Saturday of the Fourth Week of Lent

1. Lectio

Gospel (John 7:40–53)

The crowd argues not about what Christ says,
but about where He is from:

“Surely the Christ will not come from Galilee, will he?”

They search the map,
consult their expectations,
and measure the Messiah by geography.

And so a division arises—
not because Christ is unclear,
but because He is unexpected.

The guards return empty-handed,
confessing the only truth that matters:

“Never before has anyone spoken like this man.”

Yet even this is not enough.
For when men are certain where something must come from,
they often miss what stands before them.

And so they all go home—
each man from where he came,
yet none any closer to where truth comes from.

Media, information and AI literacy will help individuals avoid conforming to the anthropomorphizing tendencies of AI systems, and enable them to treat these systems as tools and always employ external validation of the sources provided by AI systems — which could be inaccurate or incorrect. Literacy will also allow for better privacy and data protection through increased awareness of security parameters and complaint options. It is important to educate ourselves and others about how to use AI intentionally, and in this context to protect our image (photos and audio), our face and our voice, to prevent them from being used in the creation of harmful content and behaviors such as digital fraud, cyberbullying and deepfakes, which violate people’s privacy and intimacy without their consent. Just as the industrial revolution called for basic literacy to enable people to respond to new developments, so too does the digital revolution require digital literacy (along with humanistic and cultural education) to understand how algorithms shape our perception of reality, how AI biases work, what mechanisms determine the presence of certain content in our feeds, what the economic principles and models of the AI economy are and how they might change.

A possible alliance

In this season of Communion—the Centennial pillar for March, am I willing to grow in AI and media literacy so that I can discern truth from manipulation, protect the dignity and privacy of others, and use these tools responsibly—recognizing that communion is not something manufactured from algorithms, but something received and safeguarded from authentic human encounter in Christ?

2. Meditatio

Today I write this from Miami, Florida,
far from the place I usually claim as my own.

When people ask me where I am from,
I say Amarillo.

And most have heard of it—
perhaps because it is the only one of its kind,
or perhaps because of a song that lingers in the American imagination.

In college, at Texas A&M,
there were not many of us from Amarillo.
Which meant, on certain evenings,
my identity was secured not by merit
but by melody.

When “Amarillo by Morning” played,
I was suddenly quite popular.

I was less popular at 8:00 a.m. classes.

I remember once slipping into a large lecture late,
hoping to go unnoticed,
when the professor paused,
looked directly at me, and declared:

“Now we can begin—the boy from Amarillo has arrived.”

I was never late again.

It is a strange thing, being from somewhere.
It follows you.
It defines you—sometimes more than you define it.

There was a time Amarillo carried a reputation—
redneck, backwards, forgotten.

And yet, it is where I am from.
And, in truth, I returned to it.

Because something in me belonged to it
before I understood why.

But the Gospel unsettles even this simple notion.

For the crowd rejects Christ
because they think they know where He is from.

And I begin to wonder—
how often do I mistake origin for identity?

How often do I judge others, or even myself,
by earthly beginnings
while ignoring heavenly ones?

For each morning I rise not merely from Amarillo,
or from any place on a map—

I rise from grace.

And that, I suspect, is the only origin that finally matters.

3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)

Chesterton might say that modern man has a curious obsession with origins—
as though discovering where something comes from
is the same as discovering what it is.

We imagine that if we can locate a thing on a map,
we have explained it.

But Christ refuses such reduction.

He is from Nazareth—
and from Bethlehem—
and from eternity.

And the trouble is not that these contradict each other,
but that they expand beyond our categories.

The Pharisees dismiss Him because He is “from Galilee.”
As if God Himself were bound by regional expectations.

It is a small mind that insists greatness must come
from the places it approves.

And it is a smaller soul still
that forgets its own origin.

For I am not merely from a town,
a family,
or a history.

I am from the breath of God.

And until I remember that,
I will misunderstand both Christ
and myself.

4. Oratio

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

We have forgotten that we ourselves are dust of the earth (cf. Gen 2:7); our very bodies are made up of her elements, we breathe her air and we receive life and refreshment from her waters.

Laudato si’ §2

Everything is interconnected—
that all creation, and every person, shares a common origin and a shared destiny in God.

Today, I will live synodally by remembering where others are from—
not to judge them,
but to walk with them.

• I will listen to someone’s story without reducing them to it.
• I will honor the dignity of those who feel dismissed because of where they are from.
• I will recognize that we are all journeying from God and toward God—together.

For synodality begins
when we stop dividing by origin
and start walking toward communion.

6. Song Pairing 🎵

🎶 “Amarillo by Morning” – George Strait🎵

7. Movie Pairing 🎬

🎬Movie: “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” (1989)

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