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

From the Pastor - 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time

By John Putnam • November 6, 2026
Wisdom is at the heart of today's readings. It is one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit and an essential gift for living the stewardship way of life. As Christian stewards, we should continually ask the Holy Spirit to deepen this gift within us. In today's Gospel, Jesus tells the parable of the 10 virgins waiting for the bridegroom. Five are wise, and five are foolish. The wise virgins prepare ahead of time, bringing enough oil to keep their lamps burning. The foolish ones fail to prepare and are caught off guard when the bridegroom arrives. Jesus concludes with this reminder: "Therefore, stay awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour." Stewardship helps us live with that same spirit of readiness. When we seek the Lord each day through prayer, the sacraments, and the faithful use of the gifts He has entrusted to us, we keep our hearts prepared to meet Him whenever He calls. That is the wisdom Christ desires for each of us. © Catholic Stewardship Conference, 2026 Pastoral Pondering - Rooting Out Anger Few things disturb the peace of a home, a parish, or a soul as quickly as anger. A sharp word at the dinner table, a resentful silence after Mass, a flash of irritation in traffic-each seems small in the moment, yet the Fathers of the Church warn us that anger is a deadly poison. St. John Cassian, the great monastic teacher whose writings shaped Western spirituality, dedicated an entire book of his Institutes to this vice. His counsel is bracing and practical for us today. Cassian insists that anger must be "utterly rooted out from the inmost corners of our soul." As long as it remains, it blinds the eye of the heart. We lose right judgment, the capacity for true counsel, and even the ability to pray. "The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God" (James 1:20). Whether the provocation seems just or unjust makes little difference: anger covers the eyes of the soul like a plate of gold or lead- the value of the metal does not restore sight. He rejects the common excuse that we may be angry with those who do wrong, or that Scripture's language of God's "anger" justifies our own passion. God is free from all disturbance; the biblical language of divine anger is metaphorical, pointing to His just judgment, not to a human emotion we may imitate. To use it as permission for our own resentment is, Cassian says, to draw from the Scriptures an occasion of sin rather than a remedy of holiness. There is, however, one legitimate use of the energy of anger: we may and should be indignant against the evil thoughts and disordered desires that rise within our own hearts. When we are ashamed of what we would never say or do before others, yet find it stirring inside, we are to rage against that disorder, trembling before the all-seeing eye of God. In this sense the psalmist's "Be angry and sin not" (Psalm 4:4) and St. Paul's citation of it (Ephesians 4:26) are understood: be angry with your own faults, lest the Sun of Righteousness set upon a darkened mind and the devil be given place. Cassian's remedies are simple and severe. First, make a firm resolution never to be angry at all-neither for good reasons nor bad. The moment the passion enters, discernment is lost and the soul can no longer be a temple of the Holy Spirit. Second, never attempt to pray while angry; such prayer is obstinate rebellion. Third, keep daily before your eyes the uncertainty of life and the certainty of judgment. All our other efforts- Mass, fasting, works of charity- profit nothing if anger and hatred alone bring us to eternal punishment. Practically, this means catching the first interior movement of irritation and turning it at once into sorrow for our own impatience. It means refusing to nurse the grievance past sunset, seeking reconciliation before the next Holy Communion, and enlarging the heart with patience so that the "waves of anger" are received and dissipated rather than confined and intensified. Peace, Cassian reminds us, does not depend on the conduct of others; it lies in our own control. In the confessional and in the daily struggle of parish life, I see how often this vice wounds families and friendships. Let us ask the Lord, who is meek and humble of heart, to give us the grace to root it out. May the peace of Christ, which surpasses all understanding, guard our hearts and our parish. In other news, due to an unexpected leave, I have been appointed as Vicar General and Chancellor of the Diocese of Charlotte by Bishop Martin. While this appointment is expected to be temporary, during the interim, it will make my ability to take appointments rather limited. Please be patient with the office staff as they try to accommodate those needs along with my additional responsibilities.

From the Pastor - All Saints Day

By John Putnam • October 30, 2026
On this Solemnity of All Saints, we have the profound joy of celebrating our brothers and sisters in Christ, the saints. This is an especially meaningful feast for us as Christian stewards. At Baptism, each of us receives the call to holiness and discipleship. In other words, we are all called to become saints. Holiness is not reserved for a select few. It is God's desire for every one of His children. The stewardship way of life helps us answer that call each day. In today's Gospel from Matthew, Jesus gives us the Beatitudes. They reveal the qualities that mark the lives of His disciples and point us toward authentic holiness. As we continue striving to live as faithful stewards, the Beatitudes provide a faithful measure of our growth in Christ. The "blessed" that Jesus describes are not different categories of people who make it to heaven. Rather, they reveal the character of those who belong to Him - the poor in spirit, the merciful, the pure of heart, the peacemakers, and all who remain faithful in the midst of trials. None of us can live this way on our own. But as beloved children of God, we receive the grace we need through prayer, the sacraments, and a life centered on Christ. May the example of the saints inspire us to persevere in our own call to holiness, trusting that one day we will join them in the everlasting joy of heaven. © Catholic Stewardship Conference, 2026 Pastoral Pondering October brought us the Church's renewed attention to mental health. Pope Leo XIV has asked us this month to pray that our communities become places where those who carry unseen burdens find welcome, dignity, and hope- not judgment or silence. Many of those burdens are carried by women and girls. Some have lived through abuse, assault, or trauma that few around them even know about. Recent headlines, including those from Cornell University, have reminded the whole country how widespread these wounds are and how alone many survivors feel. Regardless of the outcome and veracity of the Cornell case, these types of cases exist closer to home. Women in our own parish and community often suffer quietly, unsure where to turn or whether anyone will truly understand. There is help, and there is hope. Healed and Restored, the local Catholic ministry founded by our own parishioner Elza Spaedy, exists precisely for this purpose. Through counseling, workshops, spiritual mentoring, retreats, and a supportive community, it walks with women and girls who have experienced abuse, assault, domestic violence, trafficking, or other trauma. Rooted in faith, it helps them encounter the Divine Physician who alone can restore what has been broken and discover that their wounds do not define them. Many of the women who have walked this path have found real freedom and a renewed sense of their dignity as daughters of God. If you are carrying a wound like this, or if you know someone who is, I encourage you to reach out. Information is available at healedandrestored.org. And if you simply want to stand with those who are hurting, please keep them in your prayers. Sometimes the greatest gift we can offer is to notice, to listen without fear, and to point someone toward the healing Christ offers. May the Lord who binds up the brokenhearted make our parish a place of true restoration.