From the Pastor - 1st Sunday in Lent

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.

From the Pastor

From the Pastor - 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time

By John Putnam • October 16, 2026
Today's readings remind us to be mindful not only of who we are, but also Whose we are. In today's Gospel, the Pharisees attempt to trap Jesus by asking whether it is lawful to pay the tax to Caesar. Their question is meant to force Him into choosing sides. But Jesus refuses to be drawn into their narrow way of thinking. Instead, He asks whose image appears on the coin. When they answer, "Caesar," Jesus responds, "Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God." Those words remind us that while we have responsibilities in this world, our first allegiance belongs to God. Everything we have comes from Him, and through Baptism we have become His sons and daughters. Our time, our talents, our treasure, and our very lives are gifts entrusted to us by the Lord. May we use them each day in grateful response to His goodness, remembering that we belong to Him above all else. © Catholic Stewardship Conference, 2026 Pastoral Pondering With the mid-term elections coming up and early voting beginning this past week, I thought it would be a good idea to remind everyone the importance of Catholics voting and engaging in civil life. On November 3 we will elect members of Congress, state officials, and many local officeholders. Midterm elections draw fewer voters than a presidential year, yet they shape the laws under which we live: the protection of human life, the freedom of the Church to teach and serve, the strength of the family, the care of the poor, and the education of the young. To stay home is not neutrality. It leaves those decisions to others. The Church has long taught that citizenship is part of charity. The Catechism says that co-responsibility for the common good makes it “morally obligatory… to exercise the right to vote” (CCC 2240). Pope Francis put it plainly: a good Catholic does not stand apart from politics, but offers the best of himself so that those who govern may serve the good of all. Voting is one ordinary way we do that. It is also a moral act, not a team sport. Our identity in Christ comes before any party label. The U.S. bishops, in *Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship* (scan code), remind us that we form our consciences by the Gospel and the Church’s teaching, then vote in light of that formation. A well-formed conscience does not support a program that contradicts the fundamental contents of faith and morals. Some acts are always gravely wrong: the direct taking of innocent human life, including abortion and euthanasia; attacks on the nature of marriage; religious persecution; and the deliberate degradation of the poor. Other issues—immigration, wages, housing, care of creation, criminal justice—also belong to the common good and require prudent judgment about what will help people. Not every issue carries the same moral weight, and rarely does one candidate embody the whole of Catholic social teaching. We weigh, we pray, and we choose the path that best protects human dignity and advances the common good. A few practical steps help. Read the bishops’ guidance and, where available, nonpartisan comparisons of candidates’ records and stated positions. Pray before you vote, perhaps with the family. Discuss the issues with charity, remembering that the person across the aisle is also made in the image of God. Then vote. If you cannot get to the polls, use whatever law the state provides. Participation does not end at the ballot box: write your representatives, serve the poor, and keep the Church’s voice in the public square after Election Day. Here at St. Mark we will not tell you whom to support. That judgment belongs to your conscience, formed by the faith. We will urge you not to surrender that conscience to habit, fear, or party. The Lord who will judge nations also judges how we used the freedom we were given. May we use it well.

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.