The notion of the ‘ordo amoris’ – the ‘order of love’ – has generated some debate of late, not least since some big names have been involved: JD Vance responding to Pope Francis, and Robert Cardinal Prevost – before he was elected to the papacy – responding to Mr. Vance, by re-tweeting a tweet.
I won’t wade into all that, and only offer some distinctions from Saint Thomas Aquinas that I hope may prove helpful in determining whether or not we should love some more than others.
As is often beneficial, we begin with a definition: Love is that virtue by which we ‘will the good of another’ (alteri). More generally, and accurately, Saint Thomas also defines love as ‘to will the good of someone’ (alicui). What’s the difference? Well, we’re supposed to love not only God and neighbour (the ‘other’) but also ourselves (hence, ‘someone’).
Already, here, we have some order of love: Charity is described in the Catechism as the love of God (first), then our neighbour for the love of God (cf., CCC, #1822).
The order of love becomes even more clear once we leave the realm of theory, and enter into the practical instantiation of love: In theory, we may love everyone, in the sense of willing what is good for them. We shouldn’t hate anyone, or at least not will the good for them. Perhaps this is what the Pope is getting at.
The ordo amoris enters in because our ‘willing the good’ cannot remain in the realm of universal, theoretical well-wishing, but must have practical results, as Saint James warns:
If a brother or sister is ill-clad and in lack of daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what does it profit? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. But some one will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith. (James 2:15-18)
The Apostle is saying here that faith must bear fruit in love, which means willing, by our good works, what is actually good for the other.
The difficulty is that we only have access to a certain number of goods at our disposal. And our wills themselves are limited; so is our energy, capacity and time. Hence, by its very nature, our love must be ordered, according to reason, and the inspiration of grace.
We may turn to Thomas’ discussion of almsgiving (cf., II-II. q.32., a.9) for his analysis of how this should be done, for some are owed more of our practical charity than others, based on four criteria.
The overarching principle of love is necessity: Those who are most in need we are obliged most to help, as the parable of the Good Samaritan teaches. Yet, there are so many needs, this cannot be the only thing guiding our love. Some needs we simply cannot fulfill, for various reasons.
Hence, Thomas offers the three further criteria in guiding our own personal ‘ordo amoris’.
First, we should help those most connected to us: Family, those in our household, our neighbours, our fellow townsfolk and citizens of the nation to which we belong. Dissolving national borders is not a recipe for true charity, even if we must help those truly and desperately in need. For if we neglect those to whom we owe the most, what benefit is that to us, or to them? Another warning, this time from Saint Paul:
If any one does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his own family, he has disowned the faith and is worse than an unbeliever. (1 Tim 5:8)
There is a balance between necessity and connection, that must be discerned according to each situation. As Thomas puts it in an earlier article on beneficence: (II-II. q.31, a.3, ad 1):
The case may occur, however, that one ought rather to invite strangers, on account of their greater want. For it must be understood that, other things being equal, one ought to succor those rather who are most closely connected with us. And if of two, one be more closely connected, and the other in greater want, it is not possible to decide, by any general rule, which of them we ought to help rather than the other, since there are various degrees of want as well as of connection: and the matter requires the judgment of a prudent man.
Ah, yes, prudence, the perfection of practical reason whereby we discern the true good in every situation, and the right means of attaining it. We could a bit more prudence in our world.
Second, we should take into account the holiness of this recipient, which may seem discriminatory at first glance, but is simply as an extension of what is said above. Just as we are obliged first to love our own families and relations, so too we owe more to those of the household of the Faith. Here, we’re not judging anyone as more or less holy; only that we should support those who are on the objective path to holiness, so that they in turn may help others. There’s not much sense supporting people in a path that does not lead to holiness, or that leads quite the other way. Ponder: Would you donate to Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity, or to Planned Parenthood? Your own parish, or the local Jehovah’s Witnesses?
The final criterion is utility: That is, we should discern whether the recipient will use the good in a way that is good for them and for the community. Giving money to a drug addict so he can get his ‘fix’ may not be the best use of your money. There are other ways to help him.
So too, we owe more of our ‘good’ – money and other support – to apostolates that are more effective in bringing about the good for which they were founded, rather than those that dissipate their funds, say, on six-figure salaries and vacation cruises for the employees – see, Mother Teresa, versus, say, a U.N. humanitarian project.
How we apply all of this in praxis is complex, and open to debate, even disagreement. What we must accept is that the ordo amoris is an inexorable fact of life, that we owe more to some than we do to others, and it is up to us to figure that out in whatever sphere of authority we are given.
We may hope that, regardless of the limits of our human love, God’s love will provide for those whom we cannot help, in ways that may be mysterious from our perspective, but will make sense in eternity, when we will get at least some sense of the broad sweep of God’s munificent providence.
