Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

Be mine.

I thought this was simply a sweet if trite sentiment on a candy conversation heart. But an astute wordsmith preacher taught on Valentine's Day that this phrase takes on a dark twist in the word “cupidity.”

Instead of an arrow-wielding, chubby cupid in a diaper, cupidity means possession, a greed that borders on malice.

I spent the day thinking about how these two ideas co-exist in the same root word.

We all need a reminder about how love without self-sacrifice and generosity of spirit can slip into possessiveness and control. This is true not just in our relationships with people but also in our connection to our churches. 

Those of us who love the church sometimes are unwilling to share it fully with others. We might say all the right things, that we welcome visitors and embrace young adults. But I wonder if our actions and internal motivations are driven (even subconsciously) by cupidity rather than Christ.

As we move into Lent, perhaps we could fast from cupidity. We could look at our operations, from worship to kitchen duty, and see where we can give up control. I’m not suggesting that we stop our participation – or even leadership – but that we create an environment where new ideas and leaders can emerge. 

Take the kitchen, for instance. Every church seems to have unwritten rules about who is allowed to use the kitchen, the fine china, the ladles for the chili cook-off. We don’t share this inside information for fear that our tried-and-true ways will be challenged or, heaven forbid, changed. 

Or think of worship. At another church, there was a bowl at the back for the communion wafers. I didn’t realize for two months that I was supposed to count out the wafers for my family and put them on the plate. Who knows how many times my inaction forced the priest to dip into the reserved sacrament? 

This isn’t a bad method to get an accurate count for the wafers. But no one shared the information with me – or, I presume, other guests. The possession of the “right way” of doing things created division. 

In what other ways has our love for our church crossed the line into control and rigidity? What are we willing to give up so others may truly come in?