“By What Authority?”-Monday of the Third Week of Advent & Day 5 – Praying for the Removal of the Diocese of Amarillo’s Blasphemous “Tribute to Clergy Abuse”

Lectio (Sacred Reading)

I hear Balaam speak today—not a saint, not a hero, but a man whose eye is true.
A strange credential, yet perhaps the only one that finally matters.

“The utterance of one who hears what God says…
of one who sees what the Almighty sees,
enraptured, and with eyes unveiled.”

And then the promise that refuses to stay buried:

“A star shall advance from Jacob.”

In the Gospel, I hear another question, colder and sharper:

“By what authority are you doing these things?”

Jesus does not answer with documents or decrees.
He answers with a mirror.

“Where was John’s baptism from?”

And suddenly the learned men—guardians of order, protectors of appearances—can only mutter:

“We do not know.”

The Scriptures today do not shout.
They expose.

“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

Meditatio (Meditation)

Memorial in the Grotto of St. Mary’s Cathedral. The inscription says:
“**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.**“

“humility of heart… which leads not to knowledge that puffs up, but to knowledge that enlightens through the fullness of charity.”
Dilexi te, §57

I confess that I sometimes wonder if Bishop Zurek knows something I do not.
Perhaps there is a hidden reason—some secret prudence, some pastoral calculus—that explains why the Tribute to Clergy Abuse remains standing.

Perhaps I am the fool on the limb, saw in hand, preparing my own embarrassment.

A tribute built **by John Salazar for Bishop Matthiesen**—whom Matthiesen kept in ministry **against the counsel of cardinal archbishops**, giving him a “second chance.” That second chance resulted in the sexual assault of youth in our own diocese. And just before he was defrocked and sent to prison, **he raised this monument** in Bishop Matthiesen’s honor. Its presence remains a painful reminder of “serious mistakes” that harmed the very flock Bishop Matthiesen was meant to protect.

But silence is not neutrality.
And unanswered questions harden into anger.

If there is a reason—say it.
If there is authority—name it.
If the tribute is not blasphemous—defend it.

But when authority refuses to speak, it begins to resemble the chief priests today:
not denying the truth, not affirming it either—
only saying “We do not know” while guarding what must not be questioned.

“Bishop Matthiesen — a shepherd whose legacy in our diocese still asks hard questions of us today. May truth, healing, and justice be the final word.”
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images

Balaam saw a star long before it arrived.
John baptized without institutional approval.
And Christ answered authority by unmasking fear.

Advent teaches me this:
Truth does not need permission to rise.

Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)

The modern world believes authority is something you possess.
Christ reveals it is something you recognize.

Seeing the last Centennial banner lying in a heap at St. Mary’s Cathedral gives me pause. I only wish it were the Diocese’s blasphemous *Tribute to Clergy Abuse* that had finally come down instead. A centennial meant to honor faith and mission cannot stand upright while that wound remains untouched.

The tragedy of false authority is not that it commands—but that it refuses to see.

It prefers the safety of silence to the danger of repentance.

The star does not ask the palace for approval.
It simply rises.

And if I am wrong, let me be corrected.
But if I am right, then silence is not patience—it is evasion dressed in vestments.

Oratio (Prayer — Revised Collect for Day 6)

Lord Jesus,
You who questioned authority without despising it,
give me a heart that seeks truth more than victory.

If I am blind, open my eyes.
If I am proud, humble me.
If I am right, strengthen me.

Do not let Your Church answer with silence
when the little ones ask where justice has gone.

You are the Star I seek—
even when You rise slowly.

Amen.

Actio (Action — Laudato Si’ & Synodality)

Today I will practice synodality through transparency.
I will continue to pray publicly and patiently, trusting that truth—like creation itself—has a moral claim.

“When we fail to acknowledge as part of reality the worth of a poor person, a human embryo, a person with disabilities – to offer just a few examples – it becomes difficult to hear the cry of nature itself; everything is connected.”
Laudato si’ §117

As Laudato si’ reminds us,
“Everything is connected.”
Including memory, justice, healing, and the credibility of our witness.

I will walk, not alone, but with the Church—
even when the road is quiet.

🎵 Carrie Underwood & John Legend – Hallelujah

This Lectio Divina pairs with “Hallelujah” because it is a song that dares to praise God in the tension between glory and grief. Like Balaam seeing a star “not yet near,” this song holds faith that persists even when answers are withheld and authority remains silent. It is not a shallow hallelujah sung from triumph, but a broken hallelujah—offered while kneeling beside what should have been healed but remains standing. In praying for the removal of the Diocese of Amarillo’s Tribute to Clergy Abuse, this song becomes my prayer: praise spoken not because justice has come, but because truth still demands to be named.

🎬 White Christmas (1954)

White Christmas pairs with this Lectio Divina because beneath its bright harmonies and polished choreography lies a quiet insistence on loyalty, truth, and setting things right. The film turns when characters refuse to keep smiling while something honorable is left unresolved. In the same way, this Lectio prays that our Centennial not remain dressed in seasonal beauty while an injustice stands unaddressed. True celebration, like true Christmas, only becomes possible when what is broken is finally acknowledged—and repaired.

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

Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images

I was one of “the few” Bishop Zurek spoke of in this letter. He first posted it in August of 2019, and in response to my, “calling out all the more“, he kept reposting it atop the diocesan news page until December 11, 2019. There it remains to this day.

Fr. Ed Graff, brought here from Philadelphia by Bishop Matthiesen, was arrested in 2002 for sexually assaulting a minor and died later that year in jail. Despite the harm linked to his ministry, he was buried in an honored section of Llano Cemetery among our pioneering clergy — a decision that continues to wound survivors and raise hard questions for our diocese.

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.