Other names Doctor Angelicus (Angelic Doctor) Doctor Communis (Universal Doctor) Doctor Humanitatis (Doctor of Humanity/Humaneness) Bos Mutus (Dumb Ox)
“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 concern for the purity of the faith demands giving the answer of effective witness in the service of one’s neighbor, the poor and the oppressed in particular, in an integral theological fashion.’”
Does my faith—the Centennial pillar for January—tell me that I ought to defend the purity of belief not just with words, but by giving effective witness in loving service to my neighbor, especially the poor and the oppressed of our “serious mistake”?
2. Meditatio – Meditation
This evening, after the hush left behind by the winter storm, my mind keeps circling that stubborn, moral word: ought.
“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 am full of things that, in my opinion, others ought to do. The bishop ought to respond. The diocese ought to listen. The Church ought to practice synodality in the places where memory is painful and history unfinished.
But the Gospel does not say, “Whoever has authority ought to hear.” It says, “Whoever has ears…”
Which includes me.
Above: The Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen Below: A Fallen Centennial Banner
I have been sowing words — reflections, pleas, prayers, questions about the Tribute, about wounds, about listening. I imagine the seed flying through the air like truth with a mission. But tonight the parable turns around and points its finger at the sower.
What kind of soil am I?
St. Thomas Aquinas would gently clear his throat here and say something devastatingly reasonable: Truth does not panic. Truth does not shout. Truth does not wither because it is not instantly affirmed. If something is true, it can afford patience.
I keep thinking others ought to hear. But perhaps I ought to root.
Rocky soil is enthusiastic but shallow. Thorny soil is sincere but distracted. The path is hard because it has been walked on too long by the same thoughts.
Have I been trampling my own interior ground with “oughts” aimed outward, instead of letting the Word dig downward?
Christ ought to have come down from the Cross. He did not.
Christ ought to have defended Himself. He did not.
Christ ought to have avoided suffering. He did not.
And St. Thomas would say: patience is not weakness — it is strength governed by truth.
Perhaps the most paradoxical thing of all is this: The seed grows in secret, and the farmer does not understand how. The Kingdom advances while the sower sleeps.
So tonight, I hear a quieter ought:
I ought to trust that truth grows even in hidden soil. I ought to let the Word work longer than my impatience. I ought to be rich soil before I demand a rich harvest.
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 Kingdom of God is not a courtroom where I present arguments until heaven bangs a gavel. It is a field. And fields are not persuaded — they are cultivated.
The saint of reason teaches me that grace does not bypass nature; it perfects it. So God will not replace my soil — He asks me to soften it.
The great paradox: The one who feels most certain about what ought to happen is the one most in need of surrender.
The Cross is where all human “oughts” go to die — and rise again as trust.
4. Oratio — Prayer
Lord Jesus, Sower of the Word, You scatter truth without fear of rejection. Teach me to be soil, not only a sower.
Where my heart is hard, break it open. Where it is shallow, deepen it. Where it is crowded, clear it.
When I think others ought to change, remind me that I ought to remain rooted in You. Give me the patience of the Cross, the quiet strength of truth, and the faith to wait for growth I cannot see.
Amen.
5. Actio — Action (Laudato Si’ & Synodality)
The developed countries ought to help pay this debt by significantly limiting their consumption of non-renewable energy and by assisting poorer countries to support policies and programmes of sustainable development.
Today I will practice hidden faithfulness: one act of prayer, charity, or silence that bears fruit no one else will notice — trusting that unseen growth is still real growth.
6. Song Pairing 🎵
🎶 “Matthew” (John Denver)
Like the quiet soil in today’s Gospel, Matthew sings of an unnoticed life that still holds immeasurable worth. The world counts success; God counts faithfulness. This Lectio reminds me that what I think the Church ought to do must first be rooted in what I am willing to quietly become — good soil, patient, hidden, and ready to bear fruit in God’s time, not mine. 🌱
7. Movie Pairing 🎬
🎬Movie:Places in the Heart (1984)
Like the widow fighting to keep her land, this Lectio is about what we ought to do when the storm has passed and the field still needs tending. Quiet endurance, stubborn hope, and the slow work of healing broken ground — that’s how hearts, farms, and even the Church bear fruit. Grace grows in hard soil when we refuse to walk away. 🌾
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.
