Persistence, Patience, and God’s Timing

Readings and Virtual Homily for October 19, 2025, Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time; San Gabriel Hits a Milestone

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Exodus 17:8-13

• Psalm 121:1-8

• 2 Timothy 3:14 - 4:2

• Luke 18:1-8

Dear Friends and Family,

Persistence pays.  Those two words might be used to sum up a central theme in today's readings.

The reading from Exodus details an early skirmish in the desert; a battle between the Israelites and the tribe called Amalek.  The Israelites were not always alone in the desert.  They encountered both friends and enemies there and today's reading, as mentioned, details an early battle, a battle which happened even before they had received the Ten Commandments.  

Moses stood on a hillside overlooking the battle.  While his arms were raised, Israel was doing well against Amalek; when Moses got tired and lowered his arms, the battle went against Israel.   So "Aaron and Hur supported his hands, one on one side and one on the other, so that his hands remained steady until sunset" (vs. 12).  And Israel won the battle.

A clear takeaway from this example of persistence is that there may be times when, in order to persist, we will need the assistance and support of others.  

The psalm likewise counsels a persistence based on trust; trust in God's saving help.  The opening verses encourage such trust.  "I raise my eyes toward the mountains.  From whence shall come my help?  My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth," (vss. 1-2).  Observing that the Lord, "the guardian of Israel, never slumbers nor sleeps" (vs. 4), the psalm goes on to assure us that the Lord will "guard you from all evil...the Lord will guard your coming and going both now and forever" (vss. 7-8).  Trust in that reality -- our faith that God has "got this," can be a huge factor in our ability to persevere.

This Sunday is another of those relatively rare ones where the second reading actually dovetails with the theme of the other readings.  In terms of preaching the Gospel, Paul urges Timothy, "be persistent, whether it is convenient or inconvenient; convince, reprimand, encourage through all patience and teaching" (4:2).  Paul references the virtue of patience which is integral to the virtue of perseverance.  It is impossible to persist, to persevere, without patience.  Patience, again, requires trust.  In my own experience, at least, it is much easier to be patient in difficult circumstances, if one does indeed trust that Lord has "got this."

So to Luke and the parable of the persistent widow.  Note that the judge in this parable is described as a bad man.  He is corrupt.  He does what he is bribed to do.  This widow is not bribing him, but her persistence persuades him that she could eventually threaten his physical well-being (vss. 4-5) and so he finally rules in her favor.

Jesus uses the example of the evil judge precisely to drive home his point that if even a bad judge will yield to persistence, and render a just decision, how much more so will it be with God (vss. 6-8).  Our tradition is littered with examples of saintly persistence which in God's perfect timing yielded huge blessings.  

This gets back to the business, which we have recently considered, of God's plan and God's timing.  My experience with both persistence and God's timing is as long as it is deep.  It in fact goes back to the summer of 1979, when I graduated from Cal and realized that if I really meant business about a career as a writer, it was now or never.  

And at times, over the past forty-six years, it has indeed felt like never.  But my conviction that writing was a talent God expected me to develop has never wavered.  To underscore the homily's theme, I have persisted.  And, to make a neat segue into the "personal update" part of the homily, that persistence would at last appear to be producing fruit, at San Gabriel Media.

This past week one of our You Tube videos hit the million marks, in terms of views.  This is a first for us; a milestone.  I am joyful, to be able to report it.  We have a number of episodes, from our various programs, that have racked up hundreds of thousands of views.  But this week, for the first time, one of them hit one million.  We are grateful.

And...we are confident that this is just the first of many videos that will cross the million views mark; we in fact expect entire series of episodes to eventually attract far more than one million views.  There is, so far as I am able to judge, nothing arrogant in our expectations (and I do stress the plural, the "our" expectations; everyone at San Gabriel expects great things, eventually and down the line).  As I have said before, this is the Gospel.  This is the Good News.  We present it, at San Gabriel, in a new and unique way.  Our audience is beginning to find us; and because they are OUR audience, they appreciate us.

And we appreciate them.  We've got a lot of great things in store, for our subscribers.

On a tangential and rather comic note, a dear friend in Brentwood texted me this week to let me know that she had just watched a recently posted video at San Gabriel and...

"Jim!  I just saw your most recent post.  Oh my gosh.  You look like death warmed over.  Please.  Take care of yourself.  You are burning the candle at both ends.  You are -- allegedly -- on sabbatical.  But are you getting even one good night's sleep a week?!  The puffiness under your eyes and the pallor of your complexion suggest to me the answer to that question and it is not an answer I can abide without protest.  I care about you.  You know I care about you.  PLEASE.  Take care of yourself.  Take time off.  Time to relax.  Time to reflect.  This.  Is.  A.  Sabbatical.  Do you know what the word means?!  Sorry if I have spoken out of turn.  I love you and you know it.  That is the reason for this text."

So, okay.  Not a direct and exact quote, but close enough, as we used to say at my office at Cal, close enough for government work.  You get the gist of my dear friend's concerns.

So...yeah...It.  Is.  A.  Sabbatical.  

And I ain't takin' no time off.  That is why I cancelled Europe this month.  I would be in Paris this weekend, had I stayed with the original travel plan.  Much as I love Paris, I am really glad to be in Hayward, this weekend, instead.

And though I apologize for looking like death warmed over in a recent video -- and we can do things to arrest that problem -- I just have to say this.  This sabbatical feels hugely satisfying -- to the point of self-indulgence -- precisely because of how it has freed me to...work.  Work fulltime at writing, at editing, at video production and post-production, at marketing and at the promotion of a brand new media ministry that seeks -- I mean it -- to engage the world.  Many of our subscribers are from India.  We have subscribers as well in Kenya, in Cape Town, in Buenos Aires, in Manila, in Melbourne.  We have subscribers right here at home.  

San Gabriel is bustin' out all over, to borrow from what I think is the playbook for OKLAHOMA.  (We even have subscribers in Oklahoma.)

Just sayin'.  I mean, I think most of you know me and get me.  I was born to write.  And my writing -- in terms of scripts for You Tube productions -- is finally finding its audience.

All the same, I appreciate very much the "slap up the side of the head" from mi amiga in Brentwood.  I AM getting some real downtime this fall.  But honestly, no, it is probably not enough.  I can aim at getting more.  I did not argue with my friend, in answering her texts.  There would have been no point.  She is right.  But...persistence could be my middle name.  And here I am, after 46 years of persistence as a writer...encountering my audience.  In India!

So, okay...Balance.  Downtime.  Rest and relaxation.  NOT looking like death warmed over in You Tube videos.  Not gonna argue with any of these points.  Just need to figure out how to...totally go for it (which I have been waiting 46 years to be able to do) and at the same time not quite go for broke.  

Easier said than done, because going for broke is something I have never been afraid to do.  Even after winding up broke, time and again.  

I'll be back.  Next week.

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

El Padre, the cheerful workaholic

Healing and Gratitude: Homily for October 12, 2025

Readings and Virtual Homily for October 12, 2025, Twenty-eighth Sunday of Ordinary Time;  On Retreat With the Class of 2026

Readings for Mass this Sunday: 

• 2 Kings 5:14-17

• Psalm 98:1-4

• 2 Timothy 2:8-13

• Luke 17:11-19

 Dear Friends and Family,

The twin themes of healing and gratitude inform this Sunday's readings.

The reading from the Second Book of Kings details the experience of a Syrian general, Naaman, who contracts leprosy and is advised to seek a cure in Israel.  (The following part of the story is omitted from today's readings, but necessary for one of the points I want to make with this homily.)

Naaman journeys to Jerusalem where the prophet Elisha tells him to go to the Jordan River and immerse himself in its waters seven times.  This will effect his cure.  The story has a very human element to it in that Naaman at first strongly resists this advice.  He had expected the prophet to pray over him in person (Elisha had sent word to Naaman without leaving his house).  "Are there no rivers in Damascus?" Naaman indignantly asks, pointing out that the Jordan is, in essence, a creek compared to the rivers of Damascus.  Feeling slighted and maybe even casually dismissed by the prophet, Naaman is ready to go home.

But his servants, whose egos are not involved in the matter, reason with Naaman that after all, if Elisha had asked him to do something very difficult, would he not have gladly done it, to be cured?  Instead of which, the prophet has promised a healing simply by going into the Jordan seven times.  Naaman is persuaded and "plunged into the Jordan seven times" (vs. 14; the first of today's verses).  He is completely healed.  

Naaman -- again, a Syrian, not Jewish -- subsequently offers a canticle of gratitude, praise and wonder.  "Now I know," he tells Elisha, "that there is no God in all the earth, except in Israel" (vs. 15).  Naaman asks the prophet for "two mule-loads of earth" -- that is, Israeli soil -- to take back to Syria with him, for Naaman will from this point forward only worship the God of Israel (vs. 17).

A clear lesson for all of us in the rather charming story of Naaman and Elisha is that God will not necessarily do things our way.  Our prayers WILL be answered, but as God wills it.  Sometimes, as is the case here with the Syrian commander, we need to get out of the way and let God be God.  

The psalm echoes Naaman in that it invites us to praise the Lord, "for he has done marvelous deeds" (vs. 1).  The psalm resonates with the healing, the gratitude and the conversion of the Syrian general as well, when it declares "All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God" (vs. 3).

The reading from the Second Letter to Timothy encourages faithfulness in him who cannot be unfaithful, because "he cannot deny himself" (vs. 13).  The passage might be related to the Gospel passage, in that of the ten lepers Jesus heals, one returns to thank him.  Yet the other nine, whose gratitude comes up short, are all the same healed.  Their failure to express their gratitude to Jesus did not prevent their healing: Jesus intended their healing and he cannot deny himself.  God is faithful whether or not we are.

Which brings us to the passage from Luke; that is, to the ten lepers who beg Jesus to heal them and who, following his instructions, head to Jerusalem to show themselves to the priests (vs. 14).  The reason Jesus sends them to the priests is that, in accordance with Mosaic law, only a priest could declare someone clean of leprosy.   

On their way to the temple, the ten discover they are healed.  Think about this for a moment, just to go a bit deeper with the passage.  Leprosy eventually killed anyone who contracted it, but for years before that, it ruined a person's life.  It was not just the gradual physical ravages of the disease.  According to Mosaic law, lepers had to live away from the community; they were shorn of their families, their homes, their friends, their livelihoods.  They were literally outcasts from society.  These ten had formed a little community of their own, apparently, perhaps sharing a common dwelling, likely receiving food at a distance at designated intervals from family members, and so on.  

Given this harsh reality, imagine the rejoicing of the ten, as they realized that they had been cured.  I suppose we can speculate that the other nine thought it most important to go before the priests and be officially declared clean, and so they did not go back to Jesus.  I suppose we may so speculate; but in fact it is kind of hard to excuse this grave omission.  Jesus had cured them of a disease that had robbed them of their lives.  

In any event just one -- a Samaritan -- returns to thank Jesus.  And Jesus is aggrieved.  "Were not all ten healed?" he asks (vs, 17).  "Where are the other nine?"

It is a reasonable enough question.  After all, there was nothing to prevent all ten of them from coming back to Jesus, thanking him, and then going to the temple, to present themselves to the priests and so obtain their clean bill of health; so returning joyfully to their lives.  There was nothing to prevent the other nine from doing this, but they did not do it.  

So an obvious take-away for all of us here is to be grateful -- and to EXPRESS our gratitude, as Naaman does, as the psalm encourages us to do, as the Samaritan leper does -- when a prayer is answered.  

I try to be intentional in this regard.  I will still sometimes remark at the end of one of our weekend Masses here in Hayward how grateful I am for the nearly-full church.  In these instances I will comment on how, five years ago (and speaking of diseases that make people outcasts, which COVID certainly in its own way did) we were all praying for exactly the reality we now once again enjoy: the simple but very great blessing of being able to gather together, unmasked and with no social distancing, to celebrate Mass inside the church.  This is, in fact, a very great blessing and it is surely an answer to many, many prayers, from 2020. 

In my experience, when we stop and consider our answered prayers, over the years, over the decades, there is no shortage of blessings for which to give thanks and praise to God.  And I am convinced that when we do remember God's blessings (as the prophets and the psalmists so often urge the Jews to do) we open ourselves up to further blessings.  Gratitude begets more reasons for gratitude.  In a spiritual and an emotional dynamic that I have witnessed many times in my own life, we "shift the narrative" when we give thanks to God for blessings received, for prayers answered.  Our hearts become more deeply open to receive yet more blessings.  Can't get into this in any depth here; this one is long enough!  Just an observation on the power and the importance of gratitude.

I was on retreat again at the start of this past week, at San Damiano in Danville.  This time with the senior class; the first of three Senior Retreats we will be having this year.  Good to be with my colleagues.  Good to be with the kids.  The teens in my small group all assured me that I am very much missed on campus, this fall.  I assured them that I miss my students, as well, but that from any analysis this fall does appear to have been the one that was right for the sabbatical.  

The sabbatical, of course, focused as it is on projects and goals at San Gabriel Media, is in fact about transition -- I want eventually to transition to San Gabriel fulltime.  My bro (the business brains of the outfit) and I joke that this is our retirement gig, but it is not actually a joke.  Neither of us has any intention of ever stepping away from San Gabriel.  It is, we hope, a ministry in which we will be engaged as long as we are capable of mental engagement.  This reality resonated with the theme of the retreat, which, of course, being for the Class of 2026, was largely focused on transition.  

The seniors remain in familiar circumstances this fall, going to class and participating in sports, drama, debate, band and so on.  But they are also swamped this autumn, with advanced placement courses; with college applications. letters of recommendation, financial aid forms and so on.  Many of them have already crossed the country to visit schools they may want to attend next year; many will be taking weekend trips to visit campuses in-state or anyway, on the West Coast.  It is an exciting time in their lives and I was glad to be on retreat, this week, reflecting with them on the inevitable fact of transition.  

And speaking of transition...I need to get back to my latest book!

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

“How Long, O Lord?” – Trusting God’s Timing in Life’s Trials

Readings and Virtual Homily for October 5, 2025, Twenty-seventh Sunday of Ordinary Time; London and Paris Postponed Again

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Habakkuk 1:2-3; 2:2-4

• Psalm 95:1-2, 6-9

• 2 Timothy 1:6-8, 13-14

• Luke 17:5-10

Dear Friends and Family,

The obvious principle theme across today's readings is that of the virtue of faith.  The first reading from Habakkuk begins with a lament, a cry for assistance and the question, "How long, O Lord?" (Ch. 1, vs. 2).  In the fourth verse, not included in today's readings, the prophet asserts, "This is why the law is numb and justice never comes."  Habakkuk sounds as if he has lost faith.

Ever feel like that?  Heaven knows I have.  I have lost count of the number of times I have come to the Lord in simple exasperation at the intransigence of a bad situation.  How long, O Lord, I have indeed asked.  I can relate entirely here, to Habakkuk.

Though it sounds as if Habakkuk has lost faith, in fact, of course, he has not.  The second part of the reading starts with the assurance of God's understanding and God's intent and capacity to rectify things.  "Then the Lord answered me," Habakkuk writes.  The vision Habakkuk has received (of a time of justice, a time when the wrongs will be rectified) "is a witness to the appointed time, a testimony to the end; it will not disappoint" (Ch. 2, vs. 3).  "if it delays," the prophet continues, relaying the Lord's assurance to us, "wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late" (Ch. 2, vs. 3).  

The Lord has an appointed time for everything.  And the Lord's time is always the right time.  I can say this breezily and with confidence, this October of 2025, because I am not, by the grace of God, at the moment enduring an awful situation.  Not so easy to talk like this when we ARE enduring an awful situation. 

The ability to wait on the Lord and on His appointed time is really, to some extent, faith itself, and Habakkuk says as much (Ch. 2, vs. 4).  The psalm reiterates this truth, reminding us of the impatience of the Israelites in the desert, where the people "tried" the Lord though they had seen His works (vs. 9).  Faith calls for trust; the Israelites several times lost their trust in God, during their long sojourn in the wilderness.

Paul's advice to Timothy in the second reading runs a strong parallel to the advice both of Habakkuk and the psalmist.  "Take as your norm the sound words that you heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.  Guard this rich trust with the help of the Holy Spirit that dwells within us" (vss. 13-14).  Paul connects faith with trust; in fact, the two might well be argued to be one and the same thing.

The passage from Luke begins with the apostles asking Jesus to increase their faith (vs. 5).  Jesus assures them that if they had faith the size of a mustard seed they could perform miraculous deeds (vs. 6).  I mentioned once in a Sunday homily here at St. Clement that I did not know what a mustard seed looked like but I had to assume it was pretty small.  A few days later I found a gift from a parishioner in my box at the parish office.  A card with an explanation accompanied the gift itself, which was a small, clear plastic vial containing several mustard seeds: The parishioner has a mustard plant in her yard.  Oh my gosh...they ARE tiny!

All of which, I guess, just goes to encourage us to have faith; that is, to trust in the dark and difficult times, when we cannot help but cry out, "How long, O Lord?"  For all those times that I have so cried out to the Lord, IN RETROSPECT, I am able to say, His timing was indeed perfect.  Factors relating to the situation about which I knew nothing had to be moved into place, for the situation to issue in a divine resolution that was beyond anything I could have planned or aimed for.  IN RETROSPECT I am able to see that and attest to it.  Not so easy, when we are going through it.  

Faith the size of a mustard seed, evidently, might have spared me a lot of anguish, a lot of worry, a lot of thinking "I have to fix this; HOW?"  The Lord does not want us in anguish with worry.  He wants us confident in faith and with a deep, abiding and calming trust in his love for us and his plan for us.  So with the apostles in today's Gospel passage, it is probably a good idea to ask the Lord to increase our faith.  

Well, it is October and you may remember that when my plans to be in London and Paris at the start of the sabbatical were dashed by the new British visa requirement, I immediately re-booked for this month.  Re-booked with a vengeance; got seats coming and going in United's comfy Premium Economy cabin (wider seats and way more legroom); extended the trip from ten days to fifteen and just for the heck of it threw in a quick trip to Gibraltar -- The Rock has been on my bucket list for a decade or more.

That trip was scheduled to commence this coming Wednesday.  Three weeks ago I notified my friends in London and Paris that the trip was off because...San Gabriel Media is so on.  I won't bore you with too many details but I will say this much: I am on track to complete four new books before the sabbatical ends, and we (several of us at San Gabriel) are pacing video production so as to have filmed two completely new series at the You Tube channel, plus adding episodes to programs already up and running; a projected total of somewhere above 250 videos shot before New Year's, half of which are already filmed and in the post-production stage.  

We are this month doing a second printing on five of my currently available books; we plan to run several brand new books (including at least a couple of the four I am working on right now) over the winter.  We have two book promotions lined up for this fall and through the winter.  Meanwhile, the You Tube promo that has been going all summer is barreling into the fall -- we are likely to hit 500,000 subscribers later this month.  

There is proof-reading and editing to do.  There are promo videos and trailers to shoot.  There are marketing strategy meetings, both via Zoom and in person, in Los Angeles, to schedule and attend.  There is -- pesky annoyance! -- realistic financing of and for all of this activity; there are budgetary considerations to attend to.

Well, there.  I lied.  I DID give you a bunch of details, but believe me the list of current and near-term projects and activities is twice what I have just reported.  This is why I am on sabbatical the rest of this year.  I did not take the sabbatical to travel.  Much as I love my friends in London and Paris and much as I love those two cities in their own right, I looked at all that is going forward right now at San Gabriel and then I looked at suspending all of it for fifteen days of leisure in the middle of this month and -- I canceled the fifteen days of leisure.  

London and Paris will still be there at New Year's, when, really, I do intend to travel.  I have often spent the week after Christmas with my friends in Europe and that was always the plan for this year.  It will be at the very end of the sabbatical, and I hope to be able to sit back comfortably in United Premium Economy, December 27, on my way to Heathrow, able to exhale with real satisfaction, at what we will have by then accomplished with the media ministry.  Stay tuned.

That'll do it, for this one.  Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Social Justice in Scripture: Amos, Paul, and the Gospel Message

Readings and Virtual Homily for September 28, 2025, Twenty-sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time; On Retreat With O'Dowd; Parish festival; October Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Amos 6:1, 4-7

• Psalm 146:7-10

• 1Timothy 6:11-16

• Luke 16:19-31

Dear Friends and Family,

I was on a three-day retreat with the high school the second half of the week; it is Saturday morning as I am getting this out.  I will try to give a complete homily but maybe keep it a bit on the short side, as I want to send this ASAP.

First off, the Mass schedule for next month.  It is pretty skimpy because I was planning to be in Europe October 8-23.  Deep-sixed that plan a couple weeks back: The sabbatical is about work, not travel, and I have too much work I want to get done.  But when Father Jesus (pastor here) was doing the schedule in late August, he was going on my instructions to leave me free the entire middle of October.  So, not too many weekend Masses coming up.

The readings this week are unmistakably a call to social justice, to works of charity, and to detachment from worldly things and desires.  The first reading, from the Prophet Amos, picks up from where he left us last week, continuing his warnings against the idle, complacent and uncaring rich of Israel: 

"Woe to those who are complacent in Zion, secure on the Mount of Samaria...those who lie on beds of ivory and eat lambs taken from the flock...who improvise to the music of the harp...who drink wine from bowls and anoint themselves with the best oils, but are not made ill by the collapse of Joseph..." (vss. 4-7)

The "collapse of Joseph," that is, the collapse of the faithfulness of the Jewish people in Israel, the northern kingdom (Judah was the southern kingdom; Amos lived during the time of the divided monarchy) has been described by Amos earlier.  He now warns the people of the north (whose capital was Samaria) of the coming invasion of the Assyrians, which happened in 722 BC.  One result of the invasion was the deportation into the interior of the empire of most of the Jews living in the north.  If you have heard the phrase "the lost ten tribes of Israel," this is where it originates.  

Another result of the Assyrian invasion was that, to replace the deported Jews, the Assyrians relocated many people from other parts of the empire to Israel, whose capital, again, was Samaria.  These western Asian newcomers intermarried with the remaining Jews in the north, creating a hybrid ethnicity and a hybrid religion, part Jewish and part Mesopotamain: the Samaritans.

The passage from Psalm 146 serves as both a reminder and a rebuke to the people of Israel, a reminder that God takes special concern for "the oppressed...the prisoners...the blind...those who are bowed down...the resident alien...the orphan and the widow" (vss. 7-9).  This passage serves as a rebuke to those who "lounge" to use Amos' word, on their couches, eating lamb and drinking wine and composing music for the harp while the hungry go unfed.  

The passage from the second reading actually dovetails perfectly with the social justice concerns of today's readings -- IF we read the several verses immediately before it.  "...we brought nothing into the world," Paul writes, "just as we shall not be able to take anything out of it" (vs. 7, not among the verses in today's passage).  "If we have food and clothing," Paul continues, "we shall be content with that" (vs. 8).

Paul goes on to warn of the destructive temptations that come, when we set our hearts on material gain, and the famous phrase "the love of money is the root of all evils" is the tenth verse.  

The passage for today's readings begins with the admonition, "But you, man of God, avoid all this.  Instead, pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience and gentleness" (vs, 11) and continues with a description of the goal of all such righteousness: "Jesus Christ...the King of kings and Lord of lords...who dwells in unapproachable light" (vss. 14-16).  

Finally, the passage from Luke is that of the rich man and Lazarus -- not the brother of Martha and Mary, but another Lazarus, a poor beggar who lies in great need at the gate of the wealthy man's estate, but whom the rich man ignores.  They both die and Lazarus goes to "the bosom of Abraham" where he receives consolation and the fulfillment he could not find on earth (vs. 22) and the rich man goes to a place of flames and torment (vs. 23).

It may be argued (I have heard it argued both ways) that the rich man is in Purgatory, rather than Hell, as he retains a love for and concern about his brothers still on earth.  He is anxious that they not come to this place of torment (vss. 27-28).  In Hell, no one gives a damn (so to speak) about anyone else, even their siblings still on earth.

Regardless of where we want to say the rich man is, the point of the parable is to attend to those less fortunate, rather than "lounge on our couches" eating lamb and drinking wine and amusing ourselves with music and other forms of entertainment.  

Where we go, with the advice in today's readings -- attending to the needs of the less fortunate -- is an individual decision.  I generally recommend looking for a cause (or causes) that motivates you; that makes you feel energized, fortunate to be able to contribute to, and then -- give joyfully of your time, talent and/or treasure.  For as Paul assures us, "God loves a cheerful giver" (2 Corinthians 9:7).

Well, so much for keeping it short...

As mentioned at the start, I have been at San Damiano Retreat Center in Danville Wednesday through Friday this week, on a Kairos Retreat with 55 members of the class of 2027.  Any Kairos Retreat is going to be powerful, but this one has special resonance for the way it took me out of sabbatical mode and right back into my life as chaplain at the high school.  It was wonderful to re-immerse myself with the life of the high school, to be with my colleagues and the students.  

Though the sabbatical's extended summer here at St. Clement has deeply reminded me of just how much I remain, at heart, a parish priest, the retreat served to underscore my conviction that the high school is God's will for me for the foreseeable future.  It can still blow me away, the effect I have, without even realizing it, on teens.  At the end of the morning, Friday, as my small group was packing up our meeting room, done with the small group sessions, two of the boys spontaneously hugged me.  One of the girls said that she regretted not yet having me as a teacher, but that being in the Kairos small group with me was clearly the next best thing.  Another of the girls told me her deepest ambition was to become a best selling author, and she really resonated with my own story as a writer.  You get the idea.  It was pretty awesome; Kairos always is.  

Finally, and on the subject or the simple joys of parish priesthood, this weekend is our annual festival here at St. Clement.  I got in from Kairos late yesterday afternoon to see the booths and tents going up.  As I am wrapping this homily up at eleven AM, the music is just starting and the first few dozen (of what will be many hundreds) of parishioners are streaming in, making their way among the flauta, lumpia, Hawaiian bbq, funnel cake and so on booths; the kids lining up to take chances at the game booths and so on.  Grateful for the near-perfect weather this weekend.  Our festival has been one of my favorite parish events from my first fall here at St. Clement, ten autumns ago.

Gonna get this out!  Have a great start to the fall!

God bless.

Fr. Brawn

Mass schedule for October:

Saturday, September 27

5 PM (English)

Sunday, September 28

1115 AM (English)

Sunday, October 5

630 PM (English

Sunday, October 12

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

Saturday, November 1

5 PM (English)

Sunday, November 2

11 AM (English; Catholic Community of Pleasanton; Seton Campus)

630 PM (English -- St. Clement, just in case you are wondering!))

Daily Masses (all 8 AM and all English):

Wed. Oct. 1

Fri. Oct. 3

Fri. Oct. 10

Sat. Oct. 11

Mon. Oct. 13

Wed. Oct. 15

Sat. Oct. 16

Mon, Oct. 20

Fri. Oct. 24

Sat. Oct. 25

Mon. Oct. 27

Fri. Oct. 31; 

Sat. Nov. 1

Wealth, Salvation, and God’s Justice – A Homily for Ordinary Time

Readings and Virtual Homily for September 21, 2025, Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Lazy Last Days of Summer

 Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Amos 8:4-7

• Psalm 113:1-2, 4-8

• 1 Timothy 2:1-8

• Luke 16:1-13

Dear Friends and Family,

The Parable of the Dishonest Steward (this week's Gospel passage) is one which I simply don't get.  And reading analyses of it by Bible scholars has not assisted me.  It is easy to see how this Gospel passage is paired (by that committee in Rome) with this week's first reading.  Both involve dishonest authorities.  But Amos condemns the landowners who fix the scales to cheat their customers and who deny their workers a fair wage.  Jesus praises the dishonest steward for being "wise" in worldly ways about money. 

As I say, nothing I have read on this parable provides me with much enlightenment about it, so I am not going to try to construct a homily around it.  Rather, as I sometimes do, I will just look at each of the readings in turn, and let the Holy Spirit connect the dots, if connected they might be.

The first reading is straightforward and unmistakable in its message.  Wealthy landowners in the time of Amos were paying lip-service to God while giving all their hearts and minds to maximizing their profits (vss. 5-6).  And they were doing so at the expense of almost everyone else -- their workers, their distributors, their customers, the families of these people.  Their offenses against justice were great and Amos assures them that "never" will God "forget a thing that they have done" (vs. 7).

The psalm assures us that God is aware of the poor and the oppressed, those taken advantage of by the wealthy and the powerful.  "He raises the needy from the dust, lifts the poor from the ash heap," the psalmist writes, adding that God then "Seats them with princes" (vss. 7-8).  This latter assurance must be understood, I would imagine, as a promise of God's heavenly justice, as the poor were not in Amos' time, nor are they in ours, "seated with princes."

The reading from the First Letter to Timothy actually calls for prayer for those in authority: "I ask that supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone, for kings and for all in authority" (vss. 1-2).  Paul goes on to assure us that God wills that everyone, including the rich and the powerful, should be saved (vs. 4). 

The frequent emphasis throughout Scripture on the needy, the poor, the marginalized, coupled with frequent condemnations of those who are comfortable and do nothing to help, can obscure passages such as this one, which remind us that God wants the rich saved, too.  And as we considered in last week's homily, with the example of St. Helena, who was the richest woman in the world, there are no inherent barriers between wealth and salvation.

Then there is the Parable of the Dishonest Steward.  His boss having found out that the dude was "squandering his property," he fires him (vs. 2).  The steward, too old to dig and too proud to beg (vs. 3), decides to make friends with his boss' debtors, so that he will have places to go, houses that will receive him, friends, in other words, who will make sure he does not starve.  He has the king's debtors "downsize," so to speak, their written promissory notes, so that one who owed one hundred measures of oil now owes -- in the newly revised record -- only fifty, and so on (vss. 5-7).

Of this business, Jesus says that the master "commended that dishonest steward for acting prudently" (vs. 8).  After observing that the children of the world are smarter with money than the children of light, Jesus says, "make friends with dishonest wealth so that when it fails, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings" (vss. 8-9).  He goes on to say that no servant can serve two masters -- dishonest wealth on the one hand, and real wealth on the other (vs. 13). 

We may certainly take this much away from the parable -- there is a very great difference between the wealth of this world and the wealth of the next; eternal wealth.  The dishonest steward, distracted by the wealth of this world, and unreliable in his management of it, at least finally uses it to foster relationships -- to make friends and assure his "welcome" into their mansions. 

He's still dishonest.  And that is where I just have to leave off with it.  An insightful analysis of this parable appears to be above my paygrade, speaking of wealth...

Well it is the middle of September and right on schedule, the temps are rising; it has really felt like summer, much of the past couple of weeks.  I don't mind it -- I mean, after all, I grew up in the Sacramento Valley.  Summer is supposed to be hot.  And even at that, Hayward's idea of hot is Sacramento's idea of a mild and pleasant summer day -- high eighties, low nineties. 

The heat has all the same suggested a slightly slower sabbatical pace for me, and I three times the past ten days found myself among the breezy hibiscus on the patio at Vic's on Main Street, Pleasanton, sipping a refreshingly cool mimosa while studying the restaurant's simply amazing menu.  Ernesto and Laura, Vic's owners and active parishioners in Pleasanton, are friends of mine from way back.  Most of the staff knows me as well; knows me and knows my signature drink.  The mimosa is typically on the table before I have ordered it. 

It goes without saying that I would not have been relaxing on the patio at Vic's three weekdays the past week and one-half, were I not on sabbatical.  It has felt positively luxurious, having this degree of freedom and control over my schedule, since early August, when I would otherwise have been back on campus. 

Parish priests have considerably more lee-way in scheduling themselves than does a high school chaplain, during the academic term, and one thing I definitely miss about parish priesthood is precisely that lee-way, that freedom, that ability to schedule my time by and large as I please.  Though as I have said, my plans are to remain at O'Dowd another several years, something I will look forward to, once I am back to parish work full-time, is the freedom to schedule a brunch on the patio at Vic's when I desire to do so.

Midway through it now, I am enjoying and am grateful for the freedom the sabbatical is granting me.

Hope this finds you well and happy.  God bless you.

El Padre

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