By Daniel B. Gallagher.

No one is subject to more intense scrutiny than a new pope. Politicians have the campaign trail to air out their past records and proposals for the future. Cardinals - let's hope - never go on the campaign trail. So, the details of Pope Leo's life went from being of interest to family and friends to that of the entire world. Just ask his brothers.

Of extreme interest, then, was Cardinal Prevost's post on X that read: "JD Vance is wrong: Jesus doesn't ask us to rank our love for others." There is a problem here, though. These were not the Cardinal's words. They are by Kat Armas, whose commentary Prevost reposted.

Prior to Francis's passing, I pointed out on this site the truth in Armas' interpretation of ordo amoris, but cautioned about its deficiencies. Similarly with James Orr's interpretation.

The history of ordo amoris is complex and the reasoning quite subtle. But given that we have an Augustinian pope with an ostensible interest in Armas' commentary, I would like to improve on my initial attempt to understand the concept.

Augustine's City of God is an ambitious attempt to explain the relationship between the secular and the eternal according to the Christian faith. He describes three general ways of understanding how human beings go wrong.

The first is that we simply don't know enough. We are ignorant, and the only way to overcome the ignorance that causes us to do evil is to know more. If we only knew all the circumstances surrounding a moral choice and had perfected our use of logic to deduce the right action, we would never go wrong. Provided we are free to perform that action, we couldn't help but perform it since the power to perform it lies completely within us.

This roughly describes the Pelagian view that Augustine vigorously attacked, insisting that our salvation ultimately depends on God's grace and not on our self-perfection. "O God," Augustine wrote, "grant what you command, and command what you desire." In other words, "I am utterly unable to attain what you command by my own power, so give me the grace to know that you command it precisely because you, the All Good, desire it."

The second way of going wrong depends largely on outside factors because we are engaged in a cosmic struggle between two ultimate principles, light and darkness. Much of what we experience happens, in this view, because of the stars (astrology) or sheer luck. Although we're free, our moral actions are largely formed by what lies outside us, regardless of our intentions, will, and powers.

This roughly describes the Manichaean position that Augustine fiercely denounced, calling it a "childish superstition." He countered it by writing, "I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more." In other words, "I have sensed something delightful, and it has aroused my desire for more of it."

Augustine's exposition of a third way left a permanent imprint not only on Christian doctrine but on our way of interpreting history and distinguishing between the eternal and the secular. It's foundational for a renewed conception of the ordo amoris.

It's not simply that we don't know enough (Pelagianism) or are caught in a cosmic struggle (Manichaeanism). Rather, we are pulled interiorly by an inexorable love for the good but fail miserably in attaining it. We are aware of an inner dynamism that compels us to love, but we are free to either love what is evil or love what is good. And more often than not, we find ourselves trapped by the former but yearning for the latter. This, quite simply, is "original sin," and there is only one way out of it: "Our hearts are restless until they find rest in You."

This leads Augustine to define "virtue" as simply ordo amoris, the "order of love." (City of God, XV, 22) In other words, when we are truly virtuous, we are able to arrange the various particular goods in our lives according to their inherent connection to the One Good, God. Thus, to live according to the ordo amoris is not simpl...