There are two Medieval philosophers whose names mean, roughly, "John the Scot." The first (and possibly more important) was actually Irish -- "Scotti" was the Roman name for the Irish, and it was Irish settlers in places like Dal Riada who eventually conquered what came to be known as Scotland. The second (and certainly more famous), John Duns Scotus, is an oddity: a major Aristotelian philosopher of the Franciscan school. There's a major division in Christian theology between the Dominicans and the Franciscans, which concerns the nature of God. Both agree that God's nature is singular, but they disagree over whether it is Will or Reason. That is to say that the Franciscans believe that God is Love, and the Dominicans that God is Logos. Aristotle more naturally fits the Dominican approach; but Duns Scotus was an exception. He wrote some interesting things about love from an Aristotelian perspective.
One of the things that Duns Scotus treats is the problem of individuation. Aristotelian sciences are all based around genera: we might say that you would have a science of birds, similar to how we divide groups of animals into a genus, and then subdivide into species, and further subdivide species into individuals. Duns Scotus says that this is backwards: we ought to start with the individual as such, because the individual exists as an individual thing, not as a subdivision of a species or a genus. When we group individuals into species or genera, we are engaging in an act of intellection: we are making things by building these groupings. The things themselves are just individual things.
In this he follows Aristotle's instinct when Aristotle speaks not of genera but of forms. Plato held that the form was primary, and we who have the form of Man participate in a higher form; Aristotle held that the form is only actualized in the individual men. Duns Scotus is following that line of thought into places Aristotle didn't care to take it.
The technical way of saying this for Duns Scotus is that 'individuation cannot come from privation.' That is to say, you can't get an individual by starting with a group, and dividing out the one you want.
I've decided he's wrong about that. You can. We can get "this stone" from "stone" by breaking off a piece. It makes sense to individuate out of a genera. We can get "this plant" out of a plant by dividing it -- at least for many species of plants and, indeed, fungi. You can cut off pieces, dip them in rooting compound, and get a new individual plant. Even among animals, there are some you can subdivide and get new individuals: worms of some kinds, for example.
Yet he isn't wrong about us. He isn't wrong about dogs or horses. There's something different going on at our level of organization that makes his general ruling, while correct for us, a fallacy of composition: an assumption that what holds at one level of organization holds for all levels of organization.
So when he speaks of love, and says that love points first and most to a particular individual, he is right: but he is right about how we love another of our kind, not about love in general.
What does that mean for how God loves -- or, if we were to try to fight this from a Platonic metaphysics, what consequences follow from this break in the order? There is a particular honor for those things that are individuated primarily. That is to say, there's something special about being a man, or a dog, or a horse: things of this kind.
Now, what follows from that I don't know yet. But it is different, and that is important.