A lot of the talk today about ordo amoris and natural affections centers around preference – the freedom we have to prefer “our own kind” and whatnot.
I think this is backwards. Preferences do matter and do have their place. But obligations are more fundamental than preferences. When it comes to the discussion of ordo amoris, we should not start by asking about our preferences but start by asking about our duties. “To whom do I have the greater obligation?”
In many cases, duties and preferences align quite easily. A mother quite naturally “prefers” her newborn baby to any other newborn baby. But more fundamentally, she has obligations to her newborn that she does not have any other baby in the world because of the bond that exists between her and her own child. Likewise, I prefer my children to your children, but what really matters is that I have an obligation to provide for my children that I do not have for your children. If I don’t provide for my own children, I am worse than unbeliever. But I have no obligation to provide for your children at all in ordinary circumstances–that’s your job and your responsibility. Further, I have a duty to defend my nation if it is under invasion, but I do not have a duty to defend a nation on the other side of the world if it gets invaded. Again: I have an obligation to care for my brothers and sisters in my local congregation that I do not have for Christians in some far away country. And so on. My obligations are not evenly distributed across humanity, or across the church; rather, my obligations to particular humans are conditioned by the various ways in which we are related to one another. I ought to love anyone made in God’s image, yes, but my obligations to particular image bearers intensifies based on the relational proximity and connectedness we have to one another. I have obligations to some people that I do not have to other people, and I should structure my life–my loves, my service, my sacrifices–accordingly.
All of the examples given above are simple, but it can get more complicated because life throws a variety of situations at us. In the parable of the good Samaritan in Luke 10, the Samaritan has no natural affection for the man on the side of the road, nor does he have any innate preference for the man on the side of the road. His obligation to help the man on the side of the road arises strictly from geographic proximity; the man becomes a neighbor by virtue of crossing his path. Had the Samaritan traveled another road that day, he would not have been obligated to help that particular man.
I’d argue the parable in Luke 10 is very instructive to our present situation, but possibly in a different way than many think. I have brothers and sisters in Christ in other parts of the world with whom I am spiritually united, but there isn’t really very much I can do for them. Geographic separation and the language barrier, if nothing else, keep me from being able to help them when they are in need (in most circumstances). But there are a lot of non-Christians in America, who are my neighbors by virtue of geographic and national proximity, and so I do have a special obligation to them. I actually can do things to help them – and in many cases, I am obligated to do so. I have certain obligations to fellow citizens that I do not have to noncitizens. It’s really not a matter of preference, it’s a matter of obligation, and the degree of obligation hinges on many factors, all related to proximity of different sorts.
Having said that, I will also point out that this is one reason why I think racial identity politics is a dead end for Christians. I obviously have various obligations to fellow neighbors on my street and to fellow citizens of my country. I have various obligations to fellow church members and family members. But I don’t see how it makes any sense to say I have some kind of obligation to my fellow white people. White people are not really a “people group” in any meaningful sense. There are many whites who are not in my nation and have no geographic or linguistic proximity to me; my obligations to them are very minimal. There are many non-whites who do have national and geographic and linguistic proximity to me; I have greater obligations to them. To frame the issue in terms of race or skin color (especially when tied to preference) is always going to be confusing and unhelpful and possibly immoral. Focusing on obligation rather than preference allows us to keep the race issue in its proper place.
Another way to think about this is to look at the “especially” commands in Scripture. Think again of what Paul says in 1 Timothy 5: “If anyone does not provide for his own, and especially those of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.” I have a greater obligation to family members than non-family members, and this remains true even if I don’t like (or don’t prefer) to be with those family members. Even if I’d rather help a friend than my children or parents, my obligation tilts towards family.
Similarly, Paul writes to the Galatians, “While we have opportunity, let us do good to all men, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.” In other words, all other things being equal, I have a greater obligation to Christians than non-Christians. These passages are not so much prioritizing preferences, as they are prioritizing obligations: the closer someone is to us, whether familially, spiritually, or geographically, the greater our obligation is going to be to them. The more distant they are in those ways, the less obligation we have to them.
The reality is that we are finite creatures, and therefore we have finite obligations. Not even Jesus helped everyone who was in need on planet earth during his ministry. In fact, Jesus clearly operated out of a cascading set of obligations. Jesus focused on his own family members, those in his circle of friends (who became his disciples/apostles), and of course, the nation of Israel, his kinsmen after the flesh. He only reluctantly helped non-Jews on a few occasions – and yes, there are redemptive-historical considerations behind this, but Jesus was also showing us how ordered loves and obligations work.
That being said, there are further considerations. The ordo amoris can call us away from natural preferences. The Christian life is not merely a natural life, governed by natural preferences; it is a Spiritual life, animated by a Spiritual love. And so think of Paul, taking the gospel to those he would naturally despise, the Gentiles, and then working to incorporate Jewish and Gentiles believers (natural enemies) into a shared church life. We cannot order our affections strictly according to natural preferences because we are not merely natural men (1 Cor. 2). As Spiritual men, we must also have a Spiritual affection for many who are (or were) enemies, and who we would not necessarily prefer to be with.
Even non-Christians often prefer and care for their own; Christians are called above and beyond those natural loves to a higher way of life.
But even given the reality of the Christian’s Spiritual life, we are still bounded creatures who must respect and honor the relationships in which God has placed us. My spiritual connection to Christians in China might lead me to pray for them but my limitations as a creature keep me from being able to help them in concrete ways. Meanwhile, my non-Christian neighbor next door has a flat tire and if I love my neighbor, I will help him change it because he is proximate to me. While it is hard to give a formula that captures the dynamics of my obligations, usually sanctified common sense will get me close to the mark. We are called to do things that are within reach and we are not called to do the impossible.
Applying this logic to something like contemporary American immigration policy: I have a greater obligation to be concerned about the temporal welfare of the citizens of, say, Springfield, Ohio and Sylacauga, Alabama than I do non-Americans. The best way for me to be a good Samaritan to many of my fellow Americans is to try to put an end to the foreign invasion at our southern border – an invasion which hurts the economic prospects and way of life of my fellow Americans, especially of lower and middle-class Americans, including minorities. That does not make me completely indifferent to the well-being of people in other nations, but I do have a lesser duty to them. If we only think in terms of preference (instead of obligation), someone might argue that they prefer the well-being of non-Americans over Americans, for whatever reason. But I don’t think it’s just a matter of preference — I have to consider my obligations. If I prioritize the well-being of non-citizens over fellow citizens, that’s actually a denial of my obligations to my own people. It might sound pious to prefer immigrants to fellow citizens of your country, but it’s actually immoral because you have a higher duty to your own nation than to anyone else’s. You have a duty to care for and protect citizens of your own nation that you do not have to the citizens of other nations.
Obviously much can and should be said about these issues. But this framework, which treats natural affections primarily as a matter of duty rather than preference, is crucial to the discussion.
A lot of the talk today about ordo amoris and natural affections centers around preference - the freedom we have to prefer “our own kind” and whatnot.
I think this is backwards. Preferences do matter and do have their place. But obligations are more fundamental than preferences. When it comes to the discussion of ordo amoris, we should not start by asking about our preferences but start by asking about our duties. “To whom do I have the greater obligation?”
In many cases, duties and preferences align quite easily. A mother quite naturally “prefers” her newborn baby to any other newborn baby. But more fundamentally, she has obligations to her newborn that she does not have any other baby in the world because of the bond that exists between her and her own child. Likewise, I prefer my children to your children, but what really matters is that I have an obligation to provide for my children that I do not have for your children. If I don’t provide for my own children, I am worse than unbeliever. But I have no obligation to provide for your children at all in ordinary circumstances–that’s your job and your responsibility. Further, I have a duty to defend my nation if it is under invasion, but I do not have a duty to defend a nation on the other side of the world if it gets invaded. Again: I have an obligation to care for my brothers and sisters in my local congregation that I do not have for Christians in some far away country. And so on. My obligations are not evenly distributed across humanity, or across the church; rather, my obligations to particular humans are conditioned by the various ways in which we are related to one another. I ought to love anyone made in God’s image, yes, but my obligations to particular image bearers intensifies based on the relational proximity and connectedness we have to one another. I have obligations to some people that I do not have to other people, and I should structure my life–my loves, my service, my sacrifices–accordingly.
All of the examples given above are simple, but it can get more complicated because life throws a variety of situations at us. In the parable of the good Samaritan in Luke 10, the Samaritan has no natural affection for the man on the side of the road, nor does he have any innate preference for the man on the side of the road. His obligation to help the man on the side of the road arises strictly from geographic proximity; the man becomes a neighbor by virtue of crossing his path. Had the Samaritan traveled another road that day, he would not have been obligated to help that particular man.
I’d argue the parable in Luke 10 is very instructive to our present situation, but possibly in a different way than many think. I have brothers and sisters in Christ in other parts of the world with whom I am spiritually united, but there isn’t really very much I can do for them. Geographic separation and the language barrier, if nothing else, keep me from being able to help them when they are in need (in most circumstances). But there are a lot of non-Christians in America, who are my neighbors by virtue of geographic and national proximity, and so I do have a special obligation to them. I actually can do things to help them - and in many cases, I am obligated to do so. I have certain obligations to fellow citizens that I do not have to noncitizens. It’s really not a matter of preference, it’s a matter of obligation, and the degree of obligation hinges on many factors, all related to proximity of different sorts.
Having said that, I will also point out that this is one reason why I think racial identity politics is a dead end for Christians. I obviously have various obligations to fellow neighbors on my street and to fellow citizens of my country. I have various obligations to fellow church members and family members. But I don’t see how it makes any sense to say I have some kind of obligation to my fellow white people. White people are not really a “people group” in any meaningful sense. There are many whites who are not in my nation and have no geographic or linguistic proximity to me; my obligations to them are very minimal. There are many non-whites who do have national and geographic and linguistic proximity to me; I have greater obligations to them. To frame the issue in terms of race or skin color (especially when tied to preference) is always going to be confusing and unhelpful and possibly immoral. Focusing on obligation rather than preference allows us to keep the race issue in its proper place.
Another way to think about this is to look at the “especially” commands in Scripture. Think again of what Paul says in 1 Timothy 5: “If anyone does not provide for his own, and especially those of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.” I have a greater obligation to family members than non-family members, and this remains true even if I don’t like (or don’t prefer) to be with those family members. Even if I’d rather help a friend than my children or parents, my obligation tilts towards family.
Similarly, Paul writes to the Galatians, “While we have opportunity, let us do good to all men, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.” In other words, all other things being equal, I have a greater obligation to Christians than non-Christians. These passages are not so much prioritizing preferences, as they are prioritizing obligations: the closer someone is to us, whether familially, spiritually, or geographically, the greater our obligation is going to be to them. The more distant they are in those ways, the less obligation we have to them.
The reality is that we are finite creatures, and therefore we have finite obligations. Not even Jesus helped everyone who was in need on planet earth during his ministry. In fact, Jesus clearly operated out of a cascading set of obligations. Jesus focused on his own family members, those in his circle of friends (who became his disciples/apostles), and of course, the nation of Israel, his kinsmen after the flesh. He only reluctantly helped non-Jews on a few occasions - and yes, there are redemptive-historical considerations behind this, but Jesus was also showing us how ordered loves and obligations work.
That being said, there are further considerations. The ordo amoris can call us away from natural preferences. The Christian life is not merely a natural life, governed by natural preferences; it is a Spiritual life, animated by a Spiritual love. And so think of Paul, taking the gospel to those he would naturally despise, the Gentiles, and then working to incorporate Jewish and Gentiles believers (natural enemies) into a shared church life. We cannot order our affections strictly according to natural preferences because we are not merely natural men (1 Cor. 2). As Spiritual men, we must also have a Spiritual affection for many who are (or were) enemies, and who we would not necessarily prefer to be with.
Even non-Christians often prefer and care for their own; Christians are called above and beyond those natural loves to a higher way of life.
But even given the reality of the Christian’s Spiritual life, we are still bounded creatures who must respect and honor the relationships in which God has placed us. My spiritual connection to Christians in China might lead me to pray for them but my limitations as a creature keep me from being able to help them in concrete ways. Meanwhile, my non-Christian neighbor next door has a flat tire and if I love my neighbor, I will help him change it because he is proximate to me. While it is hard to give a formula that captures the dynamics of my obligations, usually sanctified common sense will get me close to the mark. We are called to do things that are within reach and we are not called to do the impossible.
Applying this logic to something like contemporary American immigration policy: I have a greater obligation to be concerned about the temporal welfare of the citizens of, say, Springfield, Ohio and Sylacauga, Alabama than I do non-Americans. The best way for me to be a good Samaritan to many of my fellow Americans is to try to put an end to the foreign invasion at our southern border - an invasion which hurts the economic prospects and way of life of my fellow Americans, especially of lower and middle-class Americans, including minorities. That does not make me completely indifferent to the well-being of people in other nations, but I do have a lesser duty to them. If we only think in terms of preference (instead of obligation), someone might argue that they prefer the well-being of non-Americans over Americans, for whatever reason. But I don’t think it’s just a matter of preference — I have to consider my obligations. If I prioritize the well-being of non-citizens over fellow citizens, that’s actually a denial of my obligations to my own people. It might sound pious to prefer immigrants to fellow citizens of your country, but it’s actually immoral because you have a higher duty to your own nation than to anyone else’s. You have a duty to care for and protect citizens of your own nation that you do not have to the citizens of other nations.
Obviously much can and should be said about these issues. But this framework, which treats natural affections primarily as a matter of duty rather than preference, is crucial to the discussion.
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