I miss Matthew, too

Today was the first Sunday at Trinity with neither Aaron Klinefelter nor Matthew Dutton-Gillet on staff. In case you missed it, Matthew is on administrative leave for misappropriating church funds for personal use. Aaron, his assistant, had been officiating since then, but he left us to become rector (not assistant) at St. Jude's Episcopal in Cupertino.

It has been some weeks (I guess it's been two months at this point) since we've seen or heard from Matthew. That wasn't his choice; contact with the congregation is forbidden by the diocese during the "Title IV process." This morning's service was officiated by Tom Traylor. We respect, like, and appreciate Tom, but he's not Aaron, and he's not Matthew.

I've been missing Matthew for some time now. Part of it of course is that I'm also missing the whole experience of meeting together in person on campus. But I miss Matthew's smile, his wise, compassionate words, his warm greeting and pastoral care.

Why did he have to siphon off $2000 a month of church funds for the past five years? Why did he have to go and disqualify himself for the ministry he obviously felt called to and took such joy in? I wish he hadn't done that to us, to himself and his family, to Aaron and his family... There's a temptation to think, "What kind of hypocrite could preach those sermons while taking $500/week from the church treasury for the past five years?" or "We thought he was this wise and compassionate and godly man, but it turns out he's a criminal."

But of course that's an overly simplistic view of humanity. David, the "man after God's own heart," committed adultery and murder. How many of the rest of us, given access to a vast supply of funds and a lack of financial controls, might have taken similar actions? We humans are so complicated. And we'll probably never know what really happened.

I believe Matthew is a wise, compassionate man, but he's also a criminal. How different am I? I'm probably not as wise or compassionate, and I'm no less a sinner; my faults are no less than his, as far as I know. Do I have envy, anger, selfishness, self-pity, pride, impatience? (Does a bear shit in the woods? I guess you can add crudity to the list.) So far my flaws have not gotten me in legal trouble.

So yeah, I'm grieving. I'm glad that the Bible is full of flawed-but-still-inspiring people, saints who weren't perfect but sought to follow God—so that when we see each other's faults, we might grieve with understanding and compassion, rather than condemning with outrage.