Monday of Holy Week

1. Lectio

Judas speaks with what appears to be moral clarity:

“Why was this oil not sold… and given to the poor?”

It is a reasonable question—
and a dishonest one.

For the Gospel unmasks him:

“He said this not because he cared…
but because he was a thief.”

And in the shadows,
the chief priests begin their own calculations—
not of devotion,
but of preservation.

Here, in a single scene,
are two kinds of betrayal:

One from within the circle of disciples.
One from within the structure of authority.

And Christ,
receiving the costly perfume,
remains unmoved by both.

2. Meditatio

I must confess that I, too,
have played Judas.

Not in silver, perhaps—
but in something subtler.

And if I follow the thread of my betrayals,
it often leads me to one word:

priests.

There is a peculiar temptation
to become a disciple of a priest
rather than a disciple of Christ.

To attach oneself—
not to the Body,
but to a personality within it.

And once attached,
to begin imagining
that I belong to an inner circle.

It is a flattering illusion.

One that slowly turns faith
into something else entirely.

For I begin to measure myself
not by my closeness to Christ,
but by my proximity to the priest.

And from there,
it is but a short and predictable fall:

A sense of superiority.
A quiet detachment from the rest of the Church.
A subtle belief
that I see more clearly than others.

What begins as devotion
becomes possession.

And then—
when the priest falters,
or changes,
or simply turns his attention elsewhere—

I find myself asking:

“Why?”

But not, if I am honest,
because I care about the Church.

Rather, because something
I had taken for myself
is being taken away.

It is not zeal.
It is theft.

And suddenly, Judas’ question
no longer feels distant.

3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)

Chesterton might say that the danger is not that we love priests too much,
but that we love them wrongly.

We mistake the sign
for the thing signified.

The priest points to Christ—
and we, being human,
begin pointing to the priest.

It is a curious inversion.

For the priest is most himself
when he is least the center.

And the faithful are most faithful
when they do not cling to the instrument,
but to the One who uses it.

The tragedy of Judas
is not merely that he betrayed Christ—

but that he remained close enough
to mistake familiarity for fidelity.

And the tragedy of the chief priests
is not merely their authority—

but their use of it
without surrender.

Thus, both betray—
in different ways—
the same truth:

That all priesthood,
like all discipleship,
exists only
to lead beyond itself.

4. Oratio

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

“…from a reflection on the primary source of all things, filled with even more abundant piety,…call creatures, no matter how small, by the name of ‘brother’ or ‘sister’”.[20] Such a conviction cannot be written off as naive romanticism, for it affects the choices which determine our behaviour.

Laudato si’ §11

The Church is a people journeying together—
not a collection of personalities to be elevated or defended.

Today, I will:

• Pray for priests—not as extensions of myself, but as servants of Christ.
• Resist forming exclusive attachments that divide rather than unite.
• Walk synodally—recognizing that all of us, clergy and laity alike, are called to conversion.

For communion is not built
around individuals,
but around Christ.

6. Song Pairing 🎵

🎶 “Going My Way” – Bing Crosby🎵

7. Movie Pairing 🎬

🎬Movie: “Father Stu” (2022)

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