From the Pastor - 2nd Sunday in Lent

March 25, 2022

In last week’s Gospel, we followed Jesus into the desert where He fasted and prayed. This week, He leads us up a mountain to witness His Transfiguration. Why both of these experiences?


He is preparing us to go with Him in a few short weeks to a hilltop — Golgotha — where He will lay down His life for our sake, and then finally to take us to an empty cave where He triumphed over sin and death once and for all.


Jesus perfectly understands our humanity. He knows we need desert experiences — times of self-denial and testing — in order to arrive at mountain-top moments when we see and feel His glorious presence in our lives. The purpose of these two types of experiences is summed up in the description of the Apostles who were with Jesus at that mountain-top experience in today’s Gospel: “Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep, but becoming fully awake, they saw his glory….”


The reason for all of our fasting and prayer and almsgiving during lent is to be reawakened to all God has done for humanity, and to all that He has done for each of us personally. It is all too easy to get lulled into complacency in our daily routines, to “sleepwalk” through life, getting up and getting ourselves out the door, going to work, returning home for dinner and dishes, meetings, or sports activities, and finally flopping on the couch to watch TV until bedtime. While there is nothing inherently sinful in this routine, as Christian stewards, we are called to so much more!


This lent, let us train ourselves, or more precisely, allow Him to train us to say “Yes” to His will and to offer our lives back to Him in gratitude. In so doing, we, too, will become “transfigured.” This is what it means to live fully awake; this is a stewardship way of life and it is glorious indeed.

© Catholic Stewardship Consultants, 2022

 

Pastoral Pondering

Last week I wrote about Kerygma in general. This week we move to Eucharistic Kerygma specifically. The Eucharist makes present the one saving sacrifice of Jesus Christ on Calvary. This is the central event of the Kerygma of the Church. St. Thomas Aquinas notes that the Eucharist is the foundation of the Church’s doctrine because it is the “premiere sacramental sign of Christ’s sacrifice on Calvary.” It is that which makes Christ and His love for us present in the Church.


Traditionally, the Church understands that the Eucharist is both a sacrifice and a sacrificial meal. The Bishops notes this in their document. They also note that while the sacrificial nature of the Eucharist has primacy, this is “not opposed to the meal or banquet aspect of the Mass. Following the Second Vatican Council, there was a good bit of liturgical experimentation that, while well-intentioned more often than not, focused too much on the meal aspect to the detriment of the sacrificial aspect. The sacrificial meal is made concrete in Communion.


No one can ignore the fact that our society is divided; some would say broken. The bonds that once united us have been dimmed and, in some cases, apparently erased. This reality became even more apparent during everything surrounding the pandemic; although, this was not the beginning by any means. Hence, communion, and a proper understanding of it, is absolutely necessary not only for the good of society, but also for the good of our souls.



Our present culture is very focused on individualism. Interaction with others is quickly becoming more virtual than actual. There is a tendency to assume the worst of others rather than giving the benefit of the doubt. And, far too often, if someone has a different outlook than we do, they are vilified rather than engaged in sincere debate and discussion. Hence, as Roland Millard points out in his excellent summary, “The message of the communion brought about by the Holy Eucharist needs to be proclaimed with renewed vigor. The gift of sacramental graces, the increase of sanctifying graces, the strengthening of the life of virtue, and the grace offered to conquer sin and temptation are essential teachings that should be highlighted during this period of intentional Eucharistic focus.”

 

All of us, clergy and laity alike, should be promoting a better understanding of communion as we understand it in connection to Communion. A renewed understanding of Eucharistic communion includes the worthy and frequent reception of Communion, taking the time to prepare to receive and thanking the Lord in thanksgiving after, the importance of Eucharistic adoration and a greater awareness of spiritual Communion in between those times when we can be physically present at Holy Mass.

 

The majority of the public attention given to the Bishops’ document focused on how it would address Catholic politicians who hold public positions contrary to the faith, and this was not ignored, but it was not the primary focus of the document. The bishop, in his diocese, is to “guard the integrity of the sacrament, the visible communion of the Church, and the salvation of souls.” Each Catholic, however, also has a responsibility; namely, he or she has the responsibility “to discern with the aid of a well-formed conscience whether he or she is properly disposed to receive Communion.” Nonetheless, the Church also has a responsibility of protecting the sacrament and taking steps to avoid scandal and sacrilege. In the end, the matter has nothing to do with politics, it is about the spiritual communion that binds us together as a Church.

 

How do we as a parish encourage a greater understanding of both communion and Communion? Some things we are already doing. The Adoration Chapel is a great gift to the Church and a legacy that Monsignor Bellow left to St. Mark. Pope Benedict noted that, “The act of adoration outside Mass prolongs and intensifies all that takes place during the liturgical celebration itself.” In addition fostering holy hours, processions and participation in the annual Eucharistic Congress can all be a great aid to increasing awareness of this central reality of our faith. Doing these things then can lead to a greater understanding of communion. When we love the Lord, we are naturally led to love our neighbor. Forming strong relationships with those who share the faith and live it is an essential way of fostering not only a deeper understanding of the faith lived, but also a community in which we can be encouraged and challenged to do better and to grow in our efforts to draw others to the Lord.

 


From the Pastor

From the Pastor - Feast of St. Francis of Assisi

By John Putnam • October 2, 2026
This reflection pertains to the regular readings for the 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time. We have been given so many gifts and blessings by our Heavenly Father. Yet, in our fallen state it is all too easy to take them for granted. Our readings today teach us that we must live with an intentional awareness of our many blessings and use them gratefully to glorify God. In our Gospel passage from Matthew, Jesus uses the image of a vineyard to teach the importance of using our blessings well. He tells the story of a landowner who plants a vineyard and leases it to tenants before he goes on a journey. Instead of tending the vineyard, the tenants mistreat the servants in the vineyard and even the son of the landowner, whom they kill. When the landowner realizes what the tenants have done, he puts them to death and leases his vineyard to tenants who “will give him the produce at the proper times.” By Baptism, we have received the gift of salvation and membership in the Kingdom of God — we are now “tenants” called to work in the “vineyard” and produce fruit for its owner, our Heavenly Father. Jesus makes it clear that if we squander the gift of salvation, we will lose it. It is a sobering truth. So, let us use our intellect to think on these gifts throughout the day and resolve to use all our gifts for God’s glory. ©Catholic Stewardship Consultants, 2026 Pastoral Pondering Why St. Francis still matters to the Church On October 4 the Church honors St. Francis of Assisi, one of the most beloved and most demanding saints in our history. He is not merely a garden statue or a gentle friend of animals. Francis is a living reminder of what the Gospel looks like when it is taken at its word. Born Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone around 1181 in Assisi, he was the son of a wealthy cloth merchant. After a brief taste of knighthood and a season of pleasure, he heard Christ speak from the crucifix of San Damiano: “Francis, go and rebuild my house, which, as you see, is falling into ruin.” He took those words first as a command to repair a crumbling chapel. The Lord meant something larger: the renewal of the Church herself. What Francis restored in the Church Poverty as freedom. Francis stripped himself of inheritance, status, and even the clothes on his back. He called Lady Poverty his bride. That was not a romantic gesture. It was a protest against a Church and a society grown comfortable. Every generation of Catholics needs that protest. When we confuse the Gospel with respectability, Francis stands at the door of the Church and asks whether we still believe that Christ is enough. The crucified Christ at the center. In 1224, two years before his death, Francis received the stigmata on Mount La Verna—the wounds of Christ marked in his own flesh. The Church has always taught that holiness is configuration to Jesus crucified and risen. Francis made that teaching visible. He did not invent devotion to the Passion; he embodied it so completely that the Church could not look away. A family of religious life. From one poor man came the Friars Minor, the Poor Clares with St. Clare, and the Secular Franciscans for men and women living in the world. That threefold family still serves the Church on every continent: preaching, serving the poor, praying, and keeping the memory of the Gospel simple. When we speak of “Franciscan” today—whether a friar, a sister, or a parishioner in the Secular Order—we are naming a way of belonging to Christ that the Church has never outgrown. Creation as gift, not possession. The Canticle of the Creatures—“Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Mother Earth”—is not nature poetry. It is theology. Francis saw every creature as a brother or sister because all things come from the same Father. Pope Francis took that insight into Laudato Si’. Care for our common home is not an optional hobby for Catholics. It is part of the same conversion that led Francis to kiss the leper and to call the wolf of Gubbio his brother. Peace that costs something. In 1219 Francis crossed battle lines during the Fifth Crusade and stood before Sultan al-Kamil. He did not win a treaty. He witnessed to a Lord who is Peace. The Church still needs disciples willing to speak of Christ without hatred and without watering Him down. Francis did both. Why this matters here St. Francis matters to the life of the Church because he keeps returning us to the essentials: Christ poor and crucified, the Church always in need of reform, the poor as our brothers and sisters, creation as a hymn of praise, and joy that does not depend on having more. He is not a saint for specialists. He is a saint for anyone who has grown tired of a faith that costs nothing. As we keep his memorial, I invite you to do one Franciscan thing that is within reach: give something away that you do not need; speak peace where there is friction in your home; spend a few minutes outdoors thanking God for what you did not make; or pray before the crucifix and ask, as Francis did, to know Jesus and to make Him known.  The little poor man of Assisi still rebuilds the Church—one converted heart at a time. May he rebuild ours.

From the Pastor - 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

By John Putnam • September 25, 2026
As Christian stewards, we are called to a high and holy standard — living as Christ’s disciples every day and with every person the Lord places in our path. But we can move towards this goal in “baby steps.” Jesus demonstrates this comforting truth through the parable He tells in today’s Gospel from Matthew. It is the story of two sons whose father instructs them to go out and work in his vineyard that day. While the second son agrees to his father’s request, he does not follow through — he fails to obey the father’s will. The first son tells his father, “no.” At least he is honest! And in the end, he reconsiders and obeys his father. The first son’s honest, less-than-perfect response is consoling to us Christian stewards. Haven’t we all felt this way at times when God’s will for us seems to be just too hard? We can be honest with God at these times. He knows our thoughts already, after all. But when we stay engaged in a real relationship with Him, even if it’s just to say, “I don’t think I can, Lord,” He will supply us with just the grace we need to change our minds and do what He is asking us to do. We can even take a step backward from time to time because our Father is merciful and kind. What matters is that we keep baby-stepping along, assured of the grace we need to more closely imitate the actions and attitudes of Christ. This is the beauty of the stewardship way of life. ©Catholic Stewardship Consultants, 2026 Pastoral Pondering On the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, the other priests, seminarians, and I, had the opportunity to attend the Final Solemn Profession of Sister Mary Lucia, DVM. It was a moving experience, and I thought it a good occasion to reflect on the importance of religious life in the life of the parish and the life of the Church. Every Sunday we gather as one family: families in the pews, single adults, children, the elderly, deacons, priests, seminarians, and, often quietly among us, men and women who have given their whole lives to God by the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. They are not a side chapel of the Church. They stand at her heart. “The consecrated life is at the very heart of the Church as a decisive element for her mission.” — Pope St. John Paul II, Vita Consecrata What does that mean for us here at Saint Mark’s? It means that the Church is poorer—less herself—whenever we forget those who have left everything to follow Christ with an undivided heart. Baptism already consecrates every Christian. Consecrated life is a further, public, stable response to that same baptismal grace: a way of making the face of Jesus—poor, chaste, and obedient—visible in the middle of an age that is often restless, acquisitive, and self-directed. A living sign of the world to come The Catechism teaches that those who profess the evangelical counsels “signify and proclaim in the Church the glory of the world to come.” In other words, a sister who owns nothing, a brother who lives in community, a contemplative who prays through the night, a consecrated virgin living in the world, a missionary who goes where no one else will go—each of them is a living reminder that this world is not our final home. Their lives preach what our words sometimes only hint at: God is enough. That witness is not a luxury. In a culture that measures worth by productivity, possessions, and personal autonomy, consecrated men and women quietly insist that love can be total, that freedom is found in gift, and that joy does not depend on having more. They are, as one religious recently put it, a kind of medicine for the whole Body of Christ—an antidote to our easy compromises with comfort and control. Many forms, one gift Consecrated life is not one mold. From the earliest centuries there have been hermits and virgins, monks and nuns, itinerant preachers and teachers, nurses and missionaries. Today the Church recognizes religious institutes of contemplative and apostolic life, societies of apostolic life, secular institutes, consecrated virgins and widows, and the eremitic life. Some live behind cloister walls. Some staff our schools, hospitals, and missions. Some remain in ordinary workplaces while belonging entirely to Christ. All of them exist for the holiness of the whole Church. History itself testifies to this. The faith was planted and the poor were served in large part because religious families poured themselves out. That work continues. When we thank God for Catholic education, for care of the sick, for quiet hours of adoration offered for souls we will never meet, we are often thanking consecrated persons we may never see. What this asks of us First, gratitude. If a religious sister taught you the faith, if a priest of a religious order heard your confession on retreat, if a contemplative community has prayed for this parish, thank God for them—and, when you can, thank them. Second, prayer for vocations. The Lord still calls. He calls from our families, our youth groups, our college campuses, and our pews. Parents, do not be afraid if your son or daughter begins to wonder about religious life. That question is not a loss to the family; it may be one of the greatest gifts a family can offer the Church. Young people: if the thought of giving everything to Christ will not leave you alone, do not smother it. Speak with a priest or a consecrated person you trust. The Church needs the diversity and richness of these charisms. Third, our own fidelity. Consecrated life does not replace the vocation of marriage or the single life in the world. It illuminates them. The vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience are a concentrated form of what every disciple must live in some measure: detachment, purity of heart, and obedience to the Father’s will. When religious are faithful, the whole parish is strengthened. When we in the pews are faithful to our own state of life, we honor the same Lord they serve. The Church will never be without this gift, because Christ Himself is poor, chaste, and obedient, and He continues to draw men and women into that pattern of life. Let us esteem it. Let us pray for those who live it. And let us ask the Lord of the harvest to send laborers—not only priests, but sisters, brothers, and all who will make His way of life visible among us.  We thank God for the witness of the Daughters of the Virgin Mother who serve here at St. Mark and for all of the religious in the Diocese of Charlotte who give witness to the beauty of consecrated life.