Christ does not call his benefactors loving or charitable. He calls them just. The Gospel makes no distinction between the love of our neighbour and justice. In the eyes of the Greeks also a respect for Zeus the suppliant was the first duty of justice. We have invented the distinction between justice and charity. It is easy to understand why. Our notion of justice dispenses him who possesses from the obligation of giving. If he gives, all the same, he thinks he has a right to be pleased with himself. He thinks he has done good work. As for him who receives, it depends on the way he interprets this notion whether he is dispensed from all gratitude, or whether it obliges him to offer servile thanks.

Only the absolute identification of justice and love makes the co-existence possible of compassion and gratitude on the one hand, and on the other, of respect for the dignity of affliction in the afflicted – a respect felt by the sufferer himself and the others.

It has to be recognised that no kindness can go further than justice without constituting a fault under a false appearance of kindness. But the just must be thanked for being just, because justice is so beautiful a thing, in the same way we thank God because of his great glory. Any other gratitude is servile and even animal.

Simone Weil from Forms of the Implicit Love of God in Waiting on God

Many of us are suspicious of charity, because it is a kind of patronage where the giver is powerful and the recipient is powerless; the giver is to be thanked and the recipient is pitiable. Weil sees the same problem, but also from the direction of charity itself. If charity is an act of love then it must be welcomed – for love is the lifeblood of the universe. It is central to our proper nature – however when we split charity away from justice trouble begins: the recipient is no longer entitled – as a matter of justice – to what we give. Our giving comes from being extra-nice – the bounty of the rich and powerful.

However some worry about giving too much priority to justice, to rights and obligations. They worry that this is to cut love out of the picture. How can love be about rights and duties?

Another interesting quote from Dorothy Leigh Sayers approaches this same problem:

The creative will presses on to Its end, regardless of what It may suffer by the way. It does not choose suffering, but It will not avoid it, and must expect it. We say that It is Love, and “sacrifices” Itself for what It loves; and this is true, provided we understand what we mean by sacrifice. Sacrifice is what it looks like to other people, but to That-which-Loves I think its does not appear so. When one really cares, the self-is forgotten, and the sacrifice becomes only part of the activity. Ask yourself: If there is something you supremely want to do, do you count as “self-sacrifice” the difficulties encountered or other possible activities cast aside? You do not. The time when you deliberately say, “I must sacrifice this, that or the other” is when you do not supremely desire the end in view. At such times you are doing your duty, and that is admirable, but it is not love. But as soon as your duty becomes your love “self-sacrifice” is taken for granted, and, whatever the world calls it, you call it so no longer.

Dorothy Leigh Sayers from What Do We Believe, Unpopular Opinions (1940)

I think Sayers observation helps us see that love only becomes a matter of mere duty when it no longer drives us. We are merely ‘doing our duty.’ But whether from love or duty the right remains the same. The person for whom we act is fully entitled to our assistance – but we won’t notice that entitlement because we act from love.

Justice remains central. It stops us from patronising those who need our help – their needs create entitlements and we have no right to feel pleased with ourselves for doing our duty. But it does not exclude love – we can do our duty and yet have no awareness that we are merely doing our duty. It remains our duty, even when we act from love.