Mark 12:28-34--"The Stewardship of Love"

Not so long ago, when I was a still professor of religion instead of a mere practitioner of it, I would tell my students at Furman University that the two great frontiers for theology in our time are astrophysics and neuroscience. No other field of study in our time gets any closer to reading the mind of God, in Stephen Hawking’s wonderful turn of phrase, than astrophysics does. But in addition to reading the mind of God, theology must plumb the depths of the human psyche as well, so the other frontier for theology in our time is the study of the structures that underlie the human mind. Brain science takes us closer to the roots of theology than any other field of study in our time. Exploring the mind of God in astrophysics and the underlying structures of the human mind in neuroscience are the great frontiers for theology. In the meantime, however, what most of us feel that we need most in our lives is something we can carry away from this place that will help us recover from the week that we just had and get through the week that lies ahead. So come with me for a few minutes to the grocery store. That’s where we usually go to get the things we ran out of last week and need for next week, isn’t it?

I did a double take as I walked down the aisle. I was passing the magazines when one particular cover caught my eye. It was a dark-haired couple in a romantic embrace, eyes closed, face to face, very nearly—but not quite—lips to lips. The photo was slightly grainy, sultry, steamy looking. In the bottom right corner superimposed in red letters on a field of black was the word “Love.” Maybe Time would run this cover or The National Enquirer. But there was no mistaking the fact that this blissfully sensuous and romantic moment was framed by a bold yellow border that communicated as clearly and as incongruously as the white capital letters across the top: National Geographic. National Geographic? What kind of geography is this? Sign me up! I’ll become a geography major first thing tomorrow. I did a double take and walked on by. After all, it wasn’t love that brought me out to the grocery store at 10:00 on a weeknight after having been up since 4 a.m. It was children’s Tylenol, a gallon of milk, and 0.7 mm lead for a middle-schooler’s mechanical pencil. Only to have my attention distracted by a grainy photograph in a yellow border. “What is it I’m here for?” I had to ask myself. “Keep moving,” I said. “You’re not here for ‘Love’—or National Geographic either.” So I waited until the next time I was in the grocery store—about three days later. A gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, and National Geographic, the February issue just in time for Valentine’s Day.

“Love: The Chemical Reaction” was the cover story. This is National Geographic for a new generation of reader. Lauren Slater’s article was a blend of Cosmopolitan, Anthropology Today, and Scientific American. And Jodi Cobb’s photographs from Argentina, Cancun, Italy, Las Vegas, Pennsylvania and Ohio were vintage Geographic with a Generation Next edge. The article introduced the reader to anthropologist Helen Fisher of Rutgers University who studies “the biochemical pathways of love in all its manifestations: lust, romance, attachment, the way they wax and wane” (p. 35). It turns out that the chemical pathways in the brain that light up when you are “madly in love” are those that are associated with a chemical neurotransmitter called dopamine. “Dopamine [is a chemical in the brain that] creates intense energy, exhilaration, focused attention, and motivation to win rewards. [Dopamine] is why,” writes Slater, “when you are newly in love, you can stay up all night, watch the sun rise, run a race, ski fast down a slope ordinarily too steep for your skill. Love makes you bold, makes you bright, makes you run real risks, which you sometimes survive, and sometimes you don’t” (ibid.).

Donatella Marazziti is a professor of psychiatry at the University of Pisa, in Italy. She studies another chemical pathway of love. Her studies of people who could be identified as “passionately in love” have shown that their blood levels of the chemical serotonin are 40% lower than normal, which corresponds to level of serotonin exhibited by people who have been diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. In the best one-liner in the article Slater writes, “Love and mental illness may be difficult to tell apart” (p. 38). “More seriously,” she writes, “if the chemically altered state induced by romantic love is akin to a mental illness or a drug-induced euphoria, exposing yourself for too long could result in psychological damage” (p. 44). In fact, “Studies around the world confirm that indeed passion usually ends. Its conclusion is as common as its initial flare. No wonder some cultures think selecting a lifelong mate based on something so fleeting is folly” (pp. 43-44).

I still remember the day last year that our pastoral staff sat looking at each other in shock when we heard the news that a well-respected young colleague of ours at another church was separated from his wife of five years because they just didn’t have “the same chemistry” any more. Duh. The chemistry of courtship is an unsustainable imbalance in the brain more akin to mental illness than to any other human condition. The “chemistry” of a couple is literally different after four or five years of intimacy. Sustainable loving relationships inevitably move “from the dopamine-drenched state of romantic love to the relative quiet of an oxytocin-induced attachment,” writes Slater. “Oxytocin is a hormone that promotes a feeling of connectedness, bonding. It is released when we hug our long-term spouses, or our children. It is released when a mother nurses her infant” (p. 45). We tend to speak of the “chemistry” of love in a metaphorical sense, but it turns out that the literal chemistry of a long-term relationship is different from the heady brew of a romantic chase. There is less dopamine in play. There is more serotonin and oxytocin in use. It’s no wonder that our concept of love is sometimes so confused. The chemistry of our love changes over time.

Now lest you think that it was my intent this morning to do a dull imitation of Bill Nye the science guy, let’s take a look at the love that Jesus of Nazareth commends in Mark 12:28-34 as “not far from the kingdom of God.” Love for God—with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength—sounds almost serotonin-starved obsessive-compulsive, doesn’t it?—and love for neighbor as yourself—sounds oxytocin rich, producing attachment, connectedness, bonding with others, doesn’t it? The gospels offer us powerful images, mental pictures, of this bi-focal love—love for God and love for neighbor—as it is defined in the person and work of Jesus Christ.

Loving God with heart and soul and mind and strength was defined and modeled by Jesus in the gospel of John when our Lord prayed,

I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us. . . . so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me (John 17:20-23).

Loving God with heart and soul and mind and strength was defined and modeled by Jesus in Gethsemane when our Lord prayed, “Father, let this cup pass from me. Nevertheless not my will but yours be done” (Matthew 26:39). Loving God with heart and soul and mind and strength was defined and modeled by Jesus on Golgotha when from the cross he cried, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (Luke 23:46). Loving one’s neighbor as oneself was defined and modeled by Jesus in Galilee when he provided for the poor and for the poor in spirit. Whether they were penniless lepers or wealthy tax collectors, a promiscuous Samaritan woman or a commanding Roman centurion, rich or poor, powerless or powerful they were neighbors one and all, as Jesus modeled and defined love.

The Jewish scribe in this morning’s gospel lesson got the point. “You are right, Teacher. . . . ‘to love [God] with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’—this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” As defined and modeled by Jesus of Nazareth, it is the stewardship of love that is “much more important than all” other offerings. If all that you and I offer God is money, then we have missed the mark and missed it badly, because what God wants from each of us much more than money is heart and soul and mind and strength and neighborliness before selfishness. Chemically speaking, this means we must be even more careful with our dopamine than we are with our dollars. We must be even more sensible with our serotonin than we are with our cents. And above all, we must be overflowing with our oxytocin.

You see, it turns out that love is exactly what I went to the grocery store at 10:00 that night after having been up since 4 a.m. It wasn’t the dopamine-drenched, serotonin-suppressed love of the first four years or so of Bev’s and my romance. Instead, it was the love of 28 years of marriage and three children and all the joy and anguish, all the anger and tenderness, all the heartache and happiness, that comes with the chemistry and the commitment that we call love. So the next time you ask yourself, “What is it I’m here for?” let me suggest that you consider answering this way: I’m here for love in all its manifestations, and above all love for God with heart and soul and mind and strength and love for my neighbor as myself.

(An excerpt from this sermon appeared in "Letters," National Geographic 209:6 [June 2006], p. 7)

This material is Copyrighted © 2006 by Jeffrey S. Rogers. It may be copied or disseminated for non-commercial use, provided this notice is included. The author can be contacted at jeffrogers110@bellsouth.net.