From the Parochial Vicar - 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time

June 30, 2019

From the Parochial Vicar - 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time

After the joy of Easter, Pentecost, and the last two Sunday’s feasts of the Trinity and Eucharist, today we have returned to “Ordinary” Sundays. Instead of thinking about Ordinary Time as a “not-so-special” time of year, we should think of it as “ordinal” Sundays. We count the Sundays throughout the year as we journey with Christ throughout his three years of public ministry. These are the “ordinary” moments of Christ’s life in which his disciples followed him and learned from him as he journeyed and taught.

In today’s Gospel, Christ responds in a puzzling way to someone who wants to be his disciple: “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” Foxes and birds build their homes simply by making use of what they find daily. They don’t employ an architect or a contractor. They scrounge up little bits of lint, find some twigs, and pick up some pine needles they come across. They make the most of the daily things that creation provides.

We can learn from the foxes and birds by making the most of the daily blessings our Creator provides. Our Lord doesn’t have a place to rest his head in our hearts because we make our hearts about many things. We try to compartmentalize our relationship with him to a certain part of the day or a certain place (“I already had my prayer time today, and I can’t bother to stop right now and praise him or ask him for what I need” or “I’ll grow in my love of Jesus on Sunday when I’m at church”). Throughout the day as we go from activity to activity, we should try to practice a greater recollection in order to identify the gifts, blessings, and graces that the Lord shares with us during our ordinary activity. That way, “ordinary” becomes extraordinary as we see how cooperating with his will orders our heart towards his glory. Then Our Lord can say, the heart of that Christian is a place where I may make my home and rest my head.

Thank You

The process of a priest’s transfer can seem very shrouded in the eyes of the lay faithful. One week a priest is talking about the future of some program or apostolate and the next week he is announcing his departure. Each year in the Diocese of Charlotte, the bishop requests input from his priests about their assignments. We have a chance to let him know how our current assignment is going and make certain requests if we are seeking a transfer. A priest’s obedience to his bishop is not a military-style, blind obedience. It is a filial obedience that implies trust and detachment. Two years ago, upon returning from my studies in Rome, I received a phone call, “If you are offered the position of pastor at __________, will you accept it?” I was never offered that parish and was assigned to St. Mark. And for these past two years, I am incredibly grateful. I could have been made a pastor two years ago, but I see how God in his good providence wanted me to experience for my own sanctification and maturation this wonderful parish community.

Serving with Fr. John and Fr. Becker has been a blessing to my priesthood and growth. They are wonderfully kind, cheerful, and very patient with me. Fr. John and I had a feeling that I would be transferred this year, and he said to me at one-point last fall, “You need your own parish. You are wasting your gifts here.” He didn’t mean that as a put-down or that I wasn’t making a difference. In fact, I was very humbled by that. I would very much be delighted to stay at St. Mark, but that would be a selfish request. A priest of 25+ years and a man who had known me since I was in middle school was telling me that I was ready to be a pastor. That instills great confidence, certainly. Fr. Becker also has been very supportive in this transition. His words were, “Gooder. It’s about time.” Granted, his reaction is biased because he will no longer be the “junior vicar,” he gets my car space in the garage, and he will no longer have the “on-call” line 90% of the week. In all honesty, though, I hope that his experience accompanying a newly ordained priest in his first assignment is as inspirational and rewarding as it was for me to walk with him in his first two years of priesthood.

To each and every household at St. Mark, I want to say thank you. You have been a great blessing to my priesthood. Fr. Becker quoted, I think, St. Augustine in one of his first homilies at St. Mark: “For you I am a priest, with you I am a Christian.” Yes, I have given my life to minister at the altar of God and be a priest for the Church and the salvation of souls, but alongside you I am a fellow Christian man in need of salvation. I have been humbled and inspired by those of you who have invited me to share in your lives and welcomed me into your homes. I am energized by the families and individuals who take their faith to the streets, their jobs, their schools, and their friendships in a way that draws others to love Jesus more. I am grateful for the hundreds of people who have been saying, “We’re gonna miss you.” In reality, I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss St. Mark Church. There is the excitement of becoming a pastor for the first time, but I would be lying if I said that there isn’t a profound grief in my heart as I face the reality of leaving such a vibrant community of faith.

I want you to remember one thing: a parish is not a vibrant community of faith because of its priests. A parish truly is alive when each individual chooses to live in Christ and for Christ. That is why I do not worry about you as I leave; I know each of you will continue choosing Christ and seeking to dwell in a deeper communion with him. Yes, priests at St. Mark come and go. Don’t forget, however, that they are living instruments in the hand of God for your sanctification. But you are the parish and, by living freely as sons and daughters of the living God, the parish becomes what God intends it to be: a city set on a hill and toward which all come for life-giving water.

From the Pastor

By John Putnam February 27, 2026
Our readings for this second Sunday of Lent offer us, as Christian stewards, the motivation to continue our 40-day journey toward deeper holiness. The first reading from the book of Genesis describes God’s call to Abram (who would later be called Abraham). God instructs Abram to leave his home and set out to a land that God had chosen for him. Abram’s response is an ancient example of good stewardship. Instead of clinging to his comfortable home and way of life, he recognizes that all he has is a gift from God, puts his trust in God, and obeys. And God rewards him, saying, “I will make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.” To “be a blessing” is the true aim of a stewardship way of life. It is also an excellent way to live out the season of Lent. The sacrifices we take on, the spiritual disciplines we practice, and the extra acts of service we perform during this season — all give glory to God and transform our lives into a blessing for others. Lest we grow weary on this path, our Gospel passage today, from Matthew, offers us a powerful image of the great God we serve. It is the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus, when our Lord reveals Himself in His true glory and the Father says, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” The apostles who witnessed this were awestruck. But our loving Savior reassured them saying, “Rise, and do not be afraid.” As we continue our Lenten journey, let us take these two verses, “Listen to him,” “Rise, and do not be afraid” to heart. Let us rely on God’s strength to aid us in our spiritual disciplines as we move through Lent. We will arrive at Easter with deeper holiness, as a blessing to God and others — and as better stewards of all God’s gifts to us. © Catholic Stewardship Consultants, 2026) Pastoral Pondering Stewardship holds profound importance in Catholic teaching because it is fundamentally an expression of discipleship and a grateful response to God's immense love and generosity. Catholics believe that everything —our lives, time, talents, treasure (material resources), the earth itself, and all creation—belongs to God as the Creator and Owner. We are not owners but stewards , entrusted with these gifts to manage responsibly, not for selfish purposes but to honor God, serve others, and build His Kingdom. This concept is rooted in Scripture and has been articulated clearly by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) in their 1992 pastoral letter Stewardship: A Disciple's Response. The bishops describe a Christian steward as one who: - Receives God's gifts gratefully - Cultivates them responsibly - Shares them lovingly in justice with others - Returns them with increase to the Lord  Stewardship is not optional for Catholics; it flows naturally from becoming a disciple of Jesus Christ. As the USCCB explains, "once one chooses to become a disciple of Jesus Christ, stewardship is not an option." It is a way of life that shapes how Catholics understand and live out their faith daily.
By John Putnam February 20, 2026
As we begin the season of Lent, the Church invites us into 40 days of renewal and refocusing. Lent is not only about giving something up, but about making room for God. For Christian stewards, this season invites us to reflect on how we are using the time entrusted to us. In the first reading, Adam and Eve turn their attention away from God and allow doubt to take root. Trust is replaced by self-reliance, and the harmony of the Garden is broken. These same temptations remain familiar when our days become crowded with distractions that pull us away from God. In the Gospel, Jesus shows us a different path. In the desert, He gives time to prayer and fasting, remains grounded in Scripture, and places His complete trust in the Father. By intentionally giving time to God, Jesus resists temptation and remains faithful. Lent invites us to do the same. By making space in our schedules for prayer, Scripture, and quiet reflection, we grow in trust and gratitude. When we place God at the center of our time, stewardship becomes a way of life, and our hearts are prepared to celebrate the joy of Easter. © Catholic Stewardship Consultants, 2026) Pastoral Pondering  Folks often asks the priests, “Father, how do you pray?” The question is not that different from the request the apostles made of Jesus in Luke 11:1-4 when they asked Him to teach them how to pray. There are lots of possibilities out there. One of those that I find particularly helpful is Lectio Divina or Divine Reading. What follows is a brief outline of the method that some may find helpful. In our busy lives, it's easy to read the Bible quickly or skim through it like any other book. But what if we approached Scripture not just to learn information, but to encounter God personally? That's the heart of Lectio Divina, an ancient Catholic practice of "divine reading" that transforms ordinary reading into a profound prayerful conversation with the Lord. Lectio Divina dates back to the early monastic communities, encouraged by figures like St. Benedict, and has been a cherished method in the Church for centuries. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church notes, it engages our thoughts, imagination, emotions, and desires to deepen our faith and draw us closer to Christ (CCC 2708). Today, it's experiencing a beautiful renewal as more Catholics rediscover this simple yet powerful way to let God's Word speak directly to our hearts. The traditional steps of Lectio Divina are four (sometimes with a fifth for action): 1. Lectio (Reading) Choose a short passage of Scripture—perhaps from the day's Gospel or a favorite psalm. Read it slowly, perhaps aloud, several times. Listen attentively, as if God is speaking the words to you personally. Pay attention to any word, phrase, or image that stands out or "shimmers" in your heart. This isn't about covering ground; it's about letting the Word sink in. 2. Meditatio (Meditation ) Reflect on what you've read. Ask: What is this passage saying? What does it reveal about God? How does it connect to my life right now? Ruminate on it like a cow chewing cud—slowly, thoughtfully. Let your mind and heart ponder the meaning, imagining yourself in the scene if it's a Gospel story. 3. Oratio (Prayer) Turn your reflection into a personal conversation with God. Respond honestly: Thank Him, praise Him, ask for forgiveness, seek guidance, or simply tell Him how the Word moves you. This is where prayer flows naturally from the Scripture—it's no longer just words on a page, but a dialogue with the living God. 4. Contemplatio (Contemplation) Rest quietly in God's presence. Let go of words and thoughts. Simply be with Him, allowing His love to envelop you in silence. This is the moment of resting in the peace that comes from encountering the Lord. Some traditions add a fifth step: **Actio (Action)**—carrying the grace received into daily life through concrete changes or acts of charity. Lectio Divina is for everyone—not just monks or scholars. You don't need hours; even 15-20 minutes can be transformative. Try it with the Sunday readings or start with a single verse like "Be still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10). Find a quiet spot, invite the Holy Spirit to guide you ("Come, Holy Spirit"), and open your heart. As Pope Benedict XVI encouraged, Lectio Divina helps us hear God's voice in Scripture and respond with our whole lives. In a world full of noise, this ancient practice invites us to slow down, listen deeply, and grow in intimacy with Christ. Why not give it a try this week? Your soul—and God—will thank you.