From the Pastor - 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

September 4, 2026

Today's readings remind us of the importance of our relationships. God created us to live in communion with Him and with one another. Our families, neighbors, friends, and parish community need us, and we need them as we grow together in holiness.


In today's Second Reading, St. Paul gives us a simple but profound guide for living in relationship with others. Echoing the words of Christ, he writes, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Love is the guiding principle that helps us become good stewards of every relationship God has entrusted to us.


In today's Gospel, Jesus shows us what that love looks like, even when relationships become strained. He tells His disciples, "If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have won over your brother."


Rather than ignoring conflict or allowing resentment to grow, Jesus teaches us to approach one another with humility, charity, and a sincere desire for reconciliation. This is faithful stewardship of our relationships.


He also reminds us of the strength found in Christian community: "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."

God never intended us to journey to heaven alone. May we care for the relationships He has entrusted to us and help one another grow as faithful disciples. ©Catholic Stewardship Consultants, 2026


Pastoral Pondering

Next Saturday the Diocese of Charlotte celebrates the annual Eucharistic Congress at the Convention Center in Charlotte. Events begin on Friday evening, with the majority of activities happening on Saturday and culminating with the Congress Mass in the afternoon. I encourage everyone to take advantage of this opportunity to come together as a Diocesan family and celebrate the source and summit of our faith. Our own Father Kevin Martinez will be the homilist for the Holy Hour on Saturday morning at the conclusion of the Eucharistic procession.


Public processions of the Eucharist and the saints (especially their relics and images) are ancient and enduring expressions of Catholic faith. They combine liturgical prayer, public witness, communal pilgrimage and public piety. They visibly proclaim core doctrines—the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist and the communion of saints—while symbolizing the Church as a pilgrim people journeying toward the heavenly Jerusalem.


These types of processions are found in the Old Testament when the Ark of the Covenant was processed on different occasions, e.g. the conquest of Jericho or the joyful entrance of the ark into Jerusalem. In the early Church processions developed by the 4th century in both the East and the West. They marked festivals, thanksgivings, penance, the translation (solemn transfer) of relics, the consecration of churches, funerals and times of calamity.


Eucharistic processions arose later, in the high Middle Ages, amid intensified theological reflection on the Real Presence (Fourth Lateran Council 1215; development of the language of transubstantiation) and growing devotion to the Eucharist outside Mass. The elevation of the Host during Mass became common around 1200.

The Solemnity of Corpus Christi originated in the visions of St. Juliana of Liège (early 13th century), who saw the Church’s liturgical year as a full moon with a dark spot—the lack of a dedicated feast for the Eucharist. The feast was first celebrated in Liège in 1246. Pope Urban IV (formerly archdeacon of Liège) extended it to the universal Church in the bull Transiturus de hoc mundo (1264), commissioning St. Thomas Aquinas to compose the liturgical texts (including Pange lingua, Lauda Sion, and Adoro te devote). A Eucharistic miracle at Bolsena (bleeding Host) around the same time, brought to Urban at Orvieto, reinforced the impetus.


Formal public processions with the Blessed Sacrament in a monstrance appeared soon after—early records from places such as Benediktbeuern (1273) and Cologne (1270s)—and spread rapidly across Europe by the 14th century. Pope Clement V and the Council of Vienne (1311) helped regulate the feast and its observance; later papal encouragement and indulgences supported the processions. They typically followed Mass, moved through streets or fields (sometimes stopping at outdoor altars for Gospel readings and petitions), and concluded with Benediction.


The Council of Trent strongly endorsed them as a public profession of faith in the Real Presence, especially against Protestant denials. In the Counter-Reformation and Baroque periods they grew elaborate, involving civic authorities, guilds, military escorts, music, and decorations (flower carpets, banners). They continued as major public events in Catholic countries and were revived or defended in later centuries (e.g., against 19th-century secularizing pressures or under Communist regimes). Popes such as St. John Paul II and Benedict XVI emphasized their value; John Paul II restored the Roman Corpus Christi procession and wrote of the need to proclaim the incarnate God “especially in our streets and homes.”


The Church continues to encourage them. Liturgical books describe the annual Corpus Christi procession as particularly desirable for the pastoral life of a parish or city when circumstances permit, as a public witness of faith and devotion. Processions of saints remain part of popular piety and local traditions (feast-day celebrations, Rogation observances where retained, translations of relics, etc.).



In short, these processions are not mere pageantry. They are embodied proclamations that the risen Christ walks with His people in the Eucharist and that the saints, as members of the one Body, continue to intercede for and accompany the Church on earth.

 

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.