“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 Church, to be fully faithful to her vocation, must not only share the condition of the poor, but also stand at their side and work actively for their integral development. ”
In light of faith as our January Centennial pillar, am I willing to risk being judged unlawful in the eyes of some if that is what it takes to stand at the side of those who suffer from our “serious mistake” and remain fully faithful to the Church’s vocation to share their condition and work actively for their integral development?
2. Meditatio
As I make my rounds around The Glenn on a frigid Panhandle morning, I see sparrows fluffed into small miracles of survival, perched in a leafless shrub, waiting for warmth that has not yet arrived. They look unlawful—too fragile to be outdoors, too alive to stay hidden.
“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
I often feel like that sparrow when I speak of the Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen.
There is an unspoken rule in the Diocese of Amarillo that says some questions should not be asked—especially during a Centennial, especially when banners are flying, especially when silence is mistaken for unity. When I speak, I sense the quiet accusation: Why are you doing what is unlawful on the sabbath of celebration?
Above: The Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen Below: A Fallen Centennial Banner
And yet, I read today that hunger outranks custom, that mercy outruns law, that need outranks propriety. David ate what was reserved. The disciples plucked what was forbidden. Christ did not scold them; He defended them.
If Synodality is unlawful—if listening to victims during a Centennial is unlawful—then perhaps I am guilty. But the Gospel whispers that the law exists to serve life, not suffocate it. And I wonder whether obedience that refuses to hear hunger has already become disobedient to God.
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.
Here lies the grand paradox: That what is called unlawful by the careful may be commanded by the Compassionate.
The Church was not made to protect rules from people, but people from despair. A sabbath that starves the hungry is not holy; it is merely tidy. And a Centennial that cannot hear pain is not faithful; it is decorative.
A Centennial Christ does not abolish the law—He completes it by bending it toward love. And I, an obese and rather ridiculous would-be shepherd, discover that sometimes the straightest path to holiness runs crooked through mercy.
4. Oratio — Prayer
Lord of the Sabbath, you who fed the hungry with hands deemed improper and healed wounds considered inconvenient, teach me the obedience that listens and the faith that risks misunderstanding.
If I must be called unlawful, let it be because I chose mercy over silence and hunger over ceremony. Make my heart subject not to fear, but to you, who are Lord of all laws. Amen.
5. Actio — Action (Laudato Si’ & Synodality)
“The biblical tradition clearly shows that this renewal entails recovering and respecting the rhythms inscribed in nature by the hand of the Creator. We see this, for example, in the law of the Sabbath.”
Inspired by Laudato si’, I will practice Synodality as mercy, not procedure—choosing to listen first, especially to those whose suffering is considered inconvenient to our celebrations, trusting that care for the vulnerable is never unlawful in the eyes of God.
6. Song Pairing
🎶 “Birds” – Coldplay
Like sparrows on a winter morning, this song echoes the fragile courage of those who move anyway—risking exposure, misunderstanding, and cold—to stay alive. Faith sometimes looks unlawful when it refuses to stay silent.
7. Movie Pairing
🎬Movie:Dead Man Walking (1995)
A film that dares to ask whether compassion itself can be considered unlawful. Like today’s Gospel, it insists that mercy must sometimes walk through forbidden fields to reach the hungry heart.
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.
