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.”
This is further exacerbated by a naive and unquestioning reliance on artificial intelligence as an omniscient “friend,” a source of all knowledge, an archive of every memory, an “oracle” of all advice. All of this can further erode our ability to think analytically and creatively, to understand meaning and distinguish between syntax and semantics.
As I reflect on Communion — the Centennial pillar for March, am I allowing my relationships, my thinking, and even my faith to be quietly reshaped by a naïve dependence on artificial intelligence as an “oracle,” or am I seeking to have my mind and heart truly transfigured through real encounter — listening, discerning, and walking together in authentic human communion with those who suffer from our “serious mistake” rather than outsourcing my understanding to a machine?
2. Meditatio
At this stage of my life, I find myself oddly sympathetic to Abraham. When most men are arranging their rocking chairs, he is told to roll up his tent pegs. When prudence suggests preservation, Providence suggests pilgrimage.
I have taken to calling myself “The Paradoxical Pastoralist,” which is a grand title for a fellow who feeds sheep before sunrise and wrestles with bishops by noon. Yet Abraham too was a pastoralist—wandering, negotiating, building altars in places he did not yet own.
His journey was a symbolic conquest, not by sword but by surrender. He did not seize the land; he sanctified it. He built altars where others built walls.
The Transfiguration, however, is no mere pastoral ramble. It is an eruption of glory. Christ’s face shines like the sun. Moses and Elijah appear as if eternity itself has torn a seam in time.
And Peter, ever practical, suggests real estate development: “Let us make three tents.”
How like me.
When I glimpse grace—when prayer burns bright, when a thought seems heaven-sent, when my pastoral life feels noble rather than merely muddy—I wish to stabilize it. Institutionalize it. Monumentalize it.
But transfiguration is not meant to be domesticated.
It is meant to strengthen us for descent.
For the mountain is not the destination; it is preparation. Christ shines not to escape suffering, but to endure it.
Perhaps being transfigured is not about being transported away from reality, but about seeing reality suffused with divine light.
Abraham walked dusty ground that was already holy. The disciples descended into a valley that was already redeemed.
And I return from my morning Lectio not to escape my pasture, but to discover that even here—among sheep, wind, diocesan controversies, and GPS collars—there is a brightness I had not noticed.
To be transfigured is not to become someone else. It is to see who I already am in Christ.
3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
Transfiguration is the paradox of permanence revealed through change.
Christ’s face shines like the sun, yet He remains the carpenter’s son. Moses and Elijah appear, yet vanish. The cloud overshadows, yet clarifies.
God does not remove us from history; He illumines it.
Abraham’s wandering was not instability but obedience. Peter’s fear was not cowardice but awe. My pastoral wandering is not aimlessness but apprenticeship.
In a world addicted to spectacle, the true transfiguration may simply be attention.
To listen is to be altered. To obey is to be blessed. To descend is to be sent.
And when they lifted their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus alone.
That is the whole of it.
4. Oratio
Lord Jesus,
Transfigure my impatience into trust. Transfigure my defensiveness into listening. Transfigure my wandering into obedience.
When I see a flash of Your glory, keep me from building tents around it.
When I descend into ordinary days, let me carry the mountain in my heart.
Teach me to listen.
Amen.
5. Actio — In Light of Laudato Si’ and Synodality
“Beauty, which in the East is one of the best loved names expressing the divine harmony and the model of humanity transfigured, appears everywhere: in the shape of a church, in the sounds, in the colours, in the lights, in the scents”.[164]
Laudato Si’ reminds us that everything is interconnected and that our vocation is not domination but communion.
This week, I will practice synodality by listening before responding—especially in matters where I feel urgency or grievance. I will seek one conversation in which my goal is not to persuade but to understand.
Transfiguration begins when I allow the light to change me before I try to change others.
6. Song Pairing 🎵
🎶 “Like a Rolling Stone” – Bob Dylan🎵
Abraham left security; Peter left certainty. Sometimes being transfigured means rolling forward without a map—trusting the voice that called you out.
This was the second of three songs in the famous ‘Dylan goes electric’ controversy at Newport, played right after ‘Maggie’s Farm’, and before ‘Phantom Engineer’. He then left the stage and came back to play two more songs on an acoustic guitar.
7. Movie Pairing 🎬
🎬Movie:Nomadland (2020)
A pilgrimage through open spaces reveals that home is not merely a place but a promise. Like Abraham, we wander not because we are lost, but because we are called.
Move over, celebrity sightings…this is a Sacred Heart sighting! ❤️ Duane and Theresa are popping up in parishes everywhere, helping families put Christ at the heart of their homes and spreading devotion that’s anything but half-hearted. But wherever they go, they’re on fire for the Sacred Heart of Jesus. 🔥 In this episode, Duane and Theresa talk First Fridays, 12 powerful promises, and why enthroning your home might be the best “heart upgrade” you’ll ever make. Warning: Sacred Heart enthusiasm may be contagious. ❤️🔥
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. 🌱
Your Eminence Cardinal DiNardo,
Grace and peace to you in Christ.
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.
