“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.”
“ All the members of the People of God have a duty to make their voices heard, albeit in different ways, in order to point out and denounce such structural issues, even at the cost of appearing foolish or naïve.”
In this Centennial month of faith, do I really believe that whoever belongs to the People of God — even someone who feels foolish or naïve — is summoned by faith itself to speak up and help expose structural wrongs due to our “serious mistake”, trusting that faithfulness matters more than appearances?
2. Meditatio – Meditation
This morning I find myself comforted and slightly embarrassed by the word “whoever.”
“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
My livestock do not care whoever brings the water when the troughs are frozen solid. They do not hold committee meetings about credentials. They do not whisper, “Is he on the diocesan planning board?” They simply look up with those wide, hay-scented eyes and ask one question: Will this “whoever” meet the need?
Snow has turned The Glenn into a desert — not of sand, but of ice. And deserts, I am discovering, are defined less by heat than by lack. A place without water is a desert, even if it glitters white.
And so it is with the Church.
Above: The Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen Below: A Fallen Centennial Banner
I sometimes grumble — in a very pious and theological way, of course — about why I should be the one speaking of the Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen during our Centennial. Surely someone with a better title, a shinier collar, or at least a seat closer to the chancery coffee pot could do it. Someone from the “inside.” Someone important.
But Our Lord does not say, “Whoever is well positioned…” “Whoever has ecclesial influence…” “Whoever has diocesan approval…”
He says, “Whoever does the will of God.”
The livestock do not ask about my status. Heaven, apparently, doesn’t either.
If I am doing His will — however clumsily, noisily, and with the spiritual elegance of a hog on ice — then I belong in the circle around Christ. Not because I am successful. Not because I am recognized. But because obedience is thicker than bloodlines, committees, or inner circles.
The Church is not built on the important. It is built on the available.
Which means the word whoever is both an invitation and a mirror. I cannot demand others act while excusing myself because I am “not the right person.”
The kingdom runs on holy volunteers.
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 world is always looking for the right man for the job, while God seems quite content with the man who simply shows up with a bucket.
The great joke of Christianity is that Heaven is held together not by specialists, but by whoevers — anonymous saints, unnoticed prayers, and people who do small obediences in frozen fields.
The Church survives because God’s family tree grows sideways, not just upward.
4. Oratio — Prayer
Lord Jesus, Thank You for the scandalous wideness of the word “whoever.” Save me from waiting to be important before I am obedient. Let me care less about my place in circles of influence and more about my place in Your circle.
If my voice is small, let it still be faithful. If my role is unnoticed, let it still be Yours. Make me a willing “whoever.” Amen.
5. Actio — Action (Laudato Si’ & Synodality)
This vision of “might is right” has engendered immense inequality, injustice and acts of violence…Completely at odds with this model are the ideals of harmony, justice, fraternity and peace as proposed by Jesus. As he said of the powers of his own age: “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great men exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you; but whoever would be great among you must be your servant” (Mt 20:25-26).
Today I will perform one hidden act of service for someone who cannot repay me — remembering that the Kingdom advances not through prominence, but through whoever answers the need.
6. Song Pairing
🎶 “Brother” – NEEDTOBREATHE
The Gospel rewrites family: not bloodlines, not status — just whoever follows the will of the Father.
7. Movie Pairing
🎬Movie:On the Waterfront (1954)
Like Terry Malloy standing on the docks, caught between silence and truth, this Lectio Divina wrestles with what it means to be one of Jesus’ “whoever.” It’s not about status, approval, or being part of the inner circle — it’s about doing the will of God when it costs something. On the Waterfront shows that real belonging comes when an ordinary man risks everything to stand for what is right. So too, “whoever does the will of God” becomes family — not by title, but by courage, conscience, and costly faithfulness.
I’m sharing The Introverted Apostle, Episode 2, because it gently explodes the myth that the Church is powered only by the loudest voices in the room. I love how it frames how we are Church—together. As I move through the day wearing different shades of introversion (reserved, anxious, thinking, social), this episode helped me see each not as a defect to overcome, but as a gift to be offered—in concert with the gifts of extroverts. The Body of Christ needs both the quiet heart and the bold tongue. Give it a listen. I suspect you’ll recognize yourself somewhere in it—and find where you belong in the Body of Christ.
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.
