From the Parochial Vicar - August 12, 2018

August 13, 2018

From the Parochial Vicar - August 12, 2018

In today’s Gospel, we continue the Lord’s “Bread of Life Discourse” from the Gospel of St. John in which Jesus speaks of his flesh and blood as being true food and drink, pointing to the Holy Eucharist which he will institute at the Last Supper. He speaks of the Eucharist’s lifegiving power in view of the manna in the desert that did not give life. “Manna” literally means, “What is it?” in Hebrew. More than just being flaky bread, it was a miraculous bread from heaven that tasted like anything the eater wanted it to taste like. The Israelites became fed up with this bread. Rather than turning their hearts to the giver of the bread, they continued to see it as something that pleased their tastes and appetites. They began by appreciating the bread, but never turned their appreciating to the giver of the bread. The manna became despicable to them. In the Eucharist, however, the giver and the gift are the same: Jesus’ Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity.

Last week, I wrote about our youth ministry programs as being a way to build up our youth and young adults as the Church of now, rather than the Church of tomorrow. These programs of dedicated youth and adults create an environment where each participant can be lead more deeply into the mystery of the life of the Church. And at the center of the Church’s life is the Eucharist. In the last year here at Saint Mark, I have three distinct memories of the power of the Eucharist in the life of our youth.

Shortly after I arrived, our high school youth minister asked if the priests and deacons would assist at an “XLT Night.” Rather than gathering for activities and small group discussions, we headed into the church where a deacon and our Psalm 150 group led the high schoolers in Exposition, Adoration, and Benediction with the Blessed Sacrament. We had nearly 100 young people adoring the Lord with their hearts, bodies, and voices. As they worshipped the Lord in prayer and song, we priests were available for Confession. And did they come! One after another, I noticed the particular tenderness and loving affection with which they confessed their sins and resolved to overcome their weaknesses. The only explanation is that the light of grace coming from worshipping the Lord in the Eucharist—of making the Eucharist the central focus of their lives that night—enlightened their hearts and minds allowing them to humbly and confidently confess their sins to the Lord.

Likewise, I was privileged to provide music one evening for adoration with our middle school Edge Youth Ministry program. The youth gathered for a simpler, but similar experience as I described above. Do we not sometimes expect our children will become bored by long periods of prayer and adoration? To the contrary, what I saw was true devotion in our youth. The reverently prayed, sang, and adored our Lord with great affection. Afterwards, one of our Confirmation students came up to me and, after expressing his surprise that I play guitar, simply said, “Father, I forgot how much peace I find when I am with Jesus. He reminded me that I need to pray more and try harder to listen to my mom and dad.” Jesus moves our lives when we humbly approach him with open hearts.

Lastly, and most recently, I had the opportunity of going as chaplain to our Fidelis Inspire camp this summer. Fidelis Inspire / Fraternus Ranch is a four-day camp that allows the sisters and brothers (6 th to 12 th grade) to take a break from their normal summer activities to grow in fraternity. The young women gather at one camp and the young men at another. During this time they participate in talks, discussions, team building activities, and outdoor fun (high ropes, whitewater rafting, horseback riding, etc.). The last night of Fidelis Inspire, we had Adoration and Benediction. During this time, I led the young ladies in a Eucharistic healing service, which provided them with the opportunity to acknowledge any wounds and hurts in their life and then turn it all over to Jesus, the Divine Physician. At the end, the girls had the option of remaining with our Lord in silence or going to the end-of-the day-campfire. Many of the young women freely stayed until it become so late that I had to take the Eucharist back to the chapel of repose. At the end of our time together, the girls had an opportunity to share their stories. Many of them spoke about how, out of all the activities and fun things we did, adoration was the most powerful. One even said, “That was the happiest moment of Inspire. The saddest was when Fr. Carter has to take Jesus away.” Would that we all shared the same sentiments when leaving the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist!

From books and classes, we can learn about the doctrines and dogmas of the Holy Eucharist. At our Sunday Masses, we can hear the Scripture proclaimed about what Jesus said concerning the Blessed Sacrament, like we hear today. We can then listen to the priest or deacon preach about the importance of the Eucharist. In youth ministry, however, we have the august task of taking our young people deeper into a living relationship with the source and summit of the life of the Church. And as they look upon Christ in the little Host, Christ looks back at them and smiles saying, “Here is one of my own.”

From the Pastor

From the Pastor - 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time

By John Putnam • October 9, 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 - 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.