Pastor's Reflection

“An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them …” (Lk. 2:9). Before the shepherds saw God, they saw angels. They didn’t expect to see either. They were just doing their forgotten job on yet another cold, dark night. And then … If we asked them what they thought God looked like, they probably would have looked at us sideways. The shepherds didn’t go to church. They might not have thought of God a lot. They may have even thought that they, with their unnoticed life at the edges of society, wandering from place to place, didn’t fit in with God, if He existed at all. And then … Their first response to the angels is to be afraid. But the angels talk them out of fear: “Be not afraid: for behold I bring you good news of a great joy which will be for all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Lk. 2:10-11). The angel didn’t go to the palace, the government, or the temple. The angel went to the shepherds. And then … The angel went to the shepherds. And through the shepherd the angels send their message of joy to “all the people”: To us in born a Savior. That is what God looks like: a Savior. The Savior intervenes not with grand universal power, but as the smallest most unnoticed joy: “a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger” (Lk. 2:12). Unnoticed shepherds; an unnoticed manger; an unnoticed stable; an unnoticed child. That was the path to God Himself. “And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased” (Lk. 2:13-14). Sometimes we think we don’t matter. We don’t look for God because we don’t expect to find Him. And we forget we are not looking. And then, the unexpected angel hints at something, Someone, more. This Christmas, notice the miracle already unfolding within the ordinarily unnoticed things. And look there for Him.

Together with Fr. Bordonaro, Msgr. Murray, Msgr. Jenkins, Deacon Hasson, and our team in the rectory office, have a most blessed Christmas and joyful holiday season! Thank you for all you do for our amazing parish of Saint Eleanor! Your dedication throughout the year means so much!

Thank you for the beautiful way you embrace the faith – our greatest gift! God Bless, Msgr. Bransfield

 

John the Baptist is in prison (Mt. 11:2). There was something about John's message that was uncontainable. And so, the powers of the world tried to cut it off and contain it. They didn't like truth. But John was uncontainable from the beginning. Already in the womb John hear the word of God and "leaped for joy" (Lk. 1:41) when he heard Mary's voice. The word that can reach a womb can reach through prison bars.

And, in prison, the uncontainable John hears again: he hears of the works of the Christ. And from prison John sends his own disciples to Jesus.

Prison is incidental for John. It can't stop him. Moreso, the world's ways can't contain the Word of God. God gets through.

Whatever we face - sadness, anxiety, preoccupation - God's word does get through. One of our prison bars is that we believe we must have everything perfect, straightened out and looking good before we are acceptable to God, to our family, and most often to ourselves. And the prison bars of trying to make that perfection happen every day are ten times stronger than the perfectionistic thought itself. Some of the worst iron bars are made of thoughts we have about ourselves.

Nevertheless, God gets through. God loves to get through. He is uncontainable.

And Jesus says something about John the Baptist. The Lord says that "among those born women there has been none greater than John the Baptist" (Mt. 11:11). But then the Lord looks to us with an invitation. And He says, "Yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John."

Jesus has an affection for the least. Be the least. Being the least allows us to slip through the prison bars. Being the least frees us. Being the least is uncontainable.

And when we are the least, we hear things. We hear things few others can. We hear the secrets of God. Listen to His secrets.

 

God bless, Msgr. Brian Bransfield

Advent is a Series of Meeting

Advent is a series of meetings. But Advent’s meetings are not like business meetings. They don’t have an agenda, minutes, and politics back and forth.

Advent’s meetings are encounters. Angels are around every corner, especially in Advent. The priest Zachariah encounters the angel. Mary encounters the angel. St. Joseph encounters the angel.

Notice the difference in the way the angel appears to Our Lady and the way that he appears to Saint Joseph. The angel comes to Mary during the day, “in the sixth month.” The angel comes to Joseph in a dream, presumably at night. The difference in timing reflects a deeper difference. Our Lady, without sin, sees directly, in the light of day. Joseph, not free from sin, experiences the word of God through sleep, a type of visionary contemplation.

The angels are busy all the time. But their busyness is not like ours. Our busyness harries and exhausts us. Their busyness clears and creates space for us to marvel at the mystery of Christ. These days as we prepare for Christmas let’s make room for meeting the angels who long to whisper to us the plan of God revealed in Jesus.

Plan to come to morning Mass during the week. Plan to go to Confession before Christmas – the times are listed in the parish bulletin and on the website. Plan on coming to Eucharistic Adoration in the Chapel of Our Lady.

Advent is a series of meetings. Let’s meet the angels so they can lead us to Jesus.

 

God bless,

Msgr. Bransfield

 Second Sunday of Advent, December 7, 2025

Something is Missing 

“Something is missing.” We don’t say it too loudly. We rarely say it at all. But we notice it a lot. And, noticing it, it filters up into our consciousness in a thought: “Something is missing.”

 We don’t like to admit it. Because we feel the pressure to convince ourselves that everything is perfect. We’re fine. But we can’t fool ourselves. That perfection we think is nearby - that everything is fine with work, with family, with our mood, our house, our class, our friends, our sense of just feeling okay and normal -- isn’t perfection. It’s a treadmill.

 We keep our eyes on so many “gauges” – (work, family, mood, class, friends, etc.) in our life that we exhaust ourselves just trying to measure up to our own expectation for results and how perfect we, and those around us, should be. And we realize – we don’t have the perfection we thought we did – we just have the pressure that convinces us we aren’t perfect – and isolates us.

 Pressure doesn’t come from nowhere. But pressure does go somewhere. It burdens us in our soul and body; pressure usually also drives us to coping mechanisms – alcohol, shopping, scrolling the internet, video games, gossip, co-dependence, and more – that “promise” to numb out the pressure for a while. But those things don’t take the pressure away. They just numb our ability to feel it for a while.

 Track down the source of the pressure. The pressure arises from the wound. And the wound has usually been around a while. God heals wounds. He doesn’t numb them. He heals wounds. But His healing is not automatic. It involves us. It involves our free will. He invites us to take steps on the healing journey. And the first and most repeated step is the Sacrament of Confession.

 What’s missing? Forgiveness. And forgiveness begins with Jesus. And the place of forgiveness is the Sacrament of Confession. The number one thing the devil tries to do is to talk people out of going to Confession because he knows that Confession and going to Mass are the keys to healing and being with Jesus.

 Don’t let the journey to healing become another isolating expectation of perfection and results. Step forward and make Confession a regular part of your life. Here at the Church of Saint Joseph we have a special Advent time for going to Confession: Tuesday, December 16, 2025, at 4:00 to 5:00 pm and again at 7:00 pm in the Church. Several visiting priests will be with us, and you will have the opportunity to go to Confession to any priest you choose that afternoon and evening.

God bless,

Msgr. Bransfield

 

First Sunday of Advent, November 30, 2025

Patience Heals

For centuries the seasons have tirelessly turned from warm to chill, from light to dark never growing bored of their familiar rhythm.

We could borrow this steady excitement from the seasons. Often our inner world can seem like a pinball machine. We ricochet from ongoing anxiety at one extreme to boredom at the other.

In the middle, we get addicted to quicker online lives and flipping the channels. All the while we are training ourselves to feel alive only if we are on the move, being entertained, or making sure everything is quick and perfect.

So, when we turn to our spouses, friends and colleagues, we expect the same speed as our iPhone: no patience before creativity. Somewhere along the way, we insist on worry and radiate it out to others. Demands abound. Anxiety loves demands.

We seem to speed up our schedule to keep pace with the images we are used to on the screen. Anything less disappoints us. The screen will always outpace us. Human beings are not another form of technology that responds at the push of a button or the tap of a screen.

Advent approaches, again. Advent is never bored with her familiar call: "Be excited in the waiting!" Advent transforms anxiety into excitement. Patience alone transforms anxiety into excitement. Excitement loves patience. Anxiety hates patience.

As the darkness grows and the days shorten, as the temperature drops and the chill increases, look around for signs of hope. The life that sleeps beneath the snow, the light that rests now to shine later, speaks and points to the Christ who rests and sleeps in Mary's womb. Expect Him--He is in our family that for so long may seem difficult; He is in our children who seem so distant; He is in our own inability to control relationships; He is in the silence when the iPhone screen is dark.

Patience welcomes Christ.

God bless,

Msgr. Brian Bransfield

 

 

Feast of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe Sunday, November 23, 2025

Call on Him 

We are at the foot of the Cross.

How did we get here?

It isn’t Good Friday. It’s the week before Thanksgiving. We haven’t just spent 40 days in Lent.

And yet just today we hear the Gospel account of the Good Thief. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

The thief on the cross next to Jesus hasn’t seen any of the miracles. He didn’t hear the Sermon on the Mount. He wasn’t at the Last Supper. He couldn’t tell you about one of Jesus’ parables.

He has only known Jesus for a few minutes. And yet the thief sees what few others, even Jesus’ closest disciples, can at this moment: “This man has done nothing criminal.” The thief reveals himself as the judge, as an advocate for the suffering Christ. Imagine the solace Christ found in those words from the thief, a place of brief comfort, empathy and understanding.

And the thief does more. He calls the Lord by His first name: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And in taking the Holy Name on his lips, lips that have probably lied, cheated, and spoken all types of offenses, the thief is cleansed.

The Lord’s intimacy outdoes even the consolation offered from the thief as the Lord answers with all solemnity, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Even though the suffering continued, the intimacy with Christ will conquer.

Even in his suffering the thief saw through. He saw through to Jesus. He saw the innocence of the Lord and the fact that in Jesus is the path to eternal life.

We are, in our lives, often at the foot of the Cross. We wonder where the suffering, hurt, and misunderstanding came from. It’s not even Good Friday.

But it is Jesus. He is close by. Call on Him.

Together with Fr. Bordonaro, Msgr. Murray, Deacon Hasson, our entire team and staff have a blessed and Happy Thanksgiving! May these days be ones of rest and renewal. Thank you for the gift you are to the Church of Saint Eleanor!

God bless,

Msgr. Brian Bransfield

 

 

 

Thirty third Sunday in Ordinary Time Sunday, November 16, 2025

A Story of Love

We often want our lives to be like a storybook. That desire, especially if it is an insistent desire, can be the major thing that keeps interrupting our real story – which usually isn’t “storybook” as the world defines it.

Insistence eats away at beauty. The insistence that everything be perfect in our lives and the lives of those around us becomes a hidden corrosive that masquerades under the cover of success. Picture-perfect is just not the way things are, and to insist otherwise sabotages real natural joy.

I had a wedding for friends recently and shared at the time of the homily how they met. When they first met, he asked for her number, got it, but still didn’t call her for three months! Then, persistent friends set up a meeting on the beach in Ocean City. They met and talked.

And they knew. By 11:00 p.m. that night they said they were going to get married. They stayed up all night talking. Then they rode bikes to the furthest point they could go and watched the sunrise.

When I mentioned that in the homily, there was an audible sense of connection from the congregation. It was love going from the invisible to the visible.

Love loves to go from the invisible to the visible. But, as I know in all our lives, we learn love not in the storybook moments of insisting on flawless, precise, and perfect results.

We learn more about real love when we can’t get what we insist on, when we experience hardship and endure loss. And I know the hardships so many have gone through – hardships are what makes love go from invisible to visible.

That is love’s highest story – that is healing in its singular light – when love, through hardship and endurance, goes from being invisible to visible. And this happens above all on the Cross of Jesus and in the Holy Eucharist. His love becomes visible, and we receive Him into the depths of our soul – so we can go forth and invite others, make disciples and share the story of Jesus.

God bless,
Msgr. Brian Bransfield
Pastor

 

 

 

Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica: November 9, 2025

the living water of life

Of all the things the angel from heaven can show to the prophet Ezekiel in the first reading today, the angel shows him, “... water flowing out from beneath the threshold of the temple toward the east.”

Of all the things the angel from heaven could have said to the same prophet, the angel says, “Wherever the water flows, every sort of living creature that can multiply shall live, and there shall be abundant fish, for wherever this water comes, the seas shall be made fresh” (Ez 47:1; 8-9).

Why water?

The Israelites were facing exile and trauma on a national scale. There was spiritual corruption and idolatry around every corner. They were losing hope.

They were asking the question, “Where was God?”

That can be our question too.

The angel’s answer is the same.

The water flowing from the temple, the water that gave life in the desert of desolation, is God’s answer. This water, in Ezekiel’s vision, points to the water that flowed not from a temple of stone, but from the true Temple: the body of Our Lord Jesus Christ as He hung upon the Cross: “One of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, and immediately blood and water flowed out” (Jn. 19:34).

The soldier pierced the heart of Jesus with a spear. By its construction, a spear embodies the notion of a point, an edge, a straight line. It marks a point beyond which there is no more admittance, no more intactness, no more life. The edge and point of a spear pierce, invade, and repel.

Man, in sin, forges the spear that pierces the curve of the heart of God. And man pours into the spear all the pain, abuse, hatred, ultimatums, rejections, abandonments, and divisions that he has ever known. All the wars, lust, scandals, lies, thefts, and betrayals of history are melded into the point of the spear.

The worst that man can do, all the hatred of hell and the sins of humanity, are forged into the spear's point. And after all the harm it has wreaked through time and history, it now advances upon the body of Christ.

In opening the side of Christ, the lance traces a path to His heart.

The wound in the side of Christ represents the ultimate self-giving, in which the sacraments are given to the Church.

Every sacrament you and I receive has flowed forth from the side of Christ. God gives an even more superabundant gift: access to the open heart of Christ. The heart of God, the innermost core of love itself, pours forth in a never-ending cascade of mercy.

This is God’s response: to pour Himself out in love. He is the living water of life. This is what the angels show us in every sacrament we receive.

 God bless,
Msgr. Brian Bransfield

Pastor

 

 

 

31st Sunday in Ordinary Time: November 2, 2025

All Souls’ Day & The Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed

I remember as a child my parents would take my brother, sisters, and me to visit the graves of our grandparents and family members who had died. We would drive there on All Souls’ Day, November 2, and offer the Holy Rosary for the repose of the soul of our deceased relatives.

This tradition was filled with mystery and a sense of awe for me.

 At the heart of it was, even then, the understanding that Jesus had conquered death. I understand that mystery a bit more now. It goes something like this.

 Human frailty is not a fantasy. It is a daily and often hourly reality. We are weak, and even our best intentions and resolutions to do good come under attack from the world. Our spiritual strength can easily fade. We only need to examine our own conscience to see that you and I have the tendency to commit daily sins against charity, which are often painful, reactive choices we make without sufficient reflection or full consent of the will. Throughout the day, we can react hurriedly with impatience, self-centeredness, or a quick temper.

If we retain these type sins or imperfections at the moment of death, we do not merit the penalty of eternal separation from God, but neither are we ready to enter heaven. Such souls are assured of their salvation, but the life of charity has not yet been made perfect in them. The dross of the tendencies and temporal effects associated with sinful choices accumulates and weighs down the soul. God lovingly provides a means to enter his presence. Purgatory is the intermediary state of purification after death in which these souls are cleansed of nonmortal sins, healed, and made ready to see God. This does not mean that God is strict, severe, or cruel, but instead reveals an additional dimension of His abiding mercy. God makes us ready so that our joy and happiness on seeing him may be full from its very first moment. These souls are assured of entering heaven, even though that is delayed until they are freed from all obstacles through the grace of God. Freed in such a way, that they are as ready as a human being can be to enter the presence of God.

Thus, purgatory allows divine love to grow in the soul, free from the danger of our committing further sin. The guilt of daily sins, bad habits, and lesser faults is purified in purgatory.

 In the Second Book of Maccabees, we learn that Judas and his companions pray for the dead whom they knew to be attached to sin prior to their death: "They turned to supplication, praying that the sin that had been committed might be wholly blotted out" (2 Mac 12:42).

They continue their prayers by taking up a collection that they send to Jerusalem to be used for an expiatory sacrifice in the Temple for the sins of the dead: "Therefore he made atonement for the dead, so that they might be delivered from their sin" (2 Mac12:45).

The Church teaches that we are to intercede for the souls in purgatory by offering up good works, giving alms, praying, and offering Mass for them. This is why we went to the cemetery to pray. Purgatory is outside of time and space. While we are bound to a clock, God, and the souls in purgatory are not. God takes the good works we do now in time, and applies the merits of His Son to the purification of those who have died, in that moment outside of time.

The merits of Christ are the sole, all-sufficient means of salvation offered to every person. The doctrine of purgatory in no way implies that something is lacking in Christ's salvific work. It is quite the opposite. Purgatory is the saving application of the merits of the sacrifice of Christ for the final perfection of those who die in the state of grace, but who still are burdened with the guilt of unresolved faults, imperfections, and lesser sins that remain at the moment of death.

Saint Catherine of Genoa, the sixteenth-century mystic, wrote a thorough reflection on purgatory. She reminds us that the souls who enter purgatory are faithful souls. They still retain some of the "rust and stain" of sin, but the rust is worn away in purgatory. She also describes a type of joy in purgatory. The soul is joyful because it is in the place in which God wills it to be for now. The souls in purgatory find joy in the will of God and in becoming more open to his will. Yet, this also brings suffering to these souls because their deep desire is for God. The fiery charity of purgatory prepares the souls for the life of heaven.

Christ has made atonement and satisfaction for all sin. He has endowed the inexhaustible treasury of the Church with the immeasurable riches of his grace.

Blessed John Ruusbroec, the fourteenth-century Flemish mystic, reminds us that praying for the souls in purgatory is a crucial dimension of our spiritual life. Blessed John emphasizes that throughout the day, the Holy Spirit Himself will inspire us to pray for them in such a way that we know for sure that the inspiration comes from the Spirit of God Himself. The principal purpose of the funeral Mass is to pray for the repose of the soul of the deceased. Our prayer for the dead is a palpable and effective sign of our bond with them, so that they may more quickly be purified and enter the bliss of heaven.

Today, and every day, let’s remember to pray for the faithful departed, to assist them in entering the joy of heaven.

God bless,
Msgr. Brian Bransfield

 

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time: October 26, 2025

Pray Across the Distance

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us the parable of two men who go up to the temple to pray. But that is where the similarities end.

One of them was a tax collector, who stayed in the back and said little as he prayed. The other man was a Pharisee. He went immediately to the front and “took up his position.” He knew it all by heart. He had followed all the laws and traditions perfectly. All, that is, except one.

The Gospel subtly describes the Pharisee’s prayer, telling us he prayed “to himself.” And notice the first word of the Pharisee’s prayer: “God …” But the Pharisee speaks to himself. What does that tell you about who his “God” is? He breaks the first commandment: “Have no strange gods before me.”

The Pharisee thinks himself God, and he rules from his throne there in the temple and wherever else he happens to be. And he rules by watching. What do others do? Who is on the inside? Who is on the outside?

From there, the Pharisee has an odd conversation in prayer. He gives thanks that he is not like everyone else and then proceeds to tell God of all the good deeds he has done. An odd prayer all around.

Most people get distressed if they are not like everyone else. It is as if the Pharisee is going to Confession in reverse: he prays to himself and he tells himself all the “good” he has done and mentions all the sins he has not done like others have. Pride is the sin that, more than all other sins, ambushes us. It is quite deceptive and has few early warning signs. It lurks behind our accomplishments and peaks out with the gaze of entitlement.

The tax collector, meanwhile, stays “at a distance.” He barely got inside the door. He doesn’t even raise his eyes as he prays. He doesn’t peak. He bows his head in the presence of God. Bowing one’s head was the first way one kept the first commandment. He asks only God to be merciful to him, a sinner. Even with his sin, the tax collector knew how to go to God.

If we walked into the temple that day, held the door for the tax collector and asked him how to pray, the tax collector would most likely tell us that he is not good at prayer. In his natural humility, he might even nod in the direction of the Pharisees and tell us that the Pharisee is the expert. We should go ask him.

But Jesus says otherwise.

The tax collector wouldn’t even raise his eyes to heaven. That is humility. God hears humility.

Prayer is especially meant for those who think they aren’t good enough, can’t seem to make it, and believe they have really messed things up. It is there that prayer is born, when we have nowhere else to turn.

The goal of prayer is not getting things or fixing this or that. The goal of prayer is meeting and continuing to get to know Jesus, even in the chaos.

Turn to Him. Jesus fills the distance. He alone is at the center of all else.

God bless,
Msgr. Bransfield