Feast of the Holy Family Homily – December 28, 2025: Faith, Family, and the Flight to Egypt

Readings and Virtual Homily for December 28, 2025, Feast of the Holy Family; Virtual Homily; Wet Christmas; At Last -- London and Paris 

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14

• Psalm 128:1-5

• Colossians 3:12-21

• Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23

Dear Friends and Family,

The readings focus, not surprisingly, on the family, this Feast of the Holy Family.  I want to take a quick look at the first and second reading and the psalm and then take a little time with the Gospel passage, as it infers a lot more than it quite precisely says.

The first reading speaks of the proper authority of parents, of the honor due them from their children and of the rewards which flow from obedience to and respect for parental authority.  The passage says that respect and goodness toward parents will serve as a "sin offering" (vs. 14); that is, we win forgiveness of our own sins when we are considerate and kind toward our parents, even if (perhaps especially if) their "mind is failing" (vs. 13).  

The psalm uses a garden metaphor to describe the joys of marriage and family life, and from the husband's perspective.  A good and faithful husband and father will find that his wife is like "a fruitful vine in the recesses" of the home and his children like olive plants about the table (vs. 3).  

The reference to the wife's fruitfulness in the recesses of the home suggest a fullness of wifely and motherly responsibilities that may not be so immediately apparent today, when most women work outside the home.  In fact, if we may take Proverbs 31 as an example, women in Old Testament times could also take on responsibilities outside the home, and within its "recesses" they could indeed be very "fruitful."  The good wife of Proverbs 31 not only maintains a well-ordered household, sees to the needs of her husband and children and manages the money well; she is busy in her own right with the development of money-making projects and responsibilities (see Proverbs 31:10-31).  

The reading from Colossians has an option, shorter or longer version.  If in your parish only the shorter version is read, you will hear about the life of the Christian community -- an extended family of sorts.  The instructions for proper comportment within this extended family are direct, clear and loving.  If the longer version is read, you will hear the often contested (in our time) instruction to wives to be "subordinate" to their husbands (vs. 18).  I wrote on this verse at some length several years ago in one of these homilies.  It does seem to me that in our day, most decision-making within the family is jointly arrived at.

The Gospel passage tells of Joseph being warned by an angel in a dream to take Mary and the baby Jesus to Egypt, because Herod is looking for the child.  The Jewish king is determined to kill the newborn Messiah, seeing him as a threat to his dynastic plans.  This is where I want to start unpacking some of what is inferred in today's passage.

One, can you believe Herod?  At the visit of the magi, he had his scholars look up where the Messiah was to be born, specifically so that he could know where this child-threat was located (Matthew 2:3-8).  Then he carried out a massacre of all the little boys under two years of age in Bethlehem (vss. 16-18; not included in today's reading).  

I mean, clearly, Herod was a believer.  He kills the little boys in Bethlehem because he believes the Messiah is among them.  But if Herod is a believer how can he possibly justify murdering the Messiah?  Does he think God is going to look the other way?  Can you spell C-R-A-Z-E-D?  Evidently, Herod was crazed by thoughts of dynastic wealth, privilege and power.  An infant Messiah was clearly no threat to Herod himself, but to his sons, to his successors -- or so Herod saw it.  This is one of the most naked examples of human willfulness to be found anywhere in Scripture.  Herod deliberately sets out to thwart the will of God, a God whose word he clearly believes in.  

Okay.  Whatever.  Crazy.

Second, Jesus starts life out as a refugee.  Joseph and Mary flee to Egypt where, in the city of Alexandria, there was a large and vibrant Jewish exile community.  It is likely that they settled in Alexandria, where Joseph could easily have found work.  

But, and this is my third point, while it is likely that Joseph worked his trade in Alexandria, he and Mary were at this point not poor.  Not after the visit of the magi.  Gold, frankincense and myrrh were not cheap gifts.  Joseph and Mary might have sold the frankincense and myrrh for a substantial amount and gold is gold.  The visit of the magi empowered the flight to Egypt, made it possible for Joseph and Mary to establish themselves quickly and comfortably in their new city and their new land.  

A fourth point, and one that greatly interests me: Jesus' earliest memories would have been of Alexandria, of Egypt.  Herod is believed to have died about six, maybe seven years after these events.  Assuming his parents settled there, Jesus' first boyhood memories would have been of the great Egyptian port city, with its palaces and pagan temples, its many cultural monuments -- including what was one of the ancient world's greatest libraries -- its famous lighthouse above the harbor.  Founded in 331 BC by Alexander the Great, Alexandria was not really so much Egyptian as it was Greek and Roman.  It is likely, of course, that the large Jewish ex-pat community in Alexandria had impressive synagogues and schools; had a thriving business district.  The small boy Jesus would have been immersed in Jewish culture during his time in Egypt.  

A fifth point, and maybe one that is more immediate and relevant to the central theme of today's readings: family life can be an adventure.  Neither Mary nor Joseph could have foreseen the visit of the magi and the great blessings it afforded them.  Neither could have foreseen Herod's insane and murderous rage at the thought of the Messiah being born during his reign.  Neither could have guessed they would find themselves making a hasty departure for Egypt, there to spend their first several years of married life and parenthood, with their little boy.  

What was the situation with the extended family -- Mary's parents in Nazareth, Joseph's siblings (including Mary the wife of Clopas, Jesus' aunt who figures prominently in the Passion and Resurrection narratives).  It's not as though Mary were texting her parents, "All good here in palm-lined Alexandria.  Catch the bullet train from Jerusalem and plan to spend a few weeks with us.  Thanks to the magi we have several spare bedrooms."  

It is hard to know just what the family life of Jesus, Mary and Joseph was like, during the years in Egypt.  At a time when extended family was a person's principal means of support and security, it seems likely that Jesus, Mary and Joseph were a solitary unit in Alexandria.  No doubt they made friends and Joseph developed professional relationships.  Even so, it seems likely that the years in Egypt were directly and uniquely formative for this most unique of families; the Holy Family.

This one is long, so I will keep the personal reflections brief.  One, thank the Lord for our wonderfully wet Christmas week!  Week before Christmas, I guess I should say.  The season's early and strong start in October and November was derailed by those three dry weeks starting just before Thanksgiving.  Christmas Eve night, sitting here in the rectory above the schoolyard after the ten PM Mass, and seeing the sheeting rain gusting and slanting with the wind, I smiled.  And gave thanks and praise to the Lord for our parishioners here at St. Clement because around three hundred of them made it out in the storm for the late evening Mass.

Two, thank the Lord for the sabbatical, which wraps in another week.  Strictly speaking, it came to an end last week -- I am simply on Christmas vacation, at this point.  I am taking advantage of the remaining time off to finally travel -- London and Paris this coming week; reprising a habit I was getting into, pre-pandemic.  I was in both cities three Decembers in a row, 2017-2019.  Then COVID hit.  It is a nice way to wrap the year, and I am grateful to be able to resume the tradition this winter.  I am back next Sunday; it is just an eight-day trip.  I have been to London several times since 2020, but this will be my first time in Paris in six years.

Will close here.  Hope your Christmas season is merry and bright.  Take good care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn

Advent Homily: Joseph Doubts, Mary Trusts, God Provides

Readings and Virtual Homily for December 21, 2025, Fourth Sunday of Advent;  Christmas Greetings From Casablanca; Christmas Greetings From Hayward

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 7:10-14

• Psalm 24:1-6

• Romans 1:1-7

• Matthew 1:18-24

Dear Friends and Family,

Today's readings give us the infancy narrative from Matthew's perspective, perhaps more specifically, from Joseph's perspective.  Luke gives us many details from Mary's experience; Matthew, not so much.  

It is Matthew who tells us in today's Gospel passage that Joseph, learning of Mary's pregnancy, had decided to quietly divorce her.  Matthew then gives us what amounts to a third annunciation scene, the first two occurring in Luke (Gabriel with Zechariah, father of John the Baptist, and Gabriel with Mary).  Matthew does not identify the angel who spoke to Joseph in a dream, assuring him that Mary's pregnancy was the work of the Holy Spirit.  But we know from Matthew that Joseph, who like his Old Testament namesake, was a man who responded to messages sent through dreams, abandoned all doubt and disappointment in Mary, as a result of what the angel revealed to him.

This says a lot, obviously, about Joseph.  But it also tells us a lot about Mary.  She was, after all, a teen-ager.  She had already, before Gabriel appeared, committed herself to a life of consecration to God; she had no plans to live as a normal wife and mother.  Then she is told that she will indeed be a mother, the mother of the Messiah.  Mary asked Gabriel how this was to be, given her desire to consecrate herself completely to God.  Gabriel answers, Mary believes and immediately sets out for the hill country of Judea, there to assist her cousin Elizabeth, who is six months along with John the Baptist.

And what happens with Elizabeth is important.  It is especially important when we consider what subsequently happened with Joseph.

Elizabeth affirms that what Gabriel has told Mary is not only true, but already happening.  "How is it that the mother of my Lord should come to me?" (Luke 1:43).  Elizabeth is Mary's first assurance, after her encounter with Gabriel, that she is, indeed, to be the mother of the Messiah.  

Joseph, who has not been favored as Elizabeth was, with divine understanding, leans on his human understanding.  In six words, this dynamic might be summed up as follows.  Elizabeth affirms.  Joseph doubts.  Mary trusts.

There is a lot for all of us in this dynamic.  Like Mary, each of us is tasked with "giving birth to Jesus" in the world.  We accomplish this mission simply by going about our daily lives, trying to live as disciples.  Trying to show forth the love of God in our words and especially, in our actions.  

We say yes, as Mary did, every day of our lives when we resist temptation; when we give encouragement and hope to others; when we practice patience, generosity, kindness, and other virtues; when we forgive.  There are times, off and on throughout our lives, when we say yes to something big, even something very big, and not infrequently in giving that assent, in saying that Yes, we encounter resistance.  We encounter, perhaps, what appears to be a resistance that will thwart our efforts to be true to our Yes to God.

That is what Mary was encountering here.  Not, of course, that she could not have delivered the baby Jesus without Joseph at her side.  Just that her Yes would have been hugely complicated, made far more difficult, as a result.  Mary could not know how God was going to resolve this situation.  She had to simply trust.

But she was not trusting in a vacuum.  God had already sent her confirmation of his word, stunning confirmation, through Elizabeth.  Elizabeth by natural means could have known nothing of Mary's situation.  Mary had not texted her from Nazareth, "Hey girlfriend!  Gabriel just dropped by.  Told me you're pregnant!  So am I!  Taking the bullet train tomorrow to help you with the baby."  Elizabeth understood what she did about Mary, of course, not by natural but by supernatural means.  God spoke to Mary through Elizabeth.

The point for us is this: God will send us Elizabeths.  When, in our efforts to fulfill our Yes to God, we encounter what seems an insurmountable obstacle, God will send us confirmation that we are on the right track and that we need do only what Mary did.  Wait on the Lord.  Trust.

So much easier said than done!

Casablanca is sending Christmas greetings.  I've heard this week from each of my Three Main Men in Morocco -- Mehdi, Khalid and Mounir.  They always remember me at Christmas.  Mehdi even remembers me at Thanksgiving.  Mounir reminded me that Casablanca looks very Western at this time of year, not just with Christmas lights, Christmas trees and images of Santa, but with manger scenes.  Moroccans celebrate December 25 with a reverence for Jesus that is impressive.  All three of them are asking me when I am returning and I am promising them, and everyone else through them, that el Padre will be in Casablanca in June.  Inshallah, as we say in Berlin.  

But really, I do hope to be in Morocco again next summer.  Barring something unforeseen, the path looks clear.

Hayward is also sending Christmas greetings.  That is, I am getting my Christmas cards out.  115 in the mail as of today (Saturday) and likely to get that number out again by Monday.  At about 350 in all, though, I will be at them, on and off right through this coming week.  This is way early for me.  It's been ten years at least, since I got over half my cards in the mail on or before December 24.  I guess all it takes is a sabbatical...

Gonna wrap it at that.  Hope this finds you well and happy.

God bless you this joyful season.  Merry Christmas!

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Advent Joy, Peace, and Hope: A Gaudete Sunday Reflection

Readings and Virtual Homily for December 14, 2025 Third Sunday of Advent; Venezuelan Joy

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 35:1-6, 10

• Psalm 146:6-10

• James 5:7-10

• Matthew 11:2-11

Dear Friends and Family,

The third Sunday of Advent is also known as Gaudete Sunday, meaning roughly, Sunday of Joy; the idea being that at this point we are more than halfway through Advent's period of waiting for the coming of Christ.  

The readings for this week are correspondingly joyous.  Isaiah speaks of the blind seeing, the deaf hearing and the lame leaping "like a stag" (vss. 5-6).  The psalm employs similarly ebullient imagery, the prisoners set free, the blind given sight, and so on (vss. 7-8).  The second reading contributes to this understanding in counseling patience; it is sometimes necessary, to truly experience joy, to be patient, to be faithful, to wait on the Lord (vss. 7-8).  

The Gospel passage gives us Jesus' assurance that he is the one spoken of not just by John the Baptist but by the entire prophetic tradition.  Jesus goes on to make a startling announcement, specifically that "least in the kingdom of heaven" is greater than John (vs. 11).  This fact is itself cause for abounding joy, telling us, as it does, something about the glory that awaits us. 

I've preached, both from the pulpit and in these written homilies, on the true meaning, the deep reality of joy.  A fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) joy should not be thought of as an emotion.  It might better be thought of as a habit, a matter of deliberate mindfulness and choice, even a virtue.  Genuine joy is more than felt.  It is practiced.

I remember my mother occasionally saying, of a difficult situation or a particular disappointment, "Well, in the end, Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, and compared to that, nothing else matters."  This assessment provides automatic perspective; whatever we are going through, whatever we find ourselves up against, Jesus has already conquered it, won the victory for us.  We need only wait on the Lord.  In that understanding there is not only joy, but peace.

Joy is inextricably linked with peace, as it is linked with hope.  The peace of God, again, is beyond the emotions.  "Not as the world gives peace..." Jesus tells us, does he give peace (John 14:27).  Peace appears, along with joy, in Galatians as one of the fruits of the Spirit.  As for hope, it is a theological virtue (1 Corinthians 13).  It comes from eternity and has the power to lead us there.  Joy, peace and hope are rightly described as states of mind, rather than feelings.

So how about the times when we feel no joy?  When we are not at peace?  When we feel hopeless?  I have written in a couple of my books about my own three-year experience of what certainly felt like joylessness.  It was closely connected to a deep loss of hope.  It is hard to practice joy when you feel hopeless.  It is hard to hope when you feel joyless.  But the term "feel" is operative here.  Again, joy and hope both are deeper than the emotions.

It is far too much to detail here, but for over three years toward the end of my preparation for priesthood, I felt no joy, and held only attenuated hopes.  But throughout that dry and sad period, I had a deep and abiding peace.  I knew that God was at work in my circumstances; I knew that, taking the long view, seeing the big picture, Jesus Christ was risen from the dead.  Nothing else mattered, as Mom liked to say, compared to that.  Life was good.  Life was true.  Life was worth living.  

So you're not FEELING it?  Buck up, boyfriend.  Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.  Compare anything to that.  Just try to argue that ANYTHING matters, long-term, compared to that.  Attend to what is coming at you, and attend to it faithfully.  Leave the rest to God.  That is how I dealt with my three joyless years.

In the end, my faith underwrote that time of waiting on the Lord, that time of accepting and dealing with deep, really almost shattering, loss.  My faith was unshaken by the events I am deliberately not describing here; and in that faith lay the seeds of hope and joy.  "Jesus Christ is risen from the dead; this, too, shall pass."

Just a few thoughts about joy, as gift, as habit, this Gaudete Sunday.  

On the subject, I am remembering, this bright December afternoon, with the Hayward hills wintergreen beyond my windows, a "word" I heard from the Lord, almost twenty years ago.  A word connected to, in fact incorporating, the concept of joy.  

It was late night, Sunday, June 25, 2006, walking a broad but dimly lit Caracas sidewalk with seven of my young Venezuelans.  This was the night I really connected with them, the night we have all ever since referred to as "el Domingo" (meaning "that Sunday").  We had left the restaurant where they all worked with the idea that they were going to walk me back to my hotel because, at going-on midnight, it was too late for me to be negotiating the busy city streets myself.  I had assured the guys that I knew my way back to the hotel, was not drunk, nothing to worry about.  They were having none of it.  They had specifically asked me to wait until the restaurant closed, at 1130 that night, so that they could make sure I got safely back to the hotel.  

My Venezuelans were then and are today hard to resist.  I waited 'til they were all off shift.  We stepped away from the curb and one of them turned to me and asked, "Tienes tiempo por una mas cerveza?"  That is, "Do you have time for one more beer?"  

I laughed.  And we were off to the clubs, my Caraquenos and I.  In the course of that life-changing evening, I received a word from the Lord.

The word was joy.  Remember that I had only recently gone three years with zero personal experience of it.  The full context takes more time to explain than I want to go into here, but the upshot of it all was this.  I received from the Lord that vibrant, memorable evening an assurance that "I give you these young men of Caracas as your spiritual sons.  They will be a joy to you like none you have known."

It is true, I had had more than one beer at that point in the evening.  All the same, the message definitely seemed to have come from beyond me.  I had not been thinking about anything more at the moment than what presented itself to my senses: these seven twenty-something Venezuelans, laughing and talking and guiding their newfound Yankee amigo to the next club...

I mention this moment both because it resonates with today's homiletic theme and because I have had the -- well, the joy -- of sending money to Caracas this week; a down-payment on my annual contribution to try to bring some real holiday cheer to the families of my Caraquenos.  You would not believe what $100 American can do for a Venezuelan family.  Really.  You would not believe it.

I was last in Venezuela in January, 2011.  But "my boys" (now men in their late thirties and well into their forties) and I remain in regular touch.  I know what is going on with their grandparents, some of whom have died in the past few years.  I know how their parents -- my age -- are doing.  I know how they, their spouses and children are managing, given the extremely difficult social and economic reality that is life in Venezuela, for maybe eighty per cent of the country's population, today.  

I remember second guessing the "word" from the Lord, Sunday, June 25, 2006 in the streets of nighttime Caracas.  "Dude, you have had a few, and the night's energy itself might be described as intoxicating..."  I also remember saying to myself, "No.  You heard it."  

I figured time would tell.

I would argue that time has told.  Through the good times that lay directly ahead for the next five years, with repeated trips to Caracas, to the past decade and one-half, where I can visit only with my Caraquenos who have managed to escape the country, but through them am in regular contact with those who remain, "my Venezuelans" (there would eventually be seventeen of them) are a joy to me like none I have ever known.  

The Lord promised me joy, that night almost twenty years ago, in Caracas.  He has more than delivered.  

That's a wrap!  A joyful third week of Advent to you!  

God bless.

Love, 

Fr. Brawn

Second Sunday of Advent Homily: The Nations Seek the Messiah

Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily, December 7, 2025, Second Sunday of Advent; An Afternoon in Sacramento; Lightening Up as the Sabbatical Nears Its End

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 11:1-10

• Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 12-13, 17

• Romans 15:4-9

• Matthew 3:1-12

Dear Friends and Family,

Although there are certainly other places a homilist might go, in terms of elucidating a specific theme in today's readings, one of the obvious possibilities is the conversion of the Gentiles, is the realization by "the nations" that the God of Israel IS God.  

This realization occurs, of course, because the Gentiles came to believe that Jesus is the Messiah; the Messiah promised by the Jewish prophets and psalmists.  It's intriguing because, of course, the Gentiles knew next to nothing of the Jewish prophets and psalmists.  Yet, when presented with evidence of the way in which Jesus fulfilled the Messianic prophecies, via the teaching and the preaching of the apostles, the Gentiles were riveted.  It was as if they were being let in on a great, an enormous, an almost unbelievable secret: the fact that God had been acting through the nation of Israel for many hundreds of years, had promised a Messiah through that nation, and had promised that the Messiah was not just for the Jews, but for the world.  

The Gentiles flocked to the preaching of Paul and the other disciples.  Again and again in Acts of the Apostles, we see Paul, Barnabas and others first preaching the Good News in the synagogues in the Gentile cities to which their missionary efforts took them.  And, despite some success in the synagogues, again and again we see Paul, Barnabas and the others turning from the Jews to the Gentiles, with their message of a universal offer of salvation.  And the Gentiles -- Greeks, Romans, Syrians, Galicians, Phoenicians and so forth -- respond with an overwhelming enthusiasm; the early Christian communities were composed far more of Gentiles than of Jews.

And I mean, this corresponds to all of us, pretty obviously.  Unless you have Jewish ancestry, you are a Gentile.  My ancestors in fourth-century Ireland responded with alacrity and joy to the teachings of St. Patrick; the Good News told them things about themselves and the universe that they had never understood before.  

Chief among these revelations to the Gentiles was the fact of their utter worth, their priceless value to the God who had made them.  The God who had made them for a purpose, the ultimate aim of that purpose being their union with their Creator in heavenly bliss for all eternity.  The God who had made them was so determined to see that ultimate union achieved that he became one of us, and died a sacrificial death on our behalf.  To ransom us from our folly, God gave us his very self, the Second Person of the Trinity, AS ONE OF US, truly human; one of us right down to the point of dying, just as we must.  

God, entering into human death, in order to rescue us from it.

This message was liberating; more than that, it was electrifying to the Gentiles of the first centuries of Christianity.  To try to grasp the power of this message among our ancient ancestors, imagine for a moment that the Nativity never happened.  Imagine that Jesus never came.  Imagine that God never reached out to us, never sought to rescue us.  

What would life be like, were it not for Jesus?  What would we believe, what would we think, what would feel, about our limited and ultimately doomed (because death cannot be escaped) existence here on earth, if there were no Jesus?

Whatever our answer to that question, the Gentiles experienced it as their reality; our pagan ancestors had zero clue as to the ultimate purpose and meaning of human existence.  They had theories.  They had myths.  They had vague and ragged hopes.  They did not have the Good News.

Until they did.  

And once they did, and just to visit each of this Sunday's readings:

"On that day, the root of Jesse, set up as a signal for the peoples -- Him the nations will seek out" (Isaiah 11:10)

"May his name be forever; as long as the sun, may his name endure.  May the tribes of the earth give blessings with his name; may all the nations regard him as favored" (Psalm 72:17)

"For I say that Christ became a minister...so that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy.  As it is written, 'Therefore I will praise you among the Gentiles and sing praises to your name'" (Romans 15:9)

As for the Gospel passage, Matthew tells us that John the Baptist warned the Jewish leaders that they could be replaced:

"Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance.  And do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father.'  For I tell you, God can raise up children to Abraham from these stones" (Matthew 3:8-9)

As it happened, of course, God did not need to raise up children to Abraham from stones.  Rather, he raised them up through the Gentiles.  Our ancestors.  We are the people of the many, many prophecies of the time of the global faith; of the time when "the nations" shall come to worship the God of Israel.

How cool is that?

I took a day off this week and drove over to Sacramento to have lunch with a couple of dear friends, former Pleasantonians who now call Carmichael home.  It was great.  I am, as you know, from the Sacramento Valley, and I cannot be in Sacramento, let alone Marysville, without feeling just really at home.  Right down to the 46-degree early afternoon temperature (given a persistent but fortunately high layer of tule fog), it just felt like...being home.  (The sun did eventually come out, around three that afternoon.  It turned out to be a beautiful afternoon, but -- again, remembering my childhood in the valley -- the mercury hit 50 and said, "That's it.")

One of the things that delighted me, as I criss-crossed the freeways heading into Carmichael, was the autumn color among the trees.  We get some pretty impressive color here in the Bay Area; just this afternoon I took photos of a stand of trees off Main Street in Pleasanton -- they were too gorgeous to ignore.  But in Sacramento there is more.  I mean, of course -- palms, pines, oaks, olives, citrus, cypress and more -- our capital city is full of trees that are green year round.  But it seems as though almost every other tree there -- right now -- is a flaming red, orange, yellow or gold, and it was a constant pleasure, driving amid all that color.

The very fact that I felt free to take the better part of a day out and just head over to Sac for lunch with good friends leads to my second personal observation in this e-mail.  I am...letting up on the accelerator, at this point, with the aims and ambitions of the sabbatical.  There is a little over a month left.  And that month is the holidays.  We have gotten a lot done, at San Gabriel, the past half year.  We have seemingly endless vistas of bright ambitions yet ahead but...

I was free this Thursday morning to drive to Sacramento, if I so desired, and have lunch with friends I had not seen since before the shutdown.  So I did.  

I will be working -- lightly -- on and off, on books, videos, marketing plans and so on, with San Gabriel all this month.  But I have felt a shift in focus this past week, and I am going to go with that shift.  I am going to...write Christmas cards.  Go to the gym.  See family and friends.  Take a few deep breaths.  

And give thanks and praise to the Lord for a great sabbatical, the end of which is now coming into view.  

All good.

Hope this finds you well and thriving.  Happy Second Sunday of Advent!

God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

First Sunday of Advent Homily: Hope, Prophecy, and Readiness

Readings and Virtual Homily for November 30,2025, First Sunday of Advent; Thanksgiving and Giving Thanks; December Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 2:1-5

• Psalm 122:1-9

• Romans 12:11-14

• Matthew 24:37-44

 Dear Friends and Family,

Advent readings tend in one direction or the other -- the First or the Second Coming.  This week's tend toward the latter.

The reading from Isaiah does not particularly reference the Second Coming, but it does predict our time -- the time of the universal faith; the time when the nations will acknowledge that the God of Israel is God.  I love the passage's description of how the Gentiles (that is, us) will react with wonder, with joy and enthusiasm, at the prospect of being instructed in the ways of the true God, the God of the Jews.  "In days to come," the prophet says, "…many peoples shall come and say, 'Come, let us go up...to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may instruct us in his ways and we may walk in his paths'" (vss. 2-3).

I sometimes joke with my parishioners here in Hayward, when I have this reading, that I am sure they got out of bed this morning joyfully and excitedly saying, "Come, let us go up to the house of the Lord, there to receive instruction in his ways..."

The point is simply that Isaiah is predicting that when the message of salvation is preached to the Gentiles, it will be received with wonder and joy, a reality abundantly attested to in Acts of the Apostles and the letters of St. Paul. 

The psalm focuses on Jerusalem, and from the perspective of a pilgrim, a visitor on a holy journey.  The verses from today's reading also denote wonder and joy; wonder and joy at Jerusalem -- the city of God.  The verses may be understood to refer as well to the Church in our time, to the "New Jerusalem;" with this interpretation we have resonance with the theme of the first reading: Gentile joy at discovering the truths of God.

The reading from Romans exemplifies the early belief that Christ's return was imminent -- a very Advent theme.  The evidence from Scripture and traditional sources strongly suggests that the first Christians thought the Second Coming likely to happen within their lifetimes which, of course, partly explains their intense missionary zeal.  They wanted to bring the Good News to the entire world, and they wanted to accomplish this responsibility as rapidly and as completely as possible.  

Two thousand years later, the Gospel has indeed been preached in every land; with two and one half billion adherents, Christianity is the largest religion on earth.  The "days to come" spoken of by Isaiah in the first reading, when "the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established as the highest mountain and raised above the hills;" the days when "All nations shall stream toward" the mountain of the Lord, have come (vs. 2).

And as it was in apostolic times, plenty of Christians in our time are expecting, if not the Second Coming itself, then at least the fulfillment of various end times prophecies, in our time.  I have preached and written extensively on this topic, giving my own take on it.  No need to detail my understanding here, but just to restate it: I do believe we have entered "the last days."  I do not believe anyone alive today, including my four year-old great niece, is going to see the Second Coming.  

Then there is Matthew 24:37-44.  "One will be taken, one will be left..." (vs. 40). Okay.  So remember just two months ago, the stories in the news about the folks who were preparing to be raptured on either September 23 or the 24 or maybe at the latest the 25?  This was huge -- if you were paying attention, which I admit, until about a week before the dates in question, I was not.

Nor is there any reason I should have been paying attention. "The rapture," as defined by our dear brothers and sisters in the Evangelical wing of the faith, is not going to happen.  Not last September.  Not next September.  Not any September at all, nor any January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, October, November or December, for that matter.  

The rapture, as defined by these folks, is a non-starter.  It is not only denied by the Catholic Church; it is not only not believed in by the Orthodox or the mainline Protestants.  The "secret rapture" described by the Evangelicals is non-Scriptural.  It is not to be found in the Bible, despite the fact that any Evangelical Christian worth his or her tithe is going to tell you that it is guaranteed by Scripture.

This is too much to address here.  I have written fairly extensively on this business in my book THE END TIMES.  Suffice it to say that what Jesus here describes (one shall be taken and one left) refers to the very last moment of human history; the moment of the Second Coming itself.  There will, indeed, be a rapture of believers into the clouds to "meet the Lord in the air" as St. Paul puts it (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; 1 Corinthians 15:51-55).  

But Paul notes that the dead will rise first.  He says, and more than once, that this rapture will occur at "the very last trumpet call" (1 Cor. 15:52).  Then those who are still alive will be taken up, as the Lord himself is returning.  This rapture, the only one described in Scripture, occurs at the very last moment of human habitation on the planet.  This rapture coincides with the Second Coming.  There IS no "secret rapture" happening seven years before the end of the world.  That's the end of it.

It is, of course, not just the first Sunday of Advent, but Thanksgiving weekend and I have taken some time the last two or three days to, well, give thanks.  This year in particular, I have a lot, a lot for which to be grateful.  As I imagine I have said in these homilies before, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year.  

But it is only my second favorite day of the year.  Number one is Good Friday.  The two share a strong resonance.  After all, there is nothing for which a human being might be more deeply grateful than his or her rescue by the God who made us.  And Eucharist, the Lord's Body and Blood given for our salvation, means thanksgiving.  

I could probably write several more paragraphs on this set of points, the connections between our national holiday and Good Friday.  But it is early Saturday afternoon and I need to get this baby out.  

I hope your Thanksgiving weekend is restful; warm and joyful.  My best wishes for the start of Advent.

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

December Schedule:

Saturday, Nov. 29

5 PM (English)

Sunday, Nov. 30:

8 AM, 630 PM (both English)

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON/Seton Campus

11 AM (English)

Saturday, Dec. 6

5 PM (English)

Sunday, Dec. 7

8 AM, 1115 AM (both English)

Monday, December 8, Feast of the Immaculate Conception

8 AM (English); 5 PM (bilingual)

Thursday, December 18, Simbang Gabi Novena Mass

 6 AM (English)

Saturday, Dec, 20

5 PM (English)

Sunday, Dec. 21 

630 PM (English)

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON/Seton Campus

11 am (English)

Christmas Eve

5 PM, 10 PM (both English)

Christmas Day 

9 AM (English)

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

Mon, Dec, 1

Tues, Dec. 2, 7 PM (Spanish)

Fri, Dec. 5

Sat, Dec. 6

Fri, Dec. 12

Sat, Dec. 13

Mon, Dec. 15

Sat, Dec. 20

Mon, Dec. 22 

Sat, Dec. 27

Christ the King: Creation, Redemption, and Majesty

Readings and Virtual Homily for November 23, 2025, Feast of Christ the King; Twelve Busy Sabbatical Days; California Dreaming; Late Additions to the Mass Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• 2 Samuel 5:1-3

• Psalm 122:1-5

• Colossians 1:12-20

• Luke 23:35-43

Dear Friends and Family:

Today is the Feast of Christ the King.  As I have observed often enough in the past, one of my favorite feast days of the year.  The day when we celebrate how all of creation comes together in the Kingship of Christ, God-made-man.  All of creation comes through the Second Person of the Trinity ("through him, all things were made”).  All of creation is rescued, redeemed, and not just restored but made new, through the Second Person of the Trinity incarnate, the man Jesus of Nazareth.

This stupendous reality hardly bears analysis, though of course, careers have been built, in its analysis; books written about it, professorships spent teaching it, the hearts, minds and souls of countless theologians and saints given over to its contemplation.  But truly, the reality we contemplate today is so vast, so majestic, so astonishing that I wonder what I might say here that could approach doing it justice.

Of course I have given homilies on this feast day; have done so since late November, 2006, a brand new priest in Pleasanton.  And if I were so inclined this morning, I could take each of today's readings in turn and offer analysis and perspective.  Number one, I have done that before.  Number two, as I say, it would not begin to do justice to the reality we contemplate today: Jesus of Nazareth, true man; and at one and the same time, the Second Person of the Trinity, true God.  Jesus Christ, King of creation, King of the universe.  

I mean, really, give it a moment's reflection.  "Through him" the Andromeda Galaxy came into being.  

And he hung on a cross, bleeding to death, to save not just us but all creation, which fell when its steward (the human being) fell.  To rescue it, its Creator became a human being, and died that death for it.  For us.

I am gonna add anything to that?!?

I do love today's passage from Colossians, one of several in the New Testament that asserts in no uncertain terms the huge mystery we celebrate today. 

"He is the image of the invisible God...in him were created all things in heaven and on earth...all things were created through him and for him...in him all things hold together...for in him all the fullness was pleased to dwell and through him to reconcile all things...making peace by the blood of his cross" (vss. 15-20).

And who does not love the passage from Luke, where Jesus forgives his executioners and prays for their salvation (vs. 34); where St. Dimas (the good thief) comes so startlingly to Jesus' defense, and throws himself on God's mercy (vss. 40-43).  Dimas is the first among all humanity (leaving Mary out of this) to avail himself of the salvation being won at that very moment.  What must it have meant to Jesus, to have that -- that affirmation, that confirmation?  To have that evidence, that proof, of the power and the effectiveness of his sacrifice?  He had not even died yet and already, his total self-giving was bearing fruit.

Thank you, Dimas, is all I can say.

And thank you, Jesus.  Thank you, my Lord, my God, my Savior, my King.  Just a suggestion, to really enter into the cosmic dimensions of the feast we celebrate today: The next time you gaze up at the stars on a clear night, recall that "through him all things were made."

I've joked off and on for the past five and one-half months that though I am technically on sabbatical, there are days when contemplating my schedule, no one would guess it.  But on the whole, that fact has pertained only to the occasional day, maybe two days together, since the start of the summer; on the whole, my weeks have been fairly spacious in terms of time and schedule.  

Not so the twelve days that ended with this past Wednesday.  Among many other things, a three-day Kairos Retreat with the juniors at San Damiano immediately followed by a weekend retreat for Bay Area chapters of the Legion of Mary at St. Clare in Soquel promptly followed by a two-day trip to LA for San Gabriel Media (and some wonderful time with my LA family).  Among several other things, all that and more.  It was like what life used to be like when I was fulltime in the parishes.  That is, non-stop.  

I got to this past Thursday and -- not having the morning Mass -- slept 'til 930, then spent 45 minutes catching up texts and e-mails from bed.  Had coffee after my shower, did not bother to shave, hit the road for Pleasanton, where I had a lunch date with a dear friend, returned to the parish and checked my box in the office (it was overflowing -- I had not checked it in over a week), ran a couple errands and then...drove to Danville for dinner with a couple more dear friends and...felt blessed.  Felt relaxed.  Felt like I had exhaled.  

I mean, after all. I AM (supposedly) on a sabbatical...

Will close with this "report from the road" (that is, I-5, and in contemplation of all that has come to be, through Him).  The recent surprisingly heavy rains, the more so because the south state has actually recorded greater precipitation totals than we have, have left California not just green but vibrantly so, deeply so.  The drive down 5 this week (I waited 'til Tuesday to go, so as to avoid the storm at the start of the week) was gorgeous.  The clarity of the air; the huge fluffy white-and-grey clouds; the sparkling sunlight.  The slopes of the Coast Range were either turning green or were green already and the valley itself was...What was that 1940s film called?  How Green Was My Valley?  How green IS our Central Valley right now?  VERY.  

Only in the Tehachipis did I find myself among summer-still-golden hills.  But even there, and surprising -- because after all, it is only November -- the highest peaks had snow.  It was bright and sunny, driving over the Grapevine, but the huge clouds were all over the place, and as we rose into the mountains, they became quite close to the freeway; maybe just a couple hundred feet above us.  It was cool.  

The drive -- both down and back -- was effortless; zero traffic, plenty of cars and trucks, but we never slowed down anywhere.  I stopped at Harris Ranch both going south and heading back; took photos there, the valley there was so -- photogenic, I guess.  

It was a blessed way to end the twelve busiest days of this sabbatical.  Those days will not be repeated, but I am not sorry for them.  Just the opposite.  All their jammed-together experiences were experiences of grace, above all of the grace of priesthood and for that, well, again, thank you, Jesus, my Lord, my God, my Savior, my High Priest, my King.

That'll wrap it.  

Happy Thanksgiving!  

God bless.

Love,

El Padre

Last-minute changes to the November schedule, all of them this weekend.  I now have all four English Masses here at St. Clement -- the vigil this evening at 5; the 8, 1115 and 630 tomorrow.  

I had not been scheduled this weekend because I had had a trip planned, but as with so many other travel plans this sabbatical, the trip was scotched, owing to my determination to get as much done, as well done as possible, for our efforts at San Gabriel Media.  We wound up without our frequent helper priest this weekend, here in the parish (Fr. Celestine, a young scholar from Rwanda, studying at the GTU in Berkeley).  So our pastor asked me for help.  Happy to take up the slack!

End Times Wisdom: Homily for November 16, 2025

Readings and Virtual Homily for November 16, 2025, Thirty-Third Sunday of Ordinary Time; Powering Through This Mid-November Virtual Homily

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Malachi 3:19-20

• Psalm 98:5-6, 7-9

• 2 Thessalonians 3:7-12

• Luke 21:5-19

Dear Friends and Family,

We are at the next-to-last Sunday of the liturgical year; the predominant theme is the end times.  Had we not had solemnities the past two weekends, this theme would have predominated among their readings, as well.  The last two or three Sundays before the Feast of Christ the King (next week, and the last Sunday of the liturgical year) the readings focus on eschatological themes, that is, they focus on the end of this world and on the afterlife, on the life of the world to come.  

Eschatological, even apocalyptic themes are not unusual in the prophets and the psalms.  Today's first reading from Malachi might be understood as one of the few Old Testament references to Hell.  

"For the day is coming," Malachi writes, "blazing like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble, and the day that is coming will set them on fire, leaving them neither root nor branch" (vs. 19).  

This warning could, of course, be taken in a strictly temporal sense, but even then it is pretty fierce.  It describes something the world has not yet seen; the day of the Lord, the day of inescapable judgment and justice.  The psalm looks forward to this day, prophesying the day when "the Lord...comes to govern the earth, to govern the earth with justice and the peoples with fairness" (vs. 9).

The passage from Luke is early in chapter twenty-one of that Gospel; Luke's "end times" chapter.  It gives little of the detail that the rest of the chapter provides, regarding end times prophecy from Jesus.  And some of what is included in today's reading refers to the destruction of the Temple, an event some thirty-five years in the future at the time of Jesus.  The destruction of the Temple, by the Romans in 70 AD, and the concomitant leveling of Jerusalem, the exile -- on pain of death -- of the Jews from their own capital city, certainly must have felt like an end times event to the first century Jews.  

In fact, Jesus tells the disciples that wars and insurrections will occur; that "many will come in my name, saying 'I am he' and 'the time has come'" (vs. 8).  Jesus warns the disciples not to follow those who say the end is here; he assures the disciples that "such things must happen first but it will not immediately be the end" (vs. 9).  

This is a piece of advice from the Lord that we might bear in mind today, when, in certain sectors of the Church and among the evangelicals, there is what might be termed fervent end times speculation.  As I have said before and no doubt will say again, I believe that we have entered that period of history which Scripture refers to as the last days.  But it has been the consistent teaching of the Church that the end times might be understood as spanning generations, and even centuries.  Significant attention has been paid, for instance, by Catholic scholars, to the French Revolution, to the Enlightenment and the rise of Masonry -- eighteenth century developments -- as indicative of what we might term the beginning of the end.  

 I am aware of various websites and You Tube channels out there, claiming Catholic credentials, which are making bold predictions about the rise of the Anti-Christ, as just one example, in our times; I mean, like within the coming decade.  While the timing of events is known, according to Jesus, to the Father alone (Acts of the Apostles 1:7), I am no stranger to this question.  I have written a book on it.  The Anti-Christ, I will just go out on a (well-supported, in my view) limb and say it, is not even born yet.  No one alive today should expect to see the Second Coming.

I want to close with the observation that a lot of what is out there in Catholic (and Protestant) cyberspace is missing the real point of these prophecies, which is not to engage in parlor games about the possible identities of apocalyptic beasts and "countdowns" to Armageddon, but rather, to turn our hearts and minds to the great reality which lies just over the threshold of eternity, the reality of our own eternal destinies, the reality of sainthood, on which we are rightly focused every November, the month when we remember the novissimi, that is, not the last things so much as the new things.  

To quote again from the psalm (though these opening verses are not included in today's reading): "Sing a new song to the Lord, for he has done marvelous deeds...the Lord has made his victory known...All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God" (vss. 1-3).

I am writing this from San Damiano in Danville, where I am on the last of the autumn retreats with the high school, this one a Kairos retreat, the big three-day affair we host several times a year for the juniors.  I will be at St. Clare's Retreat Center in Soquel, by the time this arrives in mailboxes, giving a retreat there, to Bay Area chapters of the Legion of Mary.  I return from that retreat Sunday afternoon to the monthly Family Mass at O'Dowd followed by our 630 evening Mass at St. Clement.  And the next day I head to LA for San Gabriel Media meetings.  Never a dull moment, on this sabbatical!

Because it has been a long first day here on Kairos, and it is now going on midnight, I will close this one here.

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Feast of St. John Lateran: Mother Church of the World

                                        Readings and Virtual Homily for November 9, 2025, Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran; Virtual Homily; Book Report; Hope for Venezuela?; Greening Hayward's Hills

 Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Ezekiel 47:1-2. 8-9, 12

• Psalm 46:2-3, 5-6. 8-9

• 1 Corinthians 3:9-11, 16-17

• John 2:13-22

Dear Friends and Family:

Last week, the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time was pre-empted by the celebration of the Feast of All Souls; this week, the 32nd Sunday in OT also gives way to a solemnity, that is, a holy day of such significance that it is even celebrated on Sunday, taking the place of the regular Sunday Mass.

This holy day is a unique one.  It is not a feast of Our Lord, Our Lady nor of any angel or saint.  It is a feast celebrating a building.

That building is St. John Lateran; the cathedral of Rome.  And to do justice to the feast day, it is not, strictly speaking, about a building, since St. John Lateran has been rebuilt several times.  It is about a church. A local church, the cathedral of the Bishop of Rome.  St. Peter's (the Vatican) is not a cathedral; it is not the central church of the Diocese of Rome.  St. John Lateran is.  And because it is the cathedral of the pope, it is considered the "mother church" of the entire Catholic world.

The first reading (one of the more readily readable from Ezekiel) describes the Temple of God in far futuristic terms; terms which refer not to the Jewish Temple, but to the Church.  There is some beautiful imagery in this reading.  The river that flows from the Temple becomes deeper and deeper as it flows, symbolizing the worldwide growth of the Christian faith.  Where the waters of the river flow "they refresh; everything lives where the river goes" (vs. 9).  The waters of the river are described as reaching "the polluted waters of the sea to freshen them" (vs. 8), often understood to be a reference to the Church's global influence; to the spread of God's grace and truth throughout pagan cultures. 

The trees which flourish along the river's banks serve a double life-giving purpose.  They are said to be "every kind of fruit tree" and they bear once a month, every month, their fruit never fails (vs. 12).  Not just the fruit of the trees but their leaves, too, serve a life-enhancing purpose; they are used for medicine (vs. 12).  The metaphor of the fruit trees might be applied to any number of the Church's ministries and apostolates.  

The psalm echoes the first reading's images of life-giving water -- "Streams of the river gladden the city of God" (vs. 5).  Psalm 46 rejoices in the nearness of God, the presence of God in his house and among his people; it may be argued that the psalm foreshadows the time of the Church and the presence of God in the prayers and the sacraments of the Church, above all the Eucharist.

The second reading considers the Church's one foundation, Christ.  It argues that we may build upon that foundation, but cautions us at the same time to be careful how we build (vss. 10-11).  In verses not included in today's passage, we get one of the few Scriptural proof texts for the existence of Purgatory, where Paul assures us that if a man's work -- his attempt to build upon the foundation -- does not stand, the man himself may yet "be saved, but only as through fire" (vs. 15).  The reading goes on to remind us that we ourselves are temples of the Holy Spirit, who dwells within each one of us (vs. 16).

The Gospel is John's account of the cleansing of the Temple. Jesus undertook this action because the house of God had been turned into "a marketplace" as he put it (vs. 16).  The Temple had in some ways become all about money.   The shekel was not accepted at the Temple.  The Temple had its own currency and the people had to exchange their regular money for the Temple coinage, when they visited.  The people were being cheated by the money changers; likewise, they were being over-charged by the vendors of sacrificial animals.  The scene as described in John and the other Gospels is one of shocking upheaval; Jesus overturns the money changers tables, spilling all their coins, and he "made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the Temple area," including the oxen, the sheep, the doves (vss. 15-16).

John quotes Scripture, the Hebrew Scriptures, I mean, "Zeal for thy house will consume me," telling us that the disciples recalled this passage from Psalm 69 when Jesus cleared the Temple (vs. 17).  In any event, respect for the Temple, a recurrent theme among both the psalms and the prophets, is made startlingly manifest here.  And the Temple being the pre-eminent seat of Jewish worship in Jesus' day, this passage underscores the pre-eminence of the church we celebrate today, St. John Lateran.  

A thumbnail history of St. John Lateran is that the property and the original basilica were donated to the Church by the wealthy and patrician Laterani family in the early fourth century.  The site was consecrated as the cathedral of Rome by Pope St. Sylvester 1 on November 9, 324 (this was under the reign of Constantine, the first Christian Roman emperor).  For a thousand years, St. John Lateran was the church and the residence of the popes.  It was the site of five ecumenical councils in the later Middle Ages.  The current church (there have been several over the millennia) was dedicated in 1646.  Beneath the high altar is a fabled relic -- a small wooden table on which it is believed St. Peter celebrated Mass.  

Gotta love it -- actual historical fact or maybe something closer to legend, the fact that that table has been there through seventeen centuries and several iterations of the cathedral building itself, is cause for wonder and joy.

On a strictly personal note, St. John Lateran is my favorite church in Rome.  I like it better than any of the other patristic basilicas, impressive though each of them is.  The four patristic basilicas of Rome are, in addition to the Lateran, St, Mary Major, St. Paul Outside the Walls and St. Peter's.  They are all knockouts, but for my money, John Lateran takes the prize.  Its architectural lines are clean and smooth; it has a certain stately elegance that to my mind, anyway, invites serenity and quiet reflection.  And the colossal statues of the apostles lining the walls are inspirational.  From my first visit to Rome with my priest uncle in 1989, the Lateran has been my favorite Roman church.

Meanwhile, the sabbatical continues.  Though it has been five months now, I am still more than two months out from my return to the classroom.  The last several weeks there has been a shift in focus, though work continues to go forward on all fronts.  The past few weeks my pre-eminent focus has been on books.  I am working on four, and actually, am even taking notes on the next three.  None of which is as impressive as it may sound.  All four of the books I expect to finish over the winter have been in development for years and it will be a nice accomplishment, but really, nothing too stunning, if I have them all completed this winter.  It is cool, actually, going back and forth between them, as I have been doing, quiet mornings, quiet afternoons and quiet evenings here in the quiet rectory suite.  When I feel an inspiration relating to Mary, for instance, I will find myself at work on the book titled ALL ABOUT MARY.  When the desire to re-visit Caracas hits, I find myself sometimes writing fifteen pages at a pop, on my Venezuelan memoire, CARACAS STORY.  

On the subject of Caracas, a fair number of folks have been in touch with me this autumn about the political news regarding Venezuela; that is, regarding the American military build-up in the Caribbean since late summer.  I can only guess, but my guess is not uneducated.  I largely attribute this set of developments to Marco Rubio.  The Secretary of State is the son of Cuban immigrants, knows well the malevolent influence Cuba has had and continues to exercise in Caracas, and has repeatedly in the past exchanged sharp words directly with some of those in power in the Venezuelan government, assuring them, among other things, that he has orange jumpsuits available in their sizes, and cells reserved in their names in federal prisons in Florida.  

Of course, Rubio cannot do anything without the approval of the president, but it appears he has that.  I am not knowledgeable enough to comment on the administration's claim that the Maduro dictatorship is essentially a drug cartel masquerading as a government.  But I know enough about this brutal regime to believe that anything is possible.    

I think it highly unlikely that we are going to invade.  In fact, I think it next to impossible.  No one wants a shooting war in Venezuela, not even that 67% of the Venezuelan electorate that voted in July of last year to oust Maduro.  While one knowledgeable commentator was quoted recently in THE NEW YORK TIMES as saying that a huge number of Venezuelans would welcome American troops with open arms, I think it would be truer to say that a huge number of Venezuelans would welcome any legal stepped-up diplomatic and economic pressure the United States can bring into the equation.  That is as much as I can offer, in terms of my own analysis.  The situation bears watching and certainly, bears prayer.

Something I am able to do substantially more of, on sabbatical, than during the academic term, is sitting at my windows here in the Hayward rectory, gazing out over the hills which rise immediately above our property line.  The Hayward hills enchant me any time of year, and just at the moment they are making me smile with the faint but persistent under-blush of green that they are exhibiting, following the recent rains.  I remain traumatized by the drought of 2019-22, and despite three strong wet years in a row I am hoping and praying for another this winter.  That light and pretty shade of spring-like color amid the still largely golden hue of the slopes gives me hope.

 I'll close it here.  

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Becoming Saints: Grace in Our Struggles and Strengths

Readings and Virtual Homily for November 2, 2025, Feast of All Souls; Four Days Out of Five at O'Dowd; November Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Wisdom 3:1-9

• Psalm 23:1-6

• Romans 5:5-11

• OR

• Romans 6:3-9

• John 6:37-40

Dear Friends and Family,

This weekend is, of course, the weekend that starts the month of the souls, the month of the novissimi, which we associate with the Last Days and the Last Things, but which in fact actually translates as the New Things (novo -- new in Latin).  There need not be any sense of contradiction, Last Things, New Things.  The Four Last Things Ever To Be Remembered, after all (Death, Judgment, Hell and Heaven) directly correlate to the beginning of the New Things, the new heavens, the new earth, the new and everlasting life already enjoyed by the saints and toward which we direct our own earthly efforts.

As a child my favorite day of this Triduum was All Hallow's Eve, that is, of course, Halloween.  I liked All Saints Day a whole lot, too, because back when I was a kid, all Catholic schools took the day off.  A holiday with a trick or treat bag full of candy!  Didn't get much better than that.  

As I matured (like that word better than as I aged), I came into a greater appreciation of All Saints Day -- I mean to the point where it became one of my favorite feast days of the year.  This would be back around the time -- my late twenties and early thirties -- that I had returned to the practice of the faith and had a hungry and deep appreciation for the saints, for their adventures, their struggles, their joys and setbacks, their inspirational lives.  

The saints were, they are, inspirational simply in the variety of approaches they exhibit, in terms of coming into one's fullness as a disciple.  From Francis and Clare and their embrace of evangelical poverty to Helena, Roman Empress, who employed her near-limitless wealth in such a way as to become known as "mother of the indigent and poor," in both Rome and Constantinople.  I remember a priest-professor at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley once remarking to us (his students) that though "there are only so many ways to be bad, there appears to be an endless variety of ways to be good."  

I liked that.  It speaks not just to the great diversity of gifts, talents and approaches to discipleship that we find among the saints, but to our lives -- to the empowerment by grace of our unique skills and abilities, indeed, of our passions.  Which last gets to another thing about the saints and their example -- we may admire them for the huge variety of gifts they collectively developed and placed at the service of humanity.  But we may also admire the way they allowed grace to light up their passions, giving us insights into the way their sainthood played out through their individual characters and personalities.  

They all had faults to overcome.  None of them were born saints.  The way they worked with grace -- through struggle and setback every bit as much as through success -- had a lot to do with shaping their unique path of discipleship, their unique sainthood.  It can give us hope and encouragement to realize that where we are weakest, God is strongest.  It is in the cracks that the Light can shine through, opening up latent interior capacities, capacities which, assisted by grace, result in the triumph of virtue, developing strengths within us which we might not have guessed ourselves to possess.  (For indeed, and not meaning to belabor the point, only to clarify it: we possess these strengths only as potentialities; their development and empowerment relies on our cooperation with grace.)

The dynamics of sainthood fascinate me, and have, since, as I say, I first came back to the Church at 28.  

There is then, finally, All Souls Day, the feast we actually are celebrating this Sunday.  My deepening appreciation of the significance of this feast only got going at seminary, where the Hispanic seminarians made a bright and showy celebration of the day, following the customs of their native (or ancestral) lands.  If you'd asked me about All Souls Day in my thirties, I probably would have shrugged.  In my forties (at seminary) I came to a real appreciation of the deep, the powerful and abiding faith that lies behind the gaily painted skulls, the flower-bedecked altars with offerings of favorite foods and beverages for the departed souls, the outright parties in the cemeteries.  

I came to see this manner of celebration as a bright and joyful manifestation of the reality of the Catholic doctrine of the communion of saints.  Hispanic Catholics took that reality to heart; El Dia de Los Muertos is a day of joy -- why shouldn't it be?  Our beloved dead are, in fact, more alive than we are, in eternity.  And they are with us in ways we are by no means able to fully appreciate or experience.  But on the Day of the Dead, the feast of All Souls, we "open the veil" between our world and theirs, and celebrate with them; our love for them, their love for us, God's love for all.  

Cool.  Or, as they say in Caracas, chevere.

So after all that, just a thumbnail summary of today's readings.  All of them are directed to a confident hope of the joys of the afterlife.  They are, not surprisingly, readings which are often employed at funeral Masses.  The first, from the Book of Wisdom, describes the life of the saints in vibrant terms -- shooting like sparks amid the stubble and ruling over nations (vss. 7-8).  Psalm 23 needs little explication; it is one of the most comforting and beloved of all the psalms, declaring unshakable trust in the Good Shepherd.  Both readings from Romans offer deep assurances of our eternal safety in the love of Christ; in his desire and power to save us.  The Gospel passage is the one where Jesus assures us that no one who has come to him will be lost (vs. 40).  In sum, today's readings urge a confident hope in our own eventual sainthood.

I was on campus four times this week -- that is, I was involved with campus events four times.  The first (of three) sophomore retreats transpired at San Damiano in Danville Monday and Tuesday of this week.  About 40 members of the Class of 2028 on hand.  We had seven student leaders (juniors and seniors) and ten adults.  The theme of the sophomore retreat is very apt for the week which includes All Saints Day: Superheroes; identifying one's own super powers and finding ways to place them at the service of humanity.  In other words, the retreat is about how to become a saint, but translated into language and images the kids can relate to.

Thursday morning I was on campus to celebrate our All Saints Mass.  Friday was a professional development day; the kids had it off, so we did our huge and very joyful All Saints Mass on Thursday.  

Then, Friday evening, I was back on campus to watch the fall musical, Little Shop of Horrors.  Bizarre, almost Gothic, musical from I think the late seventies.  I don't really know what I thought of the play (I told a colleague, an English teacher, as we were exiting that I could use a literary analysis and maybe some overall instruction on the musical's central metaphor).  I may not have known what I thought of the play but I know what I thought of the kids' performances.  Stellar.  As always.  The talent on display on the O'Dowd stage, three productions each year, is sometimes nothing short of breath-taking.  

And I am actually back on campus Sunday, for Open House, as noted above.  This was a week for the high school, I guess; a week where the sabbatical was to some real extent suspended.  All good.  I have enjoyed it.  

This is waaaaaay long enough!  I'll close here.

Take good care; God bless; Happy All Saints/All Souls Days!

Love,

Fr. Brawn

November Schedule:

PLEASE NOTE CHANGE IN THE PLEASANTON MASS THIS MONTH: It is not November 2, as originally scheduled. It is now November 30. The change was necessitated by my presence being requested at Open House at the high school, November 2.

If the weekend Mass schedule looks a little sparse that is because it is.  I am giving a retreat at St. Clare in Soquel one weekend this month and I was supposed to be traveling over another -- the travel plans got canceled, but the schedule was already set.  

Saturday, Nov. 1

5 PM (English)

Sunday, Nov. 2

630 PM (English)

Sunday, November 16

630 PM (English)

Saturday, November 29

5 PM (English)

Sunday November 30

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

630 PM (English)

Daily Masses (all 8 AM and in English)

• Sat. Nov. 1

• Mon. Nov. 3

• Mon. Nov. 10

• Mon. Nov. 17

• Fri. Nov. 21

• Mon. Nov. 24

• Fri. Nov. 28

Faith, Service, and Humility in Action

Readings and Virtual Homily for October 26, 2025, Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Spirit Week at O'Dowd; San Gabriel Media Hits Another Milestone

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Sirach 35:12-14; 16-18

• Psalm 34:2-3, 17-19, 23

• 2 Timothy 4:6-8; 16-18

• Luke 18:9-14

Dear Friends and Family,

"He then addressed this parable to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else," Luke 18:19 (the start of today's Gospel passage).

The parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector is, sadly, perennially current.  I always remark that whenever we read a condemnation on Jesus' part of the religious leaders of Israel, the leaders of the Church need to hold it up against themselves as though it were a mirror, to see to what extent it might apply. The reality that there are people who claim to love God, who claim to be striving after holiness, who talk a good talk but refuse to walk the walk, is every bit as much a reality in our day as it was at the time of Jesus.  Modern Christian Pharisees, so to speak, might be very particular about observing the letter of the law while ignoring its heart -- this describes the Pharisees of Jesus' day.  

And it is a dangerous place for a self-professed follower of Christ to be, when we consider that Jesus' anger (with the sole exception of the money-changers at the Temple) was reserved exclusively for the rule-following, self-righteous and harshly judgmental religious leaders of first-century Israel.  The entire twenty-third chapter of Matthew is a searing condemnation of the hypocrisy of many of Israel's religious leaders.  "Blind fools," Jesus calls them (Matthew 23:17); "blind guides, who strain at the gnat and swallow the camel" (vs. 24).

In accusing the religious leaders of his day of straining at the gnat, Jesus is saying that they laid far too much emphasis on little infractions of the law, while ignoring huge injustices, or even committing the injustices themselves (swallowing the camel).  Jesus calls the Pharisees, Sadducees and other leaders "serpents" and a "brood of vipers" (vs. 33); calls them hypocrites again and again and warns them of "the judgment of Gehenna" (vs. 33).

The Pharisees were guilty of the sin that we today in the Church refer to as clericalism; they served themselves rather than the people; they took advantage of their positions of trust and of power; they sought the advancement of their own careers rather than the service and care of the flock that God had entrusted to them.  At the same time they thought themselves righteous because they followed the rules (the Pharisee in today's Gospel offers a "prayer" to God in which he boasts of following the rules).  

Let me underscore the fact that there is nothing wrong with following the rules.  The rules (in the case of the Pharisees, Mosaic Law; in our case Canon Law) are not arbitrary; they are there for good reason.  Properly understood and applied, the rules seek to support and empower the faithful; beyond that, to protect them from evils which arise both from within and without.   

But as St. Paul points out over and over again, the law has no power to save.  Without a deep conversion of the heart, simply following the rules is meaningless.  Today's first reading and the psalm urge us to embrace this very conversion; urge the sort of empowered discipleship that Jesus asks of us.  

"Give...generously, according to your means," the first reading urges, for God hears "the cry of the orphan...the widow when she pours out her complaint" (vss. 12, 17).  And not just today's verses but most of Psalm 34 concerns itself with the plight of the poor, the afflicted, the marginalized.  Repeatedly the psalmist stresses God's love for the poor and his providential care for them, encouraging us to "Taste and see that the Lord is good" (vs. 9) and providing instructions for us, if we would truly follow the Lord (vss. 12-15, among others).

It goes without saying that the religious leaders of the Church (all of us, priests, deacons, bishops) should strive to follow the example of Jesus; should serve the flock rather than ourselves.  It goes without saying that we have been trusted with an enormous responsibility and that we should strive to be worthy of it.  It goes without saying that we are to model the empowered discipleship urged by today's psalm and first reading.  It is nonetheless the fact that Catholic leaders are every bit as human as the Pharisees of Jesus' time.  

Pray for us.

This past week was Spirit Week at the high school; a very special week each October, with rallies, talent shows and class competitions, the O'Dowd Olympics and more, and...I was on campus twice this week for some of the fun. 

I had spent about an hour, early in the week, answering e-mailed questions from student staff at The Crozier, our student newspaper, about what it is to be on sabbatical, so I was feeling pretty connected regardless.  But attending two of the Spirit Week rallies was high-energy joy and thoroughly affirmed for me (as if I needed it) that Bishop O'Dowd is where I am supposed to be at this time in my priestly service, at this time in my life.

I received affirmation as well, this week, that a sabbatical was within the purview of God's will for me, this fall, as San Gabriel Media hit another milestone.  Overnight Monday we passed 500,000 subscribers at our You Tube channel.  Even I am able to admit that this is an accomplishment.  Even I am able to say, looking at this reality, "Well...okay...I guess we are doing something right."

Having made that concession, I reiterate what I have said repeatedly since early summer, as our subscriber numbers first started to climb...500,000 subscribers is a good start.  A very good start.  I am grateful; grateful and more.  Hard to describe the sense of opportunity, but also of responsibility hitting such a milestone implies...Wow.  Folks like what we are offering; God be praised.  

All the same...I reiterate that we have done little more as yet than pushed back from the gate; that we are merely moving at a good pace along the taxi-way.  The runway is coming into view.  I will let you know when we are on it.  We remain a looooong way, this October of 2025, from lift-off, from flight speed.  But we are definitely headed in the right direction and at a rate of speed that, as I say, satisfies even my demanding set of hopes and ambitions.

God be praised.

Take good care.  God bless.

Fr. Brawn