Day 34 of Lectio Divina for Synodality
Centennial of the Diocese of Amarillo
1. Lectio (Reading)
Today the Gospel wastes no time on pleasantries.
Jesus does not begin with applause, pageantry, or a carefully curated celebration of the past.
He begins with a summons:
“This is the time of fulfillment.
The Kingdom of God is at hand.
Repent, and believe in the Gospel.”
The Kingdom does not arrive as a parade marching forward.
It arrives as a sharp turn.
Jesus walks along the ordinary shoreline of work and routine.
Men are casting nets, mending nets, clinging to what has always worked.
And he does not ask them to decorate their boats or commemorate their fathers.
He asks them to leave.
Repentance, in today’s Gospel, is not remorse—it is movement.
It is not feeling sorry; it is going somewhere else.
It is the courage to step away from even good things when Christ calls.
The nets fall.
The boats remain.
The call is immediate.
“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 presents herself as she is and as she wishes to be: the Church of all and in particular the Church of the poor.”
Dilexi te §83
Do I have the faith—the Centennial pillar for January— to repent of any comfort, silence, or self-protection that keeps me from embracing the Church as she truly is and longs to be—the Church of all, and in particular the Church of the poor?
2. Meditatio (Meditation)
Today I must ask myself whether I would have been among those Jesus called—or among those who kept mending nets.
I have been told by my bishop that I am not among “the faithful and loyal disciples the Lord Jesus desires.”
That sentence sits heavily with me, like a net tangled around my feet.
Perhaps it is because, instead of marching comfortably in a Centennial parade, I keep pointing to the crack in the pavement beneath it.
Perhaps it is because, while I affirm the Church’s teaching on life, I also insist that our own house bears a wound—a “serious mistake” that still bleeds quietly beneath banners and celebrations.
Below: A Fallen Centennial Banner
Am I called to repent of how I speak?
Almost certainly.
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
But am I being asked to repent of what I see?
Repentance is not silence.
Repentance is alignment.
If repentance means turning toward the Kingdom, then I must ask:
Is the Kingdom found only in celebration—or also in confession?
Only in proclamation—or also in listening?
Before I can proclaim the Gospel with clean hands, I must repent of my own pride, my impatience, my anger.
But repentance cannot mean abandoning the wounded at the shoreline while I follow a more comfortable Christ inland.
The paradox is this:
I may need to repent so that I can continue asking for synodality—more humbly, more patiently, but no less truthfully.
3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
The great mistake about repentance is thinking it belongs to sinners alone.
In truth, repentance belongs especially to the faithful.
The fisherman who never drops his net may be hardworking, respectable, and entirely obedient to yesterday—but utterly unavailable to tomorrow.
The Church does not repent because she is false.
She repents because she is alive.
Repentance is not the rejection of history; it is the refusal to idolize it.
It is the moment when celebration bows low enough to let truth pass through.
The Kingdom does not ask me to be successful.
It asks me to be turned—again and again—toward Christ.
4. Oratio (Prayer)
Lord Jesus Christ,
you did not wait for perfection before calling your disciples,
but you did demand repentance before belief.
Cleanse my heart of pride and resentment.
Strip my words of bitterness and my motives of self-justification.
But do not let my repentance become an excuse for silence
when listening is required,
or compliance when conversion is needed.
Teach me how to repent without retreating,
to believe without blinding myself,
and to follow you even when the path leads through uncomfortable truth.
You are the Kingdom at hand.
Turn me fully toward you.
Amen.
5. Actio (Action – Synodality & Laudato si’)
“Patriarch Bartholomew has spoken in particular of the need for each of us to repent of the ways we have harmed the planet, for ‘inasmuch as we all generate small ecological damage”, we are called to acknowledge “our contribution, smaller or greater, to the disfigurement and destruction of creation’.”
Laudato si’ §8
Inspired by Laudato si’, I will practice repentance as listening today:
- I will listen without preparing a rebuttal.
- I will allow voices from the margins—especially those wounded by the Church—to unsettle my assumptions.
- I will remember that repentance is ecological: it reorders relationships, not just ideas.
True synodality begins when I let go of the nets that keep me anchored to control.
6. Song Pairing
🎶 “Turn! Turn! Turn!” – The Byrds
Today’s Gospel reminds me that there is a season not only for building and celebrating, but for letting go and beginning again.
7. Movie Pairing
🎬Movie: Repentance (1984)
Like today’s disciples, conversion begins when we lay down what once defined us and follow Christ into costly fidelity.
Email to Bishop Zurek
Subject: A Request to Be Heard in the Spirit of Synodality During Our Centennial
Your Excellency Bishop Zurek,
I write to you with respect and with a sincere desire to remain in communion with the Church during this Centennial year of the Diocese of Amarillo.
As we approach the Centennial celebrations and the Respect Life Mass, I find myself holding an interior conflict that I cannot ignore in conscience. In prayer, particularly through Lectio Divina on the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, I was struck by the single word spoken by Christ to John the Baptist: “Allow it.” Those words have stayed with me.
They raise a question in my heart: what does the Church allow herself to hear, and whom does she allow herself to accompany?
I desire to celebrate our Centennial and to stand in solidarity with the Church’s witness to the dignity of life. At the same time, I struggle to do so without any space for synodality regarding the Diocese of Amarillo’s Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen, especially in light of what has been acknowledged as a “serious mistake” during that period of our history. The continued silence around this tribute weighs heavily on me, not as an accusation, but as a pastoral wound.
Recently, Pope Leo reminded the Church that “abuse itself causes a deep wound, which may last a lifetime; but often the greater scandal is that the door was closed and victims were not welcomed or accompanied with the closeness of authentic pastors.” He shared the testimony of a victim who said that the most painful part was that no bishop wanted to listen. The Holy Father emphasized that listening is profoundly important and asked the Church to deepen dialogue and implement synodality.
It is in this spirit that I write. I am not asking for condemnation, nor am I asking for erasure of history. I am asking whether there can be listening—whether synodality can be allowed—so that the Centennial truly reflects the four pillars we have named: faith, hope, communion, and mission.
I want to be present at the Respect Life Mass and to celebrate our Centennial in good conscience. But I also want to know that the Church I love is willing to listen to those for whom this tribute remains a source of pain, confusion, and exclusion.
Your Excellency, I remain obedient to your pastoral authority, but I also remain compelled by conscience and prayer to ask that this conversation be allowed to take place. I believe that such listening would not diminish our celebration, but purify it.
Thank you for taking the time to read this letter. Please know of my prayers for you and for our Diocese during this significant year.
Respectfully in Christ,
Darrell
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.