Sunday Homily: How God’s Law Protects, Empowers, and Lifts Us

Readings and Virtual for February 15, 2026, Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time. Update on Caracas; Recovery Road; Let's Hear it for the Rain!

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Sirach 15:15-20

• Psalm 119:1-2, 4-5, 17-18, 33-34

• 1 Corinthians 2:6-10

• Matthew 5:17-37

Dear Friends and Family,

Wisdom is a prominent theme in today's readings, and in particular, wisdom as expressed in the word and the law of God.  This is an engaging topic for me, as someone who has occasionally struggled to make sense of some of the Church's rules and regulations.  Understanding that God's law proceeds from a place of ultimate knowledge, of the most ancient wisdom, can assist us when, at times, we might find ourselves wondering about a particular teaching, a particular regulation or an aspect of canon law.

The first thing I want to point out on this subject is that the law, the rules and the restrictions, exist not for the purpose of restricting us but for the purpose of first protecting and then empowering us.  God, after all, knows how the universe is made.  God knows the consequences of our actions, consequences which we might argue are built into the system.  It's a good and moral created order; abuse it and we encounter consequences; we encounter a warping of the goodness and the morality; we refer to this warping effect as punishment or the penalty due to sin, which is fine, but it is really as simple as cause and effect.

Because its Creator knows how the universe is made, that Creator may be trusted to tell us how to live in accordance with its design.  We might think of God's word, God's law, as a user's manual.  A practical guide to living in the material world; a practical guide to reality itself.  We ignore this practical guide at our peril. 

British writer Dorothy Sayers once described our freedom to rebel against God's law, using the laws of physics as an example.  We are, for instance, free to step off the observation platform of the Eiffel Tower, but that freedom will not prevent the law of gravity from guaranteeing a certain unpleasant result.  This is where the protective part of the law of God comes into play.  There is, however, beyond protection, empowerment, in a deep reading, a deep grasp and understanding of the wisdom which informs God's law.  Again, we might look to the laws of physics for a metaphor; several of them come into play in lifting a jumbo jet from the runway, despite the law of gravity.  God's law (from the Ten Commandments to Catholic Canon Law) seeks to "lift" us the way certain laws of physics lift a 747.

The first reading assures us that "immense is the wisdom of the Lord; mighty in power, he sees all things.  The eyes of God behold his work and he understands every human deed" (vss. 18-19).  Given this reality, the Commandments, spoken of in this passage (vs. 15) may be accepted and obeyed or rejected, but the author declares that "set before you are fire and water...before everyone are life and death, whichever they choose will be given them" (vss. 16-17).

The psalm beautifully enunciates this understanding -- the depth of the wisdom informing God's laws and precepts (vs. 18).  Psalm 119, the longest of the psalms at 176 verses, frequently harkens back to this observation, to this trust in the ancient wisdom which underwrites and informs the precepts of the Lord.

The second reading expands on this understanding of God's wisdom:

"Yet we do speak of a wisdom of those who are mature, but not a wisdom of this age, nor of the rulers of this age, who are passing away.  Rather, we speak of God's wisdom, mysterious, hidden, which God predetermined before the ages for our glory and which none of the rulers of the age knew..." (vss. 6-8)

After all this reassurance of the law of God being founded in the wisdom of God, the passage from Matthew gives us Jesus enumerating many laws, often as not expanding on them.  Jesus takes the Mosaic Law to the next level; it is not enough to love our neighbor and hate our enemies.  Rather, we must love our enemies as well.  Matthew 5:12 to 7:12 constitutes almost a legal litany; Jesus propounds upon subjects having to do with the moral life from tithing to divorce to anger management.  To the extent that we might be inclined to think of Jesus as a law-giver, this section of the Gospel of Matthew gives us our greatest set of insights.  

This section of Matthew culminates in Matthew 7:12, the Golden Rule:  "Do to others whatever you would have them do to you.  This is the law and the prophets."  

This was a fairly radical understanding of the law at the time.  I would argue that it remains so, today.

Well, on the subject of laws...the people of Venezuela have been living under a harshly unjust set of laws (loose use of the term; dictates is probably closer to the reality) for fifteen years now, and just in the last six weeks...  

There are some hopeful signs beginning to glimmer here and there.  Hundreds of political prisoners have recently been freed and the government is discussing a general amnesty for leaders of the opposition.  Many political prisoners remain incarcerated, but my feeling about this is that we will gladly take whatever gestures toward a restoration of the once vibrant Venezuelan democracy that we can get.    

Astonishing to me, there is as well just a smattering here and there of critical analysis and commentary on the part of the intelligentsia, not just folks in the media but also some in academia.  There is guarded criticism of the current regime; there is carefully phrased hope for a more open and free and fair public discussion regarding the nation's future.  This is huge.  

The colectivos (just think of a twenty-first century Latino version of the brownshirts) continue to control the city streets and the country roads; locally ruling Venezuela almost as if it were a collection of Medieval vassal states, each with its own set of enforcers.  Until the colectivos are disarmed and disbanded (and in my view, brought to justice) there will be no experience of new freedoms among the vast majority of Venezuelans.  

But as I have observed before, the current regime, which controls the colectivos (well, in theory, at least) is likely best equipped to ultimately deal with them.  It is hard to see how a new government, consisting of opposition leaders, could disband the colectivos.  Certainly, there are ways it might be managed, but all of them are theoretical and the practical reality is thousands of armed private citizens who have incurred the deep and lasting wrath of their oppressed fellow citizens.  The colectivos will not go down without a fight -- or -- without some kind of amnesty for them.  The current regime is likely best prepared to deal with them effectively.

In any event, as I have said before, and leaving aside all the (legitimate) arguments about how this change in Venezuela has been brought about...for the first time since 2019 I have hope that things there are actually going to improve.  The above-mentioned recent developments underscore that hope.

I did not mention this at the time, but I finished last week's homily feverish and battling serious sinus pain.  I got this thing that has been making the rounds this winter; fever-driven headaches, an on-and-off again sore throat, heavy congestion and as noted, real pain in my sinuses.  The worst I have felt in decades.  

Fortunately the worst symptoms hit fast and departed; I came down with the thing overnight Tuesday before last, and by last Saturday was dealing with just congestion and fatigue.  It was heavy enough so that I actually took a couple days out sick; extremely rare for me.  In eleven years at O'Dowd, I think I have used five sick days total.  I am gone so much from my classes already because of retreats, social justice immersion days, special Masses and so on, that I can't indulge taking sick leave too!

Feeling virtually recovered early this week, I remarked to parishioners at Mass what a difference it is, to simply feel normal again, after having spent several days more in bed than out of it.  It feels GREAT, to feel normal again.

Finally, how about the change in the weather?  Prayers being answered, as far as I am concerned, and I always want to give thanks and praise when prayers are answered.  Not just rain.  But COLD rain.  The coldest storms of the winter, according to the delightful forecasts, showing as they do five days of rain in the next ten, and highs never getting out of the fifties, even on the sunny days.  Cold rain here means snow -- lots of it -- in the Sierras, in the Cascades.  Tons of snow in the forecast, between now and what used to be called George Washington's Birthday (the 22nd).  

God be praised.  God be thanked.

Gonna wrap it.  Sorry this is late -- it was a hectic week, catching up so much after being knocked out the way I was, last week.

Take care and God bless.

Fr. Brawn  

Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time 2026: Charity, Justice, and the Light of Christ

Readings and Virtual Homily for February 8, 2026, Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Late Winter Light and Color

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 58:7-10

• Psalm 112:4-9

• 1 Corinthians 2:1-5

• Matthew 3:13-16

Dear Friends and Family,

The Gospel of Social Justice might be a good theme for today's homily.  So would a reflection on the Christian presence in the world being understood as a presence of light; light where formerly there had been darkness.  Yet another possibility would be just a straightforward reflection on the virtue of charity.  As I am intrigued by each of these possible themes, I am going to plunge in without a narrowed focus.  I want to illuminate each theme as the readings themselves suggest.

The first reading resonates deeply with social justice.  All of the prophets issue calls to the Jewish people (and, of course, to us) to engage in the work of social justice.  Though we might interpret Isaiah 58 as recommending individual acts of charity, there is undeniably a more general call at work here.  Isaiah 58 mentions entire classes of people -- and this is probably as good a place as any to mention that social justice and charity, while allies, are in fact, different.  Generally speaking, social justice is global (or societal); charity is personal; even one-on-one.

Psalm 112 does indeed recommend and extol acts of personal charity.  Psalm 112 describes a man who is just, upright and reliable in his dealings with others; a man who gives to the poor.  Lavishly (vs. 9).  The word lavish is employed as well in Isaiah 58, with regard to seeing to the needs of the hungry (vs. 10).  Lavish giving is strongly encouraged, in today's readings.

What does lavish giving look like?  It will vary from person to person, depending on circumstances and capacity.  But the clear implication in both Isaiah 58 and Psalm 112 is that lavish giving is joyful giving; the dynamic seems to be one of the more we give, the more we realize that we have to give.  And needless to say this sort of giving is not limited to money.  It can be a matter simply of attending to our own vocational call (parents, giving to their children, as an example; a priest giving to his parish).  It might also be a matter of finding a cause, a charity, a social justice movement or program in need of what we have to give, and which, in the giving, so rewards us that we are happy to discover that we can give still more.  it is a matter of love being multiplied, not divided.  

Isaiah 58 and Psalm 112 both employ the metaphor of light.  This metaphor is actually describing something real -- we associate light with the nature of God.  Light from Light.  In your Light, we see Light itself (Psalm 36).  Made in the image and likeness of God, we Radiate (to use a term related to the concept of light) God's love when we give lavishly, joyfully and from the heart.  When we say, of our giving, not "I have to do this," but 'I GET to do this!" 

Which brings us to the Gospel.  Jesus employs the metaphor of light in describing how disciples are to be recognized in the world (vss. 14-16).  And here, we might employ the word light with a different meaning; specifically, discipleship is not heavy.  The Lord Himself, after all, describes his yoke as easy, his burden as light.  Discipleship is not heavy, nor is it dark.  It is, well, light, or maybe I should say lit up.  Lit up and buoyant; buoyant with joy, with faith, with confidence (as in the example of the just man, from today's psalm, who "fears no evil report," vs. 7).  

Discipleship is bound up with light, with joy and with charity and social justice, both of which encourage us to generous, even lavish, giving of ourselves, however that may play out in our circumstances.

On the subject of light -- in this case, natural light, the light of the sun -- we have been blessed with an abundance of same, here on the West Coast, these past several weeks.  As I've expressed my trepidation about "too much of a good thing" with regard to all this brilliant winter sunshine in an earlier e-mail, I will let go of the fear, this time around, and simply revel in the pleasure of it.  

Late winter is my favorite time of year.  And it is my favorite time of year, I realize, because of where I live.  I mean, look at the entire country -- including Florida! -- east of the Rockies, these past several weeks.

The Superbowl will be played in bright sunshine and temps near seventy.  The acacias, the tulip trees, the almonds and more are all blooming, as are the quince, the camellias, the birds of paradise and I don't know a lot of the other flowers that are providing such garden- and curbside color right now.  I'm just expressing gratitude for how beautiful California is in late winter; and at the same time am breathing a sigh of relief that there is, for the first time since New Year's, rain in the forecast.

Finally, and not unrelated to the above since, after all, my birthday occurs in late winter...I am STILL answering the over 300 texts I received, wishing me a happy birthday, two weekends ago.  I think I got to all the e-mails.  I appreciate the cards sent via the USPS and those simply dropped off in my boxes, either here in the parish or at O'Dowd.  Having a birthday exactly one month after Christmas makes for a highly effective antidote to any possibility of post-holiday blues.

In any event, the text messages were greatly appreciated, and I intend to get every single one of them answered; it may take me til President's Day, But I will get there.

Gonna sign off here, as I am late with this one.

Take care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

When Need Becomes Blessing: Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time Homily

Readings and Virtual Homily for February 1, 2026, Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Two Lenten Retreats at St. Clare's in Soquel; Tis the Season (of Father Jim's Birthday); February Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Zephaniah 2:3, 3:12-13

• Psalm 146:6-7, 8-10

• 1 Corinthians 1:26-31

• Matthew 5:1-12

Dear Friends and Family,

The Beatitudes appear in two of the Gospels, Matthew and Luke.  This Sunday's Gospel passage is Matthew's version of this list of blessings.  It is a set of blessings which might at first glance strike us as counter-intuitive.  It can be difficult to see the blessing, for instance, in being poor in spirit or being in mourning.  

When I have taught the Beatitudes to my sophomores at Bishop O'Dowd, I have emphasized the fact that it is precisely in the reality that something is missing that the blessing lies.  The poor in spirit are not full of themselves.  They are thereby available to be blessed, even to be filled, by grace.  

Those who mourn are in touch with deep and essential realities of human existence -- they are not distracted by ephemeral ambitions, pleasures and preoccupations.  In their grief they are available to receive heavenly consolation.  It is precisely this dynamic, in fact, that explains the counter-intuitive fact that many, if not most, priests would rather do a funeral than a wedding.  At a funeral, people are open to grace, they are in need and they know they are in need.  God can reach them.

In a dynamic that has strong repercussions for our national reality this winter of 2026, those who hunger and thirst for justice are also in need; their longing for things to be put right counters complacency.  We can become complacent if enough of our own needs are met, if we are comfortable and satisfied.  It does not necessarily follow that comfort breeds complacency, but it is a real possibility.  When Mary says that God "fills the hungry with good things" while he "sends the rich away empty" (Luke 1:53) she is enunciating precisely this dynamic.  It is not that God does not love the rich.  It is that in their comfort they may fail to recognize their need for his love, their need for grace to be actively operating in their lives.

Making ourselves available to grace requires the practice of certain virtues, chief among them perhaps, humility.  The other readings for this Sunday assure us of the importance of this foundational virtue.  (Humility is understood to be the ground from which all the other virtues spring.)

The first reading extolls the humble, those who observe God's law, and who "seek justice, seek humility" (vs. 3).  They will be favored by God precisely because in their humility they have put themselves in a place where they are able to receive the good things God wants to give them; they are not full of themselves.

The psalm, similarly, assures us that God showers graces upon those in need.  It specifically singles out "the oppressed...the hungry...the prisoners...the blind...those who are bowed down...the resident alien...the orphan and the widow" as being particularly beloved and cared for by God (vss. 7-9).

In the second reading, Paul reminds the Christians in Corinth of their favor with God despite the fact that they are not viewed as favored by society.  Here we have an explicit example of the dynamic at work in the beatitudes.  Corinth was the port city for Athens.  It was the city of dock workers and sailors and the merchants who served what we would today refer to as a blue-collar or working class population.  And it was in Corinth, not Athens, that Paul met with huge success in his efforts at evangelization.  

The description of the reaction of the Athenians to Paul's preaching is almost comical (Acts of the Apostles 17:16-34).  Wealthy, educated, with high-status positions and rewarding careers, the Athenians were...comfortable; satisfied; complacent.  They were so filled with the riches of the world that they did not recognize their need for the riches of God.

Different story with the dockworkers of Corinth.  "I have many people in this city," the Lord assures Paul (Acts 18:10).  We may intuit that that happy reality was directly connected to the fact that the Corinthians, who had so much less than the Athenians to insulate them from life's dangers, sorrows and difficulties, were naturally open to receiving the Good News; their lives predisposed them to the reception of grace.

That we are available to God when we are in need is the central dynamic in the message of the beatitudes.  It is, as I say, a counter-intuitive set of blessings which Jesus lists in today's Gospel.  But to the extent that any need of ours opens us to the operation of grace in our lives, that need has, in fact, blessed us.

I will be giving two women's weekend retreats at St. Clare Retreat Center in Soquel this Lent, and the sisters have asked me to get the word out via these e-mails.  The retreats are Friday evening through Sunday morning, on back-to-back weekends -- February 27 - March 1 and March 6-8.  The theme -- which the sisters chose when I offered them several possibilities -- is Women Saints of the Passion, offering some real biographical background on the women who stood at the foot of the Cross and who were the first witnesses to the Resurrection.  

St. Clare is a beautiful site, about three miles in from Highway 17 along a redwood-canopied road.  The retreats start with dinner Friday evening and end with Mass late Sunday morning.  In addition to four talks, there will be three Masses, reconciliation, adoration and substantial free time for reflection and private prayer.  For more information call the retreat center at 831/423-8093 or e-mail: info@stclaresretreat.org

I had yet another anniversary of my 59th birthday last Sunday.  It seems that I spent the whole weekend partying -- with friends from the parish at Massimo's in Fremont, Friday night; a dinner party in Brentwood Saturday and a five-hour lunch with friends from Pleasanton on Sunday.  That set of celebrations was, however, only the kick-off.  I have dinners and brunches scheduled into the middle of February -- the Season of Fr. Jim's Birthday is underway.  

I want to say thank you here to everyone who texted or e-mailed or WhatsApp'd a birthday message to me.  I am still answering them.  It is great to have heard from so many friends from around the bay and around the state, last weekend.  Talk about feeling blessed!

Think that will do it for this one.  Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

February Schedule (all English):

Sunday, February 1

8, 1115 AM; 630 PM

Sunday, February 8

8, 1115 AM

Saturday, February 14

5 PM

Sunday, February 15

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON/Seton Campus:  11 AM

630 PM

Sunday, February 22

8, 1115 AM

Sunday, March 1

630 PM

Weekday Masses (all English)

Mon., Feb. 2

Sat., Feb. 7

Mon., Feb. 9

Sat., Feb. 14

Mon., Feb. 16

Sat., Feb. 21

Mon., Feb. 23

Word of God Sunday Reflection: Scripture, Division, and the Call to Unity

 Readings and Virtual Homily for January 25, 2026, Third Sunday in Ordinary Time; Another Sunny January

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 8:23 -- 9:3

• Psalm 27:1, 4, 13-14

• 1 Corinthians 1:10-13, 17

• Matthew 4:12-23 

Dear Friends and Family,

A quick reminder that if you are interested in attending the Day of Reflection ("Women Saints of the Passion") next Saturday at St. Clement, you may RSVP with Lisa Fisher at lmf7544@gmail.com  

Lisa would appreciate having the RSVP by Tuesday, January 27.

Midway through his pontificate, Pope Francis designated this Sunday, the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, a Sunday for reflection on and promotion of the Word of God.  World Bible Sunday, we might call it (Francis did not so label it).  It was stressed at the time, and has been stressed since, that the emphasis here is not one Sunday a year, but every Sunday of the year; Scripture, of course, being our very daily bread, one of our heaven-sent lifelines (the others being the sacraments and magisterial teaching).

The readings offer a variety of possibilities for a strong and deep homily, but one which I am going to avoid at the outset (because I have preached on it so often and most recently just three weeks ago at the Epiphany) is the theme of the conversion of the Gentiles.  The first reading includes one of my favorite passages from the entire Bible, Isaiah 9:1, "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light."  I could write a book on this theme, probably titling it The Joy of the Gentiles.

This is a homily, not a book, and I have written numerous homilies over the last several years, on precisely this theme.  Another homiletic theme this week might be reflecting on the nature of vocational call, since the Gospel passage describes the call of several of the apostles.  It is really important to talk and think about our vocations (we all have one) and it is important as well, to preach, now and then, on the need to send laborers into the vineyard; that is, now and again, I should preach on vocational call to the priesthood and religious life.

Another time.

What I want to focus on in this week's homily is the second reading; is Paul's admonition to the community at Corinth not to be dividing themselves up into factions.  I want to focus, in other words, on Christian division and on prospects for overcoming those divisions.  This focus is, in fact, one of the reasons Francis designated this Sunday the Sunday of the Scriptural Word (again, not precisely Francis' terms).  Our separated brethren in most of the Protestant churches lay special emphasis on Scripture.  And why not?  Remember what I said above, Scripture is one of the lifelines we have to the divine realm.  The other two, the sacraments and magisterial teaching, the Protestant Reformation largely did away with.  A renewed Catholic emphasis on the importance of Scripture may be seen as ecumenical in nature and aim.

Paul admonishes the church at Corinth for dividing itself according to personality -- some of the believers claimed to be with Paul, some with Apollos, others with Peter and so on.  Paul asks, rhetorically, "Has Christ been divided?" (vss. 12-13).  At that time, of course, this WAS a rhetorical question.  At various times since in the long history of Christianity, and of course, in our time today, this is NOT a rhetorical question.  Christ has, indeed, been divided.  Or at any rate, his self-proclaimed followers have been divided and...

This situation is problematic for several reasons, but one of them is the effectiveness of Christian witness in the world.  One of the reasons the ecumenical movement developed, a century or so ago, is that missionaries in the Third World found themselves at cross-purposes with each other, in terms of the work of evangelization.  A Catholic team would evangelize a region of let's say, central Africa, and be followed by a Baptist group who told the people not to believe in the Catholic teaching on the Eucharist.  

This kind of thing could quickly lead to people in central Africa deciding not to believe anything the Christians were saying, since the Christians themselves were divided over what is true and what is not.  Jesus recognized the importance of unity among his followers and prayed earnestly for it the night before he died (see John 17, the entire chapter.)  Christian divisions can be, and no doubt have been, cited by non-believers as a reason to continue not to believe.

Despite the difficulties, of course, missionary outreach in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries achieved spectacular results; much of Africa, Asia and Oceania are Christian -- of one stripe or another -- today.  Ecumenical dialogue seeks to underscore commonality of belief, while respecting areas of divergence.  I remember giving a talk to an evangelical Protestant young adult group in Fremont, one spring evening, while I was assigned at Our Lady of Guadalupe.  I no longer remember how the leaders of the group had heard of me, but they had, and what they had heard persuaded them that I would be a good bet to come and speak to the group about what Catholics and evangelical Christians have in common.

I remember that I took an historical approach, assuring the young people that what divides Christians today is nothing like what divided followers of Christ in the fourth and fifth centuries, when the Arian Heresy flourished to the extent that St. Augustine found himself bishop of a diocese (Hippo, in North Africa) that had more Arians than Catholics.  The Arian teaching was that Jesus was not divine; merely the greatest of created beings.  This sharp denial of both the doctrine of the Incarnation and the doctrine of the Trinity, I pointed out to the young evangelicals, was a far more serious and substantive disagreement than anything that divides Christians today.

All the same, of course, we are divided today.  And in several instances -- most significantly, I would argue, on the question of the Eucharist -- the disagreement is substantial.  It is instructive to look at how Protestant understandings of the Eucharist developed in the first two or three generations of the Reformation.  Martin Luther, who got the whole thing rolling, believed in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  He modified the Catholic doctrine to argue that Christ became really present IN the elements of bread and wine.  

This led to the formal definition of the Catholic understanding of the Eucharist at the Council of Trent (which met in several sessions from 1545 to 1563, precisely to counter Protestant arguments).  The Church always believed that the elements were transformed; that though they maintained the appearance of bread and wine, there was a substantive change -- hence the word used to express the Catholic understanding: Transubstantiation.  Martin Luther's modification may seem relatively innocuous, but it led to further and deeper denials of the Catholic belief.

John Calvin, from whom the Presbyterians trace their lineage, argued for a spiritual presence of Christ only, in the Eucharist.  The bread and wine were not transformed, nor were they mixed, accommodating a physical presence of Christ while retaining their reality as bread and wine (the Lutheran doctrine, which came to be called Consubstantiation).  Christ became spiritually present in the Eucharist in some vague but definite way, Calvin argued; it was a presence more substantial than simply encountering the Lord in prayer.

From this understanding the so-called radical reformers, such as Zwingli and Knox, argued that there was neither a physical nor a special spiritual presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  When Jesus said "Do this in memory of me," that was all he meant.  Get together and share the Eucharistic meal as a memorial of the Last Supper.  It is no more than that.  This is the belief of most Protestant Christians today; the Lutherans and the Anglicans (some of them anyway!) are exceptions.

How Christians divided over so central and substantive a doctrine as the Real Presence can find common ground -- on that doctrine, I mean -- is one of the conundrums of the ecumenical movement.  There are several other areas of substantive disagreement, as well -- Purgatory, for instance; the communion of saints; veneration of Mary; the sacraments themselves (beyond baptism); the apostolic succession and Church governance and more.  

In the end, several Catholic mystics have assured us, God has a plan to reunite Christians.  It will be the result of a miracle of the Holy Spirit, not the result of human effort.  That said, the ecumenical movement is to be credited with breaking down barriers between Christians and bringing us together in that wide variety of ways that we can, in fact, come together, to work, minister and pray for the salvation of the world.

So...don't get me wrong.  I love living in a part of the country where no one thinks twice about having the windows open in January.  I am a cold-weather wimp; as cold as it gets here in the Bay Area (it is "freezing" when the afternoon highs only reach the mid-fifties) that is as cold as I like it ever to get.  And while I am actually a big fan of our winter rains -- that is the case only when I am inside and can watch the rain in comfort.

I was in London and Paris at the end of the year, when it was raining cats and dogs here.  I read just this past week that for the first time in twenty-five years ALL of California is out of drought status...God be praised.  Many prayers answered.  

All the same, I think we need to be praying for rain this winter.  We've gone over two weeks without it and there's a whole lot of sun in the current forecast.  As I have mentioned before, I have something like PTSD from the 2019-22 drought.  Last January was one of the driest on record, but the winter overall was wet.  Hoping and praying that pattern will repeat itself this year.

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Ordinary Time Reflection: Christ’s Salvation Reaches the Ends of the Earth

Readings and Virtual Homily for Mass, January 18, 2026, Second Sunday of Ordinary Time; Another Thought or Two on Venezuela; My Classes Are So Full There Is A Waiting List

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 49:3, 5-6

• Psalm 40:2, 4, 7-10

• 1 Corinthians 1:1-3

• John 1:29-34

Dear Friends and Family,

The readings this Sunday sort of re-cap those of the last two Sundays.  That is, they speak to the awakening of the nations to the plan of God (the Epiphany), and they speak as well to the baptism of the Lord.

Isaiah 49 offers a bright assessment of the ministry of the Messiah; the prophet assuring us that God deemed it "too little" for the Messiah merely to "raise up the tribes of Jacob, and restore the survivors of Israel" (vs. 6).  Rather, God will make Jesus "a light to the nations, that my salvation might reach the ends of the earth" (vs. 6).  

We live this prophecy's fulfillment.  We are the Gentiles who have "seen a great light" (Isaiah 9:1) and left behind old ways and dark superstitions to embrace the salvation of God.  We may take it somewhat for granted that, if we travel anywhere in the world, from the savannas of tropical Africa to the alpine valleys of the Himalayas, from Melbourne to Moscow to Madrid to Montreal, we can find a Catholic church for Mass on Sunday.  We may take this reality for granted simply because we inherited a world where a great wave of missionary evangelization has already taken place.  But in fact, in Isaiah's time, the concept of the nations flocking to worship the God of Israel was -- well, it was the stuff of far-distant-future prophecies. 

Psalm 40 extols the joy of worship, and includes references to "a new song" sung in "the great assembly" (vss. 4, 10) which might easily describe Catholic worship in the twenty-first century.

The opening to the First Letter to the Corinthians is just that; an opening.  A greeting.  There are, however, echoes here, as well, of the new worship, the new song, the song sung by the Gentiles in praise of what God has done.  Many of the Corinthians were Greek, not Jewish, that is, they were Gentile converts, and Paul reminds them that they are "called to be holy, with all those everywhere who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours" (vs. 2).  This salutation seems to recognize the universal nature of the Christian faith -- all those "everywhere" who recognize in Jesus the promised Messiah.

The short passage from John's Gospel recounts the testimony of John the Baptist, who witnessed "the Spirit come down like a dove from the sky and remain upon" Jesus (vs. 33).  John's mission was to prepare the way of the Lord for God's people Israel (vs. 31).  But the Baptist also declares that Jesus is "the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world" (vs. 29), a clear acknowledgement of the prophecy of Isaiah: Jesus is not just for the Jews.  He is for all; a light to the nations.

Speaking of nations where the faith has spread, heavily Catholic Venezuela...I have been in touch with Venezuelan friends throughout the hemisphere this past week -- though not in direct touch with any of my young guys in Caracas itself.  The Caraquenos are being very careful about social media and even texts and WhatsApp messages -- because the colectivos (that is, armed civilian militias in the pay of the regime) are out in force, stopping people at random and demanding to see their phones.  If there is evidence that the person has been celebrating the capture of Maduro, he or she could face charges, could face imprisonment.  

My Venezuelan friends outside the country, of course, operate under no such restrictions and they have been sharing their impressions, understandings, suspicions and hopes freely with me these past ten days or so.  One of the real hopes, and at the moment a cause for anxiety, is the release of hundreds, if not thousands of political prisoners, some of whom have been imprisoned for a decade.  The United States has apparently communicated this demand to the regime; to date, no more than a few dozen prisoners have been released.  

I have already said what I think of the remaining Chavistas in Caracas.  They will do what we force them to do, but not one thing more to advance an agenda toward political change, toward the liberation of the Venezuelan people.  Despite their recalcitrance, I am hopeful that the new administration in Caracas will implement certain American demands.  Beyond letting the prisoners go free (to borrow from Isaiah, actually!) I trust that the regime will, one way or another, expel the Cuban enforcers who have kept the military loyal to the dictatorship.  I trust the regime will also kick out the Iranians who -- Hezbollah-allied -- use Venezuela as a terrorist training ground.  A demand we evidently have not made, but should make, and must make, if we are serious about eventual free and fair elections and a return to Venezuelan democracy, is the disarming and disbanding of the colectivos, who operate with impunity, repressing dissent and controlling vast swaths of the country almost like medieval fiefdoms.  

There's more.  This list is just for starters.  You can see the complexity of the situation, and given Washington's determination to see a peaceful transition (a determination I think we may trust because anything less would jeopardize American investment in the nation's oil infrastructure) given as I say, Washington's determination to bring about a peaceful transition, a rapid return to democracy and economic freedom is unrealistic.  Incremental steps may, in fact, best be made by the remnant Chavista regime, who certainly have greater credibility with, and likely wield more influence over, the Cubans, the Iranians and the colectivos, than does the political opposition.

So...it is a matter of time.  One hopes.  One prays.

On a brighter and far less complex subject, I am once again this spring at O'Dowd teaching the Marriage and Family class (I know, I know, the PRIEST teaching Marriage and Family...).  The course is an upper division elective; I am teaching three of the four sections being offered this semester, and my classes are not only full, they are overflowing.  I had to ask our facilities chief for a couple extra desks and chairs as the numbers in two of my sections went above thirty (the traditional maximum number of students in a given section).  The counseling department has told me there is a waiting list of students, hoping to get into one of my sections.  

Well, it is a pretty chill class, and I think most of the juniors and seniors taking it know that.  But it is also, the kids themselves tell me, because I am teaching it that it is as popular as it is this semester.  Many of my students this term had me last year or the year before as sophomores in the Christian Scriptures class, which until last year, was MY class, at O'Dowd.  They know I try to make it fun and keep it light; evidently a winning combination, this spring semester, at the high school.  

I continue to feel as if I am walking on air -- I suppose I'll come down to earth at some point this semester (maybe when the grading begins to pile up) but for the moment, I wake each morning with a smile; very glad to be back on campus.

Hope this finds you well and happy, as 2026 gets rolling.

Take good care and God Bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Baptism of the Lord: Trinity, Water, and Freedom

Readings and Virtual Homily for Mass, January 11, 2026, Baptism of the Lord; Parish Day of Reflection, January 31; Venezuela; Back on Campus; January Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 42:1-4; 6-7

• Psalm 29:1-4, 9-10

• Acts of the Apostles 10:34-38

• Matthew 3:13-17

Dear Friends and Family,

The readings for this Sunday may be understood and discussed along several themes but the most basic, it seems to me, is the theme of liberation.  This Sunday we commemorate the baptism of the Lord, and baptism is about liberation.  To be clear, Jesus had no need of baptism, as John points out in today's Gospel passage (vs. 14).  Jesus did not need the liberation baptism provides; he already lived it.  But he submits to going into the water regardless, showing us the way to liberation from sin, just as Moses showed the people the way to liberation from slavery, through the waters of the Red Sea. 

It has been pointed out by Catholic writers and theologians that in immersing himself in the waters of the Jordan, Jesus made holy the waters of baptism for all time.  Whereas we are blessed by the water, at our baptism, Jesus blesses the water itself, at his.  

The passage from Isaiah speaks directly to the theme of liberation; it describes the freedom that will be granted to men and women at the time of the Messiah.  Speaking of the Messiah, Isaiah tells us

"I, the Lord, have called you for justice....a light for the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from confinement; and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness" (vss. 6-7).

While Isaiah focuses on liberation, Psalm 29 focuses on the power of water.  Its description of the waters over which the Lord sits enthroned is evocative.  And this power, the power of water -- to cleanse, among other things -- is central to our sacramental understanding of the significance of baptism.  Catholic sacramental theology teaches that the symbols of the sacrament actually affect what they symbolize.  That is, the Eucharist really does feed us, the oil at Confirmation really does anoint us and the water of baptism really does wash away sin.  

The reading from Acts of the Apostles is one of my favorite passages from that book, itself my favorite book in Scripture.  It is the scene from chapter ten where Peter realizes that God "shows no partiality;" that baptism, discipleship and eternal life are available to the Gentiles as surely as to the Jews (vss. 34-35).  This seems a commonplace to us, two thousand years later, but it was a breakthrough moment in terms of the understanding on the part of the disciples of the true nature of their mission.  The whole world, after all, as we considered in last week's homily, was "in sin and error pining."  And the whole world is welcome to experience the cleansing and liberating waters of baptism.

With regard to the Gospel passage Matthew describes Jesus coming up from the water and looking up, seeing the sky opened and the Spirit descending upon him in the form of a dove, while the voice of the Father is heard (vss. 16-17).  Baptism, of course, invokes the blessing of the Trinity.  This is the first explicit revelation of the Trinity in the Bible, and it comes at the start of the Gospels, it comes at the start of Jesus' public ministry.  The reality of the Trinity is implied many times throughout the Old Testament, beginning with the first chapter of Genesis: "Let us make man in our image" (Genesis 1:26).  But it is at the baptism of the Lord that the Tri-Personal nature of God is made manifest.  And the sacrament of baptism is achieved through the invocation of that Tri-Personal God.

I was with friends in London last Saturday when news of the intervention in Caracas hit the airwaves.  Eight hours ahead of California, my friends and I were able to watch the story as it was developing.  As my London friends have been to Venezuela and know many of my young Caraquenos, we canceled plans to go into central London that bright, cold Saturday, and had coffee, a light breakfast, more coffee and then a late lunch, watching the BBC and the news from Caracas.  

I have received, of course, many, many comments, questions and observations about this set of developments.  Just a week into the new situation, I am inclined to watch and learn, rather than offer immediate analysis.  I will say that the whole thing has left me in real shock; it is a turn of events no one not involved in its planning could have seen coming.

I will say as well that -- speaking of liberation -- as yet, there is nothing in this for the people of Venezuela.  The dictator has been removed but his regime remains in place.  Maduro's vice president, Delcy Rodriguez, has assumed the presidency -- no one knows for how long -- and, in the words of opposition leader (and Nobel Prize winner) Maria Corina Machado, Delcy Rodriguez has been, for well over a decade, "one of the main architects of torture, persecution, corruption, narco-trafficking" and other crimes and offenses in Caracas.  

There have been no scenes of jubilant crowds in the streets celebrating the downfall of a murderous dictator because the murderous dictator has been replaced by his murderous second-in-command.  I do not know a single Venezuelan, inside the country or scattered about the hemisphere, who trusts Delcy Rodriguez to do anything but continue the repression which has kept her and the rest of this regime in power, despite their losing the July, 2024 presidential election in a proven landslide.

There are no doubt strategic reasons, related to American aims in Venezuela, for the decision to work with the regime.  As I say, it is early, way early, for any real analysis here.  For the time being, I can say only that for the overwhelming majority of Venezuelans, in practical terms, nothing has changed.

But of course, something HAS changed.  Leaving aside arguments about the legality of it all, what's done is done.  I harbor a hope for Venezuela today that I have not felt in seven years; not since the 2019 challenge to Maduro's rule launched by the then-opposition-led national assembly.  When that huge, long-lasting -- and frankly brilliant -- revolt against Maduro's tyranny failed, I...lost hope.  To the point where I quit praying for the liberation of Venezuela.  I assumed that the nation and its wonderful people were lost to dictatorship and to poverty for a generation or more to come.

Events this past week suggest that I was wrong.  

My seven-month sabbatical ended with seven days in London and Paris; I got back Sunday evening.  Classes at O'Dowd started Tuesday -- I managed to arrive two minutes late for my Period One class that morning, so that most of my students were there, as I walked in.  I was about to apologize to them when they as a group stood up and applauded.  "Welcome back, Father!" they called out; "We've missed you!" they said; "Yay!  Father Jim's back!"

I was...very pleasantly stunned.  And all week (it is Friday afternoon as I am wrapping this) it has felt almost magical, being back.  The hugs, the shout-outs, the smiles, the simply joyous welcome back -- hugely gratifying.  I had reached the point with the sabbatical by Thanksgiving where I was ready to lighten up and take a breather.  The time away was seven full months, but in fact, six was all I needed.  I was ready, I could feel it, all last month, to come back to campus, and now that I am back, and picking up the academic reins once more, it feels like a magic carpet ride.  

Really, really glad to be back.  I've got a good thing going right now, between the high school, the parish and San Gabriel Media.  I am deeply appreciative of just how blessed my circumstances are, and I am thanking the Lord for them daily.  At the high school, this week, really, I was thanking the Lord hourly.  Man, I have missed my teens.  And my colleagues.  Been walking on air all week, at O'Dowd.

Okay.  Gonna wrap it here.  

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

A quick note to any who might be interested: I will be offering a Pre-Lenten Day of Reflection at St. Clement, Saturday, January 31, 830 AM to 230 PM.  The day will start with a continental breakfast (some folks will actually be starting it with the 8 AM Mass, which I have that morning); there will be two morning talks, a big lunch and then a final talk in the early afternoon.  The topic is Lenten: Women Saints of the Passion.

 This schedule mirrors the day-of-reflection schedule we always kept way back in the day when I used to do these talks with my mom in Pleasanton and Fremont; later on, on my own in Brentwood.  We had to let go of this powerful ministry when I arrived in Hayward; our gym is for the kids.  But we managed to schedule a D-of-R last August; it was hugely successful, and we were able to schedule this one as well.  RSVPs by January 28 greatly appreciated.  Call the parish office or e-mail Lisa Fisher at lfisher7544@gmail.com

January Schedule (all Masses English):

Saturday, January 10, 5 PM

Sunday, January 11, 8 AM, 1115 AM

Saturday, January 17, 5 PM

Sunday, January 18, 630 PM

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON, Sunday, January 18, 11 AM

Sunday, January 25, 8 AM

Sunday, February 1, 8 AM, 1115 AM, 630 PM

Weekday Masses (again, all English, all 8 AM):

• Sat., Jan. 10

• Mon., Jan. 12

• Sat., Jan. 17

• Mon., Jan. 19

• Sat., Jan. 24

• Mon., Jan. 26

• Sat., Jan. 31

Feast of the Epiphany 2026: Light for the Gentiles and Joy for the World

Readings and Virtual Homily for January 4, 2026, Feast of the Epiphany; Wrapping the Sabbatical in London

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 6:1-6

• Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 10-13

• Ephesians 3:2-3, 5-6

• Matthew 2:1-12

Dear Friends and Family,

The Feast of the Epiphany is one of my favorite feast days of the year.  Although I think there are several reasons for this (among them the fact that the feast occurs in January, my birthday month), I think the primary reason is simply that this feast celebrates the conversion of the Gentiles --that is, it celebrates the conversion of our ancestors; it celebrates, really, us.

All of today's readings hew closely to this theme, the theme of the conversion of the nations.  The day would come, today's readings proclaim, when the peoples of the world would recognize in Jesus Christ their God, their Lord, their Savior, and recognize as well that the God of the Jews IS God.  The joy associated with the Gentile conversion is another reason that I so love this feast.

Our Gentile -- that is, pagan -- ancestors are well described by Isaiah in today's first reading: "...darkness covers the earth and thick clouds, the people" (vs. 2).  Our pre-Christian ancestors are described in another passage from Isaiah in terms of their joy at the discovery of Christian truth, of the great plan of salvation that God, through the apostles and disciples and their missionary efforts, was now revealing to them.

"The people who dwelt in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who lived in a land of gloom a light has shone.  You have brought them abundant joy and great rejoicing" (Isaiah 9:1-2).  

The heart of the Christian message -- that God had become one of us -- electrified our ancient ancestors.  There was nothing to compare with it, in any of the pagan religions.  That God "so loved the world that he gave his only son" (John 3:16) was astounding news to the Gentiles.  It was, indeed, THE Good News.  Suddenly there was a new understanding of life itself, its meaning and its purpose, a new understanding of our ultimate destiny.  And these new understandings astonished the Gentiles.  Astonished them and gave them great joy, gave them a literally out-of-this-world hope.  

In the lyrics of the Christmas hymn, "Long lay the world in sin and error pining, 'til he appeared and the soul felt its worth" express well the response of the Gentiles to the Good News.   The elevation of human nature inherent in the Christian message, the assurance to our ancestors of their worth, their value, their pricelessness to the God who had made them, was a deep and astonishing revelation to the Gentiles.  It is the reason they responded with such enthusiasm to the preaching of the apostles. 

The descriptions of the Savior in today's psalm resonate with this sense of wonder and awe, on the part of the Gentiles.  Psalm 72 describes a Messiah of gentle and forgiving love; a Messiah, too, of cosmic dimension and power.  And the psalm describes in some detail how the nations, that is, the Gentiles, will flock to the worship of the Jewish Messiah (vss. 10-13).  

The reading from Ephesians underscores the reality of Gentile conversion; Paul writes that the "mystery of Christ...was not made known to human beings in other generations as it has now been revealed...that the Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body and co-partners in the promise in Christ Jesus" (vss. 5-6).  

The Gospel account from Matthew is that of the wise men -- the first of the Gentiles to recognize that the newborn King of the Jews is in fact also their king.  They traversed many hundreds of miles (they were likely Persian -- modern-day Iran) to reach Jesus and when they found him they offered gifts of great value, and "overjoyed...they prostrated themselves and did him homage" (vss. 10-11).  

A substantive homily could be focused solely on the magi, this Feast of the Epiphany.  It is intriguing, to say the least, how they came to know that a new king had been born among the Jewish people, a king to whom they -- Persians -- owed homage.  Clearly, these men were receptive to the graces of the Holy Spirit, as of course, were the many, many joyful Gentile converts in those first decades, those first generations of the preaching of the Christian faith.  

I work in Gentile territory, so to speak; the Land of the Teens.  For over thirty years now, I have made myself available to the Spirit for the evangelization of the young.  That fact may be another reason why I so love the Feast of the Epiphany.  It is no small thing, for me, when I see the light break in a student, when I see one of my teens suddenly make a connection with the God who so loves them that he became one of us and died that death for us.  These breakthrough moments happen -- it seems --- randomly; I am always surprised when one of my students at O'Dowd suddenly "gives testimony" to his or her experience of God.  

But it happens.  It happens with some regularity, and it always leaves me -- joyful -- in the recognition that the conversion of the Gentiles is an ongoing process, and that I am at the heart of it, at Bishop O'Dowd.  I never planned to be a missionary, but in fact, that is very much what I am, in the Land of the Young, at Bishop O'Dowd.  

Speaking of the high school, I am back on campus this coming week.  Classes start Tuesday.  That is, classes start the actual traditional date -- January 6 -- of the Epiphany itself.  I am just realizing that and I am smiling.  I am in London, as this is arriving.  I DID finally travel, this sabbatical!  But as I am writing this in advance of the trip (the homily goes out on a pre-timed release) I have nothing to report.  I am with very good friends in both London and Paris this week, and we are all very grateful that this trip actually came together and is happening!

Take good care.  God bless.  

Happy New Year!

Cheerio!

Fr. Brawn

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