There is something marvelously inconvenient about the word law. It sounds so solid and judicial, so wrapped in marble columns and gavels. Yet Christ reduces the whole of it—the Law and the Prophets, the thundering of Sinai and the whisperings of Isaiah—to a sentence a child can understand: Do to others whatever you would have them do to you.
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.”
If we fail in this task of preservation, digital technology threatens to alter radically some of the fundamental pillars of human civilization that at times are taken for granted. By simulating human voices and faces, wisdom and knowledge, consciousness and responsibility, empathy and friendship, the systems known as artificial intelligence not only interfere with information ecosystems, but also encroach upon the deepest level of communication, that of human relationships.
As I reflect on hope — the Centennial pillar for February, do I trust that the law of love written on the human face and voice is stronger than any artificial simulation, and am I willing to live that law in real, embodied relationships so that technology does not condemn us to imitation when we are called to communion with those who suffer from our “serious mistake“?
2. Meditatio
Just as civil law requires the President to report annually to Congress on the state of the nation, my conscience requires me to report nightly on the state of Darrell. And like many State of the Union addresses, my report is curiously triumphant. I speak glowingly of my balanced budget of minor sins avoided. I highlight legislative victories: no theft today, no adultery, only moderate impatience. I gloss over foreign policy—those small skirmishes of pride and sarcasm—by calling them “strategic misunderstandings.”
I conclude, of course, that I am governing my soul rather well.
After all, I have broken no major laws—unless one counts the occasional speed limit, which surely Heaven treats as advisory rather than binding. And so the great law of Christ—Do to others whatever you would have them do to you—begins to feel like an arbitrary imposition. A regulation from a higher authority who has not fully appreciated the pressures of my administration.
When prophets appear—whether in Scripture, in encyclicals, or in the inconvenient voice of a bishop—I treat them as unruly opposition. They exaggerate deficits. They question my policies. They suggest that perhaps my economic growth in comfort has come at the expense of charity.
Surely they are mistaken.
And yet Christ’s law is not the law of minimal compliance. It is not “Avoid obvious crimes.” It is not “Remain better than average.” It is not “Do not be as corrupt as the culture.” It is something far more terrifying: it is imaginative love.
If I were hungry, how would I want to be treated? If I were lonely, what kind of welcome would I crave? If I were wrong, how would I hope to be corrected?
The law and the prophets are fulfilled not in my self-justifying nightly speeches, but in my willingness to let another person’s need become as urgent to me as my own.
The law, it seems, is not a fence to protect my virtue; it is a door I must knock upon daily—asking to be made merciful.
3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
The paradox of Christian law is that it is both the simplest and the most impossible thing in the world. It can be summarized in one sentence and requires an entire lifetime to obey.
It is simple because it appeals to my own instinct for happiness. I know precisely how I wish to be treated. I desire patience, understanding, generosity, forgiveness. Christ merely suggests that I extend to others the very courtesies I draft for myself.
It is impossible because I prefer to draft special exemptions for Darrell.
The Pharisee within me seeks a loophole. The politician within me seeks applause. The child within me seeks candy. But Christ, the Lawgiver who is also the Bread of Life, seeks something stranger still: that I should treat the beggar as if he were myself, the critic as if he were my friend, the bishop as if he were Christ, and even the culture I distrust as if it were capable of redemption.
The law is not abolished; it is fulfilled in love. And love is not sentimental. It is structured. It has architecture. It is the only constitution that will not collapse under scrutiny.
To ask, to seek, to knock—this is not the begging of a pauper but the posture of a son. And the law of sons is trust.
4. Oratio
Lord Jesus Christ, You who are the fulfillment of the law and the voice of the prophets, teach me to ask not merely for comfort, but for conversion.
Deliver me from the illusion that legality is holiness. Deliver me from theatrical reports of my own righteousness. Write Your law not on tablets of stone, but upon the stubborn parchment of my heart.
Make me treat others as I long to be treated. And when I fail, let me knock again until the door of mercy opens.
Amen.
5. Actio — In Light of Laudato Si’ and Synodality
We should not think that political efforts or the force of law will be sufficient to prevent actions which affect the environment because, when the culture itself is corrupt and objective truth and universally valid principles are no longer upheld, then laws can only be seen as arbitrary impositions or obstacles to be avoided.
I will examine one concrete relationship in my life where I have reduced the law of love to mere compliance. I will initiate one act of reconciliation or practical charity this week—especially toward someone whose “policies” I have been quick to criticize.
Synodality begins when I stop treating others as legislative opponents and begin walking with them as fellow pilgrims under the same law of love.
6. Song Pairing 🎵
🎶 “The Weight” – The Band🎵
The law of Christ is not a burden imposed from without; it is the shared weight of one another’s needs. “Take a load off, Fanny”—for the Gospel insists that we carry each other’s loads.
7. Movie Pairing 🎬
🎬Movie:“F1” (2025)
Even the fastest driver must obey the laws of the track. Freedom without law leads only to collision. So too the Christian life: speed is nothing without the guiding lines of love.
Introvert + Apostle = Christian paradox unlocked. 🔓 Father Taylor Elzner explains how silence fuels mission, why labels aren’t boxes, and how to stop “communion to escape” and start living grace outward. Grace doesn’t delete your introversion — it perfects it! Introverts aren’t anti-social — we just need better WiFi with Heaven before mingling. This episode is introverted…but we make sure it is apostolic. 🌱
On behalf of many of the faithful in the Diocese of Amarillo, I wish to extend to you a heartfelt welcome as our Apostolic Administrator. Please know of my prayers for you as you shepherd us during this significant moment in our diocesan history.
As we continue celebrating our Centennial year, we give thanks for the many blessings God has bestowed upon this local Church over the past one hundred years. At the same time, anniversaries naturally invite both gratitude and honest reflection.
It is in that spirit of reflection — and in the spirit of synodality so frequently emphasized in the life of the Church today — that I respectfully ask whether there might be an opportunity for renewed dialogue regarding the Tribute to Bishop Matthiesen and what former Bishop Zurek referred to as the “serious mistake” that brought about its existence.
My desire is not to reopen wounds or foster division, but rather to seek clarity, healing, and communion. I believe many of us long to celebrate our Centennial with consciences fully at peace, confident that we have honestly acknowledged our history while entrusting it to the mercy of Christ.
Synodality, as I understand it, calls us to walk together — clergy and laity alike — in truth and charity. If there is a path forward that allows for thoughtful listening, careful discernment, and pastoral guidance on this matter, I would be deeply grateful.
Thank you for your willingness to serve us during this transitional season. Please be assured of my continued prayers for your ministry and for the unity of our diocesan family.
Respectfully in Christ,
Darrell Glenn
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.
