Empathy: The Key to Reconciliation
We all know that 2020 has been a dumpster fire so far. One thing has become clear to me during all of the upheaval: it is exceedingly difficult for people to exit their echo chambers and try out empathy for a change. I get it. Empathy comes unnaturally to me. I favor the sweet logic of a well-reasoned argument, feelings be damned. Based on the news this year, I suspect my shortfall of empathy is a character deficiency I share with plenty of other Americans. But this post is about how I’ve come to see empathy as the key to reconciliation.
We begin with fear and anger. There is a lot to be fearful about these days. Usually the things we fear are those we know the least about: coronavirus and how it’s best avoided and treated; people whose skin tone and/or background differs from our own; police officers and why they do what they do; mobs of protestors tearing down statues and taking over sections of cities.
Is that hoodie-wearing guy dangerous? If I shake hands, will I catch COVID and end up hospitalized, or worse? Is that cop going to arrest me? Hurt me? Kill me? Is this civil unrest going to lead to anarchy? If so, how will I put food on the table and protect my family?
Of course, as news agencies and politicians are wont to do, they polarize our fear and anger. We, as a nation, struggle to make even tiny steps of progress toward more well-being for more people. The situation has paralyzed some, while it’s spurred others to action. On July 1, police took back CHOP (Capitol Hill Organized Protest), a protestor-occupied area of Seattle. In the previous three weeks there, over sixty crimes were reported, including assaults, thefts, shootings, and two teenagers murdered.
We are scared of the unknown, yet we find it difficult to turn those unknowns into knowns. But if we stop to think a moment, I believe we have the best example of empathy the world has ever known: Christ.
The incarnation shows us how deeply Jesus wanted to know our suffering. Here we have the prince, the son of God, the ultimate power player. Instead of access to daddy’s private jet, Jesus had legions of angels. Instead of a super platinum credit card in his wallet, he had a father who was the maker of everything that is. He had access to all the power, wealth, hope, love, and life that there ever was (and is, and will be).
And then he forsook it all.
We’re told that the Father knows us so well, he can number the hairs on our heads (Matt. 10:30). The Spirit intercedes for us with groans too deep for words to express (Rom. 8:26). But Jesus? He knows us because he became like us in order to reconcile us to God.
Jesus laid aside his divinity and put on the human form. He suffered in all the worst ways humans suffer: bullying, slander, abandonment, torture, and even murder.
Jesus’ empathy—“the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another”—was more than vicarious; it was bone-deep. Jesus not only stepped into our shoes, he stepped into a body like ours and a life like ours. He could have thrown himself off a cliff and commanded the angels to fly to his rescue. Yet he chose, instead, to embody our hurts. What a visceral selflessness.
OK, so we have Jesus’ example of embodied empathy in the incarnation. What do we do with all the fear and anger that still surrounds us? If it’s not clear by what the culture is doing, it’s obvious by Jesus’ example that empathy is a virtue we should try to cultivate, but how?
Here are two principles I think could help: (1) assume others are smart, and (2) assume others are caring. It’s awfully easy to dismiss someone’s arguments if we assume they are ignorant fools or have no compassion. Assuming from the start that those with whom we disagree are both smart and caring puts us in a place of humility. It forces us to ask, “What can I learn from them? What am I missing?”
I’ve asked those questions regarding a dear friend of mine since the seventh grade. Our families had similar values when we were growing up, and yet we’ve had many knock-down-drag-out “conversations.” We have argued, cried, voted differently, and wondered at times whether the other had lost her mind.
After twenty-three years of “working it out,” I know my friend and her family to be highly intelligent and thoughtful people. They took me in and loved me like their own. They’ve proven time and again to be well-read, thoughtful, overflowing in kindness and generosity, and endlessly patient with me.
They are both smart and caring, yet they arrive at vastly different conclusions than I do on a host of issues. How is this possible?
I don’t have it all figured out, but my relationship with my friend is worth enough to both us to continue trying to understand each other, and we have far more in common than our stances on issues would belie. We have moderated each other plenty as the years have passed. There’s movement, love, thoughtfulness, and growth.
But this is a long-term friendship. Is this same kind of “dialogue” possible with strangers in our contentious world? Can there be movement, love, thoughtfulness, and growth amidst all the fear and anger?
Yes. If we assume others are both smart and caring. If we see Jesus’ incarnation as a statement that empathy is worth the effort. God’s plan to reconcile humanity to himself took a divine show of empathy. If we are to reconcile to one another (to whatever extent we can), we need empathy, too.
is a homeschooling mom of five and proud Navy wife. She works hard to be what Chesterton called a “Jill-of-all-trades,” chronically trying new projects for the sheer joy of exploration. She’s addicted to coffee, enjoys dark beer, and loves to be in the mountains. You can find her on Instagram @rhikutzer.
Photograph © Vonecia Carswell, used with permission
