So, there it is—love as a commandment. For those who respect ancient texts, the directive is clear: love can be, and indeed has been, commanded. To love is, therefore, a duty.
Yet, when I ask people whether love can truly be commanded, most are hesitant. Love, they argue, does not seem like the kind of thing you can force upon someone. Consider a parent’s challenge in getting a child to eat their vegetables. “Tommy, eat your broccoli. It's good for you.” But even if young Tommy eats his broccoli under duress or through bribery, he may never come to love it. For him, broccoli might always be like taking unpleasant medicine. You cannot command anyone to love what they do not love.
Can you order someone to fall in love? To feel affection? To cultivate loving friendship? Likely not. Love and law seem to be fundamentally incompatible.
In the philosophy of love, some thinkers navigate this dilemma by distinguishing between two types of love: love that cannot be commanded and love that can be. The love that cannot be commanded is typically based on feeling, while the love that can be commanded is more rational. The German philosopher Immanuel Kant referred to love based on feeling as “pathological love” (not in a negative sense, but in the sense that it is rooted in “pathos”—emotion, often pity). He called the love that can be commanded “practical love,” often interpreted as “moral love.” Moral love is essentially about “doing good toward” others, a duty we all share.
While we might not be able to command feelings of affection or passion, we can command actions that embody love. We can command kindness, care, respect, and refraining from harm. These actions, which are often understood as expressions of love, can indeed be mandated.
If we broaden our understanding of love to include these elements, then perhaps love can be commanded after all. Love, in this sense, is not just a feeling—it is a practice, a way of being in the world that involves concrete actions. When we command kindness, we are commanding a form of love. When we command respect and care, we are commanding love in action.
But let’s play with this. What if there was never a command to love in the first place? What if, when Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” he was being ironic?
A recurring theme in discussions about a “good life” is the emphasis on rule-following, sometimes called “moralism”—a mindset that revolves around adhering to rules, doing this, and avoiding that. Moralism can be harsh, often leading to a judgmental attitude where we scrutinize others’ actions and pronounce judgments when they fall short. Our contemporary society is rife with moralism, and the media thrives on it. Most ethical discussions today are a form of moralism.
This issue is not new. It was evident in Jesus’ time as well. The moralizers of the first century asked Jesus, “What's the rule we ought to keep?“
But the gospel stories portray Jesus as someone who was not fixated on rules, law, or moralism. Instead, he demonstrated a different way—a way of relationality, kindness, acceptance, and inclusion. I can almost hear him, perhaps a bit weary of the incessant questions, say, “You want a rule? Well, try this for size... I command you to love!”
Jesus, like most of us, likely knew that you cannot command a child to love their greens, nor can you command someone to fall in love with someone. His commandment was impossible, nonsensical. He was speaking ironically. Those with ears to hear would smile, while those who missed the irony would throw up their hands in frustration, exclaiming, “And just how do you do that!” Over time, Jesus’ words were taken literally, leading to centuries of attempts to reconcile the paradox of how we can obey a commandment to do the impossible.
But if we understand love in Kant’s broader sense, where love is expressed through actions of kindness, care, and respect, the commandment to love makes more sense. We might not be able to command someone to feel a certain way, but we can command actions that reflect love.
This understanding of love as action does not diminish the value of love as a feeling. Love remains central. Love was the way of Christ and all the great sages. Love is our highest aspiration and our greatest joy. But we must recognize that love, in its fullest sense, encompasses both feeling and action. And while we cannot command feelings, we can command the actions that embody love.
Love happens naturally, organically. Love grows and fades. It sneaks up on you, as when you suddenly realize that a casual acquaintance has become a deep friend, and you truly love them. Love can be fragile, easily destroyed if not nurtured. But when love matures, it becomes something reliable, like a mighty sequoia. We can guard and protect love, but we cannot command it.
However, we can command the expressions of love—kindness, care, respect, and the refraining from harm. In doing so, we might just find that the love we thought could not be commanded has, in fact, been cultivated all along.
So, go love your neighbor!
+Ab. Andy