Today the Scriptures blaze quietly, like a lamp set deliberately in a darkened room.
Saint John warns me that it is “the last hour,”
not because time is short,
but because truth is urgent.
Some leave the light because it exposes them.
Others stay because it warms them.
The Psalm calls creation itself to rejoice,
as though trees and seas know something
that institutions sometimes forget:
light is not a threat—it is a gift.
And then the Gospel opens like the sun breaking over a frozen field:
The Word does not argue with the darkness.
He enters it.
He does not shout down lies.
He illuminates them.
He does not force belief.
He offers sight.
And suddenly I realize:
this is not a reading about winning,
but about seeing.
“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
“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 Church has always recognized in migrants a living presence of the Lord who, on the day of judgment, will say to those on his right: ‘I was a stranger and you welcomed me’ (Mt 25:35).”
Dilexi te §73
Do I have the hope—one of the four pillars of our Diocesan Centennial—to bring light to the Church of Amarillo, so that it may recognize in the victims of Bishop Matthiesen’s “serious mistake” a living presence of the Lord, who on the day of judgment will say to those on his right: “I was a stranger and you welcomed me”?
Meditatio (Meditation)
Today I am not claiming to see the light clearly
regarding the Diocese of Amarillo’s Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen.
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
That is precisely why I am asking for Synodality,
not removal,
not erasure,
not silence disguised as celebration.
Light, I am learning, is dangerous only to shadows.
My vision is partial.
My judgments are human.
My certainty is limited.
Below: A Fallen Centennial Banner
What appears faithful to me
may be incomplete.
What appears scandalous
may conceal wounds I cannot yet name.
Saint John warns that lies can masquerade as light,
and that even sincere people can be deceived
if they walk alone.
So I do not trust my own eyesight enough
to declare judgment.
But neither do I trust darkness enough
to stop asking questions.
Synodality, then, is my act of humility:
a willingness to bring the tribute, the history, the pain,
and the silence
into the shared light of discernment.
If something is of Christ,
the light will strengthen it.
If something is not,
the light will gently—but relentlessly—reveal it.
Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
The paradox of Christmas is this:
God proves His power by becoming visible.
The Word becomes flesh
so that truth can no longer hide behind abstractions.
Light is not an argument.
It is an invitation.
And so the Church does not need darker rooms
to preserve unity,
but brighter ones
to purify it.
If the Light Himself was willing to dwell among us,
to be misunderstood, contradicted, and rejected,
then surely His Church can survive
a conversation held honestly in His presence.
Darkness collapses under scrutiny.
Light endures inspection.
Oratio (Prayer) — Day 22
Almighty ever-living God,
who in the Nativity of your Son
established the beginning and fulfillment of all religion,
grant, we pray,
that we may be numbered among those who belong to Him,
in whom is the fullness of human salvation.
Teach us not to fear the light,
nor to mistake silence for peace,
but to walk together in truth,
trusting that what is truly of You
will endure its own illumination.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Actio (Action — Laudato Si’ & Synodality)
“This is a complex environmental issue; it calls for a comprehensive approach which would require, at the very least, greater efforts to finance various lines of independent, interdisciplinary research capable of shedding new light on the problem.”
Laudato si’ §135
Inspired by Laudato Si’, I will practice patient illumination rather than haste:
- Listening before judging
- Naming wounds without weaponizing them
- Choosing shared discernment over solitary certainty
I will remain present, prayerful, and open—
trusting that light works best when many lamps are lit together.
🎶 “I Saw the Light” – Hank Williams
just the grace of realizing I cannot walk alone in the dark.
🎬Movie: You Light Up My Life (1977)
but about what allows us to see.
Email to Bishop Zurek
Subject: A Request for Synodal Discernment Regarding the Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen
Your Excellency,
I write to you during this Christmas season after many days of prayer and reflection, particularly through Lectio Divina, regarding the Diocese of Amarillo’s Centennial and the tribute honoring Bishop Matthiesen.
Over time, my focus has shifted. I am no longer asking simply for the removal of the tribute, but for the beginning of a genuine synodal process around it. I believe silence—however well-intended—has become pastorally burdensome, especially for survivors of clergy abuse connected to what Bishop Matthiesen himself described as a “serious mistake.”
My concern is rooted not in accusation, but in family: the family of survivors, the parish family, the diocesan family, and the wider Church. In the spirit of reason, religion, and loving kindness, I ask whether we might openly discern why this tribute exists, how it is received by those wounded by abuse, and what faithfulness to the Gospel requires of us during this Centennial year.
Christmas reminds us that God chose humility over grandeur, presence over silence, and truth spoken in love over avoidance. I respectfully ask that this matter be engaged synodally—with listening, dialogue, and prayer—so that healing, not division, may mark our celebration.
Please know that I remain committed to the Church, to the Eucharist, and to walking this path in charity and fidelity.
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.