Love Is Not A Choice

Mark 12:28-34

Several years ago, a new theory was introduced to the world of popular psychology. Like any new psychological theory, it generated a lot of verbiage. That theory was called "codependency." For a while, if a non-fiction book was to become a bestseller, it had to have "codependency," or some grammatical form thereof, in its title. You couldn't pick up a magazine or turn on the television without learning how codependency was ruining your marriage, your job, your children, your life.

But even after much ink was spilled and much breath expended over this latest malaise of the age, most of us still don't know what codependency is. It has something to do with people who have addictive personalities and those around them who foster such personalities by allowing the addicts to become dependent on them, thus becoming addicts themselves. Did you get that? You probably will need a pastoral care specialist to explain it all to you.

In the midst of the frenzy over codependency, I came across a book with a Christian perspective on codependency. It claimed that codependent people have a great emotional vacuum within themselves. They walk around feeling like the hole in the center of a doughnut—a wonderful description of the emptiness that plagues so many of us—knowing that something is missing inside. The book made the important point that only when we choose to accept the unconditional love and grace of God can we learn to love ourselves and others in healthy ways. Indeed, only the knowledge of God at work in our lives can enable us to transcend the human frailties that keep us bound to each other by patterns of destructiveness.

Well, I couldn't disagree with this helpful theological perspective on a disorder that for too long was claimed only by popular culture. We all need constant reminders of the presence of God who loves us without qualification and grants us the strength to heal even our deepest psychological wounds. But what struck me first about this book was its title. The book was entitled, Love is a Choice. Love is a Choice, I kept repeating to myself as I held the book in my hand. And suddenly I was caught in a kind of cognitive dissonance, for sounding in my head was another voice, a voice that recited words I had heard all my life. "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength," that other voice proclaimed. "(And) you shall love your neighbor as yourself." Knowing the primacy of these commandments, Jesus said, puts us in close proximity to the kingdom of God. No, I thought. Love is not a choice, at least not for those of us who made a prior choice to follow Jesus.

Jesus himself made that clear time and time again in his ministry. In this text from Mark's gospel, we find Jesus in the not-so-unusual position of defending his teaching against the challenges of hostile religious authorities. Several pharisaic types were sent deliberately "to trap" Jesus (v. 13) in ecclesiastical conundrums. Should those who claim God rather than the emperor as their supreme ruler continue to pay taxes? In a resurrection scenario, to which husband would a woman married seven times belong?

But then came another religious authority, a scribe, who posed to Jesus out of sincere curiosity one of the most significant religious questions one could raise: "Which commandment is the first of all?" The world of Jewish law in which the scribe lived burdened its faithful with hundreds of commandments concerning what they should and should not do. So it is no wonder that this sincere soul sought some relief from the confusion of religious ritual by asking for the "bottom line" commandment.

The answer, Jesus said, can be found in words of truth as old as the law itself. The first and greatest commandment is nothing new. Instead, it is the one which God's people had inscribed on their hearts and on their door-posts from the dawn of their identity as God's chosen people, the shema of Deuteronomy 6: "Hear, O Israel,: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might" (vv. 4-5). To those words familiar to any Jew, Jesus added these: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these." No. It appears from these lucid words of Jesus that love is not a choice.

And, as always, Jesus knows us too well. He knows we would not necessarily do what we know we should do, but rather we choose to do what is easy and comfortable and convenient. So he didn't give us any quick way out. There's no wiggle room in this text: no exegetical loopholes that will allow us to say, well, Jesus didn't really mean that we should love God above everything else in our lives, and that we should love our neighbors as ourselves. Surely Jesus sees the mitigating circumstances of our lives: the people we need to care for, the demands of our jobs, the complexities and burdens of modern life. And surely Jesus would have qualified that bit about the neighbor if he lived where we do, if he had the kind of neighbors some of us have. But no. Jesus offers us no way to avoid placing God and others first in our lives. The words are clear, and the challenge is great. But as members of the new community gathered by Jesus, as those who point to God's kingdom come on earth, we have no choice but to accept this difficult call to discipleship.

Thanks be to God, there have been faithful followers of Jesus who have taken his words seriously. Knowing that love is not a choice compelled Mother Teresa to step out into the filthy streets of Calcutta's slums to care for those whom no one else would touch. Knowing that love is not a choice caused Millard and Linda Fuller to pick up hammers and build houses for the homeless, starting the Habitat movement that now embraces the world. Knowing that love is not a choice gave courage to Martin Luther King, Jr., to speak out for racial justice in the United States and to Desmond Tutu who helped bring down the evil system of apartheid in South Africa. Knowing that love is not a choice inspires ministries of reconciliation in the hate-filled city of Belfast and medical missions in Pakistan and across the African continent. Knowing that love is not a choice gives strength to those who serve our own communities in places of danger and despair through shelters for the homeless, health clinics for the poor, and recovery centers for the addicted.

Knowing that love is not a choice shapes the witness of countless men and women we all can name. I think of men and women I came to know during my years as a pastor, faithful souls who lovingly cared for dying spouses and handicapped children, who never abandoned a prodigal son, who would never miss a week volunteering at the nursing home, who give from what little money they have to fund scholarships and soup kitchens. Occasionally I would be so bold as to ask these folks what keeps them going in a world where commitment and faithfulness are in short supply. But then, I already knew the answer to my own question, and it had something to do with these compelling words of Jesus. Love, they would say, is not a choice. It's a command of the gospel.

In a wonderful sermon on the parable of the Good Samaritan, Barbara Brown Taylor talks about what it means to "do" love rather than simply thinking or speaking about it. "So love God," she tells us. "Love a neighbor. Be a neighbor, and let us not complicate things by arguing about the specifics. You know what it means to do love because some time or another you have been on the receiving end of it, but remember that knowing the right answers does not change a thing. If you want the world to look different next time you go outside, do some love"¹Jesus knew the world would look different if his followers did the kind of love he commanded us to do. He knew the world would come to look more like the kingdom of God he came to reveal.

"We love," John wrote, "because God first loved us." Anything less than love in response to God's grace in Jesus Christ constitutes ingratitude. No, love is not a choice, as many faithful people before us have known. May we, too, follow in their footsteps and heed the words of Jesus. Amen.

Beverly Zink-Sawyer Union Theological Seminary-PSCE Richmond, VA

NOTES

1. Barbara Brown Taylor, The Preaching Life (Cambridge, MA: Cowley Publications, 1993), p. 120.