I hear the Scriptures speak today with a strange gentleness that is stronger than thunder.
Isaiah tells me that God’s servant is not merely chosen, but formed from the womb, not merely for Israel, but for the nations. The Psalm answers with a line that sounds simple until it costs everything: “Here am I, Lord; I come to do your will.” Paul greets a divided Church with grace and peace before correcting a single thing. And John the Baptist, standing knee-deep in repentance, points—not to a weapon, not to a throne, not even to a prophet—but to a Lamb.
Not a roaring beast. Not a charging animal. A Lamb.
“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.”
Each day, I read a paragraph from the encyclical Dilexi te and weave a quotation from it into that day’s Lectio Divina.
Memorial in the Grotto of St. Mary’s Cathedral. The inscription says: “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 more we strive to secure a common good corresponding to the real needs of our neighbors, the more effectively we love them.’”
As I look upon the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world, do I have the faith—the Centennial pillar for the month of January— to believe that striving for the common good—meeting the real needs of those effected by our “serious mistake”—is not a distraction from loving God, but the very way the Lamb teaches me to love Him and them more effectively?
2. Meditatio — Chewing the Word
I once learned, in a very earthy and unforgettable way, the difference between animals at the moment of slaughter. A pig protests the universe with all its lungs. A lamb, mysteriously, does not. It submits in a silence that is not weakness but surrender.
“Bishop Matthiesen — a shepherd whose legacy in our diocese still asks hard questions of us today. May truth, healing, and justice be the final word.” Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
And here I must confess something uncomfortable: When it comes to seeking Synodality regarding the Diocese of Amarillo’s Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen, I am far more pig than lamb.
I squeal with frustration. I stomp with indignation. I demand answers as if volume were holiness.
Above: The Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen Below: A Fallen Centennial Banner
Yet today John does not cry out against Rome, or the Temple, or even Herod. He simply points and says, “Behold.” The Lamb does not remove sin by shouting it away, but by carrying it. He does not deny evil; He absorbs it.
This is where the paradox wounds me: I am right to speak. But I am wrong when I forget how the Lamb speaks.
If my voice drowns out mercy, then even truth becomes noise. If my zeal forgets submission, then even justice loses its music.
3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
A tribute, built for Bishop Matthiesen, while John Salazar—a convicted pedophile priest whom Matthiesen kept in ministry against the counsel of cardinal archbishops, giving Salazar a “second chance.” That second chance resulted in the sexual assault of youth in our own diocese. And just before he was defrocked and sent to prison, he raised this monument in Bishop Matthiesen’s honor. Its presence remains a painful reminder of “serious mistakes” that harmed the very flock Bishop Matthiesen was meant to protect.
The Lamb conquers the world not by refusing to be wounded, but by refusing to wound in return. The Lamb does not deny sin; He simply refuses to let sin have the final word.
The Church becomes most dangerous to evil when she looks most defenseless. And perhaps the reason the Lamb troubles me is because He asks me to trust that surrender is not surrender—to failure—but to God.
If the Centennial is to be holy, it cannot only remember shepherds; it must also remember lambs—especially those who were wounded while trusting the flock.
4. Oratio — Prayer
Lord Jesus, Lamb of God, teach me to speak without screaming, to stand firm without striking, to tell the truth without losing love.
Take from me the desire to win arguments, and give me the grace to witness. Let my words be shaped by Your silence, and my persistence by Your patience.
Make me less noisy, and more faithful. Amen.
5. Actio — Action (Laudato Si’ & Synodality)
“Politics and the economy tend to blame each other when it comes to poverty and environmental degradation. It is to be hoped that they can acknowledge their own mistakes and find forms of interaction directed to the common good. “
Today I will practice active listening as an act of faith—especially toward those whose wounds are quiet, whose suffering is not dramatic, and whose stories do not shout for attention. Synodality begins where I stop trying to out-argue and start trying to understand.
6. Song Pairing
🎶 “The Lamb” – by John Tavener
This haunting, prayerful piece reminds me that the Lamb does not erase suffering with force, but redeems it through surrender. It teaches my soul how to be quiet without being silent.
7. Movie Pairing
🎬Movie:The Passion of the Christ (2004)
Not because it is easy to watch, but because it refuses to let me forget that redemption comes through obedience, not avoidance—and that the Lamb bears what the world cannot.
Here is one of those modern miracles that does not involve thunder, but does involve truth. In the latest CAPN: The WTC – The Podcast, you’ll hear the very personal story that set Karlynn Hochstein on the unlikely (and very Catholic) road to becoming our Diocese of Amarillo’s Director of Family Life. It is the sort of story that reminds us that vocations are rarely born in comfort, but almost always in conviction. And it also explains why I’ll be at St. Mary’s Cathedral next Saturday at 10:00 a.m. for the Respect Life Mass—because when faith becomes flesh in real lives, the only reasonable response is to show up. Give it a listen. Truth, like grace, works best when it’s personal.
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
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
Memorial in the Grotto of St. Mary’s Cathedral. The inscription says: “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.“
I was one of “the few” Bishop Zurek spoke of in this letter. He first posted it in August of 2019, and in response to my, “calling out all the more“, he kept reposting it atop the diocesan news page until December 11, 2019. There it remains to this day.
Fr. Ed Graff, brought here from Philadelphia by Bishop Matthiesen, was arrested in 2002 for sexually assaulting a minor and died later that year in jail. Despite the harm linked to his ministry, he was buried in an honored section of Llano Cemetery among our pioneering clergy — a decision that continues to wound survivors and raise hard questions for our diocese.
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 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.
