Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time: The Power of Persistent Faith

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 16, 2026, Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time;  Another Milestone at San Gabriel Media; Already in Love...With the Class of 2029

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

•  Isaiah 56:1, 6-7

• Psalm 67:2-3, 5-6, 8

• Romans 11:13-15, 29-32

• Matthew 15:21-28

Dear Friends and Family,

This weekend's Gospel passage is that of the Syro-Phoenician woman whose daughter was being harassed by a demon, and who insistently requested of Jesus that he heal her.  It is a passage that tells us a lot about the power of faith.

A little background here.  Matthew tells us that this encounter takes place in "the region of Tyre and Sidon" (vs. 21).  Tyre and Sidon were two of several wealthy Phoenician cities along the coast of what is today Lebanon (immediately north of Israel).  This stretch of Mediterranean coastline is even today (despite fifty years of Lebanese political instability) inviting real estate.  Sunny and subtropical, with a year-round growing season, scenic views from the coastal hills and long stretches of bright, cream-sand beach.  It seems likely that Jesus was trying to take a little seaside vacation with some of the guys there in breezy Phoenicia when here comes this woman with her insistence that Jesus can and must cure her daughter.

It goes without saying that the Syro-Phoenician woman is not Jewish.  Clearly she is a woman of faith, though, a woman who believes in the reality of the spiritual realm, including its demonic inhabitants.  She believes as well in the spiritual power of Jesus of Nazareth, whose fame had by this time spread well beyond Israel's borders.  As much as she believes in Jesus' miraculous abilities, she believes in his goodness.  She believes he will heal her daughter not just because he can do it but because, given his goodness, he will want to do it.

Jesus ignores the woman, Matthew tells us, and the disciples tell her repeatedly to go away -- it would appear they want the Master to get his little Phoenician holiday and its concomitant R&R.  When Jesus does respond to the woman he reasons with her that he has come for his own people, the Jews, going so far as to tell her that it is not right to give the food of the children to the dogs (vss. 23-26).  The woman's response to what can only be called this insult is remarkable: "Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from their master's table" (vs. 27).

My own reading of this passage has always been that Jesus knew the woman's faith.  That he wanted to use the depth of her faith to impress upon the disciples the power of faith and the power of persisting in faith.  To some extent, of course, the two might be conflated -- it is a powerful faith, a deep faith, which is capable of persistence.  At the same time, it is also true that faith is not a static quality; it can be deepened, it can be strengthened, it can increase.  And trials which require our persistence in faith are exactly the sort of thing which can and often do increase our faith.

Myself, I really admire the Syro-Phoenician woman.  She knows the justice of her cause.  She knows both the power and the goodness of Jesus.  She will not take no for an answer.  She is not intimidated by the disciples and she holds steady even in what initially appears to be a firm no from Jesus himself.  In the end, of course, Jesus shows his admiration of her: "Oh woman, great is your faith..." (vs. 28) and assures her that her request is granted.  Matthew tells us that at that moment, the woman's daughter (who does not appear to be present) was healed (vs. 28).  This fact suggests that the disciples had further contact with the woman; she may have become a disciple herself.

So, not to belabor the point, but just to make sure that I am making it, a couple of take-aways here.  One, persistence pays.  Jesus has assured us of this in other places (the parable of the persistent widow, as just one example; Luke 18:1-8).  Two, you need not be someone in the "right" religion to have a faith that pleases God.  This understanding was articulated by the Second Vatican Council in its document Nostra Aetate, which affirmed that rays of light and aspects of truth emanate from the non-Christian religions and that the Church recognizes this reality and celebrates it -- the Church is pleased to acknowledge truth wherever she finds it.  And many truths may be found in the teachings of the world's other great religions.  

Not any part of this, of course, denying the central role in the salvation of the race played by Jesus Christ.  It is simply that the Spirit is free to operate outside the normal channels of grace, which the Church defines as the sacraments, the prayers, teachings and apostolates of the Catholic Church in particular and of the Christian faith in general.

I mentioned an e-mail or two back that things are all smooth sailing this summer at San Gabriel Media -- new books soon to be in print, new videos being posted at the YouTube channel, a plan (for the first time ever) now being developed to start marketing my books...I neglected to mention in that summary that the apostolate recently passed another milestone, at YouTube.  One of my colleagues who is very involved in the development of the YouTube aspect of the ministry told me two or three weeks ago that we had hit one and one-half million subscribers.  I think I shrugged.  Then, realizing that something more -- well, demonstrative and celebratory -- was in order, I think I said something like, "Awesome.  Let's head for two million, and then for two and one half..."

I'm just sayin'....This is the Gospel.  The potential audience is uncountable.  I am very pleased with our expanding YouTube audience.  It is only one aspect of a very multi-faceted media apostolate.  We are in the queue for the runway, in terms of our possible reach, in terms of achieving our potential.  Especially considering how much time we spent parked at the gate -- this set of developments is, in fact, way cool.  God be praised.  And let's keep working.  

Finally, we started classes this week at O'Dowd.  I have three sections of sophomores.  Our subject is Scripture.  I am loving my time with my sophomores already.  A colleague on campus today smiled and suggested to me that I have yet to meet the sophomore Scripture section that I did not love -- and actually, I am gonna plead guilty to that charge.  But...

The Class of 2029 deeply engaged me last spring, before I had taught any of them.  And now, after just a couple of classes with each section, I am delighted to report that my classes this week have delighted me.  As I say, I felt a special bond with this class last spring, before I really had any chance to get to know them.  That sense, that intuition, has been abundantly confirmed just this first week of the new semester.  My sophomores are bright, joyful, eager, fun, engaged.  Talking with a colleague who is also teaching sophomores in other sections of this same course, she and I agreed: This looks like one great year ahead.  

Happy to be able to report it.  

Hope the summer is treating you well.

Take care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Walking on Water: Keeping Our Eyes on Jesus

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 9, 2026, Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Update on Caracas; Summer School

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• 1 Kings 19:9, 11-13

• Psalm 85:9-14

• Romans 9:1-5

• Matthew 14:22-33

Dear Friends and Family,

This week's Gospel passage is Peter walking on the water.  There is a take-away from this passage that is so often referenced by preachers that I almost feel redundant here, mentioning it, but as it is the central take-away from this passage, I better mention it.  As long as Peter is focused on Jesus, he is able to do the impossible.  He is able to walk on water.  As soon as Peter takes his eyes off Jesus and focuses instead on the storm, he starts to sink.  

The clear parallel for our lives as disciples is to not let the storm distract us.  Stay focused on the Lord.  In him, with him and through him, we can do the impossible.  This storm -- whatever it may be -- has no power over the Lord, and none over our response to him, to his invitation to get out of the boat and -- walk on water. 

Having done my due diligence with regard to the main teaching point of the passage, I want to take a little time here to probe the business of why the Lord allows storms at all.  When we are in the midst of one, it can be hard, simply to keep rowing the boat, let alone get out of it and start doing the impossible.

Yet it is precisely because of the storms of life that our capacity to do, if not the impossible, then at least greater things than we might otherwise have thought ourselves capable of, is brought forward.  Forced forward, we might sometimes feel.  I have a lot of experience with this.  Just one example, one you are largely familiar with, from my own discipleship walk.

As I started my studies for priesthood, spring semester of 1995, at the Dominican School at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, I was working at the Career Planning and Placement Center on campus, living with my sister, bro-in-law and nieces in Oakland, writing on the weekends at my parents' house in Marysville, working with my agent in Manhattan, and coordinating the Confirmation program in the Marysville parish.  It was a full-plate life, and I was fully engaged by it. 

The decision to start classes at the GTU meant cutting back my hours at Cal.  I went to class during the work day, walking from the office on campus to my classes up on "holy hill" as we called the GTU.  This reduced my work schedule by eight to ten hours per week.  I needed to make those hours up; I was in debt and could not get to the seminary until I had my debts paid.  I needed a ten-hour-a-week job, evenings and weekends, and $400 a month.  

I was so determined to pursue priesthood that I would have been glad to have done telephone sales or pizza delivery...instead of which, in August of that year, Fr. Leon, the new pastor in Marysville, on the recommendation of the outgoing youth minister in the parish, and, apparently, on the urging of the teens themselves, who had had me as their Confirmation teacher, asked me if I would consider taking over the youth ministry.  

"It's very flexible, Jim," Fr. Leon assured me.  "Ten hours a week, evenings and weekends -- you can set up your schedule anyway you like.  I cannot pay you much, but I can offer four hundred a month."

Talk about getting out of the boat.  Talk about leaving your comfort zone.  Youth ministry was, for me, for the entire first year that I was doing it, somewhat akin to walking on water.  I was doing something I had no experience with, no preparation for (other than having taught many of the teens in the Confirmation program).  I had no trouble staying focused on Jesus, those initial months.  I didn't dare look anywhere else.  I knew I would sink.  I remember going before the Tabernacle at St. Joseph's in Marysville, numerous times that autumn, that winter, that spring, those first six or eight months that I was doing something I would never in one million years have thought of as something I could do.  I was an artist.  A writer.  A thinker.  And yes, in the Confirmation program, I had become a teacher -- a teacher of teens.  

But youth ministry?  Never.  In.  One.  Million.  Years.  

Fast forward twenty years to the bishop's Christmas party here in Oakland, 2014.  To the invitation to walk even further out on the water, further out over deeper water, as chaplain at Bishop O'Dowd High School.  It was getting out of the boat in the fall of 1995 in Marysville that had put me out there amid the teen winds and waves to begin with.  I'd stayed out there, all the two intervening decades; as youth minister/youth priest in parish after parish.  I'd gotten good at youth ministry, and I knew it.  

But...teaching at a high school?  Look.  My dad was a high school teacher.  There are reasons I had not become one.  

Knowing this request had come straight from the Spirit, of course I said yes to it.  But it was a qualified yes -- "Let's give it three years," I said to Bishop Barber, when in January of 2015 we sat down and really talked about it.  "Let's think of this as the assignment of an associate priest to a parish -- which is typically three years.  And...let's see where we are, the third year."

This will be my twelfth year at the high school.  

I wondered, back in the mid-nineties, trying to find a way to move ahead with my hopes and plans for priestly studies, why God couldn't just speed the whole business up, by letting my hard-working agent sell a couple of my novels.  The "storm" of my indebtedness and my inability to get to seminary until my debts were paid was a mystery to me.  My novels were good.  My agent was successful -- with other writers.  Why couldn't she be successful, now, with me?

God had another plan for settling my debts.  The youth ministry position in Marysville was fifty-plus hours a week and full-time pay, before I left it.  It became a major factor in my eventually getting my debts paid, and moving on to the seminary.  It was that, and it was so much more than that.  It was the opening out of an entire ministry path, for me, a vocation within the vocation, a call within the call.  

In the interest of brevity I have not elaborated on the anxiety, the frustration I felt, with my difficult circumstances, in the mid-nineties.  The "storm" of my debts, preventing me from moving forward on my studies, at the time made absolutely no sense to me.  "Can't we just sell a novel, Lord?"  That, it seemed to me, was the clear and obvious path forward.  And it would have been a development entirely within my comfort zone; no need to get out of the boat.  More than thirty years of work with teenagers since, of course, I have a different perspective.  

The latest I have seen in the reports from Caracas is that 6100 people died in the earthquakes, while many thousands remain missing.  I am assuming that the large number of missing people has to do with the slow pace of the rescue and recovery operations, the details of which I will not bore you with here.  Suffice it to say that, at this point, anyone still reported missing is almost certainly dead; the death toll is guaranteed to rise dramatically, before all is said and done.  

Some good news is that another of my young guys who was out of work due to damage to his place of employment has been able to return to regular shifts, this past week.  Your contributions saw him and his family through those perilous six weeks.  It is also precisely because of your help that the family that was out of their apartment indefinitely has been able to rent an Airbnb; they expect to be able to return home in a month.  

I am still getting thank-yous out.  Hand-written notes, where I have a mailing address; by text or e-mail otherwise.  I am so deeply grateful for the outpouring of generosity.  It has made an incalculable difference in the lives, the hopes, the experiences through a very difficult time of my young Caraquenos and their families.  Gracias pero muchas gracias.  

So...it's the first week of August and for anywhere from two to five hours each day this week I have been...at Bishop O'Dowd.  Meetings, orientations, the staff retreat.  Classes start Monday.  

Monday.  August 10.  It's the start of the fall semester, but as far as I am concerned it is summer school.  

When I started at the high school eleven years ago, we returned for meetings and such on August 12.  Classes that year started August 24.  Steadily over the years, the start date has been moved earlier and earlier and this year, we start classes on the earliest date yet, August 10.  

Don't ask me.  Don't ask any of my faculty colleagues, not one of whom agrees with so early a start to the academic year.  We've good-naturedly commiserated plenty about the absurd start date, at the (nicely catered) breakfasts and lunches on campus, this week.  

It is what it is.  I revere my colleagues.  To a very real extent, I remain at the high school, at this point, as much because I just do not want to leave my fellow teachers, staff and administrators, as much as because I feel any real need to remain there for the teens.  

I do, however, continue to feel a call to be at O'Dowd, for the teens.  I have my eye and my heart particularly focused this fall on the Class of 2029 -- the sophomores, whom I will be teaching.  I already have a special connection with this class, and it is surprising, given that their first semester at O'Dowd, I was on sabbatical.  Nor was I teaching them last spring; I taught juniors and seniors last spring.  But '29 has made its way to me unmistakably -- so unmistakably that I may write about it one day.  This class "gets" that I am THEIR priest; and they already (evidently) sense my regard for them.  I very much look forward to starting to really get to know them, this semester, as their teacher.  

But (just sayin')...the whole business might just as easily have been accomplished, starting August 24, rather than this coming Monday...

I’ll leave it there.  

Hope the summer (which we are only halfway through, despite the return to classes) is treating you well.  

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time: God's Endless Love, Generosity, and the Bread of Life

Readings and Virtual Homily for August 2, 2026, Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Cruise Control at San Gabriel Media; What a Celebration; August Schedule

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• Isaiah 55:1-3

• Psalm 145:8-9, 15-18

• Romans 8:35, 37-39

• Matthew 14:13-21

Dear Friends and Family, 

This week's Gospel is the miracle of the loaves and the fish.  

The Gospel is prefigured in the first reading in that Isaiah invites the reader to come and feast, eat rich fare and drink premium wine, at no cost (vs 1).  Isaiah 55 is one of my favorite passages in Scripture for its description of the bounteous providence and limitless love of God.

Psalm 145 underscores this theme.  "The Lord is gracious and merciful," the psalm attests, "slow to anger and abounding in kindness" (vs. 8).  "Compassionate toward all," the psalm continues, the Lord gives "them their food in due season" (vss. 9, 15).

The passage from Romans, often read at funerals, assures us that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ (vs. 39).  Paul lists various misfortunes that might befall us (vs. 35) and goes on to speak of potential danger from the spiritual realm (vs. 38) but concludes that God's love overcomes every conceivable obstacle.

The Gospel story itself, apart from describing one of Jesus' most astonishing miracles, prefigures the Eucharist.  Jesus takes, blesses, breaks and distributes the bread (vs. 19) and the many are fed with miraculously provided food.  There is so much that twelve baskets of left-over food are collected after all had eaten "and were satisfied" (vs. 20).  Matthew goes on to emphasize the enormity of this miracle: "Those who ate were about five thousand men, not counting women and children" (vs. 21).

I have said this before in these written homilies, but I suppose it bears repeating.  While it is lovely to think that the effect of Jesus on his hearers was such that everyone brought out the food they had packed for the day and shared with everyone else, and that this was the "true miracle" of the passage...

There seems scant reason for going there.  Number one, this assessment of the passage simply denies the plain meaning of the text.  Number two, later passages refer back to this miracle, suggesting its importance (i.e., Mark 6:51-52).  Number three, if everyone had stopped at McDonalds on the way, or packed a lunch from home, why was there any need to share?  Why were the disciples anxious that Jesus dismiss the crowd so that "they can go to the villages and buy food for themselves" (vs. 15)?

The reasons for questioning this interpretation are not exhausted here.  I simply point these out as indicators that it seems to me more reasonable, to say nothing of keeping with the plain meaning of the text, to suppose that what Matthew describes -- a stupendous miracle -- is what actually happened.  

That miracle, as mentioned, prefigures the miracle of the Eucharist, where our loving and infinitely generous God literally gives himself to us; invites us, as Isaiah predicts, to "listen to me and you shall eat well, you shall delight in rich fare" (vs. 2).  The prophet predicts Jesus' very words at the Last Supper: "I will make with you an everlasting covenant" (vs. 3).  

That covenant, of course, ratified in Jesus' body and blood, is realized at every Catholic (and Orthodox) altar, whenever the Mass is celebrated.

I had planned to be in Los Angeles this week, for meetings about books and YouTube programming.  I canceled at the last minute owing to a perfect storm of factors which included an emergency involving one of my twenty-something nephews.  My nephew himself is fine, but he needed me nearby the middle of this week.  We are dealing with the situation but the immediate need has been attended to, and I am glad it developed before I left for the south state.

In any event, things are moving right along at San Gabriel -- new YouTube programming being filmed and released, four new books to be in print this fall, and book promotion and advertising plans moving forward, with an eye toward implementing same after Labor Day.  

Assuming we are able to splash in with the book marketing campaign it will be a first for us.  Our marketing focus has up to now been centered on the YouTube channel and growing our subscription base.  That effort is going along so smoothly at this point that I liken it to cruise control.  We are free to turn our attention to other aspects of the ministry, and the first in line of these considerations is getting word out about my books.  I will soon have over twenty in print and the only people who have any idea that these books exist are people who know me personally.  Admittedly, that is a number well into the thousands, but I have believed from my early twenties that I have an audience "out there," the same way any other writer does.  I have always said that a work of art is incomplete until it meets its audience.  That is now Job One at San Gabriel, and it will likely continue to be so through the end of this decade. 

We had quite a celebration in the parish this past Sunday, marking my twentieth anniversary; I am working on getting thank yous out, both hand-written notes where I have addresses, and electronically.  The Mass itself was so joyful that I could have stopped there, and walked on air for several days afterward.  Then came the reception.  Oh my goodness.  No effort at a summary can do that celebration justice.  I LOVE St. Clement.

On that note of joyful gratitude, I will sign off.

Hope the mid-summer is treating you well.

Take good care and God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

August Schedule (all Masses English):

Sunday, August 2

8 and 1115 AM; 630 PM

Saturday, August 8

5 PM

Sunday, August 9

8 AM, 630 PM

Sunday, August 16

8 and 1115 AM, 630 PM

Saturday, August 22

5 PM

Sunday, August 23

630 PM

THE CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON (Seton campus)

11 AM

Sunday, August 30

8 and 1115 AM, 630 PM

Weekday Masses (all 8 AM; all English): 

Mon. the 3

Fr. the 7

Sat. the 8

Mon. the 10

Thur. the 13

Sat. the 15

Mon. the 17

Thur. the 20

Sat. the 22

Mon. the 24

Fri. the 28

Sat. the 29

Mon. the 31

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Homily (July 26, 2026): The Treasure Worth Everything

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 26, 2026, Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time; Relief in Venezuela; Summer in the Parish; Anniversary Party

Readings for Mass this Sunday:

• 1 Kings 3:5

• Psalm 119:57, 72, 76-77, 127-30

• Romans 8:28-30

• Matthew 12:44-52

Dear Friends and Family,

As with last week's Gospel passage, there is an option this week, longer or shorter version.  As with last week's passage, if you hear the longer version at Mass this weekend you will hear a couple more parables (analogies might be the batter term) about the Kingdom than if you hear the shorter version.

I am going with the shorter option here because I want to focus on the two parables it contains.  Jesus compares the Kingdom to a treasure in a field and to a pearl of great price.  The person who discovers either goes off and "sells all that he has" in order to purchase the field or the pearl; the person is willing to give up everything in order to have the Kingdom (vss. 44-46).

As with last week's Gospel, there is a real resonance in this week's passage with my own experience.  I discovered the treasure; I found the pearl, and it changed my life utterly.  And I feel that I made this great discovery twice, or maybe I should say, I made it in two phases.  As Jesus uses two analogies, the treasure in the field and the pearl, I will employ them here, in reflecting on my own experience.   

I feel that I found the treasure in the field at 28, when I returned to the practice of the faith after almost nine years away.  I can't say that, at 28, I went out and sold all I had, to possess the Kingdom.  My material possessions at that time consisted of my clothes, some unknown number of books, an electric typewriter and a beloved, six-year old caramel-colored Camaro -- 305, V-8, a dreamy muscle car that could take anything but a Corvette, going over the Grapevine.  

I didn't sell anything, to possess the Kingdom, but I re-ordered things, I re-calibrated my priorities, I changed the way I lived.  I was no longer worshipping at the altar of literary success, and New York and London (though, as the world capitals of English-language publishing, still central to my overall career aims) were no longer what I had often (only semi-jokingly) referred to as my holy cities.  

There was a new center of gravity in my life, that autumn of my twenty-eighth year.  That center of gravity no longer had anything to do with agents and editors and publicists, with success in Manhattan.  The center of gravity found its locus at the altar of the nearest Catholic church.  From sometimes going one year to the next without attending Mass, I was suddenly there several times a week.  In addition to Sunday Mass, more often than not in Marysville, where I tended in those days to spend my weekends, I would go to St. Mary Magdalen on Berkeley's North Side, for the 530 weekday Mass, after getting off work at my office at Cal.  It was a graceful (literally, a grace-full) way to transition from the workday to evenings with my family in Oakland.

Confession became my favorite Sacrament -- I went once or twice a month.  I am reminded of what G. K. Chesterton said, regarding his conversion to Rome: "I wanted to get my sins forgiven."  After nine years adrift, I felt exactly the same way.   

I began to make retreats with the men of the Marysville parish -- usually at Christ the King Retreat Center in Citrus Heights.  My reading, which had always been voluminous (after all, I was determined to succeed as a writer) suddenly expanded to include such authors as C. S. Lewis, Dorothy Sayers, Peter Kreeft and of course, Chesterton, whose works were being re-printed in handsome new volumes from Ignatius Press.  The treasure I had discovered "in the field" was partly intellectual -- I was as much drawn to Catholic philosophy, to the history of the Church, to the lives of the saints, as I was to straight-up theology.  

Above all, of course, there was the simple but vast expansion of my horizon that came with the proper ordering of my fierce literary ambitions.  These ambitions were by no means bad in and of themselves.  But placed at the precise center of my life, as they had been, for most the decade of my twenties, an idolatrous place, they had brought me to grief, as any pursuit of an idol is bound sooner or later to do.  

Freed of the sense that I was nothing if I was not a success as a writer, I began to experience my life itself in a new and, as I say, vastly expanded way.  I was so much more than just a writer.  I was a disciple.  Writing was one of the ways through which my discipleship could be developed and expressed, but it was not the be-all, end-all of my existence.  It was a talent entrusted to me.  My life as a disciple transcended it.  I could not have expressed it as such at the time, but what I was experiencing in those first years back at Mass, back at the Sacraments, back at the praying of the Rosary, back at the life of discipleship, was nothing less than "the glorious freedom of the children of God" (Romans 8:21).

Almost eight years later, the summer that I was 36, I found the pearl, so to speak: I was invited by Fr. Cedric Pisegna of the Passionists at Christ the King to consider becoming a priest.  

This time, if it would have made any difference, I really would have gone off and sold everything.  I still had nothing to sell, you understand, and even my stalwart Camaro at that point (still running smoothly and well) was fourteen years old.  I suppose the proof that I would have sold everything I didn't have is that I was accepted as a candidate by a religious order (the Oblates of the Blessed Virgin Mary, headquartered in this country in Boston) and might well have gone with them but for circumstances in my life which exemplified...

The exact opposite of having anything to sell.  I was in debt.  By the time the Oblates invited me to join them I was 38; my Camaro was gone, replaced by a sleek and sparkling turquoise Grand Am -- on which I owed that spring maybe fifteen grand.  Helping my sister Liz and bro-in-law Hector with the raising of my three Oakland nieces (as I had been doing for most of the past decade) I had credit card debt as well.  It was not massive, but it kept me in place in the East Bay at a time when I might otherwise have gone to Boston.  Had I been free to do so, I might really have thrown it all over and gone to the Oblates.

I was not free to do so.  I remember lunch at a Japanese restaurant on Berkeley's North Side with a close friend from my office at Cal.  This friend, not particularly religious herself, was all the same a great supporter of my decision to become a priest.  Explaining to her that I could not go to Boston, given my immediate circumstances, my friend laughed, and recommended that I trust those circumstances as an indication of God's will.  "Don't worry how your discernment is going to play out," she advised.  "You've got your debts to fall back on.  Let them be your guide."

The evidence of my determination to "sell all that I had" to possess the Kingdom, however, may be seen in my decision to enroll in the philosophy program with the Dominicans at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley.  Taking classes with the Dominicans while continuing to work my job at Cal empowered me to move forward on the "purchase of the pearl" at a time when it would otherwise not have been possible.  

Only one semester in with my studies at the Dominican School, I accepted the position as youth minister in Marysville.  I took the position above all because I sensed that Jesus himself was behind the request.  But among other things, the fact that it was a paying job moved me forward in my determination to "buy the pearl."  For the next three years I worked my job at Cal, worked the youth ministry position in Marysville, coordinated (and taught one of the three sections in the program) the Confirmation program in Marysville, ran the Vocations Committee in the Marysville parish, worked on my latest novels while hoping my latest agent would get one or two of the ones she was showing sold, and -- oh yeah -- took three or four classes a semester in a demanding masters program in philosophy with the Dominicans at the GTU.  

These days, I get tired just describing it.  But that is how my life was at the end of my thirties.  And I remember absolutely loving my life, during those years.  I had found the pearl of great price -- priesthood -- and I was willing to do whatever I had to do, to attain it.  

Venezuela.  The search for lost loved ones continues for many.  My young guys and their families, as previously reported, all came through safely.  The family that was rendered temporarily homeless by structural concerns with their apartment block have been told they will be able to move back home September 1.  Meanwhile -- thanks to your contributions -- they have found a one-month furnished rental (I think it is an Air BnB) and will be moving in August 1.  One of the three guys who was temporarily idled, in terms of his job because of repair work at the restaurant, has gone back to work.  The other two are hopeful of being back to work sometime in August and meantime, again, thanks to you, they and their families are fine.  Taken care of.  $100 American spends like two or three thousand in Caracas, these days.  It is crazy.  But it does make it fairly easy for us to help friends in Venezuela.  Truly, a little goes a LONG way.

Fr. Jesus, pastor here, has been on pilgrimage in Central Europe the last two weeks.  I have had a corresponding increase in parish responsibilities as a result.  And as if I needed it, I am reminded this summer of just how much I love parish ministry, the extent to which it feeds me as a priest.  My commitment to the high school is rock solid.  I ain't goin' nowhere anytime soon.  But I sure do love the simple, basic, direct joys of parish ministry.  As I have said many times before, parish ministry is not work.  It is life.  A priest's life.

Which sets up a neat segue to this Sunday's celebration here in the parish of my twentieth anniversary.  St. Clement has sustained me in my long service at the high school; the parish has provided enthusiasm, encouragement, support and joy.  The parish, to some real extent, told me, even as I plunged in at O'Dowd filled with doubt, "We believe in you; you can do this."  

For that, and for a lot more, this parish has my untold gratitude and love -- untold because it runs too deep for adequate expression.  I think Sunday is going to be one bright and joyful day.  I am grateful that, finding the pearl, I was able to find a way, as well, to pay its price.  

Take good care.  God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2026: The Parable of the Weeds and God's Mercy

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 19, 2026, Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time; From Venezuela With Love; Holding the Fort at St. Clement; Twentieth Anniversary Celebration is Right Around the Corner

Readings for Mass this Sunday: 

• Wisdom 12:13, 16-19

• Psalm 86:5-6, 9-10, 15-16

• Romans 8:26-27

• Matthew 13:24-43

Dear Friends and Family,

As with last week's readings, there is an option for a much shorter Gospel; seven verses instead of twenty.  The longer version includes Jesus' explanation of the Parable of the Weeds Among the Wheat, and for that reason I may read it at Mass, Sunday -- with Jesus' explanation included in the reading, I can keep my homily shorter and more focused.  This parable has particular relevance to our time, it seems to me, but of course, it had relevance among the first community of disciples in Jerusalem, as well.

Because I want to concentrate on the passage from Matthew, just a brief overview of the first and second readings and the psalm.  

The reading from Wisdom (one of my favorite Old Testament books) ties neatly into the theme of the Gospel passage (as it should -- the first reading is selected to coincide with and illuminate the Gospel reading each Sunday).  The author of Wisdom assures us that God is "lenient" in his governance of us (vs. 16), and that God will allow us time to repent for our sins (vs. 19).

Psalm 86 underscores the "lenience" or mercy of God: "Lord, you are good and forgiving, most merciful to all who call upon you" (vs. 5).  The psalm goes on to further attest to God's merciful ways: "But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in mercy and truth" (vs. 15).  

The reading from Romans should give us abundant hope in God's merciful care, assuring us as it does that God himself makes intercession for us: "the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings" (vs. 26).  The Spirit is, in the Last Supper Discourses of John's Gospel, described as the Advocate (John 14:16).  Here we can see why.  The Spirit goes before the Judgment Seat for us like a defense attorney.  Paul concludes that "the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God's will" (vs. 27).

If we stop and think about that...God the Holy Spirit pleading our case before the divine majesty...well, it is something to think about. 

So then to the Gospel passage, from Chapter Thirteen of Matthew's Gospel, which is all about parables.  If the longer option is read at the Mass you attend this weekend, you will get a couple more parables thrown in with it, but the main parable in today's passage is that of the weeds sown among the wheat.  There are at least two main considerations to be included in any analysis of this parable.  

The first is to realize that not all people who claim to be Christian behave in a Christ-like manner.  This sounds obvious, but in fact, I have many times heard believers who don't get to Mass very often say that the main reason they are not regularly at Mass is the hypocrisy of a lot of the people who are always there.  Never mind the judgment of others involved here.  Never mind the (understandable but frankly naive) expectation that anyone who claims to follow Christ should, in fact, well, FOLLOW Christ.  

The point I want to make is that Jesus, knowing human nature, warned us at the start that we must be realistic about the Christian community, about the Church.  It is made up of human beings.  Flawed and weak; struggling with sin and brokenness.  Some of its members may, in fact, be serious and unrepentant sinners.  Jesus knew that some people would be scandalized (in more contemporary language, would be very put off) by the reality of hypocrisy among those who claim to be followers of Christ.  So he gave us this parable, to help us stay the course.  The fact of the matter is, has been and always will be that not everyone who claims to follow Christ actually follows Christ.  Don't throw the Church out because of it, Jesus is urging us. 

The second consideration here emphasizes the theme of today's other readings: God's tender and loving care, God's abundant mercy, God's "lenient" governance of his sometimes unruly flock.  When the weeds are found among the wheat, the workers (who represent angels) inform the owner (who, of course, stands in for God).  The workers, dismayed at the presence of the weeds, offer to "go and pull them up" (vs. 28).  The owner demurs, arguing that they might accidently pull up wheat with the weeds; "Let them grow together until the harvest" (vss. 29-30).  

Here the parable directly confirms the assurance from the first reading: God will give us time to repent of our sins.  Something (someone) that looks like a weed may yet prove to be wheat.  Time will tell, and God, in his mercy, gives us that time.

I have a close personal identification with this parable, given my somewhat misspent youth.  I guess you could not have called me a weed among the wheat, when I was in my twenties, because I was not in the wheat field at all.  I was not going to Mass, let alone going to confession.  I was not even pretending to follow Christ.  I was following deeply held conviction and cherished ambition -- I was worshipping at the altar of literary success with no excuses and no apologies.  

The Lord, in his leniency, in his fathomless mercy, granted me time to recognize my sins, to follow the bright path of repentance.  This is why the owner does not allow the workers to pull up the weeds.  "Let them grow together until the harvest."  The Lord gave me the dangerous decade of my twenties to come to my senses and start worshiping at his altar, rather than one of my own making.  In the four decades that span that time to now, I have had abundant evidence of his ongoing tender care, his ongoing mercy.  In his eyes, all of us are wheat -- or possess the capacity to so be.  If we will let him save us from ourselves he is more than ready to meet the challenge.

I have a stack of thank-you notes on my desk as I am writing this (Wednesday afternoon) which I plan to get into the mail tomorrow -- the response to the events in Venezuela has been huge, at this point, and I am thanking and praising the Lord for it and for you.  I still have a family out of their home (but domiciled with relatives until they can return).  Two of my Caraquenos are out of work 'til probably the end of the month, while their places of employment undertake repairs.  A third, temporarily idled, has since been able to return to the restaurant where he heads up the wait staff.  

I have also heard at this point from my "Venezuelan diaspora;" my many Venezuelan friends here and all about the Western hemisphere, with regard to their families in Caracas (and elsewhere in the country).  It almost seems like a miracle, but all of them have assured me their loved ones came through the quakes without much more than a very great scare.  

The death count continues to rise, but -- so far -- it is not close to the apocalyptic predictions many experts (including those at the US Geological Survey) initially were making.  A lot of people who were missing have turned up; many, though, remain unaccounted for.  I will continue to send cash to Caracas as I am able to do so, for the foreseeable future.  I mean I send money regularly anyway -- I mean that this special response is going to continue probably the rest of the summer.  Meanwhile, Venezuela tops my Rosary intentions and this week I have started fasting for the country as well.  That, it seems to me, is about the limit of my ability to respond.  As it is all that I can do, I am doing all of it.

Father Jesus, pastor here at St. Clement, left this week for a seventeen-day pilgrimage through central Europe.  He tried to get a little extra outside help where our Masses, confessions, baptisms and so on are concerned, and -- and this is unusual -- he came up empty.  It's just me and Fr. Celestine (our beloved support priest from Rwanda, who is studying at the GTU and helps us regularly on weekends).  Because Celestine is not here during the week, I have the morning Mass every day straight from July 12 to the 29 -- a joyful start to my mornings, this second half of July.  I've also got some of our Spanish Masses -- Fr. Jesus takes those himself, when he is here.  Saying a few Masses in Spanish this summer is a genuine alegria para mi.  Not just the chance to practice my Spanish, but the chance to be with our Hispanic community, with whom I have formed a long-lasting bond.

I have a parallel bond with the English-language community here as well, and all of us, both languages and every ethnicity, are planning a real celebration to mark my twentieth anniversary -- now just a week off, next Sunday, the 26.  The 1115 Mass followed by a reception in the hall at which, the latest development to be brought to my attention, Jesse Manibusan will be performing.  Jesse and I know each other slightly -- our paths have crossed several times, both in the parishes and at O'Dowd.  I was very pleased to hear that Jesse, hearing of the party, offered to come and sing.  It should be a bright and joyful day.  I look forward to it.

Gonna wrap it here.  Hope your summer is going well.  I am feeling deep rest, at this point, and am grateful for it.

God bless; take good care.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

The Word of God Never Returns Empty: Sunday Homily for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 12, 2026, Fifteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time;  Twentieth Anniversary Celebration in the Parish; Muchas Pero Muchas Gracias de Caracas; Deep Summer

Readings for this Sunday:

•  Isaiah 55:10-11

• Psalm 65:10-14

• Romans 8:18-23

• Matthew 13:1-23

Dear Friends and Family,

All four readings this Sunday rank among my favorite passages from Scripture.  It would be easy to construct a unified homiletic theme from them, but honestly, I so love each passage that I would like to just dive in with each one and explore its truth and beauty individually.  There will be, in my reflections, a general unifying theme -- that of the power of the Word of God.  That observation made, let's take a look at these awesome passages.

Isaiah 55 -- the whole chapter -- is a paean, a deeply poetic tribute to the love, mercy and generosity of God.  I sometimes read it on a whim (not quite the right word) when I want simply to remind myself of God's bounty, God's all-encompassing care, God's limitless love for us.  

The two verses today are maybe my favorites among the thirteen in the chapter, but I say that conditionally; the rest of the verses are every bit as joyful and reassuring.  They are fairly long verses; too long, really, for me to fully quote here.  But listen carefully as they are read at Mass this weekend.  Their description of the Word of God, going forth out over the earth and accomplishing the mission for which it was sent, and running a parallel with the way that "rain and snow come down and do not return until they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful" (vs. 10), is at once deep theology and engaging poetic expression. 

Psalm 65 vies for top spot in my heart and in my mind among all 150 psalms.  It, too, describes God's bounty, God's mercies, God's marvels in lushly poetic prose, again employing images from nature.  

"You visit the earth and water it, make it abundantly fertile....

you drench its plowed furrows and level its ridges. 

With showers you keep it soft, blessing its young shoots. 

You adorn the year with your bounty;

your paths drip with fruitful rain" (vss. 10-12).

One verse earlier in the psalm (not included in today's passage) we read of how "Distant peoples stand in awe of your marvels; the lands of sunrise and sunset you make resound with joy" (vs. 9).  Among the marvels of the Lord, of course, of which these peoples are in awe, is the Word of the Lord -- received with such astonished joy by the Gentiles, at the preaching of the apostles, and down through the centuries since.  Psalm 65 coincides with Isaiah 55 in its assurances of God's powerful and protective love; in its images of soft rains and fruitful abundance -- metaphors for the life-giving nature of God's Word.

The passage from the Letter to the Romans tells us that "creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God" (vs. 19) and that "creation itself (will) be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God" (vs. 21).  Attributing something like a natural consciousness to the created world, Paul goes on to write that "all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now" (vs. 22); that is, the redemption won by Jesus is for the entire material universe -- there will be a new heaven and a new earth (Revelation 21:1).

Matthew organizes his Gospel by theme; chapter thirteen is about parables.  The chief parable in the chapter is that of the sower.  And I will add here that the preacher has an option, this Sunday, to read just the first nine verses, if he so chooses.  They give the full parable.  The explanation of the parable is included in the longer option (which extends the passage to verse twenty-three).

The seed in the parable, of course, represents the Word of God.  The various types of ground on which it lands represent our potential responses.

I have preached a number of times on this parable before; just to make sure I touch on a really salient point, I want to make my standard assertion that we need to avoid reading some kind of endorsement of predestination into this parable.  It would be a mistake to draw from the parable an understanding that some people are "hard ground," incapable of receiving the Word of God.  No one is created for Hell.  I understand the four types of ground to be at least potentially applicable to all of us.  But even if we want to argue otherwise, I like to point out that the hard ground might be softened -- by, for instance, the soft, abundant and life-giving rains (of grace) described in both the first reading and today's psalm.  

Having allowed for that observation I want to say something about the sower himself.  Notice that he throws the seed everywhere.  He does not aim just for the good soil.  He is, in the judgment I would imagine, of most farmers, downright reckless in the distribution of the seed.  I ask my sophomores at O'Dowd about this, when we are studying this parable.  "Remember what the seed represents," I say.  "Why does the sower throw it about so carelessly?"

Bright students, my O’Dowd sophomores; they inevitably reply: "Because God's Word is for everyone."  Amen to that.  The sower's manner of distribution coincides neatly with our motto at San Gabriel Media, our maxim, our watchword: "God is for everyone."  

So is his Word.

Considering his Word, I want to close with a quote about it that I especially love and which sums up in striking prose the principle point of the foregoing reflections; from the Letter to the Hebrews.

 "Indeed, the Word of God is living and effective, 

sharper than any two-edged sword,

penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow,

and able to discern the thoughts of the heart" (Hebrews 4:12).

Enough said!

I have mentioned in passing several times this summer the Mass and reception planned here at St. Clement to celebrate my twentieth anniversary as a priest.  Should any of you wish to attend, the Mass is our 1115 AM Sunday Mass on July 26.  The reception (and it is shaping up to be rather elaborate) follows, across the parking lot, in McCollum Hall.  

I know that friends from Brentwood and Fremont are planning to attend.  Several of my colleagues from the high school have told me they will be there.  A lot of my family is attending, as well.  We will have both of our lots available for parking (parish and school) and the Knights tell me that Moreau's main lot (behind the parish property) will also be open that day.  I look forward to it.  I have meant to reflect a bit, in one of these summer homilies, on twenty years as a priest, but my attention has been drawn elsewhere.  On which point...

I have been getting thank-you notes into the mail every day this week, for donations to my Caracas "boys" and their families.  Your response is very generous -- we are truly making a difference for them.  I told parishioners here in Hayward this morning, when two of them after Mass handed me substantial checks, "My young Caraquenos and their families will stand in line in Heaven, to say thank you."  To say "muchas pero muchas gracias por la ayuda, por el amor."  

It is hard for us to grasp the difference one hundred dollars American makes in Caracas.  It spends far more like a couple of thousand, in terms of purchasing power.  I am deeply grateful for the outpouring of support, and as I say, my wonderful young Caraquenos will thank you, when we all meet up on the other side.  Meanwhile, I am thanking you for them, and from the depths of my heart.

More than two weeks after the quakes the number of confirmed dead remains below four thousand, which of course is four thousand too many, but it is beginning to look as if the worst case scenarios are not going to play out.  A lot of folks initially reported missing have evidently turned up alive; shocked, bruised and in most cases without an operational cell phone and so for days unable to let family know they survived.  Many of the missing have been accounted for -- found alive and well, I mean.  But many thousands remain missing.  Please keep the prayers coming!  I mean it when I say that your prayers may be saving Venezuelan lives.  

Finally, well...it's summertime, and the livin' is breezy.  Love Hayward in July.  Love Hayward year round, but it is especially delightful in the summer.  I have watched with some real sympathy our fellow citizens east of the Rockies, dealing with brutal heat and humidity, the past week.  Family in both Boston and DC reported "stay inside with the AC on" conditions over the weekend of the Fourth.  Kinda too bad, given that this was our 250th birthday.

Meteorological considerations aside, and entirely in line with today's joyful and confident readings, I have to say that it is wonderful to be on summer vacation, largely just right here at my beloved St. Clement, going about my light and bright parishes duties, while working simultaneously on three new books, two of which I expect to have completed at Labor Day.  Way back in the day, as a young writer dreaming of literary success, my life had a rhythm that included long summer vacations in Marysville where, relieved of the social distractions of the Bay Area, I could devote myself to my writing.  There is something of that peaceful and joyous feeling at work here in Hayward this summer.  

But there is something more, of course.  Something so much more.  There is priesthood.  Twenty years of it!

God be thanked.  God be praised.  May he continue to soften my areas of hard ground with his gentle and life-giving rains, with his every Word, which does not return to him empty, but achieves the purpose for which he sent it (Isaiah 55:11).

Take good care.  Hope your summer is bright, breezy and relaxing.

God bless.

Love,

Fr. Brawn

Catholic Homily for July 5, 2026: The Gentle Messiah, Prayer, and Trust in God

Readings and Virtual Homily for July 5, 2026, Fourteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; Venezuela Update; Time Out With the Sisters; Happy Birthday, America; July Schedule

Readings for this Sunday:

• Zechariah 9:9-10

• Psalm 145:1-2, 8-11, 13-14

• Romans 8:9, 11-13

• Matthew 11:25-30

Dear Friends and Family:

A general theme of the gentleness and mercy of the Messiah might be said to run through this Sunday's readings.  This theme is consistent not just with the many instances of gentleness on Jesus' part throughout the Gospels, but also with dozens of Old Testament predictions of the Messiah.  Alongside the many predictions of the Messiah's conquering strength, which largely led the Jewish people to expect the Messiah to be a military leader, there are parallel predictions such as those found in today's first reading and psalm, attesting to the Messiah's tenderness, his gentle spirit.

Zechariah foresees Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, with Jesus "riding on a donkey, on a colt" (vs. 9), adding that he is humble, and that in his reign "the warrior's bow will be banished, he will proclaim peace to the nations" (vss. 9-10).  

Psalm 145 attests to the compassion and gentleness of the Lord: "The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in kindness" (vs. 8), adding that the Lord is "compassionate toward all (his) works" (vs. 9); that he "supports those who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down" (vs. 13).

Jesus echoes these understandings in the Gospel passage, first praising the Father for having given insight and understanding not to those who are wise and learned by worldly standards, but to the childlike (vs. 25).  He then invites "all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest" (vs. 28).

"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me," Jesus continues, "and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves.  For my yoke is easy and my burden light" (vss. 29-30).  

One way of understanding the truth in this promise of the Lord's is to recognize that, whether we are walking with the Lord or not, burdens come our way; difficulties arise and we must one way or another deal with them.  They are more easily carried when their weight is shared by another pair of shoulders.  That is what Jesus is offering here.  Realizing that we do not have to figure everything out on our own is liberating.  

I have more than a few examples from my own life of how this dynamic plays out.  When we turn to the Lord in prayer and supplication, several things are likely to start happening.  One, we are likely to gain insights into the situation that we could not have arrived at on our own.  Two, we can achieve the understanding that God, whom we have now called in to assist us, already sees us on the other side of the difficulty.  God, being outside of time, already knows how we are going to manage, how we are going to get through.  Three, a realization that, as our evangelical brothers and sisters are fond of putting it, "If God brings you to it, God will bring you through it," should encourage in us both an optimism about the situation's eventually being resolved, and a sense of peace -- "He sees me on the other side of this; I need to trust in that."  Finally, all of the foregoing can encourage in us a new openness to the manner in which the situation is to be resolved.  I've lost count of the situations in my life which wound up being resolved differently than I had expected.  Coming through them to the other side, and looking back and seeing how grace intervened on my behalf, I have just that much more depth in terms of my discipleship; just that much more inclination to rely on God, rather than solely on my own understandings and approaches.

Well, on the subject of relying on God...Millions of Venezuelans are doing just that, this weekend, as they grapple with the horror left behind by the twin earthquakes, last week.  (Incidentally, not that it really matters, but just for the sake of accuracy, the quakes hit forty seconds apart, not forty minutes, as I wrote last week.)

I mentioned that two folks within my personal orbit were still missing, two days after the quakes.  A cousin of our office manager here in the parish, and the brother of my young guy in Orlando, Charlye.  Both were in La Guaira, Caracas' port city, which was devastated.  I learned during the course of this past week that our office manager's cousin was killed in the quakes.  I learned last weekend that Charlye's brother had turned up, bruised and phoneless, but otherwise unscathed.  His office building partially collapsed and in the scramble to escape, he lost his phone.  It took him the better part of two days to hook up with a friend who had an operational phone, and so be able to alert the family (who live in Caracas and Maturin, not La Guaira) that he was safe.

Miracle rescues from the collapsed concrete rubble have been reported all week, of course, but now ten days after the event, the chances of finding any more survivors are vanishingly small.  Tens of thousands are missing.  

My young (well, young-ish) guys in Caracas and their families are dealing with the on-the-ground reality; no power in many instances, no running water.  Places of employment damaged and closed for the next several days or even weeks for repairs.  The family that was out on the street last week remains out of their apartment this week, but they are all inside.  They have split into three groups and moved in with relatives until such time as they get the all-clear to return home.  

To everyone who sent help or offered to do so, my deep thanks.  As I said last week, nothing matters more right now, than prayer.  But as several of you had to ask me for it, this past week, just in case anyone wants to send a check, my address is:

St. Clement Parish

750 Calhoun Street

Hayward 94544

I got money to Caracas the day after the quakes.  Then I went to Soquel to give the sisters' retreat.  I got back yesterday (Friday) and sent a larger amount, which Charlye assured me this morning has already reached our Caraquenos.  I will send more next week and no doubt, more the week after that.  Recovery is likely to be a summer-long process.

The retreat at St. Clare (the Franciscan retreat center in the Santa Cruz Mountains) was rich in faith and serene in feeling.  There were sisters from three different congregations there, as well as several laywomen.  It was a real time-out for all of us, and I am grateful to have had it.  The topic was The Messianic Prophecies, and carving up my notes on it (I have given this talk several times; the first time in Pleasanton, with my mom, way back when) to fit the twelve-talk format for the retreat, I not only had room to expand my coverage of the topic, I began to sense that this might easily become a book!  

We'll see.  I have no shortage of book projects going forward, this summer, this year.

Finally, as it is a special anniversary, our 250th, I think I should end wishing everyone a blessed and restful Fourth of July weekend, remembering that our freedoms have been paid for in blood, and giving thanks and praise to the Lord for the deep blessing that accrues to American citizenship.  May we guard our liberties zealously; once lost, they would be hard to re-win.

Take good care.  God bless.  Happy Fourth!

Fr. Brawn

Mass Schedule for July:

Sunday, July 5

8 AM, 1115 AM (both English)

Saturday, July 11

5 PM (English)

Sunday, July 12

THE CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON, Seton Campus

11 AM (English)

630 PM (St. Clement; English)

Sunday, July 19

930 AM, 1 PM (both Spanish)

630 PM (English)

Saturday, July 25

5 PM (English)

Sunday, July 26

8 AM, 1115 AM (both English)

(THE 1115 AM MASS THIS DAY IS MY 20th ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION MASS; IT WILL BE FOLLOWED BY A RECEPTION IN THE PARISH HALL)

• Daily Masses (All 8 AM and English, except where noted):

• Fri., the 10

•  Sat., the 11

• Mon. thru Sat., the 13-18 -- Wednesday the 15 at 830

• Mon. thru Sat., the 20-25 -- Wednesday the 22 at 830

• Both Tuesday the 14 and Tuesday the 21, 7 PM  (Spanish)

• Mon. the 27

• Tue. the 28

• Thur. the 30

 Fr. Jesus (pastor) is on pilgrimage most of the second half of the month, which is why I have so many daily Masses.

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