The saint holds the dagger or sword with which she was ultimately executed, as well as the lamp, her attribute.
The red background may strain the eyes a little—but perhaps that, too, is fitting. If the words ask a small effort to read, they do so in quiet solidarity with the martyrs, whose witness was written not in comfort but in blood. Red, after all, is not meant to soothe; it is meant to remember.
LECTIO – Listening to the Word
Like fire, Elijah appears.
Like fire, truth arrives—never politely, never on schedule, never asking permission.
The prophet does not whisper;
he burns.
The Psalm pleads not for success,
but for vision:
“Lord, make us turn to you; let us see your face and we shall be saved.”
And the Gospel dares to say the most dangerous sentence of all:
That, I note grimly, is how most disasters begin.
“If Boston is the fault line of the child sexual-abuse scandal that has convulsed the Roman Catholic Church, then few places have felt the aftershocks more deeply than the Diocese of Amarillo.”
New York Times
August 24, 2002
2. Meditatio – Wrestling with the Sign
“In memory of the death of innocence of the victims of clergy sexual abuse. When innocence dies…a life stops. It is essential that we never forget.“
“The poor and pilgrims are to be received with all care and hospitality, for it is in them that Christ is received.”
Dilexi te, §55
This morning my meditation is not lofty.
It is pig-shaped.
I watch my Kune-Kune boar, Quasimodo, shove his head deep into a hollowed pumpkin shell—
entirely absorbed, utterly committed, magnificently oblivious.
The world could end behind him and he would still be chewing.
And I recognize myself.
Is this not my daily posture?
Head buried in one orange shell of truth—
the removal of a blasphemous tribute to Clergy Abuse—
while others politely suggest I look elsewhere?
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
Perhaps this is a family inheritance.
They said my grandfather was pig-headed.
Yet his wife—Lucy—whose feast I keep today, bore him with a saint’s patience.
And my own wife bears me the same way now,
as I grunt and root and refuse to stop.
If stubbornness were always a sin, Elijah would never have burned,
John the Baptist would have stayed silent,
and Christ Himself would have chosen a safer hill.
Perhaps pig-headedness becomes holiness
only when it is yoked to love.
3. Contemplatio – Chestertonian Synthesis
The Church often mistakes peace for quiet,
and unity for silence.
But Elijah was not quiet.
Lucy did not blink.
John lost his head precisely because he would not lower his eyes.
The problem is not that I see only one thing.
The danger is that others see nothing at all.
And so I ask:
Is this fixation a vice—or a vocation?
Is it madness—or prophecy in farm clothes?
4. ORATIO — Prayer for Day 4
Lord God of fire and light,
You who strengthened Elijah,
You who opened Lucy’s eyes to martyrdom,
You who see what we refuse to see—
On this fourth day of prayer,
I ask not that my will prevail,
but that Your truth be unhidden.
Temper my stubbornness
with the patience of Saint Lucy,
the fidelity of my grandmother Lucy,
and the long-suffering love of my wife.
Let my insistence scatter seeds,
not scorch the field.
Let my vision serve healing,
not pride.
And let the false monuments of our past fall,
so that Your Church may finally see.
Amen.
5. Actio – Walking It Out (Laudato si’ & Synodality)
Today I will practice synodality not by shouting louder,
but by walking longer.
I will continue to go to Mass.
I will continue to pray here, with intention,
for the removal of the Diocese of Amarillo’s Tribute to Clergy Abuse.
“Time is greater than space.”
Laudato si’ §178
I will trust that God works even through pig tracks in the soil.
🎵 “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”
between blindness and sight,
fire and frost.
Emmanuel is the prayer of those who refuse to accept captivity as normal,
and who believe that chains—visible or institutional—can still be broken.
🎬 Guadalupe: The Miracle and the Message
Email to Bishop Zurek
Subject: A Request for Vigilance and Hope on This Last Day of the Liturgical Year
Your Excellency,
It was good to see you home at the Cathedral for Thanksgiving Mass. As we reach the end of the liturgical year and prepare for the Centennial, I write with a simple concern that continues to weigh heavily on my conscience.
In prayer, especially through the Gospel’s call to stay vigilant and strengthen what remains, I keep returning to the tribute erected by John Salazar in honor of Bishop Matthiesen. Because it was built by a priest who used his “second chance” to harm children in our diocese, its continued presence risks sending a message that wounds survivors and obscures our call to truth.
As we prepare to celebrate 100 years of the Diocese of Amarillo, I humbly ask that we consider removing this tribute as an act of healing and justice—so that our Centennial begins in truth, not silence.
Thank you for hearing my heart. Be assured of my prayers for you and for our diocese.
In Christ,
Darrell Glenn
My Story
“In memory of the death of innocence of the victims of clergy sexual abuse. When innocence dies…a life stops. It is essential that we never forget.“
- Bishop Matthiesen, who rode the white horse of public activism even as he brought abusive priests into our diocese such as John Salazar—wounds that still mark us today. I spoke with him often, pleading with him to reconsider his “no regrets” about bringing those priests here…
- Bishop Yanta, who sought to enforce the Dallas Charter even when Bishop Matthiesen resisted him, and who bore the personal and pastoral cost of doing so. I met with Bishop Yanta about Bishop Matthiessen’s “no regrets” stance. He listened. He believed me. He acted where he could. And when he retired, he urged me—quietly but firmly—to keep speaking out.
- Bishop Zurek, who told the Diocese of Amarillo he had “no facts” about the Philadelphia report even as Amarillo’s connection to that tragedy was headline news. When I continued to speak out, as Bishop Yanta had once urged me to do, he later wrote that I was not among the faithful and loyal disciples whom the Lord Jesus desires.