Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2026: Hospitality, Generosity, and Praying for Venezuela

Readings and Virtual Homily for June 28, 2026, Thirteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Venezuela

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• ·         2 Kings 4:8-11, 14-16

• ·         Psalm 89:2-3, 16-19

• ·         Romans 6:3-4, 8-11

• ·         Matthew 10:37-42

Dear Friends and Family,

A general homiletic theme suggested by the Ordo (the pocket-size publication that goes out each year to every priest on earth, advising us on all matters pertaining to Masses, both Sunday and daily) is that of hospitality.  It's a unifying thread, so I guess I will go with it, on the understanding that the theme lends itself readily to a consideration of the virtue of generosity.  

The Shunammite woman in the first reading shows great hospitality to the prophet Elisha, in that she has a room added to her house just for him.  She is a woman of prominence in that community, and her support of the prophet empowers his mission in her district.

Elisha wants to express his gratitude and asks his trusted and true servant Gehazi what he might do for her.  Gehazi (who knows a lot about a lot) advises the prophet that the woman is childless and her husband is old (vs. 14).  That is, Gehazi's faith in Elisha's powers is such that he tells his boss, basically, "Ask the Lord to give her a son."

The prophet does just that, and (beyond today's passage) the woman conceives and has a boy.  There are further adventures regarding this family and their love for the prophet, but for today's purposes, the woman's rich generosity toward Elisha is richly returned, in the gift of her child.

The verses from Psalm 89 suggest generosity in that they resound with praise and thanksgiving to God.  A generous heart acknowledges that which others have done for us; how much more so when the One being thanked is God.

The reading from Romans, chosen by that committee in Rome according to the Principle of Continuous Reading, bears little connection to the theme under discussion here, but we may observe in passing that Jesus performs the ultimate act of generosity in giving his entire self for our salvation.

The passage from Matthew should give all of us real hope in terms of God's mercy and graciousness, in terms of God's gratitude (if that be the term) when we are generous with others, when we show hospitality, and especially so when the hospitality, the generosity is extended to another because he or she is a disciple.  Jesus' assurance that even someone who gives a cup of cold water to a disciple will not go without his or her reward (vs. 42) tells us that God notices the smallest acts of generosity on our part.  And our generosity toward others always merits its return to us, from God, “who will not be outdone in generosity.” (This quote is often attributed to St. Ignatius of Loyola.)

So, a fairly short homily today because I have received many, many messages, as you might guess, the past two days, expressing concern for Venezuela in general and for my young guys in Caracas and their families, in particular.  I am grateful.  I can and I will get every single one of these texts and e-mails responded to, but here, with the general e-mail, I can reach a lot of people with the information I have at the moment, and it is going to take the rest of this communication, so, I abbreviated my homiletic reflection.

The first thing I want to say is that it had been my intention, all this month, to talk about Venezuela in this week's e-mail.  The reason is that this week marks the twentieth anniversary of the start of the Caracas ministry.  It was June 22, 2006, a Thursday that year, that three of my Marysville guys and I arrived in Caracas for what would prove to be a life-changing five or six days.  

I had been to Venezuela the previous summer, with one of the Marysville guys, whose parents had a timeshare on Margarita Island, the gorgeous Venezuelan resort isle which lies in a line with Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao.  We'd spent twelve days on Margarita in the summer of 2005, but also three days at the start of the trip and three at the end, in Caracas.  Tico (the Marysville boy, actually he is from Woodland, but never mind, he was a leader of the Marysville group) and I loved Margarita, but we loved Caracas more and, with his folks' okay, we returned to Caracas before the time on Margarita was slated to be up.  We had discovered a restaurant there -- a very high-end Venezuelan steakhouse -- that we loved: Punta Grill.

In June of 2006, returning with Tico and two more of the Marysville guys (they were all young adults, mid-twenties at this point) we came to befriend several members of the bar and waitstaff at Punta Grill, also all in their twenties, all Catholic, all speaking, of course, fluent Spanish, all filled with the hopes and dreams and ambitions of youth -- the Marysville guys and the Caraquenos had a lot in common and hit it off quickly.  

I returned two months later, this time with Tico and three other members of the old Marysville youth group, and the rest is history.  Tico eventually married a Venezuelan girl; Matt (another Marysvillian) has been with his Venezuelan lady fifteen years.  My mom traveled to Caracas with me in 2008, and to this day the Caraquenos refer to her as "una mujer muy fuerte" (a very strong woman).  It is a long and involved and inspirational story.  I am writing a book about it.  No really.  I am writing a book about it.  I am titling it CARACAS STORY and intend to have it out next year.

In any event, because this week marks the twentieth anniversary of my Marysville boys and I meeting up with our buddies (our bros, really) in Caracas, it was my intention to write about this life-changing set of events, in this week's homily.  

Then crises hit.

Not the earthquakes.  Rather, the mother of one of my Caraquenos, a lady about my age, the mother of seven and who has all her life straddled the line between working class and poor, fell in her home and broke an arm, a leg, bruised several ribs and probably suffered a concussion.  Her son, who now lives in Orlando and whom we all call Charlye, though of course, that is his nickname, is one of the Venezuelans with whom I have maintained the strongest relationship, over the years.  He let me know immediately of his mother's fall and I sent money and also sent out a distress call to anyone I thought might want to help --

Because the medical infrastructure in Venezuela is so bad that you need to bring your own syringes, sponges, surgical gloves, and heaven knows what else to the hospital with you -- the hospital itself does not have basic medical supplies.  These supplies are available on the black market at exorbitant rates for Venezuelans paying in the local currency.  They are readily affordable for Venezuelans using the dollar.  

When I send money to Venezuela, my boys get it in dollars.  Long story -- never mind how.  But they get American cash, and so are able to negotiate the black market for things like, oh I don't know, insulin for Grandma's diabetes, blood pressure medication for Tio Ricardo and so forth.  Dollars are the dividing line, in today's Venezuela.  If you have them, you are okay.  If you don't...Buen suerte (good luck).

No sooner had Charlye and I -- with a real assist from some generous folks who are among the recipients of these e-mails -- put the emergency with his mother behind us than did twin earthquakes strike the nation, about one hundred miles southwest of Caracas.  And it was two earthquakes; not one with an aftershock.  The second was much bigger than the first, but the first was huge.  A 7.1 followed by a 7.5.  Forty minutes apart.  If you have seen the newsfeeds, you know this is catastrophic.

Charlye had alerted me to the disaster within minutes of its occurring and of course the first thing we wanted to know was whether everyone was all right.  As of this writing, all my young men are accounted for, though one of their families is out on the street -- their apartment block withstood the tremors, but has cracks in several exterior walls.  No one knows yet whether it is safe to return.  

Here's what is so crazy about the situation in Venezuela: with $250 (AMERICAN MONEY) this family will be taken care of for the summer.  They'll be able to rent 'til September, and have money for food, medicine, gas, the metro and so forth.  That is how debased the Venezuelan economy has become since Hugo Chavez and his thugs took the reins of power, almost thirty years ago.  The average daily wage in Venezuela, in American terms, is $1.37.  

You read that right.  One dollar, thirty-seven cents.  This, in the nation with the largest proven oil reserves on earth.  Don't get me started.

People are asking how they can help.  Prayers are a good place to start.  Venezuela needs all the prayers it can get, right now, and please do not underestimate the power of your prayers for this beautiful and long-suffering nation.  Your prayers are very likely going to save lives.

Money, of course, also helps, and big time.  

I eventually plan a non-profit, in association with San Gabriel Media, that will empower me to offer donors a tax write-off for their contributions to my Venezuelan ministry.  That non-profit is likely another two or three years in the future, though, and if you want to help my ten young guys in Caracas and their families financially, about the only way to do it is by writing a check and sending it to me.  I am not tech-savvy with banking; do not have Zelle or Venmo.  (I am hugely resistant to having any financial info whatever on my phone or on any other electronic device.  Luddite Old School of me, I know.  But there you are.)

One last thing, before I go.  Although all ten of my Caraquenos are accounted for, Charlye has a brother in La Guaira (Caracas' port city) who has not been seen or heard from since the quakes.  Also, our office manager here at St. Clement, a Caracas native, has a cousin in the same city who is missing.  La Guaira, which I know because it is where the airport is, like all the cities along the central Caribbean coast, was hit very very hard.  A lot of collapsed apartment blocks, wrecked freeways and so forth.  

As I say, prayer for Venezuela is number one, right now.  I could say so much more, but this e-mail is long enough.

My deep thanks again to all who have reached out, wanting to express your concern, asking how you can help.  Thank you.  Gracias.  Mil gracias.  

I am away this week at St. Clare Retreat Center in Soquel, giving an eight-day women's silent retreat.  I will get next week's e-mail done Friday evening, after I have returned.  I'll have more information on the situation in Caracas then.

Pray for Venezuela.

Much love and so much gratitude,

Fr. Brawn

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time Homily (June 21, 2026): Trusting God Through Every Trial

Readings and Virtual Homily for June 21, 2026, Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Mourning a Beloved Colleague; Summer Plans Post-London

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Jeremiah 20:10-13

• Psalm 69:8-10, 17, 33-35

• Romans 5:12-15

• Matthew 10:26-33

 Dear Friends and Family,

A theme of basic trust runs through this week's readings.  Trust, perhaps, especially when trusting is most difficult, when one finds oneself in circumstances of real distress.  

Jeremiah knew plenty about circumstances of distress.  He was mocked, derided, pursued and persecuted for his faithfulness in proclaiming the word as it came to him.  He lived at the time of the fall of the southern kingdom to the Babylonians -- most of the news he had for the leaders of Israel (well, strictly speaking, the leaders of Judah, the southern kingdom) was bad news, even very bad news.  

The verses in today's passage may be understood as well to foreshadow the sufferings of Christ.  Like Jeremiah, Jesus too knew "the whisperings of many, terror on every side" (vs. 10).  Jesus knew the desire of the religious leaders to "take or revenge on him" (vs. 10).  Jesus also knew, as Jeremiah here asserts, that "...the Lord is with me, like a mighty champion; my persecutors will stumble, they will not prevail" (vs. 11).  

Of course it seemed to the first century leaders that they had prevailed over Jesus, that they had exacted their deadly revenge.  But as Jeremiah proclaims in today's passage, and we may see in this verse a foreshadowing of the Resurrection: "Sing to the Lord, praise the Lord, for he has rescued the life of the poor from evildoers" (vs. 13).

Psalm 69 is considered a prediction of the Passion of Christ.  "For it is on your account," the psalmist writes, "that I bear insult, that disgrace covers my face" (vs. 8).  The psalm goes on to describe affliction that lines up quite easily with the sufferings of Christ, right down to the psalmist's observation that "for my thirst they gave me gall" (vs. 22 and not included in today's passage).  

But the psalm, too, turns a corner, finds a place of refuge, of peace and joy.

 "See, you lowly ones and be glad;

you who seek God, take heart!  For the Lord hears the poor

and does not spurn those in bondage. 

Let the heavens and the earth praise him" (vss. 33-35).

Only related in a tangential way to this general theme of trust, the passage from Romans reminds us that as all of us fell through Adam, so redemption is available to all, through Jesus (vss. 12, 15).  We may make a direct connection to the theme of trust in at least this respect -- whether in confession, during a homily or in a counseling session, I often point to a crucifix and say "that is how much we are loved...I think he has earned our trust."  Paul assures us in today's second reading that God's love for us is superabundant, that it "overflows" for us in mercy, in saving grace (vs. 15).

In the Gospel passage Jesus assures the disciples that God has counted the hairs on their heads -- something it is getting easier and easier to do with me.  God notices the fall of a sparrow from the sky, Jesus says.  How much more so will the Lord provide for his chosen ones (vss. 29-31).  This passage is connected to Matthew's description of the commissioning and initial sending forth of the apostles (last week's passage).  Jesus is encouraging the twelve to abide in faith, that is, to abide in trust, that God will be with them.  

It can really be hard, at times, to hang on to trust.  To remember that whatever our circumstances, God, who is outside of time, sees us on the other side of them; knows not only that we will get through them, but knows how.  It can really be hard sometimes, to "let go and let God," as our evangelical brothers and sisters like to say.  Today's readings strongly encourage us to do just that.

Something that can challenge -- and summon -- our capacity for trust is the sudden, entirely unexpected loss of a loved one.  I have experienced just this reality this past week in the death of a dear friend and colleague, Martha Zeyen, whom I know many of you also know.  Martha suffered a massive stroke the week before last.  She lingered a few days, but there was evidently never any hope of her coming through it.   

Martha and I met my first summer as a priest in Pleasanton twenty years ago.  She worked in Faith Formation at CCOP; children’s catechesis and sacramental formation.  I took to Martha right away because of her keen intelligence, her wonderful wit and her rock-solid faith, a faith that knew how to summon trust in difficult circumstances.   

I was witness to this ability on Martha's part several times.  Life dealt her several serious curve balls over the past two decades.  Martha always knew how to roll with the punch, get back up, dust herself off and move on to whatever came next.  She sometimes would wryly ask if I had any clue what on earth God had in mind, as she certainly didn't, but Martha never doubted his love for her, his plan for her, however it might be revealed.  She soldiered on with a faith and an indomitable joy that resonate with me this bright summer evening, as I think back on twenty years of friendship and ministry partnership with her.

For the past six years, Martha worked almost next-door to us here at St. Clement, at Assumption Parish in San Leandro.  She was office manager, a position which called on her substantial administrative and organizational skills.  The parish published a beautiful obituary, citing among other things, Martha's great popularity with the children at the school, and her twinkling and often self-effacing humor -- quoting one of her best original lines: "I need two chocolates; one for each hip to keep them in balance."

I'd seen Martha several times this past winter and spring -- at Assumption, at CCOP, at St. Clare Retreat Center in Soquel.  She was looking forward to the quieter pace of the parish over the summer, making plans for various parish events, looking forward to her next trip to Disneyland (those of you who knew her know that she was one of the Magic Kingdom's most loyal and enthusiastic afficionados).   

I've no doubt that Martha woke up on the other side of that stroke to open arms and a deeply smiling welcome from Our Lord himself: "Well done, good and faithful servant.  Enter into the joy that has been prepared for you from the beginning of the world."  (That is more or less a quote from the Parable of the Talents; Matthew 25.)  Martha Zeyen was a woman of many talents.  She generously and joyfully laid them at the service of the Lord.   

Hard to grasp that I will not see her again, this side of Paradise.  We were close enough in age so that this turn of events is a real, a deep shock to me.  I'll say this, and I doubt Martha would argue: There is something to be said for dying with your boots on.  Martha talked of retirement as being still another four or five years off -- and my guess is that, had she reached retirement, she would have been as busy as ever, one of those great dear "church ladies" who volunteer for everything and are revered by their fellow parishioners, and by the priests and staffs of their parish as well.  Instead of which, Martha left Assumption as a treasured and vital member of its staff.  She went out still tending the vineyard full time.  She will be missed.  

Pray for us, Martha.  Thank you for your life of discipleship.

I got back from London early in the week and am happy to report zero jetlag.  On balance that could be because I never quite got onto London time this trip; it was too short.  It made no difference -- I was on vacation and slept 'til I was ready to get up each morning -- 930, 10, 1030.  I may not have quite been on Greenwich Time, but I did just fine; felt rested throughout my stay. 

I took the advance pages on my newest novel with me, and got some additional work done on it.  And my hosts (David and Brenda Rose, whom I know some of you know from their long years in Pleasanton) dazzled me with several A-I generated covers for the book.  It is -- kinda scary -- what ChatGPT and Google A-I can do.  I am very likely to use one of these covers, when we are ready to bring the book into print. 

With my only summer trip behind me, I am moving into summer work mode.  There is more than just this new novel on my agenda.  I am giving an eight-day silent retreat for the Franciscan sisters (and others, as well, including laywomen) at St. Clare, June 26-July 3.  And there is still the matter of that nearly done new book that I had hoped to finish at Easter.  Plus, just the regular parish summer routine.  Had a major funeral this week; am prepping two young couples for marriage later this year; and with Fr. Jesus away much of next month, there will be no shortage of parish Masses this summer.  All good.  The parish is my anchor, my rock.  Everything else gets done as well as it does largely because of the sheer grace I receive, being one of the priests here at St. Clement.  It has been like this since my first summer here -- eleven years ago!

On a related note, the parish party for my twentieth anniversary is the afternoon of Sunday, July 26.  I'll send more info next week.

Take care, God bless and happy Father's Day!

Love, 

Fr. Brawn

A quick note on a change in the June schedule: I now have the eight AM Mass here at St. Clement this Sunday, Father's Day.  I still have both the 11 at Elizabeth Seton (Pleasanton) and the 630 evening Mass here in Hayward as well.

From Israel to the Nations: God's Plan for a Global Church

Readings and Mini Virtual Homily for June 14,2026, Eleventh Sunday of Ordinary Time; Hackers and Hell; Love from London

Dear Friends and Family:

It is Wednesday morning as I am writing this.  The homily is more like a homilette as I am flying to London later today and the time I set aside to do a real homily -- last evening -- was caught up cleaning up a hack of my Bishop O'Dowd e-mail account.  Thank the good Lord for a friend whose business is cybersecurity and who was on it before I knew the hack had happened.  Without his help, I would still be trying to get it all fixed.

It IS fixed, but I lost last evening and do not have time this morning for a real homily.  I always leave packing -- and almost everything else with regard to travel 'til the last minute.  I have to give the several hours between now and when I leave for the airport to preparations for the trip.

All the same, here are this Sunday's readings and a brief synopsis of each: 

• Exodus 19:2-6

• Psalm 100:1-2, 3, 5

• Romans 5:6-11

• Matthew 9:36 - 10:8

The reading from Exodus includes God's promise to the Israelites that if they are true to the covenant, they will be his "treasured possession among all peoples" (vs.5) and that the Lord will make of them "a kingdom of priests, a holy nation" (vs. 6).  This is the real start of the Jews as the Chosen People -- explaining why is something I would do, if I were not flying to London in a few hours!

The psalm predicts the time -- our time -- of the global faith.  "Shout joyfully to the Lord, all you lands" Psalm 100 starts, adding "we are his people, the flock he shepherds" (vs. 3).  The time of the nations coming to faith is predicted repeatedly in the psalms and the prophets.  The Christian faith is found today in every nation on earth; we are the fulfillment of these Old Testament predictions.

The reading from Romans describes God's great saving act in the self-sacrifice of Jesus.  Though the Roman community included many Jewish converts, it -- like all the first-century faith communities -- included Gentiles as well.  Paul, of course, describes himself as the apostle to the Gentiles, that is, the pagan peoples who would flock to the faith at the preaching of the apostles.  The Good News is for all peoples and for all time.

The passage from Matthew describes the call and the commissioning of the apostles.  Jesus sends them out at first specifically to the Jewish people -- "Do not go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town" (10:5).  Jesus focused his ministry on the Jewish people.  But after the Resurrection Jesus explicitly mentions Samaria as one of the places from which the Gospel will originally be spread -- not just to Jews and Samaritans, but to the whole world (Acts of the Apostles 1:8) and so, of course, begins the great work of evangelization which brought about the conversion of our own pagan ancestors and makes us heirs to the promise, echoing today's first reading and set forth in 1 Peter 2:9 

"You are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people set apart so that you might show forth the praise of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light."

That'll have to do it, for this one!

Having now been hacked twice (the first time was in march of 2020, right at the start of the COVID shutdowns) I have taken a moment or two to consider the sort of human being who can justify to his conscience committing not just this crime but also this sin.  Unrepentant, I do not think it will go lightly for such persons in the Particular Judgment.  This strikes me as a pretty serious sin.  I told my hi-tech buddy who intervened so effectively on my behalf last night that I suppose I should pray for the salvation of hackers...

A mortifying thought, but after all, Holy Mother Church encourages all of us, and priests in particular, to accept mortifications as a means to sanctity along our pilgrim way.   I'll offer a Hail Mary sometime tonight, high above the Canadian Arctic.

Meanwhile...London.  Only a few days -- the coming week did not work out for Paris, and a last-minute attempt to add Boston to my itinerary later next week also fell through.  Given my brand new novel, which is traveling to London with me, I am okay with this.  With the pastor here away most of July on a pilgrimage and with our wonderful and so reliable helper priest (Fr. Celestine, who is studying at the GTU) on a six week scholarship to study in Germany late July til Labor Day...

I am the only priest who is going to spend the summer in Hayward.  I take it to mean I will get a lot of writing done.  Not gonna complain.

Take good care and God bless.

Cheerio!

Fr. Brawn

June 7, 2026 Homily: The Eucharist, the Incarnation, and the Wonder of Corpus Christi

Readings and Virtual Homily for June 7, 2026, Corpus Christi Sunday; A Literary Summer; Let the Good Times Roll

:Dear Friends and Family

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Deuteronomy 8:2-3, 14-16

• Psalm 147:12-15, 19-20

• 1 Corinthians 10:16-17

• John 6:51-58

The two Sundays after Pentecost celebrate the deepest mysteries of our faith -- the Trinity, last Sunday, and the Incarnation, this.  Officially this Sunday is titled the Feast of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ.  More typically, it is referred to as Corpus Christi.  

The readings reflect the theme, with the first reading reminding the Israelites that God took care of them in the desert, feeding them with manna, "a food unknown to your ancestors" (vss. 3 and 16).  The manna -- "bread from heaven" -- of course prefigures the Eucharist. 

The psalm assures us that God fills us "with finest wheat" (vs. 14).  Psalm 147 looks to the future; it is, in fact, a prediction of the time of the Church, of the New Jerusalem (vss. 12-14).  The Eucharist, heart of Christian worship, does indeed constitute the "finest wheat."  In it, God gives us his very self, the body and blood of the God-Man, Jesus of Nazareth. 

The passage from the First Letter to the Corinthians is a proof text for us Catholics (and the Orthodox) that the first generation of Christians believed in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  Here are Paul's exact words; they are hard to misconstrue. "The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ?  The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?" (vs. 16).  That the first Christians believed Christ was truly present in the Eucharist is attested to by the fact that they were sometimes accused, by their pagan neighbors in the Roman Empire, of conducting "cannibal rites" in their worship services.  

The last third or so of the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John is known as the Bread of Life Discourse.  In these verses and beyond, Jesus repeatedly assures his listeners that they must eat his flesh and drink his blood or they will have "no life" in them.  He does not beat about the bush here.  He says his flesh is real food and his blood real drink and he says it several times.  

Later on in the chapter, Jesus lets those who cannot accept the teaching leave (vss. 66-67).  He does not chase after them assuring them that he was speaking metaphorically.  He lets them go.  He then turns to the apostles and asks if they also will leave him.  Peter answers for all Catholics and Orthodox Christians for all time when he says "Master, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life" (vs. 68). 

The Church's understanding of the Real Presence has been clear (both in the Scriptures and in the earliest liturgical documents) from the time of the apostles.  It has been repeatedly reinforced, through the writings of theologians going back to the second and third centuries.  It has at times been clarified in conciliar documents (most significantly at the Council of Trent in the sixteenth century).  

The presence of Christ in the Eucharist is a mystical reality -- but the term mystical must not be thought of as diminishing that reality.  Indeed, that which is mystical is, in a manner of speaking, more real than earthly realities.  While decidedly NOT a cannibal banquet, the Eucharist is a real "participation" in the body and blood of Christ; it is a mystical union (as in, communion) with the Second Person of the Trinity, through the medium of his body and blood.

As I say, one of the deepest mysteries of the faith.

An emphasis on the Eucharist is entirely appropriate in homilies today, but the feast itself is more than an acknowledgment of sacramental doctrine.  Corpus Christi is a celebration of the astonishing reality that lies at the heart of the Christian faith: That God from God and Light from Light, the One through Whom all things were made, became one of us.  The Second Person of the Trinity -- human.  Human body, human blood, human soul.  God partaking of human nature, and in so doing, elevating us, empowering us to become partakers of the Divine nature -- the bread we break, the cup we share, are they not a participation in the body and blood of Jesus, true God and true man?  

I could go on.  You get the idea.  While an emphasis on the Real Presence is entirely appropriate today, we are in fact celebrating something beyond sacramental theology.  We are celebrating the fact that God, the Second Person of the Trinity, is one of us.  

Wow.  I mean, like...WOW.  As in Wonder Of Wonders WOW.  God.  One of us.  The Feast of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, that is, Corpus Christi Sunday.

You may remember my hope, at Easter break, of completing a new book -- a hope blown out of the water by an entirely unforeseen set of difficulties surrounding annulment paperwork and an imminent overseas wedding.  I rolled with the punch -- not all that graciously, but I rolled with it -- promising myself I would get the new book done this summer.

And I plan to do so.   Just as soon as I finish another new book.  A brand new book.  A novel.  A novel that came to me almost as a download, Tuesday evening as I was crossing the front grounds at Moreau (the high school sits adjacent our property here) praying my sunset Rosary.  The book came in a flash of insight -- as now and again, a novel will do -- and by late Tuesday night I had fourteen pages of notes on it.  By Wednesday noon, as I was heading out to a twentieth anniversary lunch celebration with friends here in the parish, I had twenty pages of notes.  This evening (Friday) I am closing on forty.  I am talking here notes hand-written in pencil on lined yellow legal pad.  I always write a book out first, for fifty, sixty, seventy or more pages, before I start to type it up. 

The novel tackles a very current issue -- artificial intelligence -- and does so in a Hollywood milieu, an entertainment world milieu set in Los Angeles thirty years in the future.  As the Catholic faith is part of the novel's deep background, I am thinking I better read Leo's recently released encyclical on this subject.   

The novel's working title is borrowed from Marilyn Monroe's last (and unfinished) film: SOMETHING'S GOT TO GIVE.  Monday (June 1) was Monroe's centenary; that is, the one hundredth anniversary of her birth.  There were a lot of features, articles, photo spreads about MM this week.  I looked through a few of them, Monday, Tuesday, while catching up on the news and...I think that is how the Spirit inspired me.  AI is aiming at some of the deepest questions the human heart can ask; it gets at what it actually IS, to BE human.  My new novel aims to explore some of those questions, from, as I say, a deep Catholic background and within the glitzy milieu of the entertainment world.  

So now I am at work on TWO new books this summer -- and check with me at Labor Day, but I plan to have both done by then.  Having scored some initial successes at YouTube this past year, we are moving this summer, this fall into book promotion at San Gabriel Media.  I want both these new books ready to hit the market, by the end of the year.  

I wrapped the last two or three weeks of the spring semester immersed in twentieth anniversary celebrations -- I am splashing into the summer the same way.  Was out to dinner in Sacramento Monday evening with seven of the Men from Marysville -- former members of the Marysville youth group.  I've had two lunches this week as well, here in the East Bay, marking twenty years as a priest.  And on Wednesday our parish school knocked me over with an involved and touching tribute, following the weekly school Mass.  

I'm headed to London next week, but it is a short trip and when I return, I have several additional celebrations on my calendar -- and all of this before the big party, here in the parish, in late July.  Let the good times roll, I guess.  The last time I made any effort to celebrate my anniversary was ten years ago and it will be another five, before I do so again, so...as I say, let the good times roll. 

Feeling grateful, as this summer of 2026 gets underway.  Hopeful.  Joyful.  Grateful.  

God be praised.

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Trinity Sunday Mass Readings and Homily: God's Revelation as Father, Son, and Spirit

Readings for May 31, Trinity Sunday; Virtual Homily; Graduation at O'Dowd; Summertime and the Livin' is Breezy; June Schedule

Dear Friends and Family,

Readings for Mass this Sunday: 

• Exodus 34:4-6, 8-9

• Daniel 3:52-55

• 2 Corinthians 13:11-13

• John 3:16-18

The Feast of the Holy Trinity is one of my favorites of the year.  I love it for a variety of reasons, but it is especially joyful to me, from my perspective as a preacher.  I suppose that this is because the concept of the Trinity offers so many, many possibilities for informative and relatable homilies.  I have several homilies for this Sunday, and rotate them so as not to be repeating myself one year to the next, but in fact several homilies I have never preached are certainly possible as well -- I mean homilies about the Trinity that might occur to my mind, let alone the homilies that have and will occur to other priests, to deacons with preaching responsibilities this Sunday.  This subject is inexhaustible.

The Trinity, as I say often from the pulpit and which I know I have said several times in these written homilies, is the deepest mystery of our faith.  It is the mystery of the Divine Being itself.  It is beyond us. 

Having said that, I have to immediately admit the deeply interesting fact that the Greeks, in their philosophical concept of the One, the Logos and the World Soul, came within striking distance of our own Trinitarian understanding.  But I attribute this accomplishment on the part of Greek philosophy to the intercession of the Trinity itself.  We are, after all, made in the image and likeness of God.  So it seems reasonable that, guided by God (that is, by the Holy Spirit) we might attain to a rough approximation of the nature of God.  

But in any event, the ancient Greek philosophical understanding lacks some of the nuances of the Christian revelation.  I have always maintained that the doctrine of the Trinity may be said to provide proof for the existence of God, because the human mind could not have conceived of it.  It HAD to have been revealed to us -- by the Triune God.

As to this Sunday's readings, well...Exodus is one of the several examples from the Old Testament of "the Lord" appearing to a human being and conversing with him (the actual passage says the Lord descended in a cloud and stood with Moses, suggesting human, or human-like appearance; vs. 5).  This passage is one of several which theologians -- Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant -- agree is one in which Jesus appears to persons in the Old Testament.  That is, this is one of the "pre-incarnate Christ" appearances; the theologians argue that the Second Person, outside of time and space, incarnate in the man Jesus of Nazareth, was able to enter into human history before that first Christmas morning in Bethlehem.

This set of speculations takes us to the second deepest mystery of our faith -- the Incarnation.  Fascinating as these speculations are, they are beyond the scope of this homily, which is about the Trinity.  

The reading from Daniel, which functions as today's psalm, repeatedly, even rhythmically, attests to the glory of God but there is nothing in it to suggest a Trinitarian concept and I need to point out that this concept -- that God is three Persons in one Divine Being -- is in fact, only latent in the Hebrew Scriptures.  Though there are many references to both the Word (Second Person) and the Spirit (Third Person) of God in the Hebrew Scriptures (that is, the Old Testament), it is possible to read these references (as the Jewish people do) as pertaining only to aspects of the divine nature, not to separate Persons within the Godhead.

No such qualifications needed with Paul's sign-off in the Second Letter to the Corinthians.  This is the way most priests start the Mass -- it is a transparently Trinitarian blessing (vs. 13).  By Paul's time, of course, the reality of the Trinity had been made manifest to the first Christians.  

Finally, John 3:16 is, of course, one of Scripture's most famous passages.  "For God so loved the world that he sent his only Son..."  In fairness it is possible to read past the words of the passage and still not recognize the Trinity.  But Jesus' repeated references to himself and the Father as one (for instance, John 14:9-10), tell us that God's only begotten Son is, in fact, God.  

I'll wrap here -- despite wishing that I could go on for several more paragraphs -- by observing that it was precisely Jesus' insistence that he and the Father are one that so rattled the Pharisees.  They had no concept of the Trinity.  Merely in revealing the truth about the Godhead, Jesus placed himself at such odds with the religious leaders of first century Israel that they sought his death.  They sought his death for a number of other reasons as well, but the great mystery which we celebrate today, one God, three Divine Persons, lay at the very heart of the debate between Jesus and the religious leaders.  As much as he was killed for anything else, Jesus was killed for revealing the truth about the nature of the Divine Being, the Trinity.

I am getting this baby wrapped on Saturday evening, and my apologies for the fact that it did not arrive this morning, for which I generally aim.  I cannot even claim that it has been a particularly heavy week, and thus my lateness with this e-mail.  It was finals week, this past week at O'Dowd.  My kids did not take a final.  I've been busy with grading, off and on, but the main reason this homily was not in your inbox at eight this morning is that I have already splashed into summer... 

Have taken it fairly slow and easy this past week; a couple Happy Twentieth Anniversary lunches, one such dinner celebration, sleeping late the two mornings I neither had the parish morning Mass nor had to be on campus, proof-reading a book we will be bringing into print in the fall, and so on.

As far as I am concerned, summer started a week ago, but graduation, tomorrow, confirms it.  As is always the case, there are numerous members of the class of 2026 I will miss seeing around campus, next fall.  At the same time, and this is just part of the rhythm and reality of the chaplaincy, I am glad to see them move into the next chapter of their young lives.  

Meanwhile, the week's strange weather (not as weird here in Hayward as it has been in some parts of the state) notwithstanding, summer is here.  I have this summer little in the way of travel plans and a lot in the way of ministry plans, especially as regards San Gabriel Media.  I also have plans to genuinely kick back, here and there, enjoy a bbq with my family, linger over brunch on the patio at Vic's with good friends in Pleasanton, indulge myself with extra time at the gym.

I hope your summer, too, is off to a good start.

Take care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn  

June Schedule:

Sunday, June 7

8, 1115 AM (both English)

Sunday, June 21

8 AM (English)

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON/Seton Campus

11 AM (English)

Sunday, July 5

8, 1115 AM (both English)

Weekday Masses (all 8 AM, all English)

Mon, June 1

Fri, June 5

Sat, June 6

Mon, June 22

Tue, June 23

The weekday Mass schedule is likely to change -- I mean, I will have the Masses listed, but I am likely to pick up a few more.  There was a miscommunication between myself and Fr. Jesus, regarding my June availability.  Assuming I get more weekday Masses, I will report same in a future e-mail.  I am not on the schedule the weekend of the 13-14 or the 27-28 because I am in London, the first of those weekends and am giving a retreat at St. Clare in Soquel the second.

Pentecost Sunday Reflection: The Power and Gifts of the Holy Spirit

Readings and Virtual Homily for May 24, 2026, Feast of Pentecost; Amazing Graces; School's Out! 

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Acts of the Apostles 2:1-11

• Psalm 104:1, 24, 29-31, 34

• 1 Corinthians 12:3-7, 12-13

• John 20;19-23

Dear Friends and Family,

The Feast of Pentecost is one of the most important of the year.  It should rightly be ranked with Christmas and Easter, in terms of its significance.  It is not so ranked, by and large, but it should be.  It is the manifestation in time and space of the Third Person of the Trinity.  It is the coming in power into human history of the Holy Spirit.  It is the birth of the Church.

The focus of many Pentecost homilies is often the first reading, and for good reason.  The second chapter of Acts is not the first place in Scripture to mention the Spirit, but it is the place that really introduces the Spirit.  A few considerations on this point.

The Spirit arrives after a period, tradition tells us ten days, of intense prayer.  The disciples have been gathered "in cenacle" in the big house in Jerusalem, praying together and waiting together, as Jesus had instructed them to do (Luke 24:29).  Prayer in community, in other words, calls down the graces of the Spirit, the miracle of Pentecost.

The Spirit appears with the sound of a great wind and descends upon the disciples in the form of "tongues of flame" (vss. 2-3) which seems entirely appropriate, given what happens next.  The disciples, freed by the Spirit's gift of courage, from any lingering fear and anxiety about proclaiming themselves followers of Jesus, declare their discipleship boldly, with utter confidence and conviction.  

The Spirit empowers the disciples to speak in a variety of languages (vs. 4) so that those gathered in the streets, who have come to Jerusalem from all over the Eastern Mediterranean and Western Asian world, may understand -- a reversal of the curse of the Tower of Babel.  The Spirit empowers communication.

Those baptized that day (over three thousand, vs. 41, and beyond today's reading), having come from all over the empire for the Jewish feast of Pentecost, will now take the Good News back home with them -- like seeds scattered by the wind, which will take root where they land.   The clear take-away here is that the Good News is for the whole world.

Finally, Luke mentions the presence among the disciples of Mother Mary (Acts 1:14, and outside of today's passage).  This is not an incidental thing: Mary (spouse of the Holy Spirit) is the Mother of the Church, which was born at Pentecost.  Mary and the Spirit cooperated to bring about the birth of Jesus.  Mary likewise is present when the Spirit appears and brings about the birth of the Church.

Folks often tell me they do not know the Holy Spirit.  A good way to start to know and understand the Spirit is to go to THE CATECHISM OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.  Go to the index.  Look up Holy Spirit.  Then simply read through the declarations, the descriptions and the titles the index entries provide.  There are far too many for me to list here.  But here are a few of my favorites.  

The Holy Spirit: 

Animates all creation.

Grants gifts to all.

Is the master and source of prayer.

Restores the Divine Likeness.

Reveals God.

Directs and supports the Church.

Is the living memory of the Church.

You get the idea.  The means and methods by which the Spirit reveals himself (really, more precisely, itself) to us are as varied as are we individual disciples.  The Spirit comes to each of us in a manner precisely suited to the way that we have been designed -- designed to receive that very Spirit.  But as I have said many times, both from the pulpit and in these written homilies, if you desire a personal relationship with the Third Person of the Godhead, you need do only one thing.  Ask.

And then...fasten your seatbelt.

This week which marked the actual date of my twentieth anniversary as a priest has been filled with graces -- amazing graces.  Dinners with friends in Pleasanton and Brentwood; lunch with my department at the high school; a reception at the high school; texts and e-mails from all around the diocese, including the 630 AM text from a friend in Fremont which started my day, Wednesday, the anniversary date itself. I loved my years at Our Lady of Guadalupe in Fremont.  I might have stayed there 'til I retired.  It was so cool to have started my anniversary day itself, with that beautiful text from Fremont.  As I say, amazing graces.   

Amidst all the celebratory joy, I find myself dropping into moments of quiet reflection -- for instance, on the drive to Brentwood Wednesday afternoon -- and just thinking about the past two decades of my life.  I didn't have to become a priest.  The Lord made that clear, early on in my discernment.  But I knew, almost right from the start of my discernment, that I WOULD become a priest.  And there was a point, early on, where I felt Jesus himself spoke to me, "Jim, I can assure you, if you will become my priest, you will find joy like none before."    

I found joy as a seminarian.  As a youth minister.  As a graduate student in philosophy, at the GTU.  As a teacher in Marysville's Confirmation program.  I found joy all along the way to ordination and then...

I lived the joy of priesthood.  In Pleasanton.  In Fremont.  In Brentwood.  And today, in Hayward and at the high school.  I heard the Lord right, when it seemed to me that he promised me joy.  

In any event, my deep and -- well, joyful -- thanks for all the many expressions of congratulations, encouragement, love and support that have been coming my way this month.

It is Friday morning as I am getting this wrapped -- I am on campus, but my grading is, for the moment, caught up, and my only class ended an hour ago.  That was also my last class of the semester.  We have finals next week, but as my students are doing a project instead of taking an exam, I am done.  Except, of course, for grading the project, which I have all of next week to accomplish.  

As I have mentioned in previous e-mails, this May does not feel like Mays in years past.  I am not crawling across the finish line.  I am impressed with how sustained the deep rest I took over the sabbatical is proving to be.  I am looking forward to a summer of writing and media ministry work, beyond the usual "summer schedule" at St. Clement, which, though more ramped up than my schedule during the academic terms, is all the same pretty light, pretty breezy -- light and breezy being good modifiers for Hayward's summer weather.  I am looking forward to the next ten or eleven weeks.

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

El Padre

Feast of the Ascension 2026 Reflection: Heaven, Eucharist, and Mission

Readings and Virtual Homily for May 17, 2026, Feast of the Ascension; One Week to Go at O'Dowd; Twentieth Anniversary

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Acts 1:1-11

• Psalm 47:2-3, 6-9

• Ephesians 1:17-23

• Matthew 28:16-20

Dear Friends and Family,

Apologies for the late arrival with this one; it has been one crowded week!

We celebrate the Ascension this Sunday.  And I need to say this before I say anything else.  For most of the dioceses in the United States and throughout the world, this Sunday is not the Feast of the Ascension; it is the Seventh Sunday of Easter (with its own set of readings).  The Feast of the Ascension is observed, in those many, many dioceses, on that day we here in the western US used to call Ascension Thursday.  Sometime thirty or so years ago the bishops of the western dioceses in the United States made the decision to switch the observance of the Ascension from Thursday to the Seventh Sunday of Easter.  

I have heard various explanations for this decision.  With the exception of the explanation that this change put us in alignment with the Church in Latin America, I am not going to repeat any of them here since I so thoroughly disagree with the decision.  I am strongly persuaded that it was based on a lack of faith in the Catholic people themselves: "Ask our people to go to Mass on BOTH a Thursday AND the following Sunday?  Can't do that." 

Ascension Thursday was, in my childhood experience (and later, as a young man who had returned to the practice of the faith after most of a decade away) one of only a very few really special Thursdays throughout the year (Holy Thursday and Thanksgiving being two others).  There was, for me, in those days, something special about a Thursday where there was a major liturgical celebration.  I remember slipping into the crowded back of the church at St. Joseph in Marysville, in my late twenties, in my early thirties, for the 530 PM Mass of the Ascension, the parish providing that Thursday, the full Sunday schedule of Masses, the Feast of the Ascension being a Holy Day of Obligation.  

As I say, do not get me started.  What?  We can't ask Catholics once or twice a year to attend Mass on Thursday?!?  

Whatever.

In any event, we Catholics in the western US and in Latin America are celebrating the Feast of the Ascension this Sunday, and the readings reflect that fact.  So, my pre-Vatican Two tirade above having been expressed (and no, really, I LOVE the Council!!!) let us proceed to a consideration of the readings for what may as well be called Ascension Sunday.

The first reading gives us Luke's second description of the Ascension (the first, of course, is provided in his Gospel, chapter 24).  The account in Acts of the Apostles is a bit more detailed.  Here, we get the description of Jesus receding from the disciples into the sky, and of the appearance of the angels, who reassure the disciples that Jesus will return just as they have seen him leave (vss. 9-11).  

The psalm is one of the Enthronement Psalms.  It describes the Lord's triumphal entrance into the heavenly courts, where he sits, "king over all the earth" (vs. 8).  He has "gone up with a shout," the psalm says, "amid trumpet blasts" (vs. 6).  The imagery is bright, joyful, triumphant, regal.  It bespeaks the reality of the Ascension, and of Jesus taking his place "upon his holy throne" (vs. 9).  

God, the reading from Ephesians tells us, raised Christ from the dead and seated him "at his right hand in the heavens, far above every principality, authority, power and dominion... and he put all things beneath his feet and gave him as head over all things to the church," (vss. 20-22).  The reference to principalities and so on is a reference to the angelic hierarchies and it is echoed, maybe I should say, it is underscored, in the opening verses of the Letter to the Hebrews, where the author assures us that Christ is far above any rank of angels (Hebrews 1:4-14).  

The Gospel does not describe the Ascension.  There are two brief descriptions of the Ascension in the Gospels, they are to be found in Mark 16 and Luke 24.  Matthew's Gospel ends with the Great Commission.  Jesus instructs the disciples to "Go...and make disciples of all nations," (vs. 19).  And with regard to the Ascension, this might be the take-away we want to focus on.  Between the Resurrection and the Ascension, Jesus appeared, body, blood, soul and divinity, to the disciples numerous times.  He ate with them; made breakfast for them; counseled them; instructed them.

Then, he ascended.  He is with us today, as he promised he would be, in the Eucharist, until the end of time (vs. 20).  But as of the Ascension, Jesus is no longer appearing to us, as he did to the disciples after the Resurrection and up to the Ascension.  Rather, he is with us in the Eucharist, and he has sent us his Spirit, to empower us to carry out the Great Commission of Matthew 28 (see John 14-16). 

I could go into some detail, with regard to our responsibilities, as disciples, given the Great Commission.  But this homily is about the Ascension, not the demands of discipleship.  

The last thing I want to say here is something I know I have emphasized before, but it is worth emphasizing again.  The Ascension underscores for us the value and the importance of the material creation.  Heaven is a physical place.  Jesus and Mary both are there, right now, not just spiritually but physically.  One day, all of us will be there, bodily, as well.  The material creation, having come forth from the hand of God, is good.  It is so good that God decided to rescue it; to rescue it by entering into it as a material being -- Jesus Christ, God incarnate, the Second Person of the Trinity.  One of us.  

The material creation, we recite every Sunday in the Nicene Creed, came into being through the Second Person: Through him all things were made.  So it is fitting that through him all things are saved.  That salvation, the rescue of the material creation, is a huge part of what we celebrate today, in the Feast of the Ascension. 

I am this coming week wrapping up the semester at O'Dowd.  Friday the 22 is the last day of classes, and my students are not taking a final; they are doing a final project due the 22.  I will have grading to do after that, but for most intents and purposes, my summer vacation starts next Friday.  As I have said before, I am NOT panting to cross the finish line, this May.  I am still relaxed and rested from the sabbatical.  Very cool.

Finally, next Wednesday, May 20, marks the twentieth anniversary of my ordination.  I will be with dear friends in Brentwood that evening, celebrating.  But I have already celebrated this milestone anniversary with friends in Brentwood and Pleasanton, this week, and will do so in Pleasanton again, this coming week, and there are plans for a party or two or three beyond that.  The main celebration will be here at St. Clement in July, and as I have said, more on that as we get nearer to it.  This anniversary really does matter to me.  I am delighted that it is being marked in so many ways.   

Especially after the sabbatical, which was a good deal more quiet and reflective than may have appeared in these reports, it is encouraging to be celebrating this anniversary.  Twenty years.  I stop, occasionally, as I did, especially while on the sabbatical, and I think about my years at the Dominican School at the GTU in Berkeley, about my years as youth minister in Marysville, about my years at the seminary, my summers leading pilgrimages in Europe, the encounter with my young people in Caracas, and then years later a very similar encounter with the young in Casablanca, I think about eleven years at Bishop O'Dowd, and maybe far more than folks might think, I reflect on my eleven years here at St. Clement, my beloved home, which has sustained me, in my work at the high school, in my work at San Gabriel Media, in everything that has happened in my life since I arrived here eleven years ago next month.  Especially, as I consider twenty years as a priest this spring, especially am I thinking of St. Clement.

I think of all that and more, much more (Pleasanton, anyone?  Fremont?  Brentwood?) and...I am a bit overwhelmed.  I am reminded of something I often said my first astonishing summer as a priest, 2006, in Pleasanton: "God could take me now," I said many times, that bright and joy-filled summer, "and I could only go home rejoicing; praising the Lord for having made me his priest."  

There is something of that early priestly joy at work in me this May, as we approach another summer, and I think back on twenty years of priestly ministry in the East Bay.  

I am this coming week wrapping up the semester at O'Dowd.  Friday the 22 is the last day of classes, and my students are not taking a final; they are doing a final project due the 22.  I will have grading to do after that, but for most intents and purposes, my summer vacation starts next Friday.  As I have said before, I am NOT panting to cross the finish line, this May.  I am still relaxed and rested from the sabbatical.  Very cool.

Finally, next Wednesday, May 20, marks the twentieth anniversary of my ordination.  I will be with dear friends in Brentwood that evening, celebrating.  But I have already celebrated this milestone anniversary with friends in Brentwood and Pleasanton, this week, and will do so in Pleasanton again, this coming week, and there are plans for a party or two or three beyond that.  The main celebration will be here at St. Clement in July, and as I have said, more on that as we get nearer to it.  This anniversary really does matter to me.  I am delighted that it is being marked in so many ways.   

Especially after the sabbatical, which was a good deal more quiet and reflective than may have appeared in these reports, it is encouraging to be celebrating this anniversary.  Twenty years.  I stop, occasionally, as I did, especially while on the sabbatical, and I think about my years at the Dominican School at the GTU in Berkeley, about my years as youth minister in Marysville, about my years at the seminary, my summers leading pilgrimages in Europe, the encounter with my young people in Caracas, and then years later a very similar encounter with the young in Casablanca, I think about eleven years at Bishop O'Dowd, and maybe far more than folks might think, I reflect on my eleven years here at St. Clement, my beloved home, which has sustained me, in my work at the high school, in my work at San Gabriel Media, in everything that has happened in my life since I arrived here eleven years ago next month.  Especially, as I consider twenty years as a priest this spring, especially am I thinking of St. Clement.

I think of all that and more, much more (Pleasanton, anyone?  Fremont?  Brentwood?) and...I am a bit overwhelmed.  I am reminded of something I often said my first astonishing summer as a priest, 2006, in Pleasanton: "God could take me now," I said many times, that bright and joy-filled summer, "and I could only go home rejoicing; praising the Lord for having made me his priest."  

There is something of that early priestly joy at work in me this May, as we approach another summer, and I think back on twenty years of priestly ministry in the East Bay.  

God be thanked.  God be praised.  

Ascension joy to you.  

Love,

Father Brawn

Sixth Sunday of Easter 2026 Homily: Knowing the Holy Spirit Within Us

Readings and Virtual Homily for Mass May 10, 2026, Sixth Sunday of Easter; Teens With (Robotic) Babies; Big Anniversary Coming Up

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Acts of the Apostles 8:5-8, 14-17

• Psalm 66:1-7, 16, 20

• 1 Peter 3:15-18

• John 14:15-21

Dear Friends and Family,

Today's readings point us toward the Holy Spirit, though another preacher might well find other themes among them, as well.  The Third Person of the Trinity is, in any event, the subject I have chosen for today's reflection; I only a few times a year really preach on the Spirit.  

The first reading from Acts of the Apostles describes the conversion of Samaria.  Samaria was the capital city of the Samaritans, who inhabited a central portion of the ancient land of Israel, and who on that account among others, had been despised by the Jews for centuries.  Jesus had told the disciples at his ascension that they would spread the Good News to the ends of the earth, starting with Judea and Samaria (Acts 1:8).  The Samaritans had a lot of religious beliefs in common with the Jews, including the belief in a Messiah.  

Today's passage tells us that Philip was the apostle who took the Good News to Samaria (vs. 5).  His preaching and the miracles worked through him resulted in a tremendous response from the people of the city, who received the Gospel with "great joy" (vs. 8).  Hearing of Philip's success, Peter and John traveled to Samaria, to pray with the Samaritans, asking God to send the Holy Spirit, for "it had not yet fallen upon any of them; they had only been baptized" (vs. 15).  The apostles subsequently "laid hands on them" and the Samaritans "received the Holy Spirit" (vs. 17).  

This passage is one of several in Acts where we have what might be called a proof text for the Sacrament of Confirmation.  The Samaritans had accepted the Good News; they had been baptized.  But receiving the Holy Spirit involved a second step, so to speak -- the prayers of the apostles and the laying on of hands, which of course prefigures the Confirmation Rite.  

Psalm 66 extols God's works with bright and joyful praise.  It is by the power of the Spirit that we recognize God's work in creation, in the spiritual realm, in salvation history, in our lives.  While the psalm makes no specific reference to the Spirit, the psalm's praises are powered by the Spirit (as, of course, is all of Scripture).

The second reading reminds us that Christ was "brought to life in the Spirit" following the crucifixion (vs. 18) and exhorts us to bear patiently with our own sufferings, in imitation of Jesus.

The Gospel passage continues the deep Trinitarian discourse of the fourteenth chapter of John, with Jesus promising that the Father will send the "Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth" (vss. 16-17).  Jesus tells the disciples that they will know the Spirit, "because it remains with you and will be in you" (vs. 17).  

People often tell me that they feel that they do not know the Spirit.  They know the Father, they might say, they know Jesus, they almost always say, but the Spirit...Jesus gives us a hint in today's Gospel passage as to why it might be that we feel we do not know the Spirit.  The Spirit is IN us.  Not outside, but in.  

Of course, that is taking a short-cut to try to make a vital point.  The Spirit is knowable from outside sources as well -- as today's psalm testifies.  We can recognize the Spirit in creation, in nature, in the good works of others, and in a variety of other ways, but...

The Spirit dwells within us.  Our discipleship itself is lived in, through, with and by the Spirit and the association is so intimate that we might not even be aware of it, most of the time.  The analogy I like -- and which I know I have used before in these written homilies -- is that of the eyes.  It is BY our eyes, THROUGH our eyes, WITH our eyes, that we see everything.  But we cannot see our eyes.  

One way to get a more than passing acquaintance with the Holy Spirit is to go to the Catechism and study the long list of entries which follows The Holy Spirit in the index.  "Source and Master of Prayer," for instance.  "The Lord, the Giver of life," for instance.  "The Living Memory of the Church," for instance.  The list literally goes on and on.  And simply reading these entries, many of them titles, gives us deep insights into Who the Holy Spirit is and how the Spirit is at work in creation, in the work of salvation, in the prayer, the ministries, the Sacraments of the Church and in our lives.

In any event, we know the Holy Spirit better than we might be inclined to think.  

As I think I have explained (though it would have been over a year ago) the high school shifted my classroom responsibilities last academic year to include an upper division course -- of all things, Marriage and Family.  (For my first ten years at O'Dowd I taught the sophomores in "the Jesus class:" Christian Scriptures, as would seem appropriate for the priest on the faculty.)  Last spring was my first outing with an upper division class.

I am teaching three sections of Marriage and Family this spring and right after Easter Break we got rolling with "the babies."  That is, one-thousand dollar apiece robots that simulate infant behavior -- "crying" when they want to be fed, burped, rocked or have their diaper changed.  Students sign up to take custody of a "baby" for 24 hours.  

This exercise in masochism is entirely optional.  The babies satisfy the "beyond the classroom" requirement for the course, but the teens might opt instead for reading love letters of historically significant people (i.e., Abigail Adams, Benjamin Disraeli, Winston Churchill).  They might watch any three movies about family life from a list of over thirty, comparing and contrasting the films in terms of their presentation of family challenges, struggles and values.  You get the idea.  We have some dandy "beyond the classroom" assignments that fulfill this requirement and yet...

Over eighty per cent of the 100+ students taking Marriage and Family this semester have opted for the experience of having an infant for 24 hours.  It is, frankly, a lot of fun, watching my teens navigate the demands made by these little monsters -- oh!, I mean, of course, by these precious (and pricey) little machines.  One of my favorite students, Marianna, is a case in point.  I taught Marianna as a sophomore and have her now again as a senior; her mom is a counselor here and a friend of mine.  Marianna is responsible, good-natured and easy going.  She came into class with her robotic infant one day two weeks ago, having had the baby overnight, and saying, "I HATE this thing!  It woke me up four times last night!"

"I warned you, Marianna," I said, grinning.  

Listening to Marianna's adventures in parenting, how the baby made demands and how carefully and deliberately she attempted to respond, I guessed that, in fact, Marianna had done very well, with the assignment.  And indeed, when later that day she with a perhaps exaggerated sigh of relief handed the robot back to us, and we printed out the automatically generated report, she had scored a 92.  

"You're gonna be a great Mom," I assured Marianna.

Marianna rolled her eyes skyward and assured me, "Not for another fifteen years, I'm not!"

Finally, I mark an anniversary that is dear to me, every May 20, but this year the date recommends general celebration: I was ordained in 2006.  This May 20 is my twentieth anniversary as a priest.

For the first seven years after my ordination I celebrated annually on or near the date at my original parish in Pleasanton -- usually a late morning brunch following Mass.  The parties were held at the homes of close friends in Pleasanton, and generally lasted the time that a leisurely brunch requires.

After the move to Brentwood, it was harder to coordinate these affairs, and it was not until my tenth anniversary in 2016 that I celebrated again, with parties not just in Pleasanton, but in Fremont, Brentwood, Sacramento and Marysville.  I remember that weekends in May and June of 2016 felt like an almost continuous set of parties.

I have several celebrations lined up later this month and into June, but they are all private parties; I am not "making the circuit of the parishes" for my twentieth.  St. Clement, though, is planning a Mass and reception to mark the milestone, on Sunday, July 26.  I'll send more details later, in the event that any of you would like to attend.

I think that'll do it.  Hope your Easter season is proving bright and joyous.  Take good care and God Bless.

Love, 

Fr. Brawn

Fifth Sunday of Easter Homily (May 3): “I Go to Prepare a Place for You”

Readings and Virtual Homily for May 3, Fifth Sunday of Easter; The Hills Are Still Green; Sister Act at O'Dowd; Countdown to Summer

Readings for Mass this weekend: 

• Acts of the Apostles 6:1-7

• Psalm 33:1-2, 4-5, 18-19

• 1 Peter 2:4-9

• John 14:1-12

Dear Friends and Family,

Unable to identify any clearly identifying unitive factor among this Sunday's readings, I am going to do what I sometimes do, in these written homilies.  Take each reading by itself.  And then, with the Gospel passage, expand a bit, as it is one of my favorites from the Gospel of John.

The reading from Acts of the Apostles tells us of the creation of the office of deacon in the infant Church.  This was a milestone moment in terms of the organization of the early Church.  The apostles made clear that their ministry was about prayer and preaching (vs. 2); they needed help, basically, with aspects of administration, and the office of deacon was created precisely for that purpose.  

The ministry of the apostles, freed from certain oversight tasks, thus acquired a more priestly character; priests (and priestesses) in any religion being primarily occupied with making intercession for the people.  The word "presbyter" (which can be translated as elder, but from which we also derive the title priest) now came into use -- leaders of the community who were neither apostles nor deacons, came to be referred to as such.  In time, by which I mean, no more than a few decades, a formal distinction was made between apostle and presbyter; the word episcopus came to denote the office of the leader, or apostle, of a local congregation, the bishop.  A great deal more might be said here about these distinctions and divisions of ministry in the formational decades of the early Church.  But that is not the focus of this homily.

The psalm, that is the verses from Psalm 33 that are included in today's readings, largely extols the mercy of God and encourages trust in that mercy.

The second reading recaps Psalm 118 in that it speaks of a stone, "a living stone rejected by human beings but chosen and precious in the sight of God" (vs. 4).  Psalm 118, which was read at Mass on both Easter Sunday and the Second Sunday of Easter, predicts that "the stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone" (Ps. 118, vs. 22) 

The reading from First Peter goes on to assure the early Church's largely Gentile converts that their election was foreseen from of old, and that they constitute "a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of his own...called...out of darkness into his wonderful light" (vs. 9).  These verses apply to all the Gentile converts for all time -- that is, they describe us. 

Then there is John 14.  When I am doing a funeral, if the family leaves the selection of the Gospel passage to me, this is the passage I typically choose.  I select it because of what it tells us about the reality to be experienced by our loved ones who have passed.  I stress the future tense here -- to be experienced -- because it is just realistic to assume a stop-off in Purgatory for most of us, on the way to the banquet.  I've reserved a suite there, myself...

Chapter 14 in John is part of John's five-chapter description of the Last Supper, far and away the most detailed description we have of the event.  Being Jesus' last night on earth, he naturally is talking with his closest disciples about the Big Things.  The Holy Spirit.  The Trinity.  The absolute necessity of service to others.  And so on.  One of the things Jesus addresses is the afterlife.

"In my Father's house there are many dwelling places," Jesus says, adding that "I am going to prepare a place for you" (vs. 2).

Jesus is not speaking metaphorically here.  When he says I go to prepare a place for you, he means exactly that.  Heaven is a physical place.  It has physical attributes that will remind us of earth.  A carpenter by training, Jesus knows how to "prepare a place."  He also knows the deepest longings of every human heart.  And he has the power to fulfill those desires -- and go beyond them.  As St. Paul says it has not entered the mind of man what God has in store for those who love him (1 Corinthians 2:9).

Other translations of John 14 specify that in the house of the Father there are "many mansions".  Whether our place in eternity would qualify in earthly terms as a mansion is unknowable from our present vantage point, but it is also irrelevant, because that place, designed by Jesus himself, will precisely fit our deepest desires -- and expand upon them.  

What I say at funerals is that the deceased had special places on earth; favorite places on earth.  We all do.  We all have places where, when we arrive, we say to ourselves, "I don't know why I don't come here more often," or maybe, "When I am here I feel as if I could stay forever."  These places are signposts along our earthly journey; they are echoes (pre-echoes is a better term, if it does not flat-out contradict itself) here in time and space of the place that Jesus is preparing for us in eternity.  

When I think of my favorite places here on earth, I am left to conclude that the place Jesus is preparing for me will look a lot like California, like the Portuguese islands of the Atlantic, like the coast of Morocco from Tangier to Casablanca.  That is, seaside, sunny, subtropical, but with arid influences, nothing humid, nothing wet and sticky.  As to the "dwelling place" or "mansion" itself -- it can be a tiny home, as far as I am concerned, as long as I one day inherit it!

On the subject of beautiful places, the Hayward hills are qualifying as such as we head into May.  All those April showers prolonged by more than a month the green in the hills, though of course already by the end of our bone-dry March the vibrance of the green had begun to fade.  And there are stretches of summer-gold in the midst of the lingering green.  But I was really happy to see the green endure the way it has, this past wet month.  On a purely practical level it delays the fire season, but aesthetically, too, it is gratifying to look out my windows on spring green slopes.  

Of course I love Hayward's hills anytime of year, and the same goes for those along 580 into the Tri-Valley.  I was with a member of the old Marysville Youth Group one evening last week, and we drove from the rectory over to Pleasanton for dinner.  Miguel (the former youth grouper, now in his early forties!) commented on how pretty the green hills were.  He lives in San Diego now, where the window for green hills each winter is substantially shorter than it is here.  But as I say, the East Bay hills are beautiful when they are that summer yellow-gold as well.  I will not be surprised if, when I get there, the place Jesus has prepared for me has a view out over such hills.

It being the start of May, the Drama Department at O'Dowd is presenting its spring musical.  This year the production is SISTER ACT.  I did not realize it had been adapted for the stage.  I remember both films (from the early-mid '90s) well -- I went to see them with my Oakland nieces.  I am seeing the show opening night (Friday) but am writing this earlier in the week, so cannot give a "review."  I bet I'll give it a rave, next e-mail!  Our teen thespians never fail to amaze me with their talent and their dedication.

And of course, when the spring musical is in production, it means we have really hit the lower slope of the downhill run of the academic year.  There are fifteen school days 'til the last day of classes.  (Who's counting?  ALL of my colleagues and myself.)  I can say, though, that this May I am not dragging myself panting toward the finish line.  The reason is that I only worked half the academic year.  I am still feeling the effect of the rest of the sabbatical; and I am still just really glad to be back on campus, after seven months away.  

That said, I'll take ten weeks off for the summer.  Take them happily.

Gonna wrap it there.  

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Fourth Sunday of Easter Reflection: The Good Shepherd and Our Call to Serve

May Schedule; Readings for Mass April 26, Fourth Sunday of Easter; Virtual Homily; An O'Dowd Tragedy

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Acts 2:14, 36-41

• Psalm 23:1-6

• 1 Peter 2:20-25

• John 10:1-10

Dear and Friends and Family,

The Fourth Sunday of Easter has been officially designated by the Church as "World Day of Prayer for Vocations," which makes eminent sense given the "Good Shepherd" theme of today's readings.  A brief overview of each of the readings follows, and then a more general reflection on this business of vocations to priesthood and religious life.

The reading from chapter two of Acts includes a recommendation from Peter in his speech to the crowd which had gathered that first Pentecost morning.  This recommendation is that the crowd

"Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.  For the promise is made to you and to your children and to all those far off, whomever the Lord will call" (vss. 38-39).

Peter himself, of course, has only just received the gift of the Holy Spirit, or at any event, received the gift in power.  The power of that gift -- evident in the preaching not just of Peter but of many of the disciples -- is underscored in the fact of three thousand converts made that day; the birth of the Church (vs. 41).

Psalm 23, of course, is considered THE psalm about the good shepherd.  "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," may be one of the most famous lines from all 150 psalms (vs. 1).  The psalm, of course, goes on to detail the psalmist's abiding trust in the Lord, using pastoral imagery appropriate to the description of a shepherd (vss. 2-3).  The psalm is often read (or sung) at funerals, for its assurances that with this shepherd, the soul is safe (vss. 3-4, in particular).  

The passage from the First Letter of Peter also uses shepherd imagery, in describing Christ: "...you had gone astray like sheep, but you have now returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls" (vs. 25).  Peter actually paraphrases Isaiah 53 in this passage -- "By his wounds you have been healed" (vs. 24) appears to be a direct and deliberate lift from that famous chapter in Isaiah.  Chapter 53 describes the Passion of the Lord in striking detail.  

Peter admonishes his readers to see in Christ's patient suffering our own model; assuring us that "if you are patient when you suffer for doing good, this is a grace before God" (vs. 20).  The invitation is to follow the example of Christ and so win grace for the salvation of souls; the invitation is to use suffering for a meritorious purpose.  This invitation gets at the business of redemptive suffering; too much to delve into in this homily, but Peter here reminds us that nothing need be wasted -- including our setbacks, hurts, disappointments, injuries, illnesses; anything we might suffer we can turn to a very lofty purpose.  Jesus is our model.

The Gospel passage is the Good Shepherd discourse from John.  Jesus calls himself the Good Shepherd here and distinguishes a good shepherd, a true shepherd, from a mere hired laborer.  The sheep follow because they recognize the shepherd's voice; they trust the good, the true shepherd.  The Good Shepherd seeks the safety and the salvation of the flock; he desires that the flock might "have life and have it more abundantly" (vs. 10).  In verse eleven, just beyond today's passage, Jesus assures us that, "I am the good shepherd.  A good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."

From which point it is a fairly straightforward segue to a consideration of vocations to priesthood and religious life; to the formation of shepherds for the flock in our day.  It goes without saying that the Church in the West has seen a real drop in the number of vocations for over half a century; since shortly after the close of the Second Vatican Council.  (It may be more accurate to say a drop of vocations in Europe and North America, since Latin America has not had the same experience.)  

As someone who has worked with the young for over thirty years, and who has seen real possibilities for priestly or religious commitment, now and again, among the young people I have ministered to, I think I can identify at least a few of the reasons for this fall-off in vocations.  The reasons I am thinking of are deeply rooted in contemporary Western culture; they are going to persist for some time to come.  Despite these realities I honestly feel that the vocation shortage is temporary.  Long-term, true, but temporary.  

I think the pendulum can only swing so far in one direction before it begins to swing back in the other.  I have said for years that I think God intends to raise up a great number of faithful Christians and even saints among the younger generation (I am now, actually, talking about two younger generations).  And perhaps we are starting to see something of this in the recent news reports about a revival of religious interest (or maybe I should say, interest in religion; not just spirituality, but organized religion) among Millennials and Gen Z-ers.  

And, of course, there is no shortage of vocations in the developing world.  The former missionary territories are now sending priests and religious to Europe and especially to North America.  There are cultural and other issues involved with this new reality, but on the whole I think we can trust the movement of the Spirit here -- the Church is universal.  Differences in approach and practice should, in an ideal context, lead to a broadening of perspectives on both sides.

Finally, I do not want to leave this set of considerations without observing that, necessity being the mother of invention, perhaps the current priest shortage in the West is connected to future developments in the way the Church ministers overall; developments including but not limited to a greater empowerment of the laity.  

In any event, Jesus tells us that our "job," with regard to vocations, is to pray.  "The harvest is great, the laborers few" (Matthew 9:37-38).  Among other things, we need laborers in that part of the vineyard inhabited by youth.  It is there that vocations are inspired.  

On the subject of youthful inspiration and commitment, I've been reminded of just how radical, how life-transformative a dynamic this can be, the past few weeks, learning of the death -- in what I can only call heroic circumstances -- of one of my former students at O'Dowd.

The student's name is Joe Bank.  Joe was a student I would call a favorite, except of course, that faculty are not supposed to have favorites.  In any event, Joe himself several times assured me, and his dad reiterated it in the e-mail he sent, alerting me to Joe's death, that I was Joe's favorite teacher.  Joe had a bright, at times mischievous, smile; sharp intelligence and a laser-like wit.  But above all Joe had a generous and compassionate heart.  He was loved by fellow students and faculty alike.  Joe was a member of the Class of 2022, a class with which I had a particularly deep bond, because they were ripped away from me two thirds of the way through their sophomore year, owing to COVID.  I did not see most of them again until the start of their senior year.

Joe was a senior in February, 2022, when Russia invaded Ukraine.  His parents to this day cannot find adequate words to describe how the invasion affected Joe; it became his primary focus that spring.  He found it impossible to ignore or even compartmentalize the evil of the invasion.  He volunteered that spring for a non-profit that was helping Ukrainian refugees.  Joe's family is not Ukrainian and until he went to work for the non-profit, Joe knew no one from the country.  

The summer after his graduation, Joe went to work for an NGO -- in Kyiv.  The NGO, again, was focused on assisting Ukrainian refugees.  Joe did not speak Ukrainian at the start of his time in Kyiv.  But he learned the language rapidly and well; he was more or less fluent by Christmas of that year.  After a trip home at the holidays that year Joe enlisted in the Ukrainian military as a drone pilot. Fighting for Ukrainian freedom would be the sole focus and purpose of his life for the next three-plus years.  

Joe came home once or twice a year.  His folks tell me they often recommended that he get in touch with me, on his visits home, and I can only say that I wish he had.  His dad speculated that Joe did not reach out to me because he was afraid I would not approve of his decision, given, after all, that the very nature of his position involved violence and death.  

This past March 6, Joe and a member of his unit were near the front lines when a Russian drone struck their vehicle.  They both survived the attack, almost unscathed.  But when Joe went back to the burning vehicle to grab his weapon a second explosion demolished the vehicle, killing Joe instantly.  He was a month short of his twenty-second birthday.  His buddy got safely back behind Ukrainian lines.  

Although I did a funeral on campus for an O'Dowd grad, in the winter of 2017, I had not known that student.  He had been a junior when I arrived at the high school, and at the time I only taught sophomores.  So I have experienced once before the death of a student who was at O'Dowd during my time here.  But Joe is the first of the students I taught, the first of the students I knew, to die, and I am still in shock almost to the point of disbelief about it.  

The celebration of life held in Oakland last Saturday was overflowing with mourners -- in his short life Joe touched a lot of hearts.  His parents told me that his colleagues in Kyiv had also held a memorial service for him.  It was also hugely attended and it was live-streamed, so that his family and friends in America could watch.  

Death is not something that much crosses the territory when you work at a high school.  It is widely, simply and understandably assumed by my colleagues and I that the teens we meet in the classroom, pass in the halls, joke and laugh with in the sunshine on the quad, have decades of life ahead; will be here engaged and challenged by their lives long after the middle of the century has passed.  As I say, Joe's death has left me almost numb.  It seems that it cannot be that he no longer walks, talks, fights, hopes, laughs, dreams, loves...among us.

His parents are Mike and Sara.  Joe was their only child.  If you think of it now and again, please say a prayer for them.

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

May Schedule (All Masses English):

Saturday, May 2

5 PM 

Sunday, May 3

8 AM, 630 PM

CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON

11 AM

Sunday, May 10

8 AM, 1115 AM

Saturday, May 16

5 PM

Sunday, May 17

630 PM

Sunday, May 24

8 AM, 1115 AM

Sunday, May 31

630 PM

Weekday Masses (All English, 8 AM)

Sat May 2

Mon May 4

Sat, May 9

Mon, May 11

Sat, May 16

Mon, May 18

Sat, May 23

Mon, May 25

Sat, May 30