Holy Empathy

Why Compassion is the Heart of the Gospel and the Standard of Our Humanity

Holy Empathy

Why Compassion is the Heart of the Gospel and the Standard of Our Humanity

Empathy is getting bad rap lately. You’ve probably heard about Elon Musk’s infamous words to Joe Rogan that empathy is “the fundamental weakness of Western Civilization,” and that good citizens are being manipulated by troublemakers and, when this happens, society is at risk of collapsing into chaos. Add to that Douglas Wilson’s remarks that empathy short circuits our rational faculties and takes control of us, causing us to do damage to ourselves and others. It becomes an idol: “Empathy is headlong, all-in. Whoever the victim is demanding the empathy, they’re like God, they will not share their glory with another, they demand everything from you.”

And there is the conservative pundit Allie Beth Stuckey’s message against “toxic empathy,” again warning that our feelings can lead us like a runaway train off a cliff into oblivion. On Twitter/X she boldly stated, “if you think Jesus died on the cross for ‘empathy,’ you don’t understand the gospel at all.”

And Southern Baptist leader Al Mohler has commented that people today are too wrapped up in their emotions. They focus on feelings and get lost in the abstract and not concrete rules and practical outcomes.

The commonalities between these fears and outcry is that (1) empathy has no place in healthy civic life or serious religion and (2) if you have to choose between the rule of law and feeling of compassion, law must prevail.

On Clemency

Despite the doomsday fears of today, this is not a new conversation; these questions and concerns have been around for millennia. The Roman philosopher and statesmen, Seneca, wrote an essay addressed to emperor Nero on the occasion of his coronation, an essay called “On Clemency.” Seneca probably knew Nero’s penchant for revenge and for bloodlust, and Seneca was pleading for a more compassionate reign (which, turns out, didn’t happen). Seneca argued, I think persuasively, that justice and mercy, logic and empathy, are not opposite or enemies, but can and should naturally coexist in leadership. Seneca explained that the more powerful a governor or government is, the higher the responsibility for them to govern justly with great mercy. “Clemency,” after all, “is what makes the great distinction between kings and tyrants.” Seneca urged Nero to lean on the side of mercy, not least to preserve our humanity.

Compassion is What Makes us Human

Seneca was arguing that a government or empire without mercy and compassion will lose its sense of goodness and grace. If you lose what makes you human, then what have you become? As we turn to the biblical tradition, we see this pervasively present: the Bible is, in fact, a story of empathy, God’s compassion for us who are sinners (which is all of us), and his desperate and relentless pursuit of redemption.

There is an ancient Jewish proverb that goes like this: “When one cherishes a son, one will bind up his wounds, and with every cry one’s insides will be troubled” (Sirach 30:7). That, in essence, is empathy—having your guts, in Greek your splanchna, shaken up when you hear someone else’s cry. This is not a weakness according to Jewish and Christian tradition, but it is built into our DNA as we were made in the image of God. Another ancient Jewish tradition refers to the Lord as “compassionate” using the Greek language eusplanchnos, which literally means “good-guts.” We might say, in our culture, “a compassionate heart.” This is who God is: “compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in mercy and repenting at ills of human beings” (LXX Ode 8.7).

This is constantly on display in the life of Jesus in his gospel ministry on earth: When Jesus saw the crowds who were following him around we learn that he often felt compassion for them (Matt 9:36; 14:14; 15:32). He did not talk about why they were poor or struggling or lost. He just wanted to help them.

When Jesus taught the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant, he highlighted the virtue of radical compassion (Matt 18:27) over and against heartless punishment (18:30-31). The one who is condemned by God in the end is the one who fails to show mercy and forgiveness (18:35). There is no talk at all in this parable about why the people are in debt or why they couldn’t pay the debt. The focus is on the virtues of compassion and mercy.

And when we turn to the NT epistles, compassion is everywhere exalted as one of the highest Christian virtues:

• “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” (Eph 4:32)

• “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” (Col 3:12)

• “Finally, all of you, be like-minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble” (1 Peter 3:8)

There are no qualifications or limitations mentioned here. There is no dividing line between the deserved and undeserved; there is no warning about “toxic compassion.” There is only the example of Christ.

It turns out—compassion is at the center of the gospel.

But Doesn’t Compassion Spoil the Wicked?

In the background of the “toxic empathy” outcry is the concern that compassion and love and empathy lead to a weak society —the entire suicide of civilization according to Musk—because it undercuts justice and the rule of law; it spoils the wicked. Should that be the primary concern in how we treat others?

Sometimes I put before my students a thought experiment: Imagine, for one year, God gave you total control over the sun and rain. You get to decide how much, when, and where. How would YOU decide who gets what? Do some people—the worthy, the deserving—get MORE blessed sunshine for their solar panels, or MORE refreshing rain for their crops? Should some people be subject to darkness and drought? Should you penalize Kim Jong-Un? Putin? A political party? You might come up with a formula to determine whether or how much the undeserving get.

But when Jesus taught about how we treat our friends and enemies, he flipped the equation around. We naturally think it is right to reward our friends and punish our enemies, we just need to get the algorithm right (right?). But Jesus tells us to love our enemies (which by necessity involves empathy and compassion) and to pray that God blesses them. Jesus explains: “[God] causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and unrighteous” (Matt 5:45). This upsets our innate sense of justice, or at least it should. A cold-hearted penal code or survival algorithm would say this is nonsense; precious commodities like the sun and rain should not be squandered on the unfit, certainly not on the wicked. The worthy deserve good things, right? But Jesus explains that the way of perfection is the way of grace and mercy, which paradoxically has blind eyes but a big heart. It is not that mercy cancels out justice, or that grace cancels out law, but that they belong together. Law tells us to be fair; compassion keeps us good and kind. Justice preserves our humanity, empathy transfigures our humanity into the likeness of the compassionate Christ.

Empathy is an Incarnational Imperative

While so many are warning that “empathy” is a form of weakness, Christians look to the Incarnation of the Son of God as a model of the saving power of empathy. For Jesus Christ to come down to us, to live in our bodies, feel our pain, know our shame, is a choice to enter the experience of another. Thus he became our sympathetic high priest. When we open ourselves up to know the experience of the outcast, the refugee, the poor, those discriminated against, we make ourselves vulnerable in the same way Christ made himself vulnerable. And by being “tempted” he opened himself up to the possibility of corruption, but he overcame for our benefit. Empathy can lead to bad decision making, but so can hatred and malice. But we don’t blame the surgical knife for the possibility of its misuse.

Martin Niemöller (1892-1984) was a German pastor who originally supported Hitler. He wanted a strong Germany and initially believed Hitler could achieve it. But over time, as he witnessed the systematic destruction of anything and anyone that did not fit the profile of the perfect German, Niemöller was awakened to the evil wrought be cold dehumanization. Niemöller confessed his own complacency and passivity as news broke of one group of persecuted people after the next. First they came for the communists, Niemöller said, and we said, “Who cared about them?” We said, “Should I be my brother’s keeper?” Then they came for the sick, the “incurables.” We reasoned it away, Niemöller explained; they cost too much to help, they are a burden on the state. Niemöller admitted that we can reason away the thought of helping others who are not within the circle of people we care about or who are connected directly to us: but eventually he realized that when we do that, we sacrifice our own humanity.

Niemöller’s sentiments were eventually written into the now famous poem that many of you are no doubt familiar with:

First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me

We are doomed to repeat such wretched mistakes of history if we don’t learn from people like Niemöller. His regret is a warning, a warning that the best of our humanity is found in our compassion, and we will become the worst kind of creatures if we make empathy the enemy.

Holy Empathy

Let us imitate God, the highest being of eusplanchnos, “good-guts,” “great compassion.” If we seek to be holy as God is holy, we must embrace empathy—God’s holy empathy.

[You can read more of my thoughts on this subject in my book The Affections of Christ Jesus: Love at the Heart of Paul’s Theology]