“If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ but hates his brother, he is a liar; for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen” (1 John 4:20).

Continuing to build on the previous two themes of Catholic Social Teaching—the dignity of the human person and family, community, and participation—we turn now to the third theme: rights and responsibilities. Previously, I focused on how the human family is the fertile soil for the cultivation of the human person, where we learn how to love as Christ loves by offering ourselves as a gift to others and recognizing the givenness of the other.

Now, as we move from the nuclear family to the greater society, this third theme calls us to put into practice what we learned in the school of virtue as we come to acknowledge and embrace the reality that God has entrusted others to our care and that with that trust comes responsibility.

Love of God

“Teacher,” the Pharisees ask Jesus, “which is the greatest commandment?”

We are familiar with this Scripture passage in St. Matthew’s Gospel, in which the Pharisees attempt to trip up Jesus with a theological challenge. Rather than take the bait, Jesus responds with a twofold command—to love God and neighbor—which encompasses the whole of the law:

“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments” (Matthew 22:36-40).

This Gospel passage begs the question: Why is loving our neighbor on par with loving God? And, even more surprisingly, how is it that this commandment forms the very basis of the law?

To help us understand these questions, we need to take into consideration two things: first, the principles of natural law, and second, Jesus’ instruction to care for “the least of these” (Matthew 25:40). Our fundamental human rights are derived from nature. As St. Thomas Aquinas writes in the Summa:

“The light of natural reason, whereby we discern what is good and what is evil, which is the function of the natural law, is nothing else than an imprint on us of the Divine light. It is therefore evident that the natural law is nothing else than the rational creature’s participation of the eternal law” (Ia IIae, question 91).

Why? According to St. Augustine, the Divine light is inscribed on our hearts because we were created from Love for a single purpose: to love. Said differently, our human nature consists of love. Therefore, the whole of the law is love. St. Augustine writes, and the Church fully embraces, that the two tablets of the Ten Commandments inscribed by the finger of God represent to us the twofold command to love. On the one tablet is written the first three commandments—to love God—and on the second tablet is written the remaining seven—to love our neighbor:

“Now the fullness of the law is charity (Rom 13:8-10) … Because just as there are two commandments of love, on which depend, as the Lord says, the whole law and the prophets, and thereby he shows clearly enough that love is the fullness of the law, so too those ten commandments were given on two tables; three that is are said to have been inscribed on one table and seven on the other. Just as the three first belong to love of God, so the seven others are assigned to love of neighbor” (Sermon 33; 155).

Love of Neighbor

In his encyclical “Pacem in Terris,” Pope St. John XXIII succinctly combined Thomas’ emphasis on natural law and Augustine’s understanding of the law as love and responsibility:

“Every basic human right draws its authoritative force from the natural law, which confers it and attaches to it its respective duty. Hence, to claim one’s rights and ignore one’s duties, or only half fulfill them, is like building a house with one hand and tearing it down with the other.”

As we affirm the rights of the human person, in the same breath, we are obligated to embrace the necessary responsibilities those rights confer upon us. To be clear, those responsibilities are not placed upon us by man alone but, rather, by God. It is here that we hear echoes of our Lord’s voice in our hearts, “Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:31-46).

We also call to mind the words of St. John: “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ but hates his brother, he is a liar; for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen” (1 John 4:20). It is in our practice, in our daily exercise of love of neighbor, that we respond affirmatively to Cain’s questioning of God: “Then the Lord asked Cain, Where is your brother Abel? He answered, ‘I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?’” (Genesis 4:1-9).

Our answer is, “Yes, I am my brother’s keeper. For the Lord has indeed entrusted my brother into my care.”

This is a challenge, to say the least. As Anthony Esolen writes in his book “Reclaiming Catholic Social Teaching,” “It is easy to practice the brotherhood of mankind,” which is abstract and does not require a person-to-person encounter. “What is hard is to be a brother to the unhappy or unpleasant or ungrateful person next door.”

Who Is My Neighbor?

In response to the Scholar’s question, “Who is my neighbor?”, Jesus gave us the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). He described the actions of the Good Samaritan as going above and beyond to care for the robbers’ victim, pouring oil and wine over his wounds, paying for his stay at the inn, and instructing the owner of the inn, “Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back.”

The Good Samaritan, although not related to the victim or even accessory to the victim’s injuries, felt within himself a responsibility for the victim. Jesus then asked, “‘[Who], in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?’ [The scholar] answered, ‘The one who treated him with mercy.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise.’”

In her work “Waiting for God,” Simone Weil, a French philosopher and mystic, wrote:

“It is true that we have to love our neighbor, but in the example that Christ gave as an illustration of this commandment, the neighbor is a being of whom nothing is known, lying naked, bleeding, and unconscious on the road. It is a question of completely anonymous, and for that reason, completely universal love.”

She continues:

“Those who are unhappy have no need for anything in this world but people capable of giving them their attention. The capacity to give one’s attention to a sufferer is a very rare and difficult thing; it is almost a miracle; it is a miracle … The love of neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say to him: ‘What are you going through?’ It is a recognition that the sufferer exists, not only as a unit in a collection, or a specimen from the social category labeled ‘unfortunate,’ but as a man, exactly like us, who was one day stamped with a special mark by affliction.”

On January 7, we celebrated St. André Bessette, a humble doorkeeper, who joked that upon joining the Congregation of Holy Cross, his superiors showed him the door, and he stayed there for 40 years. It was at that door that he was able to reflect the love of Christ to all he encountered, recognizing in them not the abstract label of “unfortunate” but his neighbors, to whom he had a responsibility. He is known for his loving interactions with all, the special attention he paid to all he encountered, and his healing miracles by the powerful intercession of St. Joseph. Before he would heal their physical ailments, he healed their souls with his presence. As Sister Cecile Charette, CSC, described him, “He was a very short man, and not very handsome to look at, but what struck us young people was his goodness … there was something that came out of that man that we simply cannot explain.”

As we reflect upon the third theme of Catholic Social Teaching and our loving responsibilities to our neighbor, let us challenge ourselves to ask Simone Weil’s question, “What are you going through?”, and then follow St. André’s example of healing presence as we listen to our neighbor’s answer.

Vanessa Crescio is an accountant with Lipic’s Engagement. She earned an MBA from the University of Notre Dame, an MTS from Newman University, and worked in the real estate and banking industries prior to serving in business roles at the parish and archdiocesan levels. She is interested in thinking through co-responsibility in the Church and developing leadership programs to form Catholics to serve the Church with not only their knowledge, skills, and abilities but with the servant heart of Christ. Read more of her writing at FRESHImage, and follow her on Instagram.