Bach, the Tartan Army, and the Ordo Amoris

By Phil Lawler ( bio - articles - email ) | Jun 24, 2026

Last Friday night, our parish hosted an organ concert by Gavin Klein, a brilliant young musician who, newly graduated from college, is already in demand internationally. Why was a renowned organist playing in our church, in a little town in central Massachusetts, rather than in one of the great European cathedrals? Because he is one of us: a local boy who has made good.

The music (Bach, Brahms, Mendelssohn, Duruflé, and more) was beautiful. And the enthusiasm of the audience was enriched by our own pride that our community has produced such a talent. Isn’t it a natural, healthy thing to take special pleasure in the success of our own neighbors, the people we know?

If an organist from, say, France had come to our parish, and played the same musical program, no doubt we would have enjoyed it thoroughly. But the applause would have been more subdued; the concert would not have been so exciting. We would have welcomed the French organist, and thanked him for sharing his artistry. But it wouldn’t have been the same, because he wouldn’t have been one of us.

At the same time as that concert, in nearby Boston, thousands of soccer fans from Scotland, arriving for the World Cup matches, were staging a friendly invasion of the city, marching through the streets with their bagpipes and kilts. The “Tartan Army” quickly won the affections of the native population, turning the downtown into a party zone, crowding the local restaurants and bars (especially the latter). Here local pride was working simultaneously in two directions: The Scots were happy to find an appreciative audience for their songs and stories; the Bostonians were pleased that the visitors embraced the local culture and traditions.

These two events prompted my thoughts about the ordo amoris, the theological concept cited by Vice President J. D. Vance in response to Vatican criticism of the Trump administration’s immigration policies. Vance, citing the works of St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, pointed to the venerable Catholic tradition that teaches us to love God, then our families, then our neighbors, and then other people, in that order. We should recognize all men as our brothers, but we have special ties to those who are closest to us. Both our natural inclinations and our moral obligations lead us to give our neighbors priority in our affections.

St. Thomas teaches that love for a community, a state, or a nation is a matter of natural justice, an aspect of pietas. The pride that we feel for our communities reinforces that moral duty. So it is a healthy thing for the Scots to come cheer for their national soccer team, and a healthy thing that they wanted Bostonians to dance to their hornpipes and reels and strathspeys. (I’m not so sure that it is healthy to induce people to eat haggis, but leave that aside.) Similarly it is healthy for Bostonians to challenge the Tartan Army to try the local clam chowder, and be gratified when the Scots loved it.

If it is a good thing to take pride in one’s own community, to cheer for one’s home team, to promote one’s own culture, then the Vance argument has merit; the ordo amoris does apply to political affairs. This does not imply hatred or fear of foreigners. But it does imply that the foreigners, when they arrive, will respect the community. Boston welcomed the Tartan Army, in large part because the Scots were so anxious to sample the best of Boston. Our Christian duty to greet strangers is balanced by the strangers’ duty to respect their hosts.

The ordo amoris also suggests that a community may find it necessary to restrict the influx of newcomers, in order to protect its own culture. How much to restrict immigration, and how to manage the flow, are political questions, best settled through calm discussion and debate. But in that discussion we should not neglect the real, natural, and healthy influence of community pride.