From the Pastor - 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time

August 11, 2023

Stewardship spirituality invites us to surrender control of our lives to God in grateful recognition that all that we have is a gift from Him.

 

While today’s readings remind us that, of course, God is always in control of His creation and His creatures, they illustrate what amazing things can happen when we fully permit God to take charge of our lives — in other words, what can happen when we embrace the stewardship way of life.

 

When we take our eyes off God, we fail to see that all is gift from Him, we lose trust in Him and we do not make our lives a grateful response to Him.

 

Peter makes this mistake in our Gospel passage from Matthew. Jesus sends the disciples in a boat ahead of Him to the other side of the shore. Later that evening, Jesus casually strolls up to the boat, walking on the sea. He invites Peter to join Him. As Peter begins to walk on the water, he momentarily takes his eyes off Jesus to notice the strong wind surrounding them. With that, he sinks.

 

But what if Peter had not taken his eyes off Christ? What a grand adventure he could have had out there walking on the sea with Jesus! When we take our eyes off Christ, the many blessings He has given us, and the loving way He treats us, we sink, too.

 

But when we embrace the stewardship way of life, letting go of a tight hold over our money, time, and talents, our lives become a grand adventure, rooted firmly and gratefully in the God Who always cares for us. ©Catholic Stewardship Consultants, 2023

 

Pastoral Pondering

As I write this, I have just returned from my pilgrimage to Fatima. It was a beautiful experience, as always, and you were all in my prayers. For those of you who wrote petitions for me to take along, I left them with Our Lady in Cova da Iria. As my time there was coming to an end, Portugal was gearing up for World Youth Day. There were a significant number of groups that arrived early to spend time in Fatima with Our Lady. On the last night that I was able to participate in the candlelight procession, I was struck by the joy and happiness that radiated from all of those youthful faces. It was uplifting and made me smile. It is nice to know that so many young people love Our Lord and Our Lady in these confusing and uncertain times.

 

It seems like any time I go on pilgrimage, there are various questions that come up casually over a meal or during some activity. One of the questions that I was asked had to do with the priestly (and diaconal) promise of obedience during the rite of ordination. From that discussion, it appears that a number of folks are unsure of the difference that a priest or deacon makes during his ordination and the vow of obedience that is made by a consecrated religious during his or her religious profession. With that in mind, I thought I’d offer a few brief notes.

 

Consecrated religious persons take a vow of obedience to his or her superior at the time of the religious profession. The Code of Canon Law describes this vow in this way: “The evangelical counsel of obedience, undertaken in a spirit of faith and love in the following of Christ obedient unto death, requires the submission of the will to legitimate superiors, who stand in the place of God, when they command according to the proper constitutions (canon 601). The Catechism described the evangelical counsels as the “perfection of charity” (see CCC ¶ 1973-1974).

 

Priests who are not religious, on the other hand, do not take vows. Rather, a priest at ordination makes a promise of obedience to his bishop. The Catechism in paragraph 1567 describes that promise as follows: “The priests, prudent cooperators of the episcopal college and its support and instrument, called to the service of the People of God, constitute, together with their bishop, a unique sacerdotal college (presbyterium) dedicated, it is true, to a variety of distinct duties. In each local assembly of the faithful they represent, in a certain sense, the bishop, with whom they are associated in all trust and generosity; in part they take upon themselves his duties and solicitude and in their daily toils discharge them.” Priests can exercise their ministry only in dependence on the bishop and in communion with him. The promise of obedience they make to the bishop at the moment of ordination and the kiss of peace from him at the end of the ordination liturgy mean that the bishop considers them his co-workers, his sons, his brothers and his friends, and that they in return owe him love and obedience.”

 

The submission of the will of a consecrated to religious is different then from the promise of obedience made at ordination. In both the expectation would be one of mutuality and respect, but the religious place themselves completely in the hands of the religious superior. Secular priests, on the other hand, are dependent on their bishop for their ministry, but there are also rights and obligations that provide the framework of the relationship. A bishop, for example, may tell a priest that he will be transferred from one pastorate to another. The priest is not obligated to accept such a transfer without a discussion and mutual understanding. Theoretically, a religious would be required to accept the judgment of the superior as long as his or her demand (order) was in harmony with the constitutions of the Religious Order.


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.