St. Francis Liberal Catholic Church, 741 Cerro Gordo Avenue, San Diego, CA (2026)

But first let’s look at the use of the word ‘liberal’ in the group of churches known as Liberal Catholic Movement. Liberal means free, as in liberty. Sometimes it means generous, as in using ketchup liberally on French-fries. We sometimes think the latter only relates to politics, but that is not the way we use it in the Universal Catholic Church. You can “lean to the right” in politics and still

be a Universal Catholic. We receive grace freely. When Jesus healed a man with palsy, He said: “Rise, your sins are forgiven.” There was no quizzing about the man’s past. What he had done in the past didn’t matter. There were no promises about doing prayers or penance in the future. The man was probably just an ordinary man: the Bible would have mentioned it otherwise. Universal Catholics are married and divorced and single parents, gay and straight, rich and poor, alcoholics in recovery or otherwise, and all other shades in the tapestry of mankind. As we were welcomed at God’s table, we try to make space for all. When our Master Jesus was scolded in the Gospels, it was usually because he spent time with tax collectors, prostitutes and others shunned by society. He was once scolded because he whipped up a batch of wine so a party could continue. In short, the Bible is full of stories about Jesus hanging out with people involved in rough or “un-Christian” behavior. Universal Catholics go to Confession, and it is good for the soul to do that. However, Absolution is not tied to penance or prayers. It is freely given: “Rise, your sins are forgiven.” Every Mass begins with a Confession said by all, followed by Absolution that is freely given. Our marching orders are to love God, to love ourselves, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Those three things are at the top of our To Do lists. Be free, and don’t sweat the small stuff. After love, it is all small stuff. All those orthodox rules and laws are the fine print.

01/11/2026

January 11, 2026
Epiphany Sunday
If you want to feel small and powerless, take a fishing boat into the ocean, miles away from land. There is nothing but sky and water as far as the eye can see. As Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote, “Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.”
The ocean appears enormous, deep, and mysterious from your tiny boat. You can grasp that we live on a watery planet with three-fourths of the Earth’s surface covered by water. When a storm rolls in, you face powerful winds, massive waves and driving rain.
Even the cruise I took in 2016; it was during hurricane season, and we had days of storm. I would wake in the middle of the night and go to the little patio outside of my cabin and look out to sea and down at the ocean, surveying the entire length of the ship, that, when I thought about it, was so small in the vast ocean – an ocean at night that did not have light noise, so when I looked out past the ship, I was able to see nothing but the darkest black I had ever seen.
Back in the early 1960s, Adm. Hyman Rickover gave President John F. Kennedy a small brass plaque, engraved with a prayer. Kennedy liked it, and he used it at the dedication of a memorial to people missing at sea. The prayer says, “O God, thy sea is so great, and my boat is so small.”
True for us all.
A young man named Alec Frydman recently went fishing for albacore off the coast of Washington State. This was his first attempt to be a commercial fisherman after taking a Coast Guard course at a community college. He headed out with a captain named Mick on a 43-foot wooden boat constructed in 1941.
Their fishing went well on the first day, but a storm blew up on the second. They put the boat on autopilot and headed back toward land. When waves began to crash over the sides of the boat, Alec reached for the radio and sent out a Mayday. Alec urged Mick to come outside, but the captain remained frozen in his seat. Then Alec fell overboard, into the ocean.
He was living the words of Psalm 69:2 “I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me.”
Bobbing to the surface, Alec saw the inflatable life raft in its canister, floating nearby. He yanked the rip cord, inflated it, and climbed in. The wooden fishing boat rolled onto its side and then sank quickly. Alec never saw Captain Mick again.
“The life raft was small but sheltered,” recalls Alec in The Atlantic magazine, “like a kiddie pool but sturdier, and with a camping tent on top. The sides shuddered in the wind and rain, but I felt relatively safe inside. Certain that rescue was coming … I fell asleep.”
When he awoke, the storm was still raging. He heard the waters “roar and foam.” He took inventory of his supplies and shot off two flares. But there was no one to rescue him, so he floated for days under dark, stormy skies. The sea was so great, and his boat was so small.
“I prayed often,” he says, “always aloud. At first, pleas for rescue. Over and over, I asked God to save me — not my soul, but my physical self. After days of praying the same prayer, I tried offering God something in return. First, I apologized for every past transgression I could remember. Any injustice or sin I feared I may have committed, I tried to atone for, so God would listen to my prayers.”
Alec recalled the Ten Commandments and realized that he had failed to keep them. “I hadn’t honored the Sabbath in years,” he admits; “I had lied; I had coveted; I had stolen. Worst of all, I had not honored my mother and father.” He asked God to forgive him for the way that he had treated his parents, ignoring their guidance and insisting that he could figure out everything on his own.
Alec came to the depressing conclusion that he was going to lose his life, and his parents were going to lose their son.
What would you do if you were lost at sea? Pray, apologize, atone, confess? The truth is, we can pray to God at any time and in any place. We do not have to be trapped on life rafts to do inventories of our lives and take steps to get ourselves right with God and with each other. But we often wait until we are in a vulnerable spot before we reach out to the Lord. We wait until things seem to be so bad that we see no way out. That appears to be our epiphany. We become the three Magi. We suddenly realize the Incarnation of Our Lord. Epiphany.
We use the phrase “at sea” to describe a variety of situations. The literal meaning is that we are like Alec, riding in a ship or a boat, physically floating on the water. But the figurative meaning of “at sea” is that we are confused or perplexed. We are feeling lost, disoriented, or bewildered. Perhaps we are facing a complex situation or having difficulty understanding something.
A college student might say, “Organic chemistry made no sense to me. All semester, I was at sea.”
A young professional might say, “I was at sea trying to figure out the new software update.”
Or, on a more emotional level, a husband might say, “When my wife asked for a divorce, I felt disoriented and lost. For months, I was at sea.”
At one time or another, we have all been lost at sea. Not like Alec in the Pacific, but in our schools, our jobs, our relationships, our finances, and our health. But the good news is this: God is with us in the deep waters, listening to us and looking for us.
After five or six days of drifting, Alec saw a ship and launched a flare, but the ship kept going. By the end of the first week, he ran out of fresh water, and he accepted the fact that he was going to die. But instead of falling into despair, something amazing happened. Alec says, “A peace I hadn’t known to look for found me.”
He had not been looking for peace, but peace found him. What a powerful truth this is: When we are lost at sea, overwhelmed by the chaos of life, God finds us and gives us peace.
The words of the Bible affirm this. “The voice of the LORD is over the waters,” says the writer of Psalm 29:3; “the God of glory thunders, the LORD, over mighty waters.” Our God has power over the watery chaos of life and can offer us the gifts of his peace and powerful presence when we feel we have no options available to us. In our most desperate situations — at school, at work and at home — God is with us. We are not alone. Thanks be to God. This is when we come to our epiphany – our encounter with our baby Jesus.
The next morning, Alec woke up and saw a boat. It was close and coming closer. He lit his last flare and held onto it until it burnt his hand. He screamed and waved his hands, looking and sounding like a madman.
Then he heard a loudspeaker person say, “We see you. We are coming. We see you.”
Alec was rescued after being lost at sea for 13 days. He had drifted about 150 miles.
The promise of Scripture is that God has power over the watery chaos of life. When we are confused or perplexed, God is searching for us. When we are feeling lost, disoriented, or bewildered, God is listening to our prayers. When we are facing complex situations, God is offering us his peace. In the words of Bible scholar Artur Weiser, God “appears in the tumult of the elements and manifests his awesome glory.” God’s glory is a visible sign of his power, holiness, and love. In the greatest tumult of life, we can see God’s glory.
God’s glory was seen in the baptism of Jesus, which is celebrated two days from now. The beginning of the ministry of Jesus was marked by a passing through waters when John baptized him in the Jordan River. For a moment, Jesus was at sea. But then, as he came up from the water, the heavens opened and God’s Spirit came down like a dove and perched on him. And a voice from the heavens said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17).
As Jesus emerges from the water, we see God’s glory. In Jesus, we glimpse the clearest possible sign of God’s power, holiness, and love. Jesus is nothing less than living proof that God is with us. Jesus is like the person on the boat who called out to Alec and said, “We see you. We are coming. We see you.”
We see Three Wise Men come to the cradle of the baby Jesus and we soon see Jesus Baptized. 30 years apart. We celebrate the two 19 days apart.
This work of seeing and reaching out and rescuing continues today, especially among the followers of Jesus. The Christian community is nothing less than the body of Christ, the physical presence of Jesus in the world today. Jesus has no eyes but our eyes, no hands but our hands, no feet but our feet. Our challenge and opportunity are to show his power and love to people who are overwhelmed.
When a person is feeling lost at sea, we can say, “We see you.”
When people are facing danger, we can say, “We’re coming.”
When individuals or families are dealing with complex situations, we can say, “Let’s work on this together.”
When people are confused, disoriented, or bewildered, we can say, “Let us help you find safety.”
In the church today, we can provide this kind of help because we serve a Lord of power, holiness, and love.
Back home with his family for Thanksgiving, Alec Frydman said, “I wanted to tell everyone how blessed I felt, but whatever words I considered felt far too small. I suspect they felt the same.”
Alec was right. There are no words to describe the experience of being lost at sea and then rescued. But we can all put our trust in the God who rules over the waters, and who gives his people the life-saving gifts of strength, peace, and love.
Let us pray.
In today’s Gospel we learn of the story of the Magi coming to the baby Jesus to give him homage. We pray that will go about life and find our own epiphanies in life seeing Jesus in various episodes in life and reach out to those in need. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for wisdom and patience as we see our national politics becoming more and more fractured and troubling. We pray for your intervention in that our democracy not be in danger while the branches of our government seem to not be working as they should.
We pray that the interactions of our Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents and the citizens of our country become far less inflammatory.
We pray for the family of Renee Good. There are no words that anyone can express at this time that will be comforting. We pray that the Holy Spirit come and comfort the family in ways only God can. We pray to the Lord.
We pray that Our Lord that we may have more cities protest to instill a sense in our government that of the people’s will and that Jesus be with all the protesters throughout our nation that they remain peaceful. We pray to the Lord.
We pray to the Lord that our national leaders repair the damage done to our allies and that we stop imposing our will on nations in ways that are in defiance of international law. We pray to our Lord.
We pray for new vocations to the priesthood. We pray to the Lord.
We pray that those with ample means, that they may be led to our parish where they be inspired to give generously. We pray to the Lord.
For those on our parish prayer list, that they may receive swift answers to their needs and that they may find consolation through Christ’s healing presence. We pray to the Lord.
We bow our heads and remember in silence our own personal intentions and the intentions of those who have asked for our prayers (pause). We pray to the Lord.
The holiday is over, but the work of Christmas is just beginning. Guide us, loving God, as we follow in the footsteps of the one whose birth we celebrate. Grant us the grace to order our lives so that others might know that we have knelt in Bethlehem and worshiped the newborn king. On the threshold of this new year, let us remember to follow the star instead of the crowd. If we lose our way, help us to remember, O God, the angel songs and the gift born to us in the darkness of night and in the depth of winter that we might have life and have it abundantly.

As the light from the star guided the wise men of old, O God, so might your love shine from within us to encircle and embrace all those who have lost their way. Nowhere is the spirit of Christmas more radiantly present than in the simple faith of a child. We claim that faith as our own in the name of the Christ child, born to us this holy season. We ask all these things through Christ Our Lord. Amen.
God Love You.
The Most Rev. Robert Winzens
Pastor – St. Francis Chapel
San Diego, CA.
As a small parish, we come to you all as beggars! Your generous support allows us to continue important projects that fuel the movement of progressive Christianity. “Progressive” and “Liberal” are not curse words, nor are they sinful words. They are words to fuel a more Christlike community of faith! God will look on your donation grant you his grace in abundance! Thank you and God bless you! +++

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12/21/2025

December 21, 2025
The Fourth Sunday of Advent
There’s a placeholder we use in our culture to describe an ordinary man: “average Joe.” It’s a phrase that rolls off the tongue easily, a way of describing someone who is unremarkable.
When we talk about “the average Joe,” the image in our heads is someone who clocks in at work each morning, makes small talk by chatting about the weather, and swears that NFL refs are lousy. He likes an occasional beer and drives a dependable car that’s not flashy but gets him where he’s going. His name doesn’t make headlines, and his posts aren’t going viral, but he’s steady, reliable and quietly faithful to his responsibilities. He is the neighbor who waves from his driveway, the dad in the bleachers cheering on his kid’s Little League team, the guy who mows his lawn on Saturday and nods politely at the mailman. The average Joe doesn’t seek the spotlight. He just gets the job done. And in his ordinariness, there is something beautifully steady — an unspoken faithfulness that often goes unnoticed.
But maybe the average Joe isn’t average at all. He’s even special in a way. It might be hard to put into words, but you can spot it in a New York minute when you meet him. He’s quietly magnificent … like, for example, the average Joe of our text, Joseph, the young man engaged to Mary. This Joe is spectacularly average. But through his treatment of Mary, he was honored by Catholic and Orthodox traditions as a saint.
He’s not the only Joe in the Bible. There’s Joseph, the son of Jacob — a dreamer thrown into a pit, sold into slavery, and later raised to prominence in Egypt — who managed to save not only his family but a nation. And then there’s Joseph of Arimathea, who, with his friend Nicodemus, boldly stepped forward when others had fled to claim the body of Jesus and give him a dignified burial.
But Joseph of Nazareth who is probably the most overlooked average Joe of all — is the earthly father of Jesus. We hear so little about him, and he never speaks a recorded word in Scripture. To many, he seems like just another “Joe” in the margins of history. A quiet figure standing beside the radiant light of Mary and the splendor of the Christ child.
Joseph was far from ordinary. This quiet saint — this forgotten man of faith — was handpicked by God to be the protector and provider for the Savior of the world. Though his voice is silent in the gospels, his actions speak volumes about courage, obedience and faithfulness.
Mary gets all the press and rightly so. But in Matthew 1, we get the Incarnation from Joseph’s point of view. His is the story of a good man caught in an impossible and painful situation. And it is a story of quiet courage, radical obedience and unshakable faith.
He’s the good guy. His girlfriend gets pregnant. She tells him a tale that stretches credulity. Joseph is hurt, heartbroken and confused, but he chooses compassion over punishment, mercy over pride. He decides to let her go quietly, protecting her dignity even in his disappointment.
God interrupts Joseph’s plan, and the message is staggering.
Joseph doesn’t argue. He doesn’t delay. He doesn’t wake up and say, “Wow, that was just a crazy dream.” He believed. “When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife.” He obeyed. He changed his whole life because of what God said.
Joseph is the quiet hero of the Incarnation. Let’s not rush past this:
• Joseph stays.
• He takes Mary as his wife.
• He embraces the shame and whispers from others.
• He raises a Son who is not biologically his.
• He teaches Jesus the trade of carpentry.
• He protects his family when Herod threatens.
• He moves his household to Egypt in obedience to another dream.
In a culture where honor, bloodlines and male pride were everything, Joseph lays all that down to do the will of God.
That is sainthood. That is discipleship. And that is why Catholic and Orthodox traditions revere him as Saint Joseph, a spiritual father, a model of masculine humility and a protector of the Holy Family.
We don’t hear Joseph’s literal voice in Scripture. Not a single word of his is recorded. Contrast this to Zacharias, the father of John the Baptist. He could hardly stop talking after his son was born. Joseph slips silently into the background, and as he does, his faith speaks louder than words ever could. Joseph is a role model not because of grand speeches or dramatic miracles, but because of his quiet, steady obedience. He teaches us what real faith looks like, and his example is powerful in its simplicity:
Joseph had the type of faith that obeys when it doesn’t make sense. Joseph faced an impossible situation. He was a rookie father. But he was also a righteous man. By all accounts, he had every right to walk away to clear his name and avoid the shame. But then God spoke through a dream, revealing that this child was conceived by the Holy Spirit. The message didn’t come with proof, only a promise.
How often are we asked to step out in faith when things don’t make sense? When the path isn’t clear, the diagnosis is grim, the job is lost, or the relationship is strained? Real faith obeys even when the pieces don’t fit together, the world says it’s foolish, and the heart struggles to understand. Joseph’s faith was not passive; it was obedient action. He married Mary, protected her and raised Jesus as his own. He didn’t need all the answers to follow God’s leading.
This kind of mercy is rare today. In a TikTok world that is quick to judge and slow to forgive, Joseph stands out as a model of grace. How many of us, when wronged, instinctively seek retribution or rush to judgment? Joseph reminds us that faith chooses mercy even when judgment seems justified. His quiet compassion reflects the heart of God, who delights in mercy.
Our culture often equates strength with dominance — with loud voices, firm stances and unyielding power. The rise of “mean men” has not gone unnoticed. On the world stage, mean men dominate leadership roles, often at the cost of democratic values and institutions. The ugliness also invades our domiciles, as victims of domestic abuse can testify. But Joseph is not a mean man. He models a different kind of strength: the strength to be gentle. He protects Mary, journeys with her to Bethlehem and cares for the Christ child with tenderness. Later, he would uproot his family and flee to Egypt to keep them safe, trusting God every step of the way.
True strength is not always loud; sometimes it is whispered in quiet acts of service. Joseph shows us that to be strong in faith is to be gentle in spirit. It is the father who stays up late to soothe a crying child, the friend who listens when others dismiss, and the believer who prays in silence for the good of another.
Joseph is often seen in the background of the Christmas story — literally and figuratively. He is there, steady and faithful, but the spotlight falls on Mary and the Christ child. Joseph’s role is essential, but he never seeks attention. He’s not concerned about who gets the credit. He’s content to let God’s plan unfold, even if it means fading into the periphery. Joseph’s faith is a reminder that the truest measure of devotion is not how much attention we receive, but how much glory we reflect to God. Faith doesn’t always need a stage. Sometimes, its greatest work is done behind the scenes.
So, one could say that Joseph is the patron saint of the quietly faithful. Maybe that’s why we overlook him — because in a culture of shouting, shoving and arguing, Joseph whispers. In a society that celebrates the spotlight, Joseph stands in the shadows. But in doing so, he shines with a different kind of glory — the glory of faithful obedience. It’s no wonder that in addition to being the patron saint of the quietly faithful, he is also known as the patron saint of fathers, workers, refugees and those who quietly serve behind the scenes. His life reminds us that faithful obedience is its own kind of greatness.
His is a faith that speaks in silence. Although Joseph’s voice is never heard in the Bible, his life is all the sermon we need to hear:
• Trust God, even when the path is unclear.
• Choose mercy, even when you’re hurting.
• Be faithful, even when no one sees or applauds.
As we approach Christmas Day, may we remember not just the manger, the star and the shepherds — but also the man who quietly stood beside Mary, held the child in his arms, and said with his life, “Yes, Lord.”
May we all have the faith and courage to do the same.
Let us pray.
In today’s gospel we read of the great faith of St Joseph – a man who believed when it was not easy to believe and who trusted in God. We pray that we too, when we are in doubt, should follow the example of St Joseph, trust in God and know that He is always with us. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for all expectant mothers and for those in childbirth, that they may receive the best in medical care and that they and their babies may enjoy your protection from all harm during this most blessed moment of procreation. We pray to the Lord.
As we await the Christ birth, we pray for the unborn. We pray Lord , that you who have given us life, enlighten all minds and renew a conviction that all human life is sacred. We pray to the Lord.
We pray that we ourselves, in this modern commercialization of Christmas, do not forget the real meaning of the birth of Christ and the wonderful gift which God our Father bestowed on the world. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for all who at this time are living in poverty for whom this time of year brings anxiety rather than happiness, that they may benefit from the generosity of others and that the peace of Christ may be with them and with their families. We pray to the Lord.
As we approach our joyous celebration of the birth of Christ, we pray that those leaders who are today waging or supporting war reflect on their actions and on how the Prince of Peace will judge them when they eventually seek his forgiveness. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for the safety and wellbeing of those of our brothers and sisters who worship God in the Jewish tradition, and beseech our Loving Father that he transform the hearts of those who hate, and grant us an end to bigotry and violence. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for new vocations to the priesthood. We pray to the Lord.
We pray that those with ample means, that they may be led to our parish where they be inspired to give generously. We pray to the Lord.
For those on our parish prayer list, that they may receive swift answers to their needs and that they may find consolation through Christ’s healing presence. We pray to the Lord.
We bow our heads and remember in silence our own personal intentions and the intentions of those who have asked for our prayers (pause). We pray to the Lord.
Loving God, like Joseph, we don’t always understand why things happen the way they do; why our plans and dreams fail; why we find ourselves facing challenge after challenge, and disappointment after disappointment. We are troubled and confused in a confusing, troubled world, we try to make sense out of the conflicting voices. We search to find one word that will make sense and give meaning to the rest. Come near, Lord. Touch our hearts and souls; enfold your life around ours; speak that one cleansing, unifying word. Express yourself to us, in us, through us; in the name of the Christ child. Amen
Yet, like Joseph, we also believe that you are at work in our lives, and that you have a larger plan and purpose for each one of us. Give us faith to trust in you no matter what challenges we face. Give us courage to place our dreams and ambitions in your hands, and then follow where you lead without hesitation, confident that your loving presence goes with us. We ask all these things through Christ our Lord. Amen.
God Love You.
The Most Rev. Robert Winzens
Pastor – St. Francis Chapel
San Diego, CA.
As a small parish, we come to you all as beggars! Your generous support allows us to continue important projects that fuel the movement of progressive Christianity. “Progressive” and “Liberal” are not curse words, nor are they sinful words. They are words to fuel a more Christlike community of faith! God will look on your donation grant you his grace in abundance! Thank you and God bless you! +++

Go to paypal.me/Stfrancischapel and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it's easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries.

12/16/2025

December 14, 2025
Third Sunday of Advent
Gaudete Sunday
We don’t like to wait. We check our phones when the line at the drive-thru slows down. We tap our feet when the internet takes more than five seconds to load. We complain when a package is marked “out for delivery” but hasn’t arrived yet. We are a people trained by technology and culture to expect everything now — and maybe even faster. It never used to be this bad. I still remember life without cell phones, much less owning a computer connected to the internet.
But James has another word for us: “Be patient, therefore, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord.” It’s a call to a deeper kind of waiting. It’s not just passive delay, but active trust. He invites us to wait like a farmer, who knows something is growing even when sprouting crops have yet to emerge from the ground. To wait with eyes open, hands ready and hearts steady.
And James doesn’t stop there. He tells us to brace for it. Strengthen our hearts. The Lord is near. Hard times may be coming. But so is the Judge, and He is just.
And finally, he advises us to let it go. Don’t grumble against each other. You have enough baggage to carry without dragging around resentment or bitterness. Let God be God, and let go of what keeps you bound.
Wait for it. Brace for it. Let it go. It’s not just advice, but a spiritual rhythm for living well when the world feels slow, heavy and uncertain.
James wants us to get through it, but he also wants us to grow through it.
“Wait for it” is a phrase we frequently hear. Sometimes, it’s used for comic effect — a video clip plays out awkwardly, and just when you’re about to scroll away, the screen flashes: “WAIT FOR IT …”
Something surprising is coming. Something worth staying for. James borrows the image of a farmer, who plants in hope, labors in faith, and waits through sun and storm, trusting that the harvest will come.
You might think waiting is boring. In fact, patience can be exciting. Holy patience isn’t passive. It isn’t idly twiddling our thumbs in the waiting room of life, irritated that our “appointment with God” is running late. James wants us to wait like farmers wait: with hope, expectation, and most of all, purpose.
There’s nothing more frustrating than having nothing to do while you wait. Like being stuck at the airport when your flight is delayed. You’ve already gone through security, and your checked baggage is off to destinations unknown. You ponder the relative merits of a $15 cinnamon bun vs. an $8 bottle of water. A voice on the intercom drones on about “flight number X is now boarding all rows,” but it’s never your flight. You pull out your phone and see “The Terminal” has been added to “movies we think you’ll like.”
James says it’s better if you are busy. Don’t just sit there. It is best to be patient without waiting for something to do. So, bring a book to read. Dash some notes of appreciation to friends on some special notecards. Bring your laptop and do some work. Make patience productive. Do something that builds the soul and blesses someone else. Don’t waste times of spiritual waiting. Let it form you.
Yet, the apostle’s primary point is to urge believers to be patient “until the coming of the Lord.” This is particularly difficult for us living two millennia after the words were written, and because we require patience to wait for God to intervene or take action in the trials and tribulations we are personally experiencing in real time.
James calls us to wait — not aimlessly, but faithfully — for the Lord’s coming. But what do we do with the silence?
It’s a great question, and one to which philosophers, theologians, poets, writers and orators of different eras have responded, some pre-dating the apostle James’ advice. The Greek philosophers — especially the heavy lifters and heavy hitters like Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and the Stoics — were profoundly concerned with how to live meaningfully in the face of divine silence, fate or uncertainty.
Let’s leave the ancient philosophers and turn to a modern one, Samuel Beckett (1906–1989), the Irish novelist, playwright and poet who wrote in both English and French. He is best known for his groundbreaking play Waiting for Godot (1953), a cornerstone of 20th-century absurdist drama. Waiting for Godot is one of the 20th century’s most iconic meditations on waiting. Two characters, Vladimir and Estragon, linger day after day under a barren tree, waiting for someone named Godot, who never arrives. They fill the time with banter, absurd rituals and hopeful speculations, but Godot’s absence looms like a theological question mark. Many have interpreted Godot as a symbol of God, and the play as an exploration of humanity’s frustrated longing for divine intervention or meaning.
The link to James is obvious. Believers are asking, “What if he doesn’t come? What if we’re waiting in vain?”
But James isn’t advocating existential resignation. He’s calling for active patience, like a farmer waiting for rain, trusting that something is growing, even if unseen. Unlike Godot, the coming of the Lord is not an abstract hope. It is a promised return. James anchors his readers not in absurdity but in assurance: “The Lord is near.” We wait, not because God is absent, but because God is patient, too, giving space for grace to work.
So, while Godot paints waiting as meaningless delay, James paints it as meaningful discipline — a kind of spiritual cultivation. Beckett and James both are a study in contrast: one gives us the ache of absence, the other the discipline of holy waiting.
Remember “The Miracle on the Hudson”? On January 15, 2009, US Airways Flight 1549 took off from New York’s LaGuardia Airport bound for Charlotte, North Carolina. About two minutes into the flight, at an altitude of about 2,800 feet, the plane struck a flock of geese. Both engines failed. In an instant, what began as a routine flight turned into a crisis.
Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger and First Officer Jeffrey Skiles had to act fast. With no engine power and no chance to reach a nearby runway, Sully made a bold decision. He would ditch the Airbus A320 in the Hudson River, right in the heart of New York City.
As the plane descended, Sully’s calm voice came over the intercom: “This is the captain. Brace for impact.” The flight attendants repeated it down the aisle: “Brace, brace, brace!” Passengers tucked their heads and held on.
With extraordinary skill, Sully glided the aircraft onto the river, landing it miraculously intact. All 155 people on board survived, most with only minor injuries. Ferries, police boats and emergency crews rushed to the scene. The rescue was swift, the response heroic.
Figuratively, there are times when we need to brace. James issues an urgent command akin to “Brace, brace, brace!” He writes, “Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near.” Or, in the language of your flight attendant, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now entering an area of turbulence. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
James doesn’t sugarcoat the Christian life. He knows his audience. These are people who have been mistreated, scattered and tested. Waiting for Jesus doesn’t mean waiting in safety. It often means holding on during hard times.
So, James says: “Brace for it.” But he isn’t calling us to be stoic. He’s calling us to be courageous. You don’t brace because you’re afraid. You brace because you know it’s your best chance to survive. You get ready to hold on as though your life depends on it, because it does.
The late Elisabeth Elliot — missionary, author of more than 20 books, and conference speaker — knew this from experience. Her first husband, Jim Elliot, was killed while attempting to make missionary contact with the Waorani people of eastern Ecuador. She later spent two years as a missionary to the tribe members who killed her husband. Later, she endured the slow death of her second husband from cancer. She walked through real loss, heartbreak and seasons of deep waiting.
She had learned how to “strengthen” her heart. She had the “brace” position down cold. Not that it was easy, but as she said in her book, Suffering Is Never for Nothing, “The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances.” Like Paul in Philippians 4, she found the secret to survival is the indwelling presence of Christ, the one who strengthens us (v. 13).
We brace for impact not because we are sure things will change, but because we are certain Christ is in us, no matter what. Elliot argues that faith is not about escaping pain, but about holding fast to Christ in the middle of it.
The bottom line? We brace not only because we have a reasonable expectation of disaster, but also because we have the absolute certainty that God is going to show up in the middle of the shaking.
But there’s one more thing to consider.
Life throws curve balls. In moments of stress, conflict and confusion, we are sometimes the solution. But other times? We are the problem. Our vision is clouded, our patience thin, and in the pressure of the moment, we turn on each other.
James sees this coming. That’s why he writes, “Brothers and sisters, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors!”
That’s his advice — simple, practical and wise. When you are waiting — or even bracing — don’t bite off each other’s heads.
You have probably seen it on a flight. The plane lands, the seatbelt sign dings, and before the wheels have even stopped rolling, people are standing, grabbing bags and jostling to get off the plane first. We are often in a rush, not just to leave the airport, but in life. A rush to get ahead. A rush to be first. And the tension builds when there is delay or uncertainty. Too often, we take it out on each other.
James says don’t do it. When hope is delayed, people get testy. Families argue. Churches split hairs. Patience wears thin and criticism flows easily. But James steps in with a gentle, urgent reminder: “The Judge is near.” In other words, “No one made you the boss. You’re not in charge of each other. God is.”
When we’re stressed, it’s tempting to blame and find fault in our neighbor, spouse, fellow church member or pastor. But that only makes the waiting harder and heavier. It divides when it should unite. It distracts us from our real calling: to stand together, especially when the pressure is on.
Instead of grumbling, James calls us to something better: “Strengthen your hearts.” Encourage one another. Remind each other that a harvest is coming. Speak hope instead of criticism. Extend grace instead of judgment. Don’t tear down; build up. That’s what it means to, in the immortal words of Queen Elsa, Let it go, let it go, let it go! Let go of not just our frustrations, but our need to be right, be first, or find someone to blame.
The late Presbyterian pastor and public theologian, Frederick Buechner, put it this way in his book, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC: “Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it’s like to live inside somebody else’s skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.”
When we understand this, there will be no “grumbling against one another.” Instead, we model our lives on those who got it right. James himself reminds us: “Indeed, we call blessed those who showed endurance. You have heard of the endurance of Job, and you have seen the outcome that the Lord brought about, for the Lord is compassionate and merciful.” And in the final words of his letter written to Christians of the diaspora, he says, “My brothers and sisters, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and is brought back by another, you should know that whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner’s soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.”
We let it be. We do not turn on one another. We are gentle and patient. We understand what it is like to walk in someone else’s shoes. We do not wander. We “bring back” wanderers to safe haven.
Advent is a season of in-between. Christ has come — but Christ is coming again.
While we wait, let’s be busy with good.
While we brace, let’s be rooted in faith.
And while we live in this world of tension and trial, let’s be known for our grace, not our grumbling.
The day of the Lord is coming. Wait for it. Brace for it. Live like it.
Let us pray.
In today’s gospel, we with John the Baptist are reassured that Jesus is the Christ, sent by the Father to save his people. We pray that we, like John, place our faith in Christ, committing our lives to following his message of salvation. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for the leaders in Churches of the world, ordained and non-ordained, that they may be inspired to follow in the footsteps of John the Baptist in preparing God’s people for our day of judgement. We pray to the Lord.
On this Gaudete Sunday we rejoice that we have been blessed as children of God and thank Him for the many gifts He has bestowed on us, our families and our community. We pray to the Lord.
We pray that all Christians throughout the world experience hope and joy as we prepare for the wonderful gift of the Christ birth. We pray to the Lord.
As we prepare for this holy feast of Christmas, we pray that we may be ever conscious of those who have less than we, in the true Christian spirit, share with them some of that which we are blessed to have. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for those who lead the Christian community in care for the poor, the homeless and the needy of our city and for all those who contribute to their Christmas appeals. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for the gift of peace this Christmas for all God’s children, particularly for those currently enduring warfare, persecution, hunger and homelessness. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for new vocations to the priesthood. We pray to the Lord.
We pray that those with ample means, that they may be led to our parish where they be inspired to give generously. We pray to the Lord.
For those on our parish prayer list, that they may receive swift answers to their needs and that they may find consolation through Christ’s healing presence. We pray to the Lord.
We bow our heads and remember in silence our own personal intentions and the intentions of those who have asked for our prayers (pause). We pray to the Lord.
God of glory, we eagerly await the coming of our Savior. It continues to amaze us that the birth of this baby would change the world. Help us live as people of grace — people who are changed because we have encountered the living God. In a time when the world wants to segregate and divide people by political party, gender, race or religion, help us see beyond those labels to see all people as your children. Help us find common ground where we are able, following Jesus’ teaching and example. Let us realize our own ability to bring about change.
We strive to be people who live in the light, not weighed down by darkness or fear or uncertainty, but sometimes that’s difficult. Help us remember that your abiding love and mercy sustain us in times of fear. Our culture expects this to be a season of good cheer, but for some of us, the fears can be overwhelming. Many of us sit in fear of the unknown — worrying about what will happen tomorrow. We celebrate in the hope of the One who was born in a lowly stable and who will come again. We remember that he is Emmanuel, God with us. Always. That is what gives us confidence to unburden all our fears, concerns and joys with the One who created and sustains us.
We ask all these things through Christ Our Lord. Amen.
God Love You.
The Most Rev. Robert Winzens
Pastor – St. Francis Chapel
San Diego, CA.
As a small parish, we come to you all as beggars! Your generous support allows us to continue important projects that fuel the movement of progressive Christianity. “Progressive” and “Liberal” are not curse words, nor are they sinful words. They are words to fuel a more Christlike community of faith! God will look on your donation grant you his grace in abundance! Thank you and God bless you! +++

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741 Cerro Gordo Avenue
San Diego, CA
92102

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St. Francis Liberal Catholic Church

01/11/2026

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