A few recent Christian books have answered that question with a yes. That slice of Christian publishing decided the danger in the American church was the oversupply of feeling for people in pain. One book calls empathy “a man-eating weed” while another says it’s the tool used to bully Christians out of their convictions.
Let’s set those books aside and instead ask “what did Jesus actually ask of us.” He asked us to love God with everything we’ve got, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. The rest of the New Testament fills in what that actually looks like day in and day out, and empathy is an integral part of that.
The second greatest commandment
According to Jesus, love your neighbor as yourself is in the top two of the greatest commandments (Matthew 22:37-39). And it doesn’t come with easy-to-follow, step-by-step instructions. You must imagine your way into somebody else’s skin long enough to ask what you’d want and feel if you were the one standing where they’re standing. That’s empathy. Loving your neighbor as yourself requires first that you feel something like what your neighbor feels. Without the empathy, you’re left with a nice sentiment at best and a mechanical good deed at worst.
The one anothers assume it
You have likely heard of the “one another passages”—the approximately 60 commands in the New Testament to love one another, bear one another’s burdens, weep with those who weep, rejoice with those who rejoice, comfort one another, be kind and compassionate to one another, and so on, and so on.
Read that list slowly and notice that it is filled with relational, felt, embodied language. More than mere transactions like “provide financial assistance to one another” or “issue correct theological statements to one another.” The Apostle Paul says to bear each other’s burdens, suggesting there’s an emotional weight to share compared to just helping to manage those burdens from a safe administrative distance. You can’t weep with someone you refuse to actually see, and can’t rejoice with someone whose joy you’ve decided not to let touch you. Empathy requires close emotional involvement and active tears, hugs, or laughs as the case may be. It is part of the very definition of the one anothers.
Jesus modeled it
Jesus wept at Lazarus’s tomb even though he knew that seconds later he’d call his friend back out of it. He knew exactly how the story ended, and yet still let the grief and tears move through him.
When the crowds followed him, hungry and worn out, Jesus was moved with compassion (Mattew 9:36 & Matthew 14:14). The Greek word there, splagchnizomai, is a gut word that describes something that hits you physically and drives someone to take action.
At a widow’s funeral in the town of Nain, Luke says Jesus’ heart went out to the widow before he raised her son back to life. Jesus’ formula was to feel first, and act after. That required empathy.
It’s the same posture mental health advocate Sterling Pohlmann gets at in a piece worth reading, A Lack of Empathy, an Abundance of Apathy. As Pohlmann puts it, empathy works like a muscle: use it and it gets stronger. Neglect it, and apathy moves in to fill the space. Scary, isn’t it!
There are times I refused to feel someone’s pain or struggle in their situation, where I’d quietly stopped letting myself feel anything at all. No empathy, no feeling, no tears, and consequently no action. I had a co-worker I used to lunch with somewhat regularly until they went out on an extended leave. Blocking myself from feeling meant I wouldn’t have to make the follow-up call or send a message checking in.
There’s also a whole category of suffering in the news I’ve learned to scroll right past, because letting it land might require something more of me. And how about the family member whose experience I filed under “their own choices” or “it’s complicated” or “it’s none of my business” instead of trying to understand and share in the challenges of living through it.
None of those were failures of theology. They were failures of empathy. And I’m confident God knows the difference.
Loving mercy, as Micah puts it, was never meant to be information delivered at a safe distance. Hesed (Hebrew word for mercy) is that stubborn, sticks-with-you love that the word describes and requires getting close enough to feel the weight of what somebody’s carrying. Mercy that costs you nothing isn’t real mercy; it’s just paperwork with good intentions attached.
For Further Reflection
Consider the reasons that can tempt someone (or you) to refuse feeling empathy when someone nearby is clearly hurting or afraid or confused or overwhelmed. What would be the remedy for that according to Jesus’ words and example?
Love it!
No.