to receive this "kingship" was go down on his knees and worship Lucifer.  Again, Jesus answers with a reference to Scripture (vs. 8).  

It is a question to which there is (to my knowledge) no definitive answer, just whether Satan recognized in Jesus the Second Person of the Trinity.  In the event that the devil really did know just who he was trying to tempt, it says something about Satanic ambition.  I am personally inclined to the line of argument which says that the demons did NOT recognize the divinity of Jesus.  They did not recognize it, that is, until it was too late.  This is a substantial argument and a deep theological reflection and more than can be supported by the limitations of a Sunday homily, so I will not go further with it.  Whatever may be the truth with regard to the demons realizing that Jesus was God incarnate, certainly, Lucifer did understand Jesus to be the Messiah, as is evident in the third temptation.

From the parapet of the Temple in Jerusalem, Satan dares Jesus to leap into thin air, and quotes Scripture which assures the Messiah of God's protection (today's psalm, Psalm 91:11-12).  Lucifer assures Jesus that the psalm seems to guarantee that he will land, hundreds of feet on the pavement below, intact and unharmed (Luke 4:9-11).  That the devil quotes the psalm is clear evidence that, whether or not he knew Jesus was God, Lucifer knew Jesus was the Messiah.  He knew the Scriptural passages which referred to the Messiah, and here he accurately quotes one of them.  

This third temptation sometimes leaves people baffled.  St. Augustine, if I am not mistaken, referred to it as the temptation to (or of) the thrill.  I think a more relevant interpretation of it is that we can be tempted, at times, to get out over our skis.  We can sometimes charge out ahead with some mission or vision or plan which we have assumed to be of God, and...find ourselves, to use a military metaphor, stretched beyond our supply lines.  An army on the march needs supply lines -- of food, of water, of medicine, of basic infrastructure and support.  March too fast, charge ahead with a confidence that looks like recklessness, and the army might find itself stranded and starving.  

I know this temptation inside out.  Depending, I suppose, upon one's native degree of self-confidence, and too, on one's intuitive sense of being able to discern God's will, this temptation can trip up the best-intentioned, hardest-working, most dedicated disciples.  We need to let God be in charge.  When we charge ahead, certain that we "know the plan" and how to execute it, we open ourselves up to crash-landings on the pavement hundreds of feet below; to being the army that has moved like lightning across the frontier, only to find itself stranded and without sustenance, because the supply lines are hundreds of miles behind.  I've lost count of how many times I have experienced this dynamic -- that is, this temptation.  I'd love to be able to say that I have "learned my lesson" in this regard, but I can't.  What I can say is that when I do get out over my skis with some plan or hope or ambition or vision which I assume has been given me by God, and I find myself stranded, without the supplies needed to complete the job, I have learned to sit down and...wait on the Lord.

Jesus, in any event, answers the devil here in just the way he has in the previous temptations: He quotes Scripture (vs. 12).  Again, there may be something in that for all of us, going to Scripture, I mean, when we are facing temptation.

Well, we have dived into Lent and true to the season's traditions, I have four (count 'em, FOUR) retreats over the next two weeks.   The reason I have only got the Sunday evening Mass this weekend is that I am at St. Clare Retreat Center in Soquel Friday evening to noon Sunday, giving a women's Lenten retreat.  The theme, one I developed a decade ago, for a Shalom World Television presentation, is the Psalms in Lent.  

Next week, the high school is holding our final three-day Kairos Retreat for the juniors at San Damiano.  The following week, we will be back at San Damiano for the second (and last) retreat for the senior class.  And the weekend of the 15-16, the parish is sponsoring our Confirmation Retreat in Redwood Glen, near Pescadero.  I will only be at this last retreat Saturday evening to help our pastor with confessions, but it will be all Saturday evening.   We have eighty students making the retreat.  

The retreat this weekend came about as a result of my having been at St. Clare last fall, to give the weekend retreat for the women's group at St. Bonaventure (Clayton).  The sisters who run the center liked my presentations and asked if they could put me on their short list for retreats without a priest.  I so much enjoyed the Bonaventure experience that I told them yes; in addition to the retreat this weekend, I have another at St. Clare in May.  

I am reticent to re-engage the sort of speaking-engagement-retreat-parish-mission schedule I kept for several years before COVID, in part because I want the time and energy going to San Gabriel Media.  But as I say, I really was myself blessed by the October retreat with the women of St. Bonaventure, and so I am signed up at St. Clare's for two additional retreats this spring.

Finally, news from the Teen Front: My students this semester have got babies.  That is, the students in our Marriage and Family course (which I am teaching for the first time this semester, as I mentioned a few e-mails back) have the opportunity to take responsibility for a mechanical "baby" for 24 hours.  The "baby" is better called a robot than a doll.  It cries when it wants to be burped, fed, have its diaper changed and I forget what-all else.  Students have to figure out what the baby is crying for and provide it; and the babies are programmed to cry regularly over the 24 hours, including in the middle of the night.  The robot then generates a computer report which is received by my colleague (and fellow M & F instructor) Liz Remigio.  The robot "grades" its care over the 24 hours.  It is a pretty sophisticated piece of equipment.  

Given that "having the baby" is only one of four options for this particular assignment (students may watch three films about marriage and family life and write up a report, for instance, as just one of the other options), I am really surprised at how many of my kids want a baby -- including the boys!  The robots cost over a thousand each and we have eleven of them, so starting this assignment in early March, we should be able to accommodate all the requests by May.  Were I one of my students, though, I would choose to watch three films!

Okay, that'll wrap this one.  My prayers and best wishes for a blessed and serene Lent.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

March Mass Schedule

Sunday, March 9
6:30 PM (English)

Sunday, March 16
CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON/Seton Campus
11 AM (English)
St. Clement
6:30 PM (English)

Sunday, March 23
8 AM, 11:15 AM (both English)

Saturday, March 29
5 PM (English)

Sunday, March 30
6:30 PM (English)

Weekday Masses (all English, all 8 AM, except where noted)

Monday, March 10
Monday, March 17
Tuesday, March 18 at 8
Tuesday, the 18 at 7 PM (Spanish)
Monday, March 24
Friday, March 28
Monday, March 31
Saturday, April 5

If you are wondering, given the schedule above, whether I am ever going to have a Sunday Spanish Mass again here at St. Clement, well...actually, so am I!  I love celebrating the Mass in Spanish and certainly have some good friends among our Hispanic parishioners, but Fr. Jesus (our still-new pastor) does the scheduling himself, and I abide by his decisions.  He is a joy to work with and he is the boss. 

Why Integrity Matters: Lessons from Scripture

Readings and Virtual Homily for Mass March 2, 2025, Eighth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Lent's Attractions

Readings for Mass this Sunday

• Sirach 27:4-7

• Psalm 92:2-3, 13-16

• 1 Corinthians 15:54-58

• Luke 6:39-45

Dear Friends and Family,

A general theme of the importance of integrity informs today's readings, or at any rate, the first reading, the psalm and the passage from Luke.  Integrity is equated with, among other things, truthful speech and self-awareness.  In each of the three passages, moreover, the person with integrity is compared to a tree that bears good fruit (Sirach 27:6; Psalm 92:15; Luke 6:43-44).  

The passage from Sirach warns against judging by appearances, and advises us that "speech discloses the bent of a person's heart" (vs. 6).  This corresponds to Jesus' observation in the Gospel passage that "from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks" (vs. 45).  As "the furnace tests a potter's vessels," Sirach continues, "the test of a person is in conversation" (vs. 5); adding that people's faults appear "when they speak" (vs. 4).  

This emphasis on the importance of our words is necessary in any discussion of personal integrity.  If you stop to think about it, we are really only as good as our word.  If we keep our word, people know us and know that they can trust us.  If we do not keep our word, people cannot really know us -- except that is, as someone who is unreliable.  Our words must be lined up with our behavior, with our actions in the world, if they are going to be worth anything.  

Words exist to communicate -- they are stand-ins for reality.  If, for instance, I speak the words San Francisco Bay, an image appears in the minds of my hearers.  The image, of a large body of water along the California coast, is true; the words have produced an accurate impression.  The words, meant to convey the bay, do not produce an image of Lake Tahoe. 

Words do more than merely communicate -- they may be said to actually reveal reality to us.  The words San Francisco Bay reveal to us the reality that is that body of water.  They reveal the bay to us in a way that the words the Empire State Building do not; the words San Francisco Bay conform to the reality of that body of water.

To reflect just a bit further on this business of the significance of words...John tells us that Jesus is "the Word" of God (John 1:1).  When I ask my sophomores why John might so speak of Jesus, we inevitably get into a discussion of just what words are for.  When we reach the point where we can agree that words have a revelatory power -- the words "San Francisco Bay" evoke the reality of San Francisco Bay -- the teens suddenly get it.  Jesus is the "Word" that reveals God to us.  As Jesus himself puts it, if we have seen him, we have seen the Father (John 14:9). 

What is more, God spoke the universe into being through the Word -- that is, through the Second Person of the Trinity.  "Through him all things were made" we recite in the Nicene Creed; the Creed itself simply echoing John 1:3, Colossians 1:16 and Hebrews 1:2, all of which say God created the universe through the Second Person.  At the heart of reality we find -- a word; THE Word through whom reality, the universe itself, was spoken into existence.

This is why it is so important to tell the truth.  Lies are a direct and deliberate misuse of the very nature of words.  Words are meant to convey reality, not to distort it, not to hide it nor to confuse it.  It was through a lie, of course ("you shall be like gods" -- Genesis 3:5) that the human race fell, and Jesus himself intimates the destructive power of lies when he refers to Satan as "the father of lies" (John 8:44).  

That, for now, is enough, in terms of a disquisition on the power and revelatory clarity of words.  The readings also urge self-reflection and self-awareness as irreducible components of personal integrity.  And this consideration, of course, takes us right back to the power of the truthfully spoken word: If we are selfish at times, and can name the fault honestly, we have integrity.  If we can be lazy, haughty, dismissive, uncharitable, quick-tempered, ungenerous, lustful, gluttonous, greedy, unfair in judgment and so on, and we at the same time are able to name these faults and own them, we have integrity.  Integrity does not mean we are perfect.  It means we are honest.  Honest about our weaknesses as well as our strengths.  It is the person who excuses a fault with a self-flattering deception who lacks integrity.  

Jesus is crystal clear on this point: "Why do you notice the splinter in your brother's eye but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?" (vs. 41).  Jesus rightly calls such people out as hypocrites, instructing them to reflect on their own failings, to own them and take responsibility for trying to combat them, before they go about trying to set anyone else right (vs. 42).   

Finally, there is beautiful imagery in Psalm 92 regarding the man or woman of integrity; there is a promise, a deep promise of good things to come for those who strive to live with integrity.  Here is the quote in its entirety.

The just shall flourish like the palm tree, shall grow like a cedar of Lebanon.  Planted in the house of the Lord, they shall flourish in the courts of our God.  They shall bear fruit, even in old age; they shall stay fresh and green, to proclaim, 'The Lord is just; my rock, in whom there is no wrong (vss. 13-16).  

One of the things I particularly like about this passage is the way it honors, in our youth-obsessed culture, advanced age and the blessings it can bring.  Integrity, the psalm assures us, deepens and strengthens with age; it keeps us fruitful and life-giving because it keeps us connected to the source of life itself.

Integrity is a big topic.  We could say a lot more about it here.  But again, as this is a Sunday homily and not a chapter in a book, I think I will leave off here.

Lent is just around the corner.  I don't always give something up in Lent, but I am planning to hold myself to what I call the "Venezuelan fast" most of the next seven weeks.  I typically eat one meal a day (dinner) and the Catholic guidelines for fasting (one regular meal and two smaller meals which together do not add up to a second) would actually have me eating MORE than I usually eat, if I followed them.   

So I don't follow them.  There have been Lents in the past where I said, "Forget about fasting -- on your regimen, it's impossible.  Find something else to give up instead."  But several years ago, maybe as far back as a decade, now that I am thinking of it, I said to myself, "Actually, you CAN fast.  Anyone can.  All it means is that you eat less than usual, and do so on a regular basis.  So...you typically eat one meal a day.  Plan to eat less than one meal a day four or five days a week."

This is what I call the Venezuelan fast -- because so many folks in that country are on it involuntarily.  I am meanwhile mulling something extra that I can do, during the season.  Whether or not I mark Lent with a fast, I always try to mark it with a little extra effort in some good direction or other.  It can be something as simple as twenty bucks a week to some good cause someplace.  

In any event I look forward to plunging into the season.  Lent, as I know I have said before, is my favorite liturgical season.  Part of that could be as simple as the fact that it coincides with my favorite months of the year.  But I think it goes deeper than that.  I inevitably associate Lent with the Triduum, with the Passion of the Lord, and despite all the Marian aspects to my piety, I am, at heart, passionist in my spirituality.  My favorite day of the year is Good Friday, and has been, since I was a little guy.   

Lenten Fridays period rank among my favorite days of the year.  I have deep and treasured memories of being in St. Joseph's in Marysville with my mom or grandmother or uncle, or all three, maybe with a sibling or two as well, on breezy Friday spring evenings, watching the priest and the altar servers as they made their way round the side aisles, leading us in the Stations of the Cross, then my favorite devotion.  (The Stations rank second with me, today, after the Rosary.)  

I think it was the heroism Jesus displayed that first Good Friday afternoon, that most deeply spoke to me.  Young as I was, I did not need to have explained to me that Jesus' physical suffering was unimaginable.  And his grace, his courage, his strength spoke deeply to me -- passionist at heart as I even then was.  

I hope, in any event, to get Lent off to a good strong start and maintain the momentum, as the season progresses.  "Bright sadness," a seminary professor of mine once described the atmosphere, the "feeling" of Lent.  I like that description.  It strikes me as apt.  

Gonna be it for this one.  My best wishes for the start of March.

I don’t have the March Mass schedule yet, but I do know this much about it: One, I have no Masses at St. Clement this first weekend of the month; two, if I have one the weekend of the 8-9, it will only be the 630 PM on Sunday the 9th, and I will confirm that, next e-mail, when I have the schedule.  

I will LIKELY have the 6 PM bilingual Mass on Ash Wednesday and I do have the 11 AM Mass, at St. Elizabeth Seton in Pleasanton, on Sunday, March 16.  

I'll have the full March schedule out with next e-mail.

Take care.  God Bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Biblical Mercy Explained: How Forgiveness Opens the Heart to Grace

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily, February 23, 2025, Seventh Sunday of Ordinary Time; More Thoughts on February, My Favorite Month; Sabbatical on the Horizon

 Readings for Mass this Sunday

• 1 Samuel 26:2, 7-8, 12-13, 22-23

• Psalm 103:1-4, 8, 10, 12-13

• 1 Corinthians 15:45-49

• Luke 6:27-38

Dear Friends and Family,

The general theme of the readings this week may be understood to be mercy -- both that of God and that which we are asked to show one another.  Both the first reading and the psalm exemplify this quality.  

In the passage from 1 Samuel, David, given the opportunity to defeat his tormentor King Saul, passes on it, preferring to let the king know that he might have killed him while he slept, but didn't.  David, in other words, showed Saul an exceptional mercy.  There is, alas, little evidence in the Scriptural accounts, that Saul returned David's graciousness.  

The psalm repeatedly extols God's abundant patience, forgiveness and love for us, all of which adds up to God's mercy.  "Slow to anger, abounding in mercy" (vs. 8).  "As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our sins from us" (vs. 12).  God created us for heaven and wants us there.  God is willing to come a very significant distance in our direction, in order to effect our salvation.

The Gospel passage from Luke is one of my favorite in the entire Bible, for the way it encourages us to be merciful, to be generous of heart, to be forgiving.  "Do not judge," the passage assures us, and we will not be judged.  "Do not condemn," and we will not be condemned.  Give and it will be given to us (vss. 37-38).

Verse 38 in particular resonates with me for its joyful assurance that any generous act on our part will be repaid by God, and in abundance.  Here it is in full.

"Give and gifts will be given to you, a good measure, packed together, shaken down and overflowing, will be poured into your lap.  For the measure with which you measure will in turn be measured out to you. 

I love the imagery here -- "a good measure, packed together, shaken down and overflowing."  God, who will not be outdone in generosity, stands ready to be abundantly generous with us, if we are generous with others.

We are not particularly talking about money here, though of course, monetary gifts and mercy may be coupled quite easily.  The passage has more broadly to do with judgment; rather, it has to do with non-judgment, with non-condemnation.  Avoid condemning others and we will avoid condemnation.  Forgive others and we will be forgiven.  Show mercy and mercy will be shown to us.  

Not just shown to us.  Abundantly shown to us -- a good measure, packed together, shaken down and overflowing.  This passage from Luke reminds me of the passage from 1 Peter which assures us that charity covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8).   

There is an important spiritual and emotional dynamic at work here -- specifically, to the extent that we open our hearts to forgive, so shall we be forgiven.  Forgive us our trespasses AS we forgive those who trespass against us (Matthew 6:12).  To the extent that we refrain from judging we will not be judged.  To the extent that we give, it will be given to us, a good measure.

This is not a matter of God playing tit for tat with us.  It is a description of a deep spiritual and emotional dynamic.  To the extent that our heart is open to forgive, that is the extent to which it is able to receive forgiveness.  To the extent that our heart is open to show mercy, that is the extent to which it is able to receive mercy.  To the extent that our heart is generous and giving, that is the extent to which it will be able to receive generosity, to receive gifts.  

Jesus encourages us to open our hearts to our fellow man, to be generous in our judgments, just as God is, in his.  To the extent that we can operate under this dynamic -- non-judgment, non-condemnation, forgiveness, generosity, mercy -- to precisely that extent will our own hearts be open to receive these blessings from God.  

I have read more than once, in the mystical tradition of the Church, that one of the sins which keeps a person in Purgatory longest is unforgiveness.  Again, it is not because God is playing tit for tat.  It is because it is precisely to the extent that we open our hearts to forgive others that we ourselves are open to receive forgiveness.  God would gladly forgive us everything in an instant.  But if the graces needed for our forgiveness are many, and if our heart is open only a little, either to forgive or to receive forgiveness, well, then God has to pour those graces slowly through a very narrow opening.  

He will get the work done, one way or another, as the Lord, who is kind and merciful, slow to anger and rich in kindness, wants us with him forever.  But it is up to us, just how quickly the Lord will be able to shower that mercy upon us; up to us how much of that good measure, packed together, shaken down and overflowing, we are able to receive at once.  "If today you hear his voice, harden not your heart" (Psalm 95:7-8).

Happy to see a forecast that shows sun and temps in the 70s for the weekend and coming week -- about time!  Though I was very grateful for all the rain the first half of this month, I am glad to see as well some dry weather ahead, not just dry but with temps reaching more typical February levels.  It has been COLD this first half of the month!

The fact that it is February has got me thinking about June.  Don't ask me -- it is an association that goes back to my childhood, perhaps precisely because of many boyhood memories of bright and sunny and mild February afternoons, flying kites in the fields beyond our house at Marysville's city edge, or of bright and sunny and mild February afternoons grabbing lunch at a patio restaurant along Telegraph Avenue with friends and colleagues at my office at Cal, in the 1980s and 1990s.  February, typically, brings the first stretch of 70-plus temps and that, I guess, has always gotten me thinking about June...

I will be starting a seven-month sabbatical in June.  It is not a travel sabbatical, not a study sabbatical.  It is a work sabbatical (the work being our efforts at San Gabriel Media).  But I will be traveling a bit, this summer and fall, and I am beginning to sketch those plans now.  Among other joys, God willing, I will return to Paris and Casablanca for the first time since the shutdowns.  I have good friends in both cities and have missed them despite texts, e-mail and WhatsApp.  

The sabbatical itself, being work-oriented, will have me here at St. Clement the entire seven months.  There will be several trips to LA, as that is where a lot of our production at San Gabriel takes place, but on the whole, this is going to look and feel like a seven-month summer vacation, here in the parish.  I typically work 15-20 hours/week in the summers here in Hayward; just the basic parish routine, which I love.  Summers at St. Clement have been a joy to me since I arrived here ten years ago.  The sabbatical will simply extend that pattern to New Year's.  The parish is hardly going to know that I am, in fact, taking a sabbatical.  

The high school, on the other hand, will miss me.  But after consulting with my higher-ups there, all were agreed that I should return in January, 2026, rather than abandon Bishop O'Dowd and return to the parishes.  We will employ a long-term sub to cover my classes.  I plan to remain at O'Dowd several more years.  

In any event, as June is now just four months off, I am beginning to think about and plan for it -- and beyond.  I am looking forward to the second half of this year.  

I'll close it here.

Hope this finds you well and happy.  God bless.

Fr. Brawn