Day 31 of Lectio Divina for Synodality
Centennial of the Diocese of Amarillo
1. Lectio (Reading)
Today the Gospel gives me a man who is not merely sick, but declared unclean.
He is not described as having leprosy, but as being full of leprosy—
as though the disease has become his name, his reputation, his social address.
He does not argue theology.
He does not demand justice.
He does not even ask why.
He kneels.
He places the question where it belongs—not in policy, not in process, but in the will of God:
“Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.”
The leprosy leaves immediately.
Yet the story does not end with applause.
Jesus sends him to the priest.
Jesus submits healing to communion.
And then—almost confusingly—
Jesus Himself withdraws to deserted places to pray.
Healing spreads.
Crowds gather.
And still—He withdraws.
“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.”
“…solidarity ‘also means fighting against the structural causes of poverty and inequality; of the lack of work, land and housing; and of the denial of social and labor rights. It means confronting the destructive effects of the empire of money… Solidarity, understood in its deepest sense, is a way of making history, and this is what the popular movements are doing.’”
Dilexi te §81
Do I have the faith—the Centennial pillar for the month of January— to recognize that when the Church does not truly listen, it risks treating the cries of those wounded by our “serious mistake” as a kind of leprosy—something pushed to the margins—thereby becoming disembodied and unfaithful to Christ, who always listened first to those struggling daily for dignity and a future?
2. Meditatio (Meditation)
Today I place myself, without disguise, in the skin of that leper.
For there is a kind of leprosy that is not of the flesh but of memory,
not of the body but of the body of the Church.
The Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen stands like a visible scar—
a reminder of a period so diseased that even the New York Times paused,
looked toward the Panhandle of Texas,
and said that few dioceses had felt the aftershocks of the abuse crisis more deeply.
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
Leprosy isolates.
It removes names.
It teaches people to avert their eyes.
And I, an obese, aging, wannabe shepherd,
have spent 31 days kneeling in this Gospel posture,
not demanding removal, not crying outrage,
but whispering the leper’s prayer:
“Lord, if you wish, you can make us clean.”
Below: A Fallen Centennial Banner
I have shown myself—again and again—to the priest.
I have offered this intention at Mass.
I have prayed publicly and quietly.
And yet, there is no proof that convinces authority,
no crowd rushing in,
no trumpet of success.
Only this:
I feel the leprosy leaving me.
The ailment of bitterness.
The infection of triumphalism.
The disease of believing that shouting is healing.
And so, like Christ,
I withdraw—
not in defeat,
but into the strange desert where prayer is the only evidence that matters.
3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
Here is the paradox that would have delighted Chesterton:
The leper is healed by being touched,
but Christ remains whole by withdrawing.
The Church is cleansed not by pretending there was no disease,
but by daring to touch the wound.
Synodality is not the removal of scars.
It is the refusal to treat scars as untouchable.
And perhaps the greatest irony of all is this:
the leper’s healing is immediate,
but the priest’s recognition takes time.
Grace moves faster than institutions.
But institutions still matter.
So I wait—not because I doubt healing,
but because healing, when real, is patient.
4. Oratio (Prayer)
Lord Jesus Christ,
you did not heal from a distance,
nor cleanse by decree.
You touched the unclean
and then sent him into communion.
Cleanse your Church of every fear
that keeps her hands folded when they should be extended.
Heal what is diseased in our memory,
soften what has been hardened by silence,
and give us the courage to believe
that touching the wound is not weakness but faith.
Teach me to withdraw with You
when noise tempts me to replace prayer,
and to return when love demands my voice.
Amen.
5. Actio (Action)
(Laudato si’ & Synodality)
“As the Catechism teaches: ‘God wills the interdependence of creatures. The sun and the moon, the cedar and the little flower, the eagle and the sparrow: the spectacle of their countless diversities and inequalities tells us that no creature is self-sufficient.'”
Laudato si’ §80
Today I will practice nearness without spectacle.
I will listen more than explain.
I will stay present even when nothing changes outwardly.
I will trust that caring for the wounded—without controlling the outcome—
is already participation in Synodality.
6. Song Pairing
🎶 “Healer”
7. Movie Pairing
🎬Movie: The Miracle Worker (1962)
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.