Empathy : What happens when we are truly living and loving like Jesus.
Not long ago, a friend and I were talking over coffee when he asked, “What’s the most important lesson Christians should learn from the pandemic?” Without hesitation, I answered, “Empathy, not just sympathy.” He looked intrigued. “Why do you say that?” he asked.
It’s simple, really. I explained that Christians have gotten pretty good at sympathy but are often lacking in true empathy. He looked a bit puzzled, so I continued, “Sympathy is an acknowledgment that someone is going through a tough time, but empathy takes it a step further—it’s about connecting with and feeling the pain of others.”
“What's the difference?” he asked.
Sympathy, I explained, is the recognition of someone else’s suffering—whether it’s in our families, communities, or across the globe. It’s easy to feel sympathy because it's a natural emotional response to seeing others in pain. I told him about my grandmother, who would often respond to someone’s struggles with the phrase, “Bless their hearts.” While that might sound kind, for many Southerners, it’s a phrase that sometimes allows us to express concern without actually doing anything. Sympathy comes naturally to most people, except for those who may be narcissistic or sociopathic. But while sympathy can be genuine, it’s often short-lived—it’s a quick emotional reaction that might leave us disconnected from the issue at hand.
Empathy, on the other hand, isn’t just about acknowledging someone’s struggles; it’s about truly feeling and engaging with their emotions. It’s not enough to say the right words. Empathy moves beyond sentiment into action. It pushes us to respond with care, understanding, and effort.
Jesus was deeply critical of sympathy. He called out the Pharisees for offering hollow sympathy—an acknowledgment of problems without truly engaging with them. He told his disciples that following him wasn’t just about feeling sympathy for the world’s pain but about actively participating in the suffering by taking up our cross and denying ourselves. Why? Because empathy demands intentionality and sacrifice—qualities that sympathy doesn’t necessarily require.
The pandemic highlighted this difference in profound ways. It forced us to go beyond lip service and actually act. Saying we care wasn’t enough. We had to show up, even when it was uncomfortable or inconvenient.
I’ve often been “called out” for offering sympathy without truly engaging in the struggle at hand, but I’ve never been called out for an act of empathy. Sympathy is easy—it allows us to check a box. Empathy requires much more.
But how do we become more empathetic? Jesus taught us in the first words of the Sermon on the Mount. The first Beatitude says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” To be poor in spirit means to empty ourselves of selfish desires and illusions of self-sufficiency so that we can be filled with God’s love and compassion. That’s the prayer I try to start every day with: "Lord, empty me of my self-centeredness and the myth that I can do everything on my own." When I make this my daily practice, something amazing happens. I become more merciful, more willing to love, and more open to making peace. In the process, I also become more humble, more aware of the world as it really is.
My friend asked one last question, one I knew was coming: “What about people who don’t take responsibility for their actions?” That’s a complicated issue I’ll tackle another time, but I did share part of my answer with him. I said, “Jesus told us to love others as we’ve been loved. What would your life—and your life after death—look like if God had only felt sympathy for you?” At that point, we lost eye contact. We didn’t need to say anything more. The question hung in the air.
Jesus didn’t just feel sympathy for us—He practiced empathy. He entered into our suffering, and He calls us to do the same. We’re not just called to acknowledge the pain of the world; we’re called to enter into it, to feel it, and to act. That’s what empathy is all about.
