Today the Scriptures place justice and righteousness squarely in the mouth of God.
Jeremiah speaks of a righteous shoot raised by the Lord—
a king who governs wisely,
who does what is just and right in the land.
The Psalm echoes this refrain like a bell rung until it is heard:
Justice shall flourish in his time, and fullness of peace forever.
And in the Gospel, Joseph—
a man called righteous—
does not deny reality,
but neither does he weaponize it.
He listens.
He waits.
He obeys what is revealed.
Justice, I notice, does not shout here.
It discerns.
“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
“The act of rescuing someone from slavery and captivity is seen as an extension of Christ’s redemptive sacrifice, whose blood is the price of our redemption”
Dilexi te, §60
Meditatio (Reflection)
Today’s O Antiphon prays:
“O Adonai… come to rescue us with your mighty power.”
This day also completes a novena I began with a very particular hope.
When I started praying nine days ago,
Centennial banners were flying proudly on the walls of St. Mary’s Cathedral,
and I was praying—almost demanding—that what I judged to be a blasphemous tribute tied to clerical abuse would finally be removed.
Now, nine days later, the banners themselves have fallen.
And my prayer has changed.
I no longer ask simply for removal.
I ask for speech.
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
Like Joseph, unwilling to expose to shame,
it seems the Diocese has chosen to divorce itself quietly from its past—
to celebrate origins without examining wounds,
to emphasize power, growth, and legacy
while remaining silent about pain that still cries out for justice.
But silence, however polite, is not the same as righteousness.
If the tribute is good, then let it be spoken of openly.
If it is flawed, let us face that truth together.
What I now seek is not cancellation,
but synodality—
a Church that asks why this tribute exists,
who it serves,
and what the Spirit is asking of us now.
Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
It is one of Christianity’s strangest miracles
that God saves the world not by ignoring its mess,
but by entering it.
The Incarnation does not erase genealogy;
it redeems it.
It does not skip the awkward names;
it sanctifies them.
If Christ was not ashamed to be born into a tangled history,
then the Church need not fear examining her own.
Justice does not consist in pretending we were always saints,
but in trusting that grace still works
even when the family album contains shadows.
Day 9 Prayer for the End of Silence and the Beginning of Synodality
Grant, we pray, almighty God,
that we who have long carried the weight of silence and fear
may be set free—not by forgetting,
but by truth spoken in charity.
As we await the Nativity of your Son,
break open what has been closed,
loosen what has been bound,
and lead us from quiet avoidance
into holy conversation.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Actio (Action — Synodality & Laudato si’)
” I urgently appeal, then, for a new dialogue about how we are shaping the future of our planet.”
Laudato si’ §14
“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.“
Inspired by Laudato si’ (§14), which calls us to dialogue and listening:
Today I will practice synodality by choosing conversation over silence.
I will ask one honest question—patiently, publicly, and prayerfully—
trusting that the Spirit works not through avoidance,
but through shared discernment.
🎵 “O Come, O Come Emmanuel”
but to dwell within it—and to ransom us from what we cannot heal alone.
🎬Movie: A Man for All Seasons (1966)
Email to Bishop Zurek
Subject: Request for Dialogue Regarding the Tribute
Your Excellency,
I am writing to apologize if any of my previous communications about the tribute to Bishop Matthiesen came across as threatening or coercive. That was not my intention, and I regret any words that suggested pressure rather than prayerful discernment.
Silence has been painful, but I remain committed to walking with the Church, not against her. I respectfully ask for conversation, not conflict, so that this matter may be addressed in the light of truth, charity, and healing.
Thank you for your time and pastoral care.
Respectfully in Christ,
Darrell Glenn
Diocese of Amarillo
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.