The editor-in-chief of Vox, Swati Sharma, recently unleashed a scathing critique of Vice President JD Vance, dismissing his “godawful reading of Christianity.” In her piece, Sharma mocked Vance for invoking the ancient concept of ordo amoris to argue that love must begin at home — prioritizing family, community, and fellow citizens before extending care to distant strangers. She accused him of reducing the Gospel’s call to universal love into a narrow, self-serving America First stance that undermines the very ideals of compassion and global solidarity. According to Sharma, Vance’s position represents a backward, exclusionary outlook that dismisses the transformative power of real love.
However, such criticism misses the mark entirely. It is, in many ways, deluded. Sharma, intentionally or otherwise, ignores the pragmatic realities of human obligation.
First, ordo amoris isn’t some obscure concept that Vance pulled out of thin air. It’s rooted in the writings of early Church fathers like Augustine of Hippo and later refined by Thomas Aquinas. Both theologians stressed that while love should extend to all, it must be ordered. Augustine wrote, “He who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen” (1 John 4:20), emphasizing the importance of immediate relationships as the foundation of broader love. In his Summa Theologica, Aquinas further elaborated that our obligations intensify the closer the relationship — starting with oneself (to preserve one’s life and moral integrity), then family, community, and finally, strangers. Aquinas believed that self-love is not selfishness but a prerequisite for caring for others. He explained that our obligations increase with the intimacy of our relationships: We naturally owe more to those closest to us. For Aquinas, this ordering was a practical way to ensure that love remains effective and genuine.
As is clear to see, Sharma’s claim that Vance is distorting Christian teaching collapses when placed against this longstanding theological tradition.
Even the oft-cited command to “love thy neighbor” (Mark 12:31) supports Vance’s interpretation. In biblical times, “neighbor” didn’t mean the entire global population; it referred to those within one’s immediate sphere of interaction — family, friends, and local community. Similarly, the Good Samaritan parable, which many interpret as a call for universal love, is more nuanced. It urges compassion beyond tribal boundaries but still occurs in the context of an immediate, tangible need — helping someone right in front of you. Vance’s argument follows this logic. Essentially, care begins where you can be most effective. Sharma’s insistence on global altruism over local responsibility ignores this essential biblical principle.
Vance’s stance also resonates with practical realities. Resources — emotional, financial, and logistical — are finite. To love everyone equally in practice sounds noble, but it fails to sync with reality. Expecting anyone, let alone a government, to care equally for every person around the world is not only unrealistic but also dangerously idealistic.
Consider the analogy of a lifeguard on a crowded beach. If faced with multiple drowning swimmers, the lifeguard must prioritize those in the immediate vicinity, whose rescue is most feasible given the constraints of time and resources. To attempt to save everyone at once, regardless of proximity or urgency, would be not only impractical but could result in saving no one at all. During natural disasters, local governments and first responders are tasked with saving lives in their immediate area before extending assistance further afield. This prioritization is not an act of parochialism. Instead, it’s a pragmatic response to crisis conditions. Public spending follows a similar logic. When government budgets are stretched, the priority naturally shifts to meeting the immediate needs of its citizens. This means investing in essential services — like education, healthcare, and transportation — that directly improve people’s everyday lives.
This approach isn’t about completely disregarding global needs; it’s about establishing a solid foundation at home so that communities are strong enough to support broader efforts later on. Addressing immediate needs is common sense; pursuing an abstract global ideal at the expense of tangible local care is not love — it’s irresponsibility.
Sharma’s critique also overlooks the psychological dimensions of human connection. Philosophers like Bernard Williams have long argued that our personal commitments — to family, friends, and community — are fundamental to who we are as moral agents. Williams emphasized that these relationships shape our values, inform our decisions, and provide a sense of identity. When we demand that individuals love strangers as readily as those closest to them, we risk eroding the very bonds that ground our humanity. In other words, expecting, even demanding, uniform love for all risks stripping away the rich, personal connections that make ethical behavior meaningful and sustainable. Vance’s call to prioritize is, in essence, a call to maintain the integrity of our moral selves. By recognizing that love is most effective when it is both heartfelt and targeted, the Ohioan champions a model of care that is both sane and sustainable.
Sharma is many things, but she’s certainly not stupid. Deep down, she knows that genuine, meaningful love begins at home. Just don’t expect her to ever admit it.
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