Hey, Cobblestone,
Suppose you’re in a hole. No metaphor here. A real hole,
like, in the ground, and you can’t get out. Somebody walks by, sees you in the
hole, and says……………..
Before I propose what this supposed person might say, let me
ask, What do you hope would be said? You’re in a hole, somebody walks by, and
of all the things that could be said, what do you hope for? Let’s consider some
of the possibilities.
Possibility #1: “I’ll call somebody for you.” How helpful is
this? Well, that depends largely on who gets called and what that person’s
capabilities are. You sit tight and wait for the professional to show up. If
the hole is comfy and dry, there’s plenty of Cheez-Its and soda pop, maybe
Netflix, you’ll be fine for a good long while. Not many holes I’ve seen are so
well furnished.
Possibility #2: “I’m sorry you’re in a hole.” Delivered with
sincerity, this response to the hole situation will be mighty helpful… for a
while. You’ll take comfort in knowing someone is saddened, maybe even pained,
by your predicament. It’ll feel good. And after a while you’ll begin to notice:
you’re still in the hole. Nothing’s happening. The sincerity is there, but the
ladder is not.
Possibility #3: “I’m coming down there with you.” Whatever
happens next, one thing will be certain: there will be more than one of you in
the hole. Soon, someone will be applying multi-dimensional care and concern –
in person. And is this helpful? As with Possibility #1, it depends. Has this
person been in a hole before? More importantly: does this person know the way
out?
There are plenty more possibilities, for sure. If the scale
has “I Don’t Give a Hoot” on one end and “Your Pain Paralyzes Me” on the other,
these would be considered a few of the more compassionate, and compassion is
what we hope to study today. We can get No-Hoot just about anywhere.
We could call Possibility #1 the “agency response.”
Somewhere, there’s a bureau or administration set up to deal with your
situation, and if there isn’t, well doggone it, there oughta be. Somebody needs
to fix this. Not saying the agency response is useless, but it does have its
drawbacks, chief of which is the inherent disconnect between helper and
help-ee.
Possibility #2 is classic sympathy. ‘Nuff said, for now. Possibility
#3 is raw empathy. Stay tuned.
The hole analogy is not an original of mine; I’ve seen it
used once before. The fatal flaws in that presentation were threefold. First
was the notion that empathy could be applied to great numbers of people at the
same time. That’s a lot of holes. No one person is equipped to jump into every
hole with a person in it. Second was the idea that empathy could be applied
from great distances. But if I’m jumping into the same hole, won’t we be in
close proximity? If the recent pandemic has taught us anything, it has probably
taught us the need for open-faced, multi-sensory human interaction. Third was
the idea that just jumping into the hole would be good enough.
There’s sympathy and there’s empathy; they are not the same.
If sympathy is like empathy at all, it’s like empathy with no gas in the tank.
Sympathy feels; empathy does.
If we’re hoping and working to build abiding community, which
of those two would we want for a “secret ingredient”? Both would be in the mix,
probably, but which one makes the difference between true community and
counterfeit? Maybe your observations have been similar to mine: counterfeit
community grows around sympathy, a degree of assent and agreement that
generates a feeling. Identities are built, but without foundation. Empathy will
make a cameo appearance, but stretched beyond its context, says, “I’m out.” The
winds blow and the floodwaters come; the community dissolves.
Not to present empathy as the be-all and end-all, there’s yet
another distinction to be made – the difference between powerless and empowered
empathy. In its powerless form, empathy is little better than sympathy: two
people in the hole now, neither of whom knows the way out. On the other hand,
empowered empathy rolls into a bundle all three of the responses we saw
earlier: “Yes, I’m sorry you’re in a hole; yes, I’m going to call somebody for
you; and yes, I’m coming down there with you.”
What empowers empathy? The ultimate expression thereof: God
the Father saying, in effect, “Get down there, Son, and save them,” and God the
Son saying, “I’m on it!” A human-scale example is seen in the relationship
between the apostle Paul and the Christians in Corinth.
When Paul wrote the letter we know as Second Corinthians –
the fifth of five total between them – he was in Macedonia, on his way to
Corinth by the land route. After the tense exchange of four letters so far, and
a drive-by face-to-face visit that went poorly, Paul apparently felt some
quality time was in order. He sent this new letter ahead of himself, to be read
before his arrival. A peace offering? Perhaps. After a brief salutation, here’s
how the front end of the letter reads:
Blessed be the God
and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all
comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to
comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we
ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly
in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort
too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and
salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you
experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we
suffer. Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share
in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort (2Corinthians 1:3-7).
That’s what you call jumping into the hole, having called
Somebody already, and knowing the way out. Paul was confident, as you and I can
be confident, of two things: we will share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings,
and through Christ we share abundantly in comfort.
Community is building at Cobblestone Community Church –
congealing and distilling at the same time. How solid will it become, and how
large? God knows. Our job is to not be snookered into a counterfeit, accepting
sympathy as a substitute for empathy. Not every one of us will be in community with everyone else who
calls this their church home, and that’s OK. Just don’t settle for a bogus
version thinking the real thing can’t be had at all. Let’s learn to distinguish
the difference, Jesus helping us. For any of us willing to put them to the
test, the best way I know to tell sympathy from empathy is to look back on a
given interaction and ask, “What did that cost me?” Sympathy doesn’t cost much.
Empathy is costly. Jesus filled the account.
Grace and Peace (and no counterfeits),
John
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