1. Lectio (Reading — received as wonder)“
Today the Scriptures do not argue; they tell.
God tells Moses how to bless a wandering people,
not with explanations, but with a Name placed gently upon them.
The psalm sings what has already been told:
that blessing spreads outward,
that mercy travels farther than borders,
that praise grows where it is spoken aloud.
Paul tells us what history waited to hear:
that time itself ripened,
that God was born of a woman,
that slavery was not the final word.
And in the Gospel, shepherds—
uneducated, unsophisticated, and entirely unqualified—
tell what they were told.
They do not embellish.
They do not soften.
They do not explain away the straw or the poverty.
They speak, and the world listens.
Mary does not interrupt them.
She does not correct their theology.
She keeps what is told,
and lets truth grow quietly inside her.
“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.”
“…they were often victims of the unscrupulous. Her motherly heart, which allowed her no rest, reached out to them everywhere…”
Dilexi te §74
“Can I live in Communion—one of the four pillars of our Diocesan Centennial—by bearing a motherly heart that does what it is told, refuses rest, seeking out the victims of the unscrupulous wherever they are found?
Meditatio (Meditation — what troubles the heart)
Today I realize how much I am still waiting to be told.
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
I have been told that Bishop Matthiesen’s decision to bring a priest who later erected the tribute into the Diocese of Amarillo was a “serious mistake.”
I have been told that names were quietly removed elsewhere.
I have been told that we should now move forward, celebrate, rejoice.
But I have not been told why this Tribute, during this Centennial, fosters Communion, one of the four pillars we claim to uphold.
I am not demanding conclusions.
I am not insisting on removal.
I am not asking for punishment.
Below: A Fallen Centennial Banner
I am only asking to be told.
Because silence, when it refuses to speak truth, does not protect unity;
it fractures it.
Like Mary, I am willing to ponder.
Like the shepherds, I am willing to speak simply.
But like a son of the Church, I need to be told why memory must remain unexamined while wounds remain unspoken.
Contemplatio (Chestertonian synthesis — paradox embraced)
Here is the paradox I cannot escape:
God saves the world not by shouting from heaven,
but by trusting His story to those who were told.
Truth does not triumph by force;
it survives by being spoken and received.
A Church that forgets how to tell the truth gently
will eventually tell lies loudly—
even if it calls them celebrations.
Mary teaches me today that holiness does not rush to explain,
but neither does it refuse to remember.
The Incarnation itself is God’s insistence
that what is told matters.
Oratio (Prayer — Day 23 Collect, revised)
O God,
who through the fruitful virginity of Blessed Mary
bestowed upon the human race
the grace of eternal salvation,
grant, we pray,
that we who celebrate the Nativity of your Son
may also learn to speak truth without fear
and to listen without defensiveness.
During this Centennial year,
teach us to tell the truth that heals,
to name the wounds we carry,
and to trust that Communion is born
not from silence, but from shared light.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God, for ever and ever.
Amen.
Actio (Action — lived synodality)
“At one extreme, we find those who doggedly uphold the myth of progress and tell us that ecological problems will solve themselves simply with the application of new technology and without any need for ethical considerations or deep change.”
Laudato si’ §60
Inspired by Laudato si’, I will resist the temptation to treat people as problems to be managed.
Today I choose to practice synodality by listening first,
and by asking questions that invite truth rather than force agreement—
especially from those whose voices were once ignored.
🎶 “What Child Is This?”
They simply told what they were told—
and the world has never been the same.
🎬Movie: The Nativity Story (2006)
spoken by the least powerful,
and trusted to hearts willing to listen.
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.