Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent

1. Lectio

Lectio (John 7:1–2, 10, 25–30)

The people speak with a confidence that borders on comedy:

“We know where he is from.”

And yet Christ, with a divine sort of mischief, unmasks their certainty:

“You know me… but the one who sent me, whom you do not know,”

Here is the riddle:
that a man may be entirely visible
and entirely unknown.

They recognize His face,
trace His hometown,
catalog His movements—
and miss His origin.

For He is not merely from Nazareth.
He is from the Father.

And that, they do not know.

For this reason, it is increasingly urgent to introduce media, information and AI literacy into education systems at all levels, as already promoted by some civil institutions. As Catholics, we can and must contribute to this effort, so that individuals — especially young people — can acquire critical thinking skills and grow in freedom of spirit. This literacy should also be integrated into broader lifelong learning initiatives, reaching out to older adults and marginalized members of society, who often feel excluded and powerless in the face of rapid technological change.

A possible alliance

How am I, being called, in this season of Communion—the Centennial pillar for March, to truly know—not merely information, but persons—by fostering media, information, and AI literacy in a way that helps others, especially the young, the elderly, and the marginalized, grow in critical thinking, freedom of spirit, and deeper participation in the Body of Christ?

2. Meditatio

I confess I have always delighted in knowing things.
It gives one the pleasant illusion of standing above a mystery rather than inside it.

I once thought I knew everything there was to know about Caesar Chavez.
I studied him, imitated him, even spoke as though I were him in a mock election.
I knew his causes, his courage, his Catholic devotion.

But I did not know him.

I knew about him—
which is rather like knowing the map of a country
and never setting foot upon its soil.

And so I begin to suspect that I have treated Jesus with the same courteous distance.

I know the stories.
I know the teachings.
I know when to stand, sit, and kneel.

But knowledge can become a kind of armor—
polished, impressive, and entirely impenetrable.

The crowd says,
And Christ replies, in effect,
“You do not know what knowing is.”

“We know Him.”

And Christ replies, in effect,
“You do not know what knowing is.”

For to know Christ is not to possess information,
but to be possessed by truth.

And I must ask, with some discomfort:
Do I truly know Him—
or have I simply made Him familiar enough to ignore?

3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)

Chesterton, I think, would laugh—
not cruelly, but joyfully—at the modern man who knows everything except the one thing worth knowing.

For we have become collectors of facts
and strangers to wonder.

We dissect the divine as though God were a specimen,
when in truth He is a Person who refuses to be pinned down.

The tragedy is not that we are ignorant.
The tragedy is that we are acquainted.

For acquaintance breeds a peculiar blindness—
the sort that says, “Of course I know,”
and therefore never asks.

Christianity is not the conclusion of an argument.
It is the collision with a Reality.

And the curious thing about Reality—
especially when it is alive—
is that it must be encountered.

To know Christ, then, is not to reduce Him to thought,
but to surrender to His presence.

And in that surrender, I discover something even stranger:

that the one I seek to know
already knows me.

4. Oratio

5. Actio — In Light of Laudato Si’ and Synodality

We all know that it is not possible to sustain the present level of consumption in developed countries and wealthier sectors of society, where the habit of wasting and discarding has reached unprecedented levels.

Laudato si’ §6

Authentic relationship is born not from information, but from encounter—
from listening, walking together, and shared responsibility for one another and for creation.

Today, I will resist the temptation to assume I “know” others.

Instead:

• I will listen before I speak.
• I will seek to understand rather than to categorize.
• I will walk with others in a spirit of synodality—
• not speaking about them, but journeying alongside them.

For communion begins
when knowledge becomes relationship.

6. Song Pairing 🎵

🎶 “Somebody That I Used to Know” – Gotye🎵

7. Movie Pairing 🎬

🎬Movie: “I Know What You Did Last Summer” (1997)

My Story

• 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 Yanta, who sought to enforce the Dallas Charter even when Bishop Matthiesen resisted him, and who bore the personal and pastoral cost of doing so. I met with Bishop Yanta about Bishop Matthiessen’s “no regrets” stance. He listened. He believed me. He acted where he could. And when he retired, he urged me—quietly but firmly—to keep speaking out.
• 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.
• Bishop Daniel Cardinal DiNardo…

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.

from a letter dated March 5, 2026