Ordo Amoris: The Order of Love

Buried within Church history lies a somewhat forgotten concept known as Ordo Amoris—the order of love. Even though it isn’t discussed in contemporary thought too much, this idea has significant implications for how we understand love, both in relation to God and to one another. At its core, Ordo Amoris grapples with such fundamental questions as ‘Who should we love?’ and ‘How should we love?’

Throughout Scripture, we find a call to love—love of God, love of neighbor, love of self, and even love for creation. Yet, we experience, first-hand, that when love is disordered it leads to misplaced priorities, and ultimately, spiritual harm. Some of the great Christian thinkers, Augustine and Aquinas, have wrestled with this issue, recognizing that love must be rightly ordered to be genuine and authentic, reflecting the divine will.

In exploring Ordo Amoris, we step into a conversation that challenges us to examine our affections, our priorities, and the way we live out the greatest commandment: to love God with all our heart, and to love our neighbor as ourselves (Matthew 22:37-39). Understanding and practicing Ordo Amoris is not merely an intellectual exercise—it is a call to spiritual reformation, a path toward aligning our hearts with the divine order of love.

One of the central commandments of Scripture is the call to love—both love for God and love for neighbor.

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” — Matthew 22:37-39

This command is not merely a general encouragement to love universally, but rather presents a specific structure or priority. Love, according to scripture, is not meant to be indiscriminate or haphazard; rather, it has an intended order. However, what does that mean, to say there is an order to love?

The way Jesus frames this commandment reveals a crucial truth: our love must first and foremost be directed toward God. It is only by loving God fully that we can properly love others. This ordering suggests that not all affections are equal or rightly placed. While love is central to the Christian life, some loves can become disordered by our perceptions of people and things. It’s important that we understand, from this command, that an order of love means we can easily distort love.

When our priorities are messed up, love for people and things becomes disordered. We may find ourselves loving things more than people, loving people more than God, or even loving ourselves in a way that is self-indulgent rather than rooted in God’s design. Scripture warns against such misalignments, for when love is wrongly ordered, it can lead us away from God rather than toward Him. This commandment to first love God anchors and directs all other forms of love. Only by loving God with our whole heart, mind, soul and strength can we truly understand what it means, and have the ability, to love others.

From this great commandment, we can infer that love must be rightly judged and properly ordered. Loving God supremely does not diminish our love for others; rather it strengthens it. When we love God first, all other loves fall into their rightful place. Ultimately, Ordo Amoris challenges us to examine our affections: Do we love God above all else? And, is our love for people, places and things informed by our love for God? By wrestling with these questions, we move closer to the life of love that God intends for us—one that is rightly ordered, deeply rooted, and ultimately fulfilling. A more challenging task is discerning who qualifies as our neighbor and how the order of love applies in those specific relationships.

The concept of Ordo Amoris finds its roots in the writings of St. Augustine of Hippo, who emphasized that love must be properly ordered, with God as its ultimate focus. Augustine taught that our love for anything or anyone else is, at its best, a reflection of our love for God.1 When rightly ordered, love draws us closer to God and aligns our affections with His divine will. However, when love is disordered, it leads to sin and spiritual instability. Augustine saw Ordo Amoris as a safeguard against misplaced affections, ensuring that our love for created things remains in harmony with our love for the Creator.2

Centuries later, St. Thomas Aquinas built upon Augustine’s foundation, expanding the implications of Ordo Amoris for human life and relationships. In his Summa Theologica, Aquinas explored how love should be distributed among different people and circumstances. Unlike a rigid hierarchy that dictates whom we should love and in what proportion, Aquinas presented a more nuanced understanding: love’s order is not inflexible but responsive to situational needs. While God remains the ultimate object of love, the way we express love toward others may shift depending on our responsibilities, relationships, and moral obligations.3 In essence, Aquinas emphasized that Ordo Amoris is not about limiting love but about loving rightly—ensuring that love is expressed in ways that honor both God and the dignity of others.

Through the wisdom of the Church, we come to see that love is not a finite resource to be rationed, nor is it bound by rigid constraints. There are no limits to love, no restrictions on its depth or reach—only a divine order that allows us to love genuinely, truly, and fully. Ordo Amoris does not teach us to withhold love from certain people or to prioritize some at the expense of others as a hard fast rule in all circumstances. Rather, it invites us to examine whether our love is properly aligned with God’s will, flowing outward from Him and shaping all our relationships in ways that reflect His justice, mercy, and grace.

With that said, this years, the concept of Ordo Amoris has come to the forefront of our public and political discourse. According to their interpretation, Ordo Amoris establishes a strict hierarchy of love: first comes love for one’s family, followed by love for one’s neighbor, then community, then country, and only after that—if any love remains—love for the broader world.

This interpretation of the order of love treats love as a finite resource, something to be rationed carefully and distributed in decreasing portions as it moves outward from ourselves. Meaning, we love those closest to us first, and those farthest from us least or not at all. But this interpretation of love misses the deeper theological truth, that love is not merely a human possession but a divine gift from God Himself. Ironically, this interpretation, in today’s discourse, on the order to love has also left out the most critical theological truth: love is and comes from God.

Without grounding love in God, any attempt to establish an order of love becomes distorted, often shaped by personal desires, societal pressures, or nationalistic interests rather than by divine truth. Instead of reflecting the self-giving love of Christ, such an order risks becoming a justification for favoritism, exclusion, or even moral compromise—where love is distributed based on convenience, personal gain, or cultural loyalty rather than God’s call to love rightly.

Having spent considerable time studying the writings of Augustine and Aquinas in seminary—and continuing to reflect on them today—I find myself in agreement with their central claim regarding Ordo Amoris: that our highest love must be directed to God alone. It is only by loving God first that we can truly learn how to love others rightly.

When God is at the center of our affections, every other form of love finds its proper place. This ordering prevents love from becoming selfish or possessive, instead shaping it into a love that seeks the genuine good of the other. Only through this divine priority can our love be purified, freeing us to care for others not as means to our own fulfillment, but as fellow recipients of God’s boundless love.

What strikes me most about the virtues God calls us to cultivate—such as the Fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) and the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1-11)—is that they are not meant to be hoarded or kept to ourselves. Unlike material wealth, which diminishes when spent, these spiritual treasures increase only when they are shared. We do not develop patience by avoiding people who test it, nor do we cultivate kindness by withholding it. Instead, these virtues grow as we practice them in our daily interactions.

In a profound way, we gain more by giving away. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and all the virtues God calls us to embody do not shrink when shared; they expand. The more we love, the greater our capacity to love becomes. Just as muscles grow stronger through use, our hearts become more open, more generous, and more reflective of God’s nature when we actively choose to love.

This is why I believe there is no limit to what God calls us to receive and share in this life. Love has no reserve—it is not a finite resource that must be carefully measured or rationed. Instead, it is an ever-flowing gift, one that we can always choose to give more freely. The only real restriction is our willingness to love. When we hesitate, when we withhold, when we love selectively, we diminish our own growth. But when we love as God loves—abundantly, sacrificially, and without fear—we discover that love is infinite, because it originates from an infinite God.

When it comes to the idea of a hierarchy or order of love, I don’t believe it exists in the rigid, structured way we often assume today. In human terms, we tend to justify prioritizing love based on levels of responsibility. We argue that our love should be greater for those to whom we are most directly connected—family first, then neighbor, then community, then country, with those farthest from us receiving the least or even none at all. This way of thinking suggests that love is something to be rationed according to proximity and obligation.

However, scripture consistently challenges this mindset. James, for example, speaks strongly against favoritism, declaring that it is a sin in itself (James 2:1-9). If we love selectively—giving more to those closest to us and disregarding those we deem less deserving—our love becomes conditional and self-serving, rather than a reflection of God’s boundless grace. True love, as modeled by Christ, does not function on a human scale of preference. Jesus shattered societal boundaries by loving the outcast, the stranger, and even His enemies, demonstrating that divine love is not meant to be restricted by human categories.

“If you keep the law of the kingdom, according to Scripture: Love your neighbor as yourself, you do well; but if you make distinctions between persons, you break the law, and are condemned by the same law.” — James 2:8-9

Elsewhere, in the New Testament, we see that God’s love is unconditional and extends to all people. Verses like John 3:16 (“For God so loved the world…”) and Romans 5:8 (“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”) make it clear that God’s love is not limited to a select group or based on obligation. Instead, His love reaches beyond boundaries, embracing even those with whom God is justified in having no responsibility towards. God’s love is not transactional or conditional—it is freely given to all, regardless of worthiness, status, or proximity.

“Yes, God so loved the world that he gave his only Son that whoever believes in him may not be lost, but may have eternal life.” — John 3:16

and

“But see how God manifested his love for us: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” — Romans 5:8

It’s easy for us to feel that love is something we offer primarily to those for whom we have a greater responsibility towards. This sense of duty makes it easy to justify loving those who are good to us while withholding love from those who have wronged or hurt us. When someone offends us or causes harm, our natural inclination is to distance ourselves emotionally and justify our lack of love for them.

Yet, God’s love operates on an entirely different level. God did not wait for us to be worthy of His love; He extended it to us freely, even when we were undeserving. His love was not given in response to our goodness but out of His own nature. And, if God loves us while we are still sinners—rebellious, broken, and often rejecting Him—then His love is not based on obligation or responsibility. It is not something measured out according to our worthiness. Rather, it is an unearned, and undeserved gift. This challenges us to reconsider how we love others. If we claim to follow Christ, we are called to love not only those who are easy to love but also those who are hard to love. God’s love sets the example: it is not restricted by obligation but given freely.

With that in mind, if there were a hierarchy of values in God’s kingdom, we should take to heart Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:48.

“Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” — Matthew 5:48

This statement comes at the conclusion of His teaching on love, and more specifically on particularly the radical call to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. Jesus challenges us to go beyond natural human tendencies, reminding us that loving only those who love us requires no real sacrifice or transformation. True perfection in God’s eyes is not about flawlessness in behavior but about reflecting His boundless, unconditional love. In a sense, going to the point when love hurts sacrificially.

When we think of our enemies, we often picture those who are distant from us—people we don’t personally know, those we fear, or individuals we see as fundamentally different from ourselves. In many ways, they feel like strangers, living on the other side of the world, far removed from our daily lives.

However, if love had any kind of hierarchy, it would likely begin with those who seem the most distant—those we struggle to understand or accept. Only after learning to extend love outward, beyond our comfort zone, would it then move inward to those closest to us. This challenges the natural inclination to love family and friends first while holding animosity or indifference toward those outside our immediate circle. True, Christ-like love is expansive, starting at the margins and working its way to the center, embracing not just those we find easy to love, but also those we find hardest to accept.

I understand the importance of taking small, tangible steps to grow in love, gradually expanding our capacity to embrace others. It’s sensible to begin by loving those closest to us—our spouse, family, and neighbors. But, not as the ultimate goal, but as the foundation for something greater. Learning to love well in our immediate relationships equips us to extend that same love to those who are farther away from us, whether emotionally, culturally, or even ideologically.

Love is not a limited resource, something to be rationed or carefully measured out. It only feels scarce when we withhold it, when fear or self-interest keeps us from giving freely. As we take small steps in love better, our hearts begin to stretch beyond what we thought possible, reflecting the boundless love of God Himself. Our deep love for family and friends is realized and reflected in how we love community and country. And, if we love country we would have an increase compassion and love for world. In my experience, the more I love, the more love I have to give.

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1 St. Augustine. De Doctrina Christiana (On Christian Doctrine) 1.22.20.

2 St. Aigustine. De Civitate Dei (City of God) 15.22.

3 St. Thomas Aquinas. Summa Theologica: Ordo Caritatis (The Order of Charity) II-II, q. 26.