One speaks aloud. One whispers in secret. One is respected. One is hidden in shame. One fears death. One has been living a slow one.
And Jesus answers both.
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.”
No Christian can regard the poor simply as a societal problem; they are part of our “family.” They are “one of us.”
“If hope is truly the Centennial pillar shaping my heart this February, do I see the poor from our “serious mistake” as Blessed members of my own family — ‘one of us’ — or do I still, in subtle ways, treat them as someone else’s problem rather than Christ’s presence among us?”
2. Meditatio – Meditation
This meditation is inspired by today’s Gospel and the article “What If…For 40 Days” by Fr. Tony Neusch, found in the most recent issue of Accent West magazine.
The word “If” is a tiny word, but it is shaped like a door hinge. It swings the soul between despair and miracle.
Today I find myself chewing on that hinge like an old farm dog with a stubborn bone. If. Such a small word to carry such dangerous possibilities.
There is the cowardly “what if”— What if things go wrong? What if faith makes me look foolish? What if I step forward and nothing happens?
That “what if” is the voice of the crowd outside the house, weeping loudly and professionally, already certain that death has won. It is a noisy if, a dramatic one, full of certainty that nothing new can happen.
But then there is the holy “if.”
The woman says,
“If I but touch his clothes…”
She does not hold a theological conference. She does not fix the liturgy. She does not wait for better conditions or less embarrassing circumstances. She does something much more reckless.
She reaches.
That is the difference between a faithless “what if” and a faithful “if only.” One sits back and calculates. The other leans forward and touches.
I confess I am often a man of the first kind of if. I analyze. I brood. I imagine reforms, outcomes, improvements, disasters. I hold long conversations with imaginary futures. Meanwhile, Christ walks past, hem of his garment swinging within reach.
The woman does not ask, “What if touching him causes a scene?” She asks only, “If I touch him, will he be enough?”
And Christ’s answer is absurdly generous. He stops the universe for the sake of a trembling hand.
Then comes Jairus, whose if is smashed by reality:
“Your daughter has died.”
That is the moment when most of my ifs die too. When the prayer seems late. When the situation seems sealed. When hope feels indecent.
And Jesus replies with the most unreasonable sentence in Scripture:
“Do not be afraid; just have faith.”
Which is another way of saying: “Keep the ‘if’ alive.”
For faith is not certainty about outcomes. It is daring to believe that if Christ steps into the room, the story is not finished.
3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
I see now that the Christian life hangs not on great achievements, but on small hinges.
Heaven does not open because I solve everything. It opens because I say, “If you are there, Lord, I will reach.”
The world is full of people asking “What if?” with folded arms. The Kingdom is built by those who whisper “If only…” and stretch out a shaking hand.
Faith is not tidy. It is not efficient. It is a hem-grabbing, crowd-pushing, dignity-risking act of hope.
And Christ, who feels the faintest touch in the chaos, is never too distracted to notice.
4. Oratio — Prayer
Lord Jesus, so many of my ifs are excuses dressed as prudence.
Teach me the if of the woman — the one that reaches instead of retreats.
When news arrives that hope is dead, whisper again: “Do not be afraid.”
Let my faith not be a theory, but a hand that dares to touch You in the crowd.
Amen.
5. Actio — Action (Laudato Si’ & Synodality)
If we approach nature and the environment without this openness to awe and wonder, if we no longer speak the language of fraternity and beauty in our relationship with the world, our attitude will be that of masters, consumers, ruthless exploiters, unable to set limits on their immediate needs.
Today I will turn one anxious “what if” into a trusting “if only.” Instead of replaying fears, I will make one concrete act of faith — a prayer, a kindness, a step I’ve been postponing.
6. Song Pairing 🎵
🎶 “If” (Bread) 🎵
Soft, vulnerable, almost painfully honest — just like the woman in the crowd. This is the sound of a heart that dares to believe that if love is real, everything changes.
7. Movie Pairing 🎬
🎬Movie:IF (2024)
A story about rediscovering what we thought was gone. Like Jairus’ daughter, hope may look lifeless — until imagination, faith, and love say, “Little one, arise.”
I’m sharing the newest episode of CAPN: The West Texas Catholic—and it turns out the future has gears, wires, and a Catholic high school uniform. The robotics team at Holy Cross Catholic Academy is building machines, yes—but more importantly, they’re building minds that know technology is a tool, not a master. Chesterton would remind us that the devil does not invent things—he only misuses them. Fire can warm a home or burn it down; the answer is not to outlaw fire but to teach children how to tend it. The same goes for robotics and AI. To call every circuit “satanic” is to forget that human creativity itself reflects the Creator. These students aren’t bowing to machines—they’re learning to rule them rightly, to harness what is good, true, and useful in service of something higher. And that, my friends, sounds suspiciously like evangelization in the modern world. Give the episode a listen. Then decide: fear the tool… or form the soul that uses it.
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.
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
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.
