Exaltation of the Cross: Scripture, History, and Faith | Sept 14, 2025

Readings and Virtual Homily for September 14, 2025, Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross; In Love With the Cape; A Major Mass at O'Dowd

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Numbers 21;4-9

• Psalm 78:1-2, 34-38

• Philippians 2:5-11

• John 3:13-17

Dear Friends and Family,

This Sunday's readings all line up around a common theme because September 14 is one of those rare feast days that is observed on a Sunday.  The feast is that of the Exaltation of the Cross.  I want to consider briefly each of the readings, before diving into a bit of the history of this feast day, as it is rich and colorful, and it involves one of my all-time favorite saints, Helena, the mother of Constantine and the first Christian Roman empress.

The reading from the Book of Numbers tells of the episode in which poisonous serpents came into the camp, biting many of the Israelites and causing their deaths.  The people acknowledged that they were being punished for their rebelliousness and begged Moses for intercession.  Moses had a bronze serpent made and lifted above the camp, and whenever someone who had been bitten looked at it, he or she was healed (vs. 7-9).  The contemporary medical image of a serpent on a pole borrows directly from this passage.  

This story of course foreshadows the crucifixion, when the Son of Man, as Jesus tells Nicodemus in the Gospel, will be "lifted up" and all people will be able to draw near and be healed (vs. 14-15).  The psalm also recounts the rebelliousness of Israel in the desert, and reminds us of God's abundant mercy (vs. 38).  And the passage from Philippians at once gives us an exalted Christology (vss. 6, 9. 11)) and at the same time reminds us of the way that God chose to redeem sinful humanity -- by the lifting up of the God Man on the cross (vs. 8).

This feast (the Exaltation of the Cross) is deeply historical.  It is not just a commemoration of the Lord's saving passion.  The feast is directly tied to the discovery of the cross by St. Helena in the 320s.  There is quite a bit in the way of legend surrounding Helena's discovery, but there is no good reason to dismiss the story out of hand as mere saintly lore.  

It is historical fact that Helena left Constantinople (the new seat of the empire under her son Constantine) for the Holy Land about the year 326.  Helena is thought to have been born in 247; if we have her birth date right, that would have made her 78 or 79, when she undertook her journey to the Holy Land.  (And there is some evidence, as well, that this may not have been Helena's first trip to Palestine, but that is beyond the scope of today's homily.)

It is reliably established as well that, whether or not the 326 trip was her first to Jerusalem, it was the empress' last.  She did not return to Constantinople.  There is a fascinating history attached to the empress' decision to leave the capital and never return.  I may write a book about it someday.  What matters here is that the first Christian Roman empress chose, late in her seventies, to go to the land where Jesus had walked, and to stay there the rest of her life.

Helena was, of course, greeted with much joy by the Christian community in Palestine (and by this time, the area was overwhelmingly Christian).  Locals took her to the places of Jesus' life and ministry -- three hundred years after the fact, these places were still known to the people of Christian Palestine.  There is good reason to trust that we have got a lot of these places right.  Just to draw a parallel...

I was just this past week in Massachusetts and saw, among other things, Plymouth Rock.  1621 is now four hundred years ago, but we know where the pilgrims landed.  Less time than that had transpired from the events of Jesus' life and the arrival of Helena in Jerusalem.  Tour guides today will tell you just how sure, or in some cases, not sure, we are, with regard to the sacred sites -- from the Church of the Annunciation to Holy Sepulchre (which actually houses the rock -- not really a hill -- of Calvary).  We may thank Saint Helena for what we know of the sites of pilgrimage in the Holy Land.  

In any event, Helena appears to have discovered the true cross -- that is, the upright, permanently placed post, not the crossbeam Jesus carried.  It is legend (that does not mean it is not true, only that it cannot be verified) that this large piece of wood was immediately associated with miracles of healing; that is how Helena was able to identify it (as opposed to other uprights standing, that is, lying, in the same location).  Legend again tells us that the empress had the cross sent to Rome.  From there, the story goes viral, so to speak.  There would in time be so many claims that "this is a piece of the true cross discovered by St. Helena" that you could construct the Titanic with them.  

Leaving that aside, the point here is that we know what we know about the holy sites in Jerusalem and throughout modern-day Israel and Palestine because St. Helena, the first Christian pilgrim, took it upon herself to travel to the Holy Land and stay there for years, stay there until her death.  The last Roman coins struck with her image, or anyway, the last that we are aware of, date to the year 332.  It is reasonable to assume then that Helena was alive at the start of that year, but died before 333.  Her tomb is in the Vatican; at some point (and this part of the story I do not know) the Christian community in Jerusalem returned Helena's body to Rome.  

Just some of the historical background surrounding today's feast, the Exaltation of the Cross.  

As you are aware from my last e-mail, I was in Boston most of the past week, visiting with friends who are like family to me, and connecting with their parish community in the Charlestown district, a parish community with which I am beginning to feel very much at home.  

It would have been a great trip had we simply hung out in Boston all week -- along with New Orleans and Chicago, Boston is one of my favorite outside-of-California American cities.  It is rich in history and culture; it is spectacularly situated on its bay and rivers; and it reminds me of San Francisco, more than any other American city, for its dynamism, its vibrant neighborhoods, its diversity, its deep associations with the sea, with ships and with waves of immigrants from many nations.  We might easily, as I say, have stayed in Boston all six days and not come close to running out of things to do.  

But this trip to Boston -- I have lost count how many times I have been there; this may have been the eighteenth or twentieth time -- my friends and I actually got out of town for two days, and I discovered the Cape.  I've been north of Boston many times -- to places along the North Shore like Marblehead, and beyond the state line to Portsmouth, to Portland.  And of course I know the Amherst area in the western region of Massachusetts, where my sister Flo lived.  But this was my first visit to Cape Cod.

Beyond Plymouth, which technically is not on the Cape, we visited Truro Vineyards (I had no idea there were wineries on the Cape).  We visited Chatham (maybe my favorite), Hyannis and Hyannis Port, Provincetown.  We spent the night in Provincetown -- right at the tip of the Cape.  The weather was near-perfect; sunny, breezy, in the seventies and not at all humid.  It was a great adventure, and I am really grateful to my Boston hosts for having so generously provided me with it.  I plan to return.  

I got home from Boston to a day at leisure Wednesday (ahhh...sabbatical charms) and then to a fifteen-hour Thursday, starting with Mass in the parish, followed by a big Mass at O'Dowd, followed by meetings for San Gabriel Media, followed by Adoration and confessions in the parish that evening, followed by getting to work on this homily (which, however, I am finishing Friday morning).  

There have been many days this summer that reflect the happy fact that I am on sabbatical.  This past Thursday was not among them.  But that is no complaint.  The Mass at the high school was our first campus-wide Mass of the new academic year, the Mass of the Holy Spirit.  It was great to be on the altar before my school community for such an important liturgy. 

I did my best to reassure the Class of 2026 that I love them as much as I did love 2025 or do love 2027 -- it is the first half of their senior year, after all, that I will largely be missing this fall.  I hope my presence at the Mass reassured them; and in any event they will be seeing more of me, not just at other big Masses, but at all four of this autumn's retreats.  This was all arranged last year, as we were working out the details of the sabbatical.  Although Fr. Leo Edgerly is also assigned to the high school, his role is restricted simply because of his many, many other responsibilities in the diocese.  There was no way I might fairly ask Leo to handle all the big Masses and the retreats, this autumn.  There was, in fact, no way I wanted to absent myself from these joyful times with my students and colleagues.  It was wonderful to be with them this week, at the Mass of the Holy Spirit.

Once again I have written us into near-oblivion!  Aren't you glad my spoken homilies are so much shorter than these e-mailed ones?!

Hope the late summer is going well for you.  Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Count the Cost: A Homily on Wisdom and Discernment | September 7, 2025

Readings and Virtual Homily for September 7, 2025, Twenty-third Sunday of Ordinary Time, R&R in Boston

Readings for Mass this Sunday: 

• Wisdom 9:13-18

• Psalm 90:3-6, 12-17

• Philemon 1:9-10, 12-17

• Luke 14:25-33

Dear Friends and Family,

Wisdom might be said to be a major theme in the readings for this week.  Wisdom is, of course, one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and we know it may be differentiated from knowledge and even from understanding, as these, too, are counted separately as gifts.  Wisdom might loosely be said to combine both knowledge and understanding, but it is a reality in its own right.  It does not depend on knowledge to exist and it surpasses human understanding; there is an infusion of divine understanding involved, when we are discussing wisdom.

I have a deep experience of this gift, about which I have written before, in these homilies, but it is worth re-tracing it by the light of this week's beautiful readings, all of which resonate deeply with me.  I will describe my experience itself and weave the readings in, as we go.

In the spring semester of 1995, I started my studies for priesthood with the Dominicans at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley.  I was an independent graduate student, not yet sponsored by the Diocese of Sacramento, but I had been accepted as a candidate for priesthood by Sacramento, and it was understood that once I had completed the required courses in philosophy with the Dominicans, I would transfer to St. Patrick's Seminary on the peninsula, to study theology as an official seminarian for the Diocese of Sacramento.

The reason for this arrangement is that I was in debt, both with my car and on credit cards, and I needed time to get my debts paid off.  I was working at the Career Planning and Placement Center at Cal, where I had worked since my graduation from Berkeley fifteen years earlier.  I was living with my sister Liz (who had recently separated from my brother-in-law) and my three Oakland nieces, who were enrolled in Catholic schools (two of them at that point in high school).  Liz and the girls needed my income; I had lived with my family in Oakland for a decade, that spring.

 Given my ambition to become a priest, I planned to take a second, part time job, that year.  Something very flexible, evening and weekend work, maybe ten hours a week, $400 a month.  By my estimate, I would be two years getting clear of my debts.  Those two years would also give me the time I needed to complete the philosophy requirements for entry at St. Patrick's as a theology student, as a full-fledged seminarian.  I trusted that in that time, as well, my family's situation would continue to stabilize and improve; my brother-n-law had found work in Los Angeles (where he had moved because his family was there) and was contributing to the family finances.  

This was a challenging period for all of us.  But I had high hopes and deep confidence.  Staying with the program as I had it planned, I would get to the seminary in two years.  My prayer in those days might have been summed up by the last verse of today's psalm: "Prosper the work of our hands, O Lord; prosper the work of our hands."

Then came the offer, late that spring, from the bishop of Sacramento to pay off my debts and so free me to leave for seminary that fall.  I am not going to take the time to tell you why I could find no peace with this offer.  I am only going to say that it deeply disturbed me.  The poor bishop!  I think he was imagining I would leap for joy at the prospect.

I prayed.  I talked to those I most trusted.  I prayed more.  I made a seven-day silent retreat at Christ the King Retreat Center in Citrus Heights (suburban Sacramento) and I discussed the situation with my spiritual director there (Fr. Cedric Pisegna, whom some of you may recognize; he has been on EWTN a lot; at that time, he was just beginning his media ministry).  

Fr. Cedric recommended the Ignatian method -- go to Scripture.  I followed his advice and, asking the question, Do I go to the seminary against all my will or not?, I was led to...

Today's Gospel passage.  Luke 14:25-33.

I read the passage once, in shock.  I read it again (as is required, by the Ignatian method) and was even more profoundly shocked; was plunged, really, into something like dread.  Like real fear.  Like -- "NO.  I CANNOT DO THIS."

Because the passage, of course, instructs us to take up our cross and follow the Lord (vs. 27).  

I read the passage a third time, shaking my head and trying to bring reason and clarity to my thoughts, which were all over the place.  I could only see myself at the seminary, looking back across the bay in the direction of Oakland, fearful for my sister and nieces, and resentful, more than resentful, angry, at the fact that I was not there to help them.  Angry as well that I had been ripped away from my deeply challenging, but very good and just barely workable set of circumstances, working at Cal, working a second job as well, studying at the Dominican School, living with and helping my family and gradually paying off my debts.  That set of circumstances, demanding as it was, gave me peace, gave me optimism, hope and confidence.  Leaving for St. Pat's that fall, short of Liz winning the lottery, filled me with entirely negative emotions.

Yet, "Take up your cross..."

I read the passage a fourth time.  

And this time it hit me.  This time through, I saw it.  I recognized what the passage was actually saying to me.  For the passage does not end with verse 27.  It goes on for six more verses and those verses urge us to...

Count the cost.

"Which of you wishing to construct a tower does not first sit down and calculate the cost?" (vs.28).  Verses 29-32 ask what king with ten thousand troops would not first determine whether he could be successful in battle against a king with twenty thousand.  Count the cost.

At once, it was as clear to me as the hot and bright blue sky on a Sacramento summer day: I did not have what it would take to leave for the seminary that fall.  I am rushing this, because this is already long.  But the sense of release was more than huge.  It was overwhelming.  So was the flood of peace which invaded my heart, my mind, my entire being in that moment.  This turned out to be the single most important moment of discernment in my fourteen-year journey toward ordination.  I could not have known it at the time but in this discernment, in this decision, lay my eventual future as a priest not for Sacramento but for Oakland.

And there was something else as well.  There was The Marysville Youth Group.  Remember that I had planned to find a part-time job with flexible evening and weekend hours, paying $400 a month.  The job found me; I did not go looking for it.  It came looking for me, not just a job but a vocational call, and as you know, I took it.  And in that decision lay the second most important development in my fourteen years of preparation for priesthood.  In that decision lay, eventually, my appointment as chaplain at Bishop O'Dowd High School, twenty years later.

I would have missed Oakland.  I would have missed the teens.  All of them.  Two generations now, of them.

Count the cost.  If you have not got it, God is NOT asking it of you.

And, from the first reading, one of my favorites from the Book of Wisdom: "Who knows God's counsel, or who can conceive what the Lord intends?" (vs. 13).  My resistance to the bishop's well-intended offer was not just mine.  It was from the Spirit, who, of course, knew that youth ministry was coming; who knew as well that my destiny was Oakland, not Sacramento.  

I might go on another eight or ten paragraphs, regarding the operation of wisdom in our lives.  But this is already waaaaaaaaaay long.  You take my meaning, I think!

Although my sabbatical is officially only entering its second (of five) months, I have considered myself to be on sabbatical since the end of the spring semester, at the start of June.  That being the case, this month marks the sabbatical's midway point.  Though I have plenty of ambitions yet ahead, I way back in June decided to mark the half-way point in the sabbatical with a quick get-away to see friends in Boston, which as most of you know, is just one of my favorite cities on the planet.  

As you are reading this, our plan is to be on the Cape -- in all my many visits to Boston since the first in 1984, I have never seen Cape Cod.  I am writing this before I fly, however (the homily's release is pre-set) so I cannot offer any initial impressions of this famous strip of American Atlantic real estate.  But I can say that I expect to enjoy the visit.  

I'll be back Tuesday evening; to re-engage the work of the sabbatical.  The writing and printing of books, the filming and editing of videos, the meetings with our far-flung staff (not just in both the north and south state, but in Kansas City and New Jersey, as well).  And of course, the marketing launches -- plural, as we this month are initiating a direct book appeal to complement our efforts on You Tube.  There will be a second, broader book marketing launch later this year.  It is all going forward great guns, and so I am able to take a quick break and...relax along the sandy shores of the Cape.

Will close it here.

Take good care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn

The Virtue of Humility and the Bright Joys of Heaven | Sunday Homily

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 31, 2025, Twenty-second Sunday of Ordinary Time; Sabbatical Ambitions; Summer Summer Summer; September Schedule

 Readings for Mass this Sunday: 

• Sirach 3:17-18, 20. 28-29

• Psalm 68:4-7, 10-11

• Hebrews 12:18-19, 22-24

• Luke 14:1, 7-14

Dear Friends and Family,

If this schedule looks a little light to you, it is only because it IS a little light.  For one thing, I am traveling twice in September.  But for another, Fr. Jesus (pastor) gives himself the occasional weekend where he takes all six Masses -- he wants to get to know the parish.  He is one dedicated and hard-working brother, and I am delighted to be working with him.  I've told him I think he takes on more than he should, but he just smiles.  In any event, Fr. Jesus is the boss, and I am happy to do whatever I can to support and assist him.  He is just wonderful.

The virtue of humility is the theme this Sunday, of both the first reading and the Gospel passage.  It's an important topic and I don't want to neglect it, but in fact this week's readings include two of my favorite passages in all Scripture and I don't want to neglect them, either, even though neither has anything much to do with humility.  These passages are from the psalm and the second reading.  I'll turn to them after reflecting a bit first, on humility.

The author of the Book of Sirach (also called Wisdom of Ben Sira) writes in a style reminiscent of the Book of Proverbs.  Sirach is a long book, fifty chapters, the first forty-three of which offer moral instruction; the last seven dedicated to a recounting of the deeds of Israel's ancestors going back to Abraham.  It was one of the last of the books of the Old Testament written, dating to the early second century BC.

In today's passage, the author urges the virtue of humility, assuring readers that the more humble one is, the greater one is, in the sight of God (vss. 17-20).  I think we sometimes misunderstand the true nature of humility -- by a simple phonetic association we might relate it to humiliation.  And, of course, humiliation, deeply understood, can be associated with this virtue.  If a proud and self-righteous person is humbled by circumstances or exposure, it can be a very good thing for that person.  

Humility is the opposite of pride.  Pride thwarts virtue; humility gives rise to it.  That is, in the virtue of humility all the other virtues become possible.  It is sometimes called the ground of all virtue, the most basic and necessary virtue, for without it, our practice of any other virtue is, at the least, adversely affected.  

Possession of this virtue is not to be equated with self-abnegation, with a lack of self-esteem.  If, for instance, you are a great skier and, upon completing a spectacular run at Incline, someone remarks upon your athleticism and skill. Complimenting you on both, it is not humble, to say you just got lucky.  It is humble to say, "Well, I love the sport, have been blessed with many opportunities to practice it, and I am grateful to be able to do so."  Humility is always honest; there is nothing of false modesty caught up with it.  

Jesus gives what amounts to some basic practical advice with regard to humility, in today's passage from Luke.  In advising his hearers not to seek a place of honor at a banquet his words run a parallel to the adage that pride goes before a fall.  A person with a well-developed practice of the virtue of humility assumes little and presumes nothing.  He or she is too honest, too open to reality, to do so.  Pride can lead one into many mistaken apprehensions, causing conflict and disorder in relationships.  The humble see things as they actually are, and navigate their way with both clarity and charity, with calm self-assurance and a ready acceptance even in difficult situations.  Those adept at the practice of humility can often diffuse difficult situations; the prideful both provoke and prolong them.

Just a few thoughts on what I think is sometimes a very misunderstood virtue.

Now, about those two favorite passages.  It is actually three, since there are two verses I want to quote from the psalm.  The first is verse five, and it is included in today's reading.  Here it is: "Sing to God, praise his name; exalt the rider of the clouds."  The second verse I want to quote is not included in today's passage, it is verse thirty-four, where God is described as he "Who rides the heights of the ancient heavens."  

Psalm 68 is sometimes associated with the Ascension; with these two striking images, it is easy to see why.  I don't think there is much I can add to them, in terms of deepening our appreciation of them; I think they speak more than adequately on their own of the celestial majesty of God.

Finally there is this passage from today's second reading: 

...you have approached Mount Zion and the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and countless angels is festal array, and the assembly of the first-born enrolled in heaven, and God the judge of all, and the spirits of the just made perfect, and Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and the sprinkled blood that speaks more eloquently than that of Abel (vss. 22-24).

This is one of my favorite passages from the Letter to the Hebrews, which itself is one of my favorite books of Scripture.  Again, there seems little reason to try to "improve" upon the passage by talking about it.  It speaks eloquently by itself of the bright joys of heaven.

And here's a way perhaps to connect these bright celestial images with the main theme of today's homily -- it is humility which sets us on our way toward the attainment of heaven.  It is the virtue of humility which guarantees our eventual perfection in the practice of all the virtues.  It is the virtue of humility which underwrites our sainthood itself.  Here's to humility!

I have been in SoCal again this week, as mentioned last e-mail.  Book business in San Diego; book, You Tube, marketing and administrative business in LA.  As I think most of you are aware, my brother Dan is my partner at San Gabriel.  He has run his own publishing and media business in LA for over twenty years.  With the creation of San Gabriel Media, I have become one of his biggest clients!  Except that, in San Gabriel, Dan is one of his own clients, as well; as I say, we are partners.  He tells me he wants to do San Gabriel as his retirement gig.  I have a similar hope -- not that either one of us is anywhere near retirement.  

In any event, this trip was all meetings.  I will be doing some video work in LA, later this summer; right now all video production -- and there is a lot of it -- is happening in the East Bay.  I have a new videographer this summer and he is very enthusiastic; is making himself available several hours a week.  We are at the moment shooting all new stuff -- that is, episodes for several brand new series, not for the programs which are already in release.  That will change later this fall -- I have many episodes for our three anchor series (all currently in release) that I want to film between now and the end of the year.  

My goals for the sabbatical are several, but they include getting two new books written, and filming over 300 episodes of our various programs.  My young camera guy in the East Bay and I are on track with this second goal; we have shot just over one hundred episodes since mid-July.  

I'll close on a summery note, given that this summer is, as I have mentioned with delight several times, the first one since 2014 that did not "end in the middle" because of the academic schedule.  Driving to LA Tuesday I stopped at Harris Ranch, along I-5 in Fresno County.  I got out of the car and felt the 104-degree temperature, felt the wonderful dryness of the air, felt the hot but welcome breeze.  I was taken back to boyhood in Marysville.  I love Hayward's mild, sunny and breezy summers but that does not mean I cannot appreciate the desert-dry and reliably hot summers of the Central Valley.  I do appreciate them.  Sometimes I think -- speaking of retirement -- that I will retire to a venue that has summers like Marysville's.  I would not have to leave the Oakland Diocese to do so.  Both Brentwood and the Tri-Valley get hot (and dry) the way Marysville does.

Not, at all, that retirement is on my mind!  On the other hand...maybe it is a bit...simply because I am so deeply enjoying my sabbatical.  It does occur to me, now and then, this summer -- "This is a foretaste of retirement."  

But seriously, it is years off.  I have no plans at the moment, other than to keep working.  Why not?  If you love what you do, and if what you do is needed and appreciated...why stop doing it?

In any event, I am enjoying my sabbatical.

I'll close it here.

Take good care and God bless.  Enjoy the later days of summer!  

Fr. Brawn

September Mass Schedule:

Sunday, September 14

11 AM The Catholic Community of Pleasanton (Seton Campus)

Sunday, September 21

8 AM, 1115 AM (both English)

Weekday Masses (All 8 AM; English):

Monday the 1

Thursday the 11

Friday the 12

Saturday the 13

Monday the 15

Saturday the 20

Monday the 22

Virtual Homily: August 24, 2025, From Isaiah to Luke, God Calls All Peoples

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 24, 2025, Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time; A Major Ministry (Maybe) Revived; LA-bound for San Gabriel Media; And...We Are at 300,000 Subscribers

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• ·       Isaiah 66:18-21

• ·       Psalm 117:1-2

• ·       Hebrews 12:5-7, 11-13

• ·       Luke 13:22-30

Dear Friends and Family,

This week, I am happy to report, the readings share an easily identifiable theme; the theme of the conversion of the Gentiles, the realization on the part of the pagan nations that the God of Israel IS God.

Isaiah 66, after naming several ancient pagan nations and declaring that they shall come to recognize Israel's God as their God, goes on to predict the conversion of "the distant coastlands which have never heard of my fame, or seen my glory" (vs. 19).  Old Testament references to "the islands" and "the coastlands" are generally understood to be references to the "island continents," at the time, of course, undiscovered; these are references to the Americas and Australia.  Though undiscovered, the Spirit knew they were there, and prophesied through Isaiah and others their far-distant-future conversion.

Psalm 117, at two verses, is easily the shortest of the psalms, and its joyful message of praise encourages "all you nations...all you peoples" to extol and praise the Lord (vs. 1).  

The second reading, from the Letter to the Hebrews, and selected by "the committee in Rome" according to the principle of continuous reading, has nothing whatever to do with the conversion of the Gentiles.  As I have mentioned in past homilies, the principle of continuous reading aims simply to get us through each book of Scripture, over the course of a number of Sundays.  Right now, the book we are getting through is the marvelous Letter to the Hebrews.

In the passage from Luke, Jesus assures us that many "will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God" (vs. 29).  This bright prophecy follows a warning from Jesus of the possibility of eternal damnation (vss. 24-28).  This warning seems aimed particularly at religious Jews of his time, for Jesus speaks of those shut out as saying that they "ate and drank" with him, and that they listened to Jesus when he "taught in our streets" (vs. 26).  The subject of Hell is not the subject of this homily, so other than to say that any warnings from Jesus on this subject should be taken as seriously by today's Christians as they were by first-century Jews, I will say no more on the subject.

The part of the Gospel passage that picks up on the theme set forth by Isaiah 66 and Psalm 117 is that Jesus, too, prophesies the conversion of the nations; foresees the day when people from the east, the west, the north and the south will come to know that the God of Israel is God.  We are the people who fulfill these prophecies.  We (and our ancestors, of course) are "the people who dwelt in darkness" who "have seen a great light" (Isaiah 9:1).  It's kind of cool to meditate, now and then, on that!

Many of you no doubt remember the Parish Day-of-Reflection ministry I used to present, for several years with Mom, later on my own, in Alameda (while I was still a seminarian), and subsequently in my various parishes.  You may remember, too, that Mom and I had a LOT of help with this ministry, given its expansive aims -- we featured a genuinely free lunch, and in time came to incorporate a continental breakfast, as well.  Fellowship, community-building and faith-sharing were a large part of our aims with the Day-of-Reflection ministry.

In ten years in Hayward, St. Clement has never known this ministry -- our gym/main hall is almost always taken up on Saturday with CYO.  Somehow, McCollum Hall was available this past Saturday and the St. Clement Knights reserved it and asked me to give a parish-wide talk on Mary, the day before being the Feast of the Assumption.  

I dusted off my five-part talk All About Mary (developed for a Day-of-Reflection in Brentwood over a decade ago).  Lisa Fisher, who quarter-mastered the ministry's meals for a decade, stepped up to the plate to organize the hospitality part of the day.  Lisa even found a couple members of her original team to assist; though St. Clement was eager to supply volunteers.   

It was "only" a continental breakfast in that we served nothing hot, except coffee, but it was one huge continental breakfast and a good thing, too -- we had 230 people in attendance.  The lunch was, by both my estimate and Lisa's, the largest we have ever done; our parishioners (and quite a few folks from beyond the parish) "ate and were filled." to borrow from Scripture.  Hugely satisfied at being empowered to present this ministry to St. Clement at last, as Lisa put, "Hayward now knows what a Day of Reflection is."  

And Hayward wants more.  Lisa, the team and I would LOVE to give three or four such events a year, as we did in Brentwood, in Fremont, in Pleasanton.  It is entirely a matter of our facilities and their availability.  If we get another date in the hall, I will let you know about it.  Friends in Brentwood, taking me to dinner that same night, and hearing about the day, assured me they would have attended, had they known about it!

And...oh yeah...folks told me they learned a LOT about Our Blessed Mother!

Well, to wrap up on a thematic note (the conversion of the Gentiles) San Gabriel Media continues to barrel on ahead, with this summer's You Tube promotion.  The connection to the readings is that our subscribers are from around the globe; India above all heavily represented.  India is the largest Catholic nation on earth, and most people there speak English, so this does not really surprise me.

I will be in SoCal this coming week on SGM business.  Marketing meetings.  Book meetings.  YouTube content meetings.  The need to be in LA and San Diego regularly is part of what necessitated my request for the sabbatical...

Meanwhile, we this weekend are at 300,000 subscribers.  We are gaining on average, 3000-4000 subscribers a day.  The YT promotion is only one marketing stratagem we are rolling out this year, and as we prepare to launch others, I have to reiterate that no one at San Gabriel considers 300,000 YouTube subscribers anything other than a good, a solid, a promising start.  

I have used a flight analogy here before, I will employ it again today.  As far as any of us at San Gabriel are concerned, 300,000 subscribers says that we have (FINALLY) pushed back from the gate, and gotten onto the taxi-way.  The runway is not yet in sight, let alone lift-off.  As I have said before, our ambitions are not small.  There is no reason they should be.  This is not about us.  It is about the "Good News of great joy which shall be for all people" (Lk. 2:10).  None of us knows where the limit lies; but all of us feel obligated to reach it.

I'll wrap it here.

Take care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn

Jeremiah in the Cistern and Jesus’ Call to Endurance: Sunday Homily Reflections

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for August 17, 2025, Twentieth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Living My Best Life Now

Readings for Mass this Sunday: 

• Jeremiah 38:4-6, 8-10

• Psalm 40:2-4, 18

• Hebrews 12:1-4

• Luke 12:49-53

Dear Friends and Family,

Understanding that "a committee in Rome" arranged the lectionary, that is the book that contains the readings for Mass not only on Sundays, but every day of the week, and understanding as well the two principles by which the readings have been chosen...I nonetheless have to say that I sometimes just draw a blank on "getting the connection" with regard to a given Sunday's selected readings and that is the case this week.  The first reading and the psalm in fact share an obvious theme.  We'll look at that.  Without too much stretching, the second reading might be related to this theme.  As for the Gospel passage, well...we will look at it on its own terms.  I see only the most tentative connection to the rest of the readings this week. 

The first reading is the famous passage where certain leaders of the Jewish people, angry enemies of Jeremiah, outraged at his predictions that Judah will fall to Babylon despite the presence of allied troops (the Egyptians) in Jerusalem, give the command that the prophet be thrown into a cistern (vs. 6).  The cistern is deep and at bottom it is several feet thick of mud, and Jeremiah sinks into the mud.  He is rescued when another leader, hearing of what has happened, urges the king to order Jeremiah's release (vss. 7-10).

This is the sort of hardship, insult and indignity, to say nothing of danger, that Jeremiah faced and faced frequently, as a result of his faithful service to the Lord.  It is the sort of thing that caused the prophet more than once to tell God that he was done with being a prophet; that he was through with his calling and his vocation (Jeremiah 20:7-9).  (Though Jeremiah made such threats, he never actually carried them out.)

Psalm 40 is clearly connected.  Good for the committee in Rome.  Listen:

"Surely, I wait for the Lord; who bends down to me and hears my cry, draws me up from the pit of destruction, out of the muddy clay, sets my feet upon rock, steadies my steps, and puts a new song in my mouth, a hymn to God" (vss. 2-3).

This theme of serious difficulty and of God's sure rescue is, I think, one to which most of us can relate.  There may, in fact, be times when we are truly helpless.  The psalmist urges confidence in God's saving power, God's certain love.  Jeremiah's example illustrates this dynamic in no uncertain terms.  In the mud at the bottom of a deep cistern, he is truly helpless.  He could not know that another leader would react quickly and effectively, to bring about his rescue.  He had to do what the psalmist urges, and which, perhaps sometimes, is also what we must do, since we can do nothing else.  Wait on the Lord in trust.

Easier said than done.

The second reading, from the Letter to the Hebrews, is one I might easily have constructed my homily around this week.  And although it was not selected to coincide with the first reading, the psalm or the Gospel, this passage from the letter can be said to run a clear parallel with the theme of endurance and trust in times of trial.  

The unknown author of Hebrews (as I have often pointed out, the letter is far too eloquent to have been written by Paul) urges perseverance on the part of his discouraged audience.  Indeed, perseverance in faith is one the letter's chief themes.  The author reminds his audience that Jesus so persevered.  "Consider how he endured such opposition from sinners," the author recommends, "in order that you may not grow weary and lose heart" (vs. 3).  "For the sake of the joy that lay before him," the author argues, Jesus "endured the cross, despising its shame" (vs. 2).  

Easy enough, I think, to draw a parallel here, with the sufferings of Jeremiah, and with Jeremiah's stubborn perseverance, despite his threats to throw this whole prophetic calling thing over and go...open a smoke shop, maybe.  (That was a joke...)

Finally, the passage from Luke is where Jesus warns that he has come not to bring peace but division.  That is, his message will divide people against each other; there will be those who accept it and try to live it out, and those who reject it.  This division will set even family members one against the other.  

I know of families where just this division has occurred, though in the vast number of cases, it is simply a matter of accepting or not accepting the Good News and letting each do so according to his/her inclination.  It is only rarely, in my long experience working with practicing Catholics who have family members who do not practice or outright do not believe, only rarely, as I say, that I have been told of any animosity over the division.  It was different, we have reason to believe, in Jesus' time; in the first centuries of the Church.  

That said, I suppose it could be said as well that the Gospel passage might be understood as predicting trials and difficulties for those who do believe and who are worried about their family members who do not.  Here, again, and related to the theme of the other readings, certainly it might be said that perseverance, in prayer and by example, is essential.  Perseverance and trust -- for, in dealing with non-belief among our family and friends, we are reliant on the grace of God to bring about their awakening, their deeper understanding, their embrace of the message of Jesus.  We cannot convert anyone.  We can only let the Spirit use us toward that goal, remembering that God wills the salvation of our loved ones even more than we do.  Above all we need to keep praying for them.

So we are back to perseverance and trust, and that is as close as I can come, to connecting up all four readings, this Sunday.

So as I have mentioned in the last couple e-mails, I have been the only priest in the parish, since late July, our beloved pastor having taken a well-deserved vacation trip home to Mexico.  This reality has had me meeting myself coming and going, the past eighteen or twenty days.  I am not about to complain.  Just the opposite, I am inclined, in these circumstances, to give thanks and praise to God for reminding me of how much I love parish ministry and for giving me such a stark opportunity to practice it -- never mind that I am on sabbatical.  

In fact the last two or three weeks have underscored for me just how much I do love parish ministry, how happy I would be to return to it full-time, if and when that time presents itself.  I have zero plans to leave the high school before the end of the decade, though, so any speculation about an eventual return to fulltime parish work is premature.

But it has occurred to me, this summer, how deeply I love my current circumstances, and I do not mean just because it is summer and I am on sabbatical.  I was at the high school Thursday afternoon -- classes started this week -- and the ninety minutes or so that I spent with my colleagues were bright and joyful.  I revere my colleagues at O'Dowd; feel blessed and almost privileged to call them my peers.  At the same time, as I say above, I am as in love with parish ministry here in Hayward nineteen years after my ordination as I was my first summer as a priest in Pleasanton.  Throw in the hugely creative work of San Gabriel Media, and our remarkable growth this summer (we passed a quarter of a million subscribers Tuesday) and it adds up to my best life ever -- and I have had, all my life, a pretty good life.  Just important, sometimes, to acknowledge our blessings and give the Lord thanks and praise for them.

On that bright note, I think I will sign off.  This one's long enough!

Take good care and God bless.

El Padre

Nineteenth Sunday Homily: From Moses to Modern Trials, Trusting in God’s Providence

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 10, 2025, Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Virtual Homily; Caracas Update; August Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Wisdom 18:6-9

• Psalm 33:1, 12, 18-22

• Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-19

• Luke 12:32-48

Dear Friends and Family,

Trust and faith, as words, are not quite interchangeable, but they get at the same general concept.  Today's readings invite us to develop and maintain a robust confidence in God's love for us, God's care for us and God's ability to see to our every need.

This business of trusting God with our needs can be daunting.  After all, we cannot see, cannot hear (in any typical meaning of the term) or touch God.  But our needs very frequently can be seen, can be heard, can be touched (or felt).  They are experienced on the level of experience itself.  Even if they are emotional or spiritual in nature, they are, to us, as we experience them, tangible, real.  Trusting that which cannot be seen, heard or touched with tangible, with  immediate and very real need can be, as I say, challenging.

The first reading, from the Book of Wisdom (one of my top ten favorite books of Scripture) reminds us of how God provided, astonishingly, for the needs of the Israelites at the Red Sea, with Pharaoh's army bearing down on them.  Moses trusted; God delivered.  The passage urges a deep trust in the ability of the God who worked such an amazing miracle for his original people, to provide for our needs today.

The psalm doubles down on this theme.  "Behold, the eye of the Lord is upon those who fear him, upon those who count on his mercy, to deliver them from death and keep them alive through famine" (vss. 18-19).  The reference to famine should be underscored here.  There was a time when crop failures could threaten human existence itself.  The psalm urges confidence, trust, faith -- even in such dire circumstances. 

The second reading, from the Letter to the Hebrews (one of my top three books of Scripture) reminds us of the faith of our spiritual ancestors.  In admirable literary style, the (unknown) author of the Letter to the Hebrews reminds his audience of Jewish Christian converts how, by the faith of their ancestors, God's majestic plan of salvation came into play.  Only by faith, the author argues, is God's plan achieved among us, for it is beyond our capacities to bring that plan about on our own efforts.  The author cites one example after another of how, in the plan of salvation, it was necessary for the ancestors of the Jews to let go and let God.  The author goes on to urge such confident self-surrender to us.

The Gospel passage illustrates the dynamic that can come into play when trust, or faith, in God is set aside for faith in our own circumstances and abilities.  We may be tempted, as the chief servant in the parable is, to take matters into our own hands, thinking that God is far off and not attentive. 

This temptation -- I know it well -- urges on us a self-reliance and self-determination that may run contrary to God's design for us, and for that reason it must be resisted.  Rather than meeting difficulty and uncertainty by barreling ahead with our own plans based on our own understandings, we should step back from the difficulty long enough to do what Moses did, at the Red Sea.  Moses did not know how God was going to resolve the matter; he only knew that God WOULD resolve it.  In his trust, in his faith, Moses "allowed" (if that is the term) for the astonishing miracle at the Red Sea.

"Your faith has healed you," Jesus tells the woman who suffered twelve years with the hemorrhage (Matthew 9:22).  Our faith, our trust in God, in God's love for us, in God's unlimited ability to "fix" any bad situation, to bring us safely through any crisis, opens the way for grace to operate.  And once grace is in operation, as Gabriel assured Mary, "all things are possible" (Luke 1:37).

As some of you are aware, I experienced a totally unexpected financial windfall this past fortnight, and, of course, one of the first things I did with it was send a chunk of change to my young Venezuelans.  People have asked me, off and on, since the last time I reported on them, how my Caraquenos are doing.

In a word, they are surviving.  They are doing little more than that.  They are not living life the way we live it here in America, the way it is lived by most Europeans, by the Japanese, the Australians, the Moroccans, nor, for that matter, by most South Americans. 

There is zero opportunity, today, in Venezuela, for anyone with an idea, a dream, a vision, a capacity to bring about a better life for him/herself and their family.  It is hard for North Americans to conceive of such a set of circumstances, but it is what the vast majority of Venezuelans experience as a day-to-day reality. 

The money I regularly send to Caracas (a chunk of it supplied by some of you) goes to buy food, to buy medicine and to help close the gap on the rent.  It is not being put to any creative or entrepreneurial use; it cannot be.  $100 (I mean, in American cash, which by the grace of God I am able to get to my Venezuelans; I am able to get them dollars, rather than their own worthless currency) lifts a family of five or six above the economic abyss for six weeks.  Most of the nation, it has been reported now, and so reported for years, is dependent upon remittances from friends and family outside the country.

Which leads me to this point (and which point, I think, says something impressive about "my boys" from Caracas): Of the seventeen young men I became something of a mentor to, in Caracas back in the days when Americans could still travel safely to the country, one is now in New York, one in Savannah, one in Orlando, one in Barcelona, one in Cartagena and two in Lima.  That is, seven of them have fled the country and are building new lives for themselves in free and prospering nations -- despite having the largest proven oil reserves in the world, Venezuela is neither.

That leaves ten of my young men in the country (all but two of them still in Caracas).  I am in touch with several of them regularly via WhatsApp and also through mutual communications with the guys who are now expatriots.  I am in regular communication in particular with the "kids" (they are now in their late thirties and early forties) in Orlando, Savannah and Barcelona. 

With regard to today's homily, it might be said that this is a time of testing and of faith for the twenty-six million Venezuelans who remain in the country.  Eight million have fled; the largest emigration of the twenty-first century and a tragic fulfillment of Mother Mary's prediction at Fatima in 1917 (the year of the Bolshevik Revolution in Moscow) that "Russia will spread her error throughout the world." 

The Venezuelan resistance remains strong and unified.  Last summer's fraudulent elections proved as much (see a couple of these e-mails from July and August of 2024).  I remain convinced that, at some point in the future, the Venezuelan people will once again govern themselves in freedom and prosperity.  There was a time, not that long ago, when the nation was a functioning democracy and the fourteenth largest economy on the planet. 

In trust, in faith, I await the Lord's plan, for the liberation of this beautiful people from their criminal "socialist" oppressors.

Gonna leave it at that as it is late Friday night and I need to call it a day.

Take care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

My apologies for not getting the August schedule out last week.  It completely slipped my mind.  Here is it from this weekend on:

Saturday, Aug. 9

5 PM (English)

Sunday, Aug. 10

930 AM, 1 PM (Spanish)

Sunday, Aug. 17

8 AM, 1115 AM, 630 PM (All English)

Sunday, Aug. 24

11 AM (The Catholic Community of Pleasanton; Seton campus, English) 

Saturday, Aug. 30

5 PM (English)

Sunday, Aug. 31

8 AM, 1115 AM (both English)

Weekday Masses (all 8 AM and in English except where noted)

Monday August 11

Tuesday August 12 (7 PM in Spanish)

Saturday August 16

Monday August 18

Saturday August 23

Monday August 25

Friday August 29

You Can’t Take It with You: A Homily on Detachment and Faith

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 3, 2025, Eighteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; When Summer is Allowed to be Summer; Now Starts the Sabbatical

Readings for Mass this Sunday: 

• Ecclesiastes 1:2; 2:21-23

• Psalm 90:3-6, 12-14, 17

• Colossians 3:1-5, 9-11

• Luke 12:13-21

Dear Friends and Family:

All four readings this weekend can be related easily and generally to a theme of non-attachment to the things of this world.  We are built to last.  Forever.  The things of this world are not built to last.  It is folly, therefore, to place our trust and a sense of security in our possessions.  They might disappear overnight.  Or, as the Gospel passage points out, WE might disappear overnight, might die suddenly and find ourselves in eternity where material things do not count for anything, and then what good would our earthly possessions be to us?

This theme might be broadened beyond the concept of material possessions.  I have never had much in the way of "things," for example, so it is really pretty easy for me to say, "So what if I have to leave all my material possessions behind when I leave this world?  They amount to a car, a computer and some clothes."   

While I have little in the way of material possessions, however, I have had substantial experience with the "things of this world" if we are willing to broaden the category to include such considerations as personal ambition, professional reputation, professional recognition and advancement, and so on.  I am not talking here about my career in the Church.  I am talking about my ambitions as a writer.  

Detached as I may be from the material goods of the world, since I have so few of them, I am well acquainted with another sort of "good;" I am well acquainted with another temptation to be attached to the world.  I am well-acquainted with career ambition and the determination to succeed -- as a writer, as an artist.  One's professional success, professional reputation, professional recognition and the variety of rewards that might come with real career achievement, though not necessarily material, are nonetheless very much "worldly things," and I readily confess to having pursued them with an almost ferocious energy and determination, and for my entire adult life.

I don't want to make this homily "all about me," but -- today's readings seem especially appropriate to my circumstances this summer, as we roll out the initial marketing stratagems at San Gabriel Media and are, at least for the moment, encountering a rapid and rising success.  The videos at San Gabriel that are gaining hundreds of thousands of views on YouTube are videos that were scripted (that is, written) by me.  In several cases, they are videos presented by me; in some cases they are videos performed by me.  And, of course, the books available at our website are my brainchildren; I wrote them with love, with energy, with passion; I believe in them and hope to see them succeed.

Which, so far as it serves the greater purposes of God, is hunky-dory.  If our YouTube programming and my books at San Gabriel can help people deepen their relationship with God, that is awesome.  But detachment, on my part, from the worldly "things" of literary and artistic success is as important, with regard to today's readings, as is detachment from material possessions.  The adage "You can't take it with you" applies as much to career achievement as it does to material possessions, as it does to money.  

In the end, all of us are radically poor.  Unable to save ourselves, we must throw ourselves on the love of the God who created us in love and for love.  We must trust in that love -- God's love for us.  In that, and in that alone, is our security, no matter how much the things of this world may give us a sense of security and of peace.  The things of this world -- including those which are not material -- cannot save us.  That is the unified message across today's readings.  

I want to wrap this homily with the observation that, Father Jesus (our so very well-named pastor here at St, Clement) being in Mexico this and the next couple of weeks, I had a blast from the past this week.  The only priest in the parish, believe me, I was in demand, the last seven days.  I loved it.  Much as I love the high school, my colleagues and my students there, I remain a parish priest at heart.  There is very little, by way of a "the things of this world" temptation, in the day-in and day-out life of the parish priest.  Just get out of bed in the morning and you may be assured, you will be doing God's will that day.  I treasure my "work" in the parish.  I put the word work in quotation marks because parish work, to me, is not work.  It is life.  

I often say at funeral Masses that the only "thing" we take with us, when we leave this world, is the love we have given away.  Parish priesthood, to me, is love-with-legs, is love in day-in and day-out action.  I had a GREAT week, here at St. Clement, just being "the only priest in the parish."

Well...It is the start of August.  That is, the middle of summer.  For the first time in ten years, I am able to relax and enjoy the summer for what it is -- SUMMER.  For the first time in ten years -- since I started at the high school in 2015 -- I do not have to be pulling myself together for the academic year, in what amounts to the middle of summer.

I am grateful.  Remember when summer ended (and school started) after Labor Day?  Trust me, so do I and so do all my colleagues at O'Dowd (even those who are actually too young to remember it -- they have heard of it!).  EVERYONE resents being back on campus the first week of August.  I plan to spend several more years at the high school, and have no doubt that, at this juncture next year, I will be kvetching with the rest of my dear colleagues about our mid-summer return.  

But not this summer.  This summer, for me, summer actually gets to BE summer.  That fact has me smiling.  

And it reminds me that...I have been on summer vacation since the first of June.  That would have happened regardless.  Now starts the sabbatical.  Now starts that dedication -- in terms of my focus and energy through to January 6 -- to our plans at San Gabriel Media.  The next five months are 100% about evangelization, since evangelization is ALL we are about at SGM.  Pray for us!

Gonna wrap it.

 Take care and God Bless.

 Fr. Brawn

Ask, Seek, Knock — But Be Ready for a Surprise

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 27, 2025, Seventeenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Blessed in SoCal

Readings for this Sunday:

• Genesis 18:20-32

• Psalm 138:1-3, 6-8

• Colossians 2:12-14

• Luke 11:1-13

 Dear Friends and Family,

This week's Gospel passage is famous: "Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you" (vs. 9).  It is a passage that needs to be parsed carefully, if it is to be accurately grasped and understood.  I know.  I have decades of experience with this dynamic.

So, just to state the obvious at the outset.  We do not always get what we ask for.  In my experience, at least, we are disappointed in our requests enough to make the argument seem plausible that the whole thing is random, to make the argument seem plausible that you may as well not bother to pray at all, because maybe you will, maybe you won't get what you ask for.

I stress the words "seem plausible."  For, again, in my long experience with this business of asking and sometimes receiving, sometimes not, I have concluded that there is nothing random in the way our prayers get answered.  And I have concluded as well that, one way or another, our prayers always do, in fact, get answered.  Prayer is conversation with our Creator.  Conversation is dynamic, not static.  Conversation is two-way, not one way.  Conversation by its nature is open to possibilities. 

It is a truism, a commonplace response to say that "God always answers our prayers, but not necessarily always in the way we want."  I point this out simply to acknowledge the reality -- we can be disappointed in our prayers -- and to move on from it.  For the deeper reality is that the way God answers our prayers is, in the end, just precisely the way we want them answered, though it can take us some time, grasping as much.  Only in hindsight, sometimes, oft-times, can we appreciate the way the Lord has answered our prayers.

And before I go any further with this, let me acknowledge that both the first reading and the Gospel passage this Sunday strongly recommend persistence in prayer.  Abraham is insistent in his plea for any just people who might be found to be living in Sodom and Gomorrah.  Jesus assures us that the man who has turned in for the night but who has a friend at his door asking for bread will get up and give him the bread, in the end, if not out of friendship then out of the desire to be rid of his insistent knocking.  The man inside will get the bread to his friend outside, simply to be able to get to sleep (vs. 8).  

So let me just underscore that fact.  Persistence in prayer is strongly recommended by today's readings.  And let me say this, as well.  If you are strongly motivated to pray for a specific outcome, there is solid reason to believe that your prayer aligns with God's will.  You want what is best in the situation.  So does God.

But what is best in the situation may involve factors beyond our understanding; it may involve people, places, developments beyond our immediate scope of vision.  These possibilities are not beyond God's scope of vision.  And God is always playing for the win for everyone.  God sees the completed canvas, the whole picture.  We see the next brush stroke.  

This is where faith comes in.  It may well be that the thing we are praying for is entirely within God's plan and design.  It may also be that how this desired thing is to come about is not at all the way we have conceived of it.  God will bring it about, in God's own way, and in consideration of factors of which we may well be entirely unaware.  

As just one example from the storehouse of experience I have, dealing with this dynamic -- the dynamic of delayed answer to prayer, or even what seems an outright No.  In the mid-1990s, I was a graduate student in philosophy at the Dominican School at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, preparing for entry to theological studies at seminary.  I was "in a hurry" to move ahead with my studies, quite naturally assuming that God wanted to make a priest of me as soon as that might happen.  I was vexed by persistent personal debt (both a car loan and credit cards) and could not advance to seminary studies until these debts were paid.

There were several avenues for getting my debts paid quite clearly available to me (one of them being that my literary agent in New York would succeed in selling one or more of my novels).  Yet none of these avenues opened up for me; I remained in debt and in circumstances which precluded my advancing to seminary until my debts were paid.

Then came the offer, in the summer of 1995, that I take over the youth ministry position in the Marysville parish, a paid position which, three years later, substantially contributed to my retiring my debts and getting to seminary.  Believe me, dear reader, I NEVER saw youth ministry coming.  Never for a moment thought of working with teens as a part of my preparation for priesthood.

As it turned out, of course, working with teens has defined my priesthood.

And it would never have come about had God answered my fervent (and very persistent) prayers in the mid-1990s that my agent might start to succeed in selling my novels in Manhattan.  That, among a couple of other possibilities, was how I understood that my financial decks might be cleared and how I might move on toward priesthood.  God had another plan.  A plan that involved not just the teens of the Marysville youth group in the late 1990s, but the teens at Bishop O'Dowd High School today.  A plan, as well, that involved me, and God's desire to see me flourish in ways I could never have imagined.  Youth ministry was God's dream for me; I never dreamt of it myself.  

Yet as I say, my work with the teens, for over thirty years now, has defined not just priesthood but really, my life.  And am I ever grateful.  Grateful that THIS is how God decided to answer my fervent and insistent prayers, in the 1990s.

I could go on.  Believe me, dear reader, I could go on and on and on -- I have abundant experience with this dynamic, the dynamic of how God may answer our prayers in surprising ways.  Suffice it to say for this one that conversation with God, that is, our prayers, needs to be open, fluid, dynamic, trusting.  He WILL answer our prayers.  He will do it in ways that benefit the largest number of people in the deepest possible way.  And this broader perspective -- God's perspective -- may require us to be flexible, responsive, open to surprises, to the way in which our prayers will be answered.  

At fourteen paragraphs, this one is long even by my (written homily) standards, so I think I will close here.  I have been in Southern California this week, advancing plans and projects with San Gabriel Media.  Also spending some good time with SoCal family; I am feeling blessed, feeling grateful.  

Take good care.  God bless.

Fr. Brawn

Martha, Mary, and the Mystery of Salvation: Homily for July 20, 2025

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 20, 2025, Sixteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; LA-bound; Praise Report on San Gabriel Media

Readings for Mass this Sunday: 

• Genesis 18:1-10

• Psalm 15:2-5

• Colossians 1:24-28

• Luke 10:38-42

Dear Friends and Family,

The Gospel passage (Martha asking Jesus to tell Mary to get off her duff and help with the party) is one of my favorite scenes from all four Gospels.  I will likely repeat myself from previous homilies, talks, and written analyses, when discussing the passage.  I can't help myself.  I am too much a fan of Martha not to insist on giving her some credit in the situation.  

Before getting to the Gospel, though, we have a reading from Genesis which also pertains to hospitality: Abraham and Sarah receiving the three visitors who tell them that in a year's time they will have a son.  Scripture scholars generally agree that these three visitors represent the Trinity.  One might argue whether they simply represent God (angelic ambassadors, so to speak) or whether, in fact, the Three Persons decided to appear to Abraham and Sarah in human form.  I am not going to weigh in on that question; it is above the pay-grade of a parish priest.  

Whichever interpretation one prefers, the visitors allow themselves to be attended to by Abraham and Sarah (taking rest in the shade of the spreading oak tree near the tent, bathing their feet in water Abraham provides for just that purpose and so on).  A full meal is quickly prepared for them, and the visitors genially accept the hospitality, again, assuring Abraham within Sarah's hearing that at this same time next year, they will return and that at that time, the aged patriarch and his wife will have a son.

I want to say this about the passage (and this observation runs a parallel to what I have to say about Martha, below): Sarah laughs, when she hears the visitors assuring her husband that they will have a son in a year's time (vs. 12, outside today's passage).  Sarah is called out for laughing (vss. 13-15).  It seems that everyone who knows anything about the history of salvation knows that Sarah laughed at the thought that she might conceive a child at her age.

Far less well known: Abraham also laughed.  Laughed in the very presence of God.  Laughed so hard and so well that he "fell face down and laughed" (Genesis 17:17).  He is not rebuked for his disbelief; he is only reassured that he and Sarah will conceive, will have a son and that they will name him Isaac (vs. 19).  I am not going to comment further on this set of facts.  I merely point them out.

Psalm 15 asks what one must do to "abide in your (that is, God's) tent" (vs. 1) and goes on in four fairly dense verses to describe qualities of discipleship.  

The passage from the Letter to the Colossians actually connects to the first reading (and without too much stretching may also be connected to the passage from the Gospel) in that Paul speaks of "the mystery hidden from ages and from generations past;" the mystery of the plan of salvation fully revealed in Jesus Christ (vs. 26).  

This mystery, of course, starts with Abraham and Sarah, starts with their obedience, their faith and their willingness to cooperate with God's plan, even when it seems to them impossible.  One of the visitors assures Sarah, in that scene, "Is anything too marvelous for the Lord to do?" (vs. 14, again beyond the verses for today's reading).  The visitor's assurance to Sarah is echoed centuries later by Gabriel's assurances to Mary, with regard both to her conception of the Messiah, and the fact that Elizabeth has conceived a son "in her old age..for nothing will be impossible with God" (Luke 1:36-37).  

This mystery, the mystery of the plan of salvation kept hidden, as Paul says, for ages and many generations, now revealed in Jesus of Nazareth, leads us directly into the Gospel passage, where we find Mary of Bethany seated at the feet of the Lord, drinking in the wonders of the cosmos and the beauty of the plan of salvation, while her sister Martha notices that they need more Corona and Heineken at the tiki bar on the far side of the pool.

Martha, Mary and Lazarus were wealthy.  We have this understanding from the tradition of the saints, but we may easily infer it as well from the scenes in which they appear in the Gospels.  The spikenard with which Mary anoints Jesus shortly before the crucifixion was worth, according to John, "three hundred days' wages" (John 12:5).  Mary saw fit to break open the vase and pour it over the Lord.  She, her sister and her brother were not poor.  

The party described in today's Gospel passage was likely thrown for the entire village of Bethany, where the three siblings lived.  That Martha, Mary and Lazarus lived in Bethany is another indicator of their high social status.  The town was a wealthy suburb, so to speak, of Jerusalem.  Martha, Mary and Lazarus were good friends of Jesus, by the time of this party.  They were likely giving the party so that their friends and neighbors in Bethany could meet the Lord.

It was no doubt a fancy party, with loving attention paid to every detail.  We know from other Gospel passages that Martha was an experienced and accomplished hostess (again, see John 12).  She complains that Mary has left her to see to the many guests herself, but rest assured, though busy she was, a large part of Martha's business was overseeing the servants, of which she and her siblings no doubt had at least several.  Martha's concern was for the comfort of their guests, and when we stop to consider that the three of them -- Martha, Mary and Lazarus -- very likely agreed together to throw this large party, I at least find Martha's objection more than reasonable.  

Far be it from me to argue with my Lord and Savior: "Mary has chosen the better part" (vs. 42), the Lord assures Martha; that is, Mary has chosen to learn about the great mystery hidden for ages and now revealed in Jesus.  

So yeah...okay...they are still in need of more beer at the tiki bar on the far side of the pool.  Just sayin'...You say you are going to throw a party and invite the whole town and...then you sit at the feet of the Lord, drinking in the great mystery of the plan of salvation.  Let the guests fend for themselves.  

Whatever.  Jesus himself says this is the better part.  It is my duty as a Catholic priest to stress that point.  So there.  It is stressed.  Me and Martha?  Let's get some Corona and Heineken to the tiki bar.  

I like to say that if it were not for the Marthas of the world we would all starve to death.  

I can (I have) said so much more about Martha as a disciple, about her selflessness, about her strength, about the unbelievable depth of her faith.  I could extend this homily by several more paragraphs examining these aspects of her character.  But I imagine you get my point, and in any event, it is off-topic with regard to the message of today's Gospel passage, which might be summed up as -- it is better to contemplate the mysteries of the cosmos and the plan of salvation than to organize and successfully bring off even the most elaborate and awe-inspiring social events.  To be a great hostess is no small matter.  It only looks that way when you compare it to being a great mystic.

I am headed to SoCal this week, the first of several forays south this sabbatical.  San Gabriel Media is headquartered in Los Angeles (that is one of the reasons for the name itself -- LA is home to the San Gabriel Mountains and the San Gabriel Valley).  My bro Dan, who is the business brains of the operation (and a surprisingly "Mary"-type of disciple, compared to my definitive male version of Martha) and I need a long and in-depth strategy session.  We have not met in person about business since last July.  Zoom, e-mails and texts are great.  But now and again, face-to-face is just necessary.

I also have a major media-business meeting in San Diego, and in both LA and SD we will be planning filming dates, program release schedules, book print runs, and more, this coming week.  I am driving (I never fly to LA) but do not worry -- I have checked and at present, at least, no visa is required for Bay Area residents to enter the South State (LOL)!

On the subject of San Gabriel Media, our summer You Tube marketing campaign continues to produce results.  We are verging on 200,000 subscribers worldwide.  My colleagues at San Gabriel and I are hugely gratified at this initial success, but You Tube is only one of several venues for our marketing strategy, and in any event, not one of us considers 200,000 subscribers anything more than a promising start.  Our ambitions at San Gabriel are not small.  There is no reason they should be.  This is the Gospel.  This is "the good news of great joy that shall be for all people" (Luke 2:10).  We are aiming for the largest audience our efforts can legitimately reach.  None of us knows where the limit is.  We just feel duty-bound to reach it.  

I'll close it with that happy report.

Take care.  God bless.

El Padre

Faith Without Action: Challenging Religious Hypocrisy with the Good Samaritan

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 13, 2025, Fifteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Summertime...and the Livin' is Breezy

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Deuteronomy 30:10-14

• Psalm 69:14, 17, 30-37

• OR

• Psalm 19:8-11

• Colossians 1:15-20

• Luke 10:25-37

Dear Friends and Family,

The Gospel passage this Sunday is the parable of the Good Samaritan.  Connections to either of the readings or either of the psalms (highly unusual that there is a choice of psalms this week) are fleeting and tenuous, but here goes.

The first reading assures us that God's will is not difficult to discern: "This command (of the Lord) is not too wondrous or remote for you...it is something very near to you...in your heart" (vss. 11, 14).  

This assurance connects easily enough with the Gospel story, the general outlines of which, as of course you know, are that a man set upon by robbers on the road from Jericho to Jerusalem is left beaten and helpless there on the side of the road.  Both a priest and a Levite (a Jewish religious leader) not only walk right past the injured man, they cross the road to avoid him.  

Jesus, of course, uses religious leaders in this parable to show up their hypocrisy.  They don't dare touch the bloodied victim for fear of ritual contamination.  If they came into contact with his blood they would have to undergo a purification ritual in Jerusalem before being allowed into the Temple.  Much more important to be able to get into the Temple without delays or nuisances, than to assist a vulnerable and very needy fellow human being.

It is the Samaritan, a member of a despised race and religion, who does the will of God, in helping the man who had fallen victim to the roadside bandits.  And the will of God in this case would indeed appear to be quite obvious; staring any passer-by in the face.  A beaten and badly injured man lying on the side of the road.  The will of God is, as the first reading points out, very near to hand; it is written in our hearts.

Psalm 69 is one of the psalms of the Passion.  Its imagery is striking -- and might be applied to the victim lying on the side of the road in the parable.  "...here I am miserable and in pain; let your saving help protect me, O God" (vs. 30).

The verses from Psalm 19 might be related to the parable in terms of how the victim felt, recovering at the generous expense of the Samaritan, at the inn to which his rescuer had taken him.  The victim had, Jesus leaves us to infer, been rescued from death itself by the Samaritan.  Psalm 19 offers joyful praise for the "command" of the Lord, which the Samaritan, listening to his heart, has fulfilled.  "The law of the Lord is perfect, refreshing the soul...the precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart...the statutes of the Lord are...more desirable than gold" (vss. 8, 9, 11).

The passage from Colossians is one of my favorites in all the New Testament, never mind that it bears almost no relationship to the parable of the Good Samaritan.  It is one of the "high Christology" proof texts that I use at the start of each semester with my sophomores at O'Dowd; one of the passages from the New Testament that attests to Christ's divinity in no uncertain terms.  "He is the image of the invisible God...for in him were created all things in heaven and on earth, the visible and the invisible" (vss. 15-16).  

The passage continues with this assessment of the reality of the divinity of Christ for several verses, but as I say, there appears to be little to no correlation to the rest of today's readings, so we will leave it there.  (The second reading, as I have pointed out before, is selected according to the Principle of Continuous Reading; that is, the aim of the second reading is to take us through a particular book of the New Testament, never mind what the rest of the readings that Sunday are about.  Once in a while we get a second reading that really does connect with the others, but more often, not.)

The parable itself I have examined at least a couple of times in these written homilies.  I suppose it should be re-stated that Jesus constructed this parable very deliberately to at once condemn religious hypocrisy and to fight a blind and hateful prejudice -- the prejudice most Jews in first-century Israel felt toward the Samaritan people.  For deep historical and cultural reasons, the Samaritans were viewed as heretics, half-breeds and invaders; their presence in the heart of the land God had promised the Jews was very deeply resented.

In making a Samaritan the hero of the story Jesus no doubt shocked many if not all of his hearers.  That was no accident.

Well, speaking of shocks, I got over the disbelief and sadness of my abruptly canceled trip to Europe last week with a rapidity that impresses even me.  I guess it was the prospect of ten unscheduled days stretching before me that did it.  I cannot stress how unusual it is for me to have unscheduled time of any kind, let alone ten days of it.  

I have been busy, of course, with the business of the summer, of the sabbatical, both writing and filming.  I will be getting a new book done this month, thanks to the cancellation of my travel plans.  We are developing several new You Tube programs at SGM this summer; I have a new Bay Area videographer and we started filming two of these new programs this week.  The NorCal marketing team and I have been busy with the You Tube advertising campaign, filming several new promotional videos that are in themselves exercises in evangelization.  (Check out the one on the Andromeda Galaxy, to get an idea; I am particularly proud of it!)

For all that, I have left myself free time, this past week and one-half.  It's been great to stay in bed past nine on mornings when I have not had the parish Mass; great to be getting to the gym almost every day.  Great, too, to kick back some evenings and just...watch the sunlight fade on our golden hills here in breezy Hayward.  There are calves on the hills, this spring and summer.  Four of them.  We always have a small herd of cattle on the hills, late winter to September or so (not sure where they are pastured the other months of the year).  But in my ten years here I have never seen calves on our slopes.  They are a joy to watch -- at times they seem to be playing tag with each other.  

In any event, as I move deep into the second month of the sabbatical, I am feeling at once charged up and relaxed, and that's a nice way to feel.  London and Paris?  I have re-booked for mid-October.  All's well that ends well.

That'll do it for this one.  Hope you are enjoying the summer.  I am!

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn