One of the scribes came to Jesus and asked him, “Which is the first of all the commandments?”
Jesus replied:
“Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.
The second is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
There is no other commandment greater than these.”
First of all, responsibility. Depending on the role we play, responsibility can be understood as honesty, transparency, courage, farsightedness, the duty of sharing knowledge or the right to be informed. As a general principle, however, no one can elude personal responsibility for the future we are building.
If Communion, the Centennial pillar for March, calls me to walk together in shared responsibility for the future we are building, am I willing to let love guide my honesty, transparency, and courage so that the world we create truly reflects Christ?
2. Meditatio
There are moments when the simplicity of the Gospel feels almost scandalous.
Today’s commandment is so disarmingly short that it seems hardly sufficient to govern a world that appears determined to destroy itself with such complicated machinery.
At the very moment when Christ declares that the entire law is summarized in love, my country seems busy demonstrating that the world can be summarized in quite the opposite.
War rages in distant deserts. Bombs fall from the sky and sometimes land on places they were never meant to land—schools, homes, the small and fragile places where children should be safe.
The official explanation, of course, is that war is hell.
And perhaps it is.
But I cannot help noticing that the Gospel did not say:
The Church, it seems, continues its quiet rebellion against despair. So much so that Bishop Daniel himself has put it on his schedule.
While missiles are launched with great seriousness by men in suits, somewhere in Amarillo young Catholics are gathering in a ballroom simply to meet one another.
And in that small and almost laughably ordinary act lies something far more subversive than any weapon.
For every marriage that begins in such a room is a declaration that love still believes in the future.
And if the world is ever to survive its endless wars, it will not be because of superior firepower.
It will be because ordinary people stubbornly continue to believe Christ when He says that love is the greatest commandment.
But understanding it and living it are separated by a distance that only grace can cross.
4. Oratio
Lord Jesus,
You have commanded me to love— not only in times of peace but in times of fear, anger, and confusion.
Teach my heart to love you above all things and to love my neighbor even when the world encourages hatred.
Let your commandment be stronger than the noise of this world.
Amen.
5. Actio — In Light of Laudato Si’ and Synodality
Francis helps us to see that an integral ecology calls for openness to categories which transcend the language of mathematics and biology, and take us to the heart of what it is to be human. Just as happens when we fall in love with someone, whenever he would gaze at the sun, the moon or the smallest of animals, he burst into song, drawing all other creatures into his praise.
In a world often looking for power, victory, or security, the Gospel quietly reminds me that what every human heart is really searching for is love—sometimes in all the wrong places, until Christ shows us where it truly begins: loving God with all our heart and loving our neighbor as ourselves.
This film playfully suggests that love is everywhere, hiding in ordinary moments and imperfect lives. The Gospel goes one step further: love is not only everywhere—it is the very commandment that holds everything together.
I struggle even to pronounce the word concupiscence, much less explain it. Fortunately, Joshua Correa manages both with admirable clarity in the latest episode of Spiritual Arms: Five Minutes for the Battle—and even explains why Lent, that season of spiritual combat, is actually his favorite time of year. Five minutes that make the battle make sense.
The Introverted Apostle: Small Group vs. Large Group Engagement Doosterhaus. Doisterhaus. Dusterhaus. However you pronounce it, Davlyn brought wisdom. 😄 Less noise and more depth in this week’s episode, Davlyn Duesterhaus unpacks introvert survival tips: start small, know your boundaries, make eye contact (occasionally), and why wholeness takes both introverts and extroverts. It’s not either/or…it’s both/and. Take a deep breath and say, “Okay, God, here we go!” ⛪😌 BONUS: We attempt to pronounce her name correctly.
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. ❤️🔥
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.
A tribute to Bishop Matthiesen—now a complex symbol in our diocesan history, erected by former priest John Salazar, whose later abuse conviction reminds us how painful chapters of the Church’s past must be faced honestly as we seek healing and communion.
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.
While we recognize your thoughtful suggestion for a renewed dialogue on Bishop Matthiesen, the present circumstances do not present an opportunity for it. I think it would foster division not dialogue. We remain confident in God’s providence and hopeful for what the future may bring.