One day when I was in third grade, I had the opportunity to spend a few minutes in the early childhood classroom. Early Childhood was a preschool program my public elementary school offered for children with special needs. I was only there a few minutes. But while I was there, one child hit another child. A teacher noticed and took the offending child aside and said gently something like, “How would you feel if someone hit you? It hurts, doesn’t it? So if you don’t like being hit, you shouldn’t hit others.” I know it is weird that I still remember this episode almost 30 years later, but I think it is because even at that young age, I sensed something sacred about having the opportunity to witness a child’s introduction to the Golden Rule. It is so simple, and yet so profound, and it is the foundation of empathy, the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, to see things from their perspective. When that child was older, hopefully that Golden Rule foundation was built upon by adults who nurtured in him a duty to speak up if he witnessed another child being bullied because he would want someone to do the same for him. And then when he grew up—he would be an adult now, just four years younger than me—hopefully he was raised to not take his blessings for granted, and would feel moved to champion the cause of people he encounters who are less fortunate. If he is Christian, hopefully he was taught that all of our blessings, especially if we enjoy a privileged socioeconomic status, are undeserved gifts given to us by God’s grace, and as such, we are not supposed to hoard this blessing for ourselves, but use our privilege to be a blessing to others.
The Golden Rule is included in God’s general revelation to humanity. No reasonable parent would accuse a public school of religious indoctrination for teaching it as this early childhood teacher did. What makes Christianity unique is the radical extent to which we are commanded to apply this rule. Jesus, who was there when we were formed from the dust of the earth, understood human nature, which includes our tendency to think the golden rule only applies to certain people, our tribe, people we like. That is why he commanded his followers to preach the gospel by example, showing that the Golden Rule applies to all people, including our enemies. “If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? (Matthew 5:46)” So I was disturbed to hear of two influential Christian leaders who each wrote books arguing that empathy is sinful.
I first became aware of these books—The Sin of Empathy by Joe Rigney and Toxic Empathy by Allie Beth Stuckey—through Straight White American Jesus, a podcast dedicated to challenging Christian Nationalism, but which is unfortunately also hostile to Christianity. I like listening to it because while I don’t agree with their hostility toward the Bible, I share their anger about how so-called Christians have amassed political power which they have used to harm “the least of these” in our society. I also think listening to people hostile to your worldview is essential for cultivating humility. While I don’t agree with the conclusion the hosts of this show often come to—that Christianity is rotten to the core—I do think that for Christians to send them hate mail, or refuse to listen with humility to their criticisms and acknowledge the grains of truth in them suggests insecurity in their faith.
Co-host Bradley Onishi devoted a three-part series to examining these books on the sin of empathy. He said he paid for these books so listeners wouldn’t have to, but given this podcast’s hostility toward Christianity, I read both books for myself. Joe Rigney argues that society and the church have fallen prey to what he calls untethered empathy, “concern for the hurting and vulnerable that is unmoored from truth, goodness and reality.” Allie Beth Stuckey makes a similar argument with the term “toxic empathy” which mandates that we must not only share someone’s feelings, but affirm their feelings and choices as valid, justified and good” (Page XIII).
To be fair, I confess that in the naïve, early days of my revulsion toward Donald Trump, and my awareness of Christian Nationalism, I went all in with the progressives. The Democrats were the good people, and the Republicans were the bad people. Sure I was familiar with the slogan that Jesus is neither a Democrat nor a Republican, but given the hateful rhetoric and cruel policies of the alt-right, led by Donald Trump, surely if He returned in our day, He would vote with the Democrats. With time and experience however, I have come to appreciate that there are grains of truth in the conservative criticism of progressives. For example, while people with gender dysphoria should be treated with compassion, the progressive trend of introducing yourself with your preferred pronouns or including them in your email signatures is taking things too far in my opinion. While progressives are right that there are bad cops who enforce the law more brutally with people of color, social justice is not achieved by defunding the police, and this trend actually made people of color less safe. I will even concede that some progressives are hostile to Christianity, mocking or re-interpreting our belief in the supernatural, portraying our God as a narcissistic authoritarian based on a shallow reading of the Bible. However for Joe Rigney and Allie Beth Stuckey, there is no nuance: in fact, Joe Rigney despises the idea of nuance. Referencing Aaron Renn’s analysis of religiosity in America, Rigney says, “In neutral world (from roughly 1964 to 2014) credibility was currency, and it was fostered by culture engagers in being winsome not hostile, compassionate not harsh, nuanced, not black and white. This was to maintain a seat at the pluralistic table and to differentiate themselves from cultural warriors on the right. But the cost was cultural engagers came to live their lives and conduct their ministries under the progressive gaze” (chapter 4). In disparaging nuance, they also reveal a lack of humility. Though they sprinkle in a few sentences of lip service to the truth that Jesus is neither a Democrat nor a Republican, their books are really little more than right-wing propaganda masquerading as biblical exegesis. For example, in a chapter on toxic empathy as it relates to immigration policy, Allie Beth Stuckey argues that Democrats used to oppose illegal immigration, and the need for immigration reform used to be a point of bipartisan agreement. But when Donald Trump entered the Presidential race in 2015, ran on stopping illegal immigration, and complained about the drugs and crime that crossed the southern border, the accusations of racism and bigotry from the media and Democrats were intense, and the Democratic party’s stance on immigration has been shifting ever-further left in recent years. It is true that in the name of political gamesmanship, party platforms have shifted throughout our history. And while the Bible commands us to show compassion to foreigners, it is true that God also ordains borders and laws to maintain order in this fallen world. Christians can differ in good faith about how to hold these truths in tension. But Allie Beth Stuckey misrepresents the facts. Sure, Democrats may have overcompensated during President Biden’s term, but Donald Trump was not campaigning on sensible immigration reform. He was campaigning on nativism and hate. It is a massive understatement to say that Trump just complained about drugs and crime crossing the southern border: according to the dictionary, complain is used in a relatively benign casual manner to grumble or express annoyance about something like the weather or the noise in the hallway. Donald Trump did not just complain. He argued that perhaps a few Mexicans were good people, but by and large, Mexico was only sending us rapists and drug dealers, and he made these and many other xenophobic generalizations with a tone of passionate hatred in his voice that I could feel even without being able to see his face. And Trump’s xenophobic remarks, and dehumanization of immigrants provided a permission structure for so-called Christians to justify their own hateful rhetoric toward immigrants, even to the point of bearing false witness, accusing Haitian immigrants of eating pets. I am also old enough to remember how George W. Bush, while recognizing the need to control the flow of immigrants across the border, also advocated compassion, even a path to citizenship for those who had come illegally but made a life here. The need for sensible immigration reform was a point of bipartisan agreement, but so was the importance of basic human decency. Donald Trump completely abandoned any notion of such compassion, and is now even trying to deport Afghani Christians granted protection and a new home in this country after Afghanistan fell to the Taliban. None of this essential nuance is addressed by Allie Beth Stuckey or Joe Rigney. They all but declare that their political agenda is in complete agreement with God, while the progressive agenda is demonic. But you know you are reading a Christian Nationalist gospel when the Bible verses they cite to support their positions are drawn from the Old Testament, especially the books of the Law, or from Paul’s letters taken out of their cultural context, but almost never any of the words of Jesus himself. What if applying the whole counsel of Scripture as true Christians are commanded to doo—the new is in the old concealed, the old is in the new revealed—requires nuance? Joe Rigney argues for example that Christians disobey God when they show pity for people living a sinful lifestyle based on Deuteronomy 13:10 where God told the Israelites they must show no pity to anyone who worships other gods, even if that person is their own mother, or brother or wife: “Stone him to death, because he tried to turn you away from the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.” Rigney’s argument is that showing empathy to someone living in sin is like jumping into a raging current to save a drowning man, but in so doing, drowning yourself. Yet he never follows up with the nuance of the new covenant. While the Law pointed to Jesus and revealed our sins, Jesus exposes the whole truth, that we are all living in sin. We all worship other gods, which in our day could include money, power, pleasure, even our children, and as such we all deserve to be stoned. Only someone who has not sinned has the right to throw a stone at another sinner. Jesus called us to emulate him, and while he would have been justified in stoning the woman brought to him who had been caught committing adultery, as he was without sin, he showed her mercy instead. He did not minimize the sin of adultery: in fact he told her to leave her life of sin behind (John 8:11). But in waiting until all the Pharisees and teachers of the law had left with their tails between their legs as they realized Jesus had outsmarted them, he addressed this woman from a place of genuine love, not self-righteously applying Mosaic law. That is what we are called to do as it relates to our day, reading the whole counsel of Scripture, with an open mind unclouded by a political ideology, letting the Holy Spirit guide us to minister to one family member, neighbor or friend at a time, as part of a genuine, loving relationship that takes the time to know the whole person, rather than seeing them only for their sins. In this excellent analysis, Russel Moore also points out that without empathy, we see sin only in abstract terms. David was not aware of the grievous nature of the sin he had committed in having Uriah killed in battle and stealing his wife, until the prophet Nathan told the vivid parable of the rich man who stole the one and only ewe lamb of a poor man to cook for his guest (2 Samuel 12:1-13). This vivid parable disarmed David of the human tendency toward intellectual justification, so that Nathan could reveal David’s sin through the righteous anger David felt toward the rich man and the empathy he felt for the poor man in the parable. In other words, to turn off our capacity for empathy as these influential pastors want us to do is to unplug from the Holy Spirit who speaks into our conscience, making us aware of our own sins. All sin separates us from God, not just the sins highlighted by our chosen political ideology.
But the most chilling give-away that these influential religious leaders are really promoting Christian Nationalism is in their agreement with Elon Musk. In an episode of Joe Rogan’s podcast, Elon Musk commented that the fundamental bug of Western civilization is empathy. I agree with Bradley Onishi’s analysis that what Elon Musk is really getting at with this comment is that the fundamental bug of Western civilization is seeing every person as having the same dignity, worth and rights, and this fits with other comments Elon Musk has made about the parasitic class. How do so-called Christians justify their agreement with Elon Musk? Bradley Onishi’s answer to this question is also compelling: the Doctrine of Original Sin. According to Bradley Onishi, “If you are a fallen, condemnable being, then there is a good chance that seeing things through your eyes, feeling the way that you might feel, understanding your perspective is going to be to enter into the body, the skin, the experience of somebody who is led astray by their fallen nature and the temptations of the devil rather than God. So it is up to us, those who are born again in Christ, walking in his righteousness and who have the armor of God to protect us from our flesh to make sure we don’t think ourselves into their experience and don’t allow ourselves to be tempted by it.” In essence, these Christian Nationalists are saying, “I’m different than you. I’m a different kind than you” rhetoric that is eerily similar to that of Elon Musk, and is motivated not by genuine Christian love, but anxiety over a perceived loss of social status. If Bradley Onishi’s analysis of the motives of these religious leaders is correct, they have a very twisted, unbiblical understanding of the Doctrine of Original Sin. The Bible is clear that we were all once fallen, condemnable beings: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God, not by works, so no one can boast (Ephesians 2:8-9). Of course, God’s grace is supposed to transform us so that we are not tempted by worldly sin anymore, but the reality is that our fallen nature plagues us to some extent our whole lives: our sanctification will never be complete this side of heaven. We will still make mistakes and fall short of Christ’s righteous standards, even while our salvation is secure. But to claim that we are morally superior to our LGBTQ acquaintances, or neighbors who may have crossed the border illegally is to commit the most grievous sin of all, the sin that caused the fall of man to begin with: pride. Empathy is not toxic or sinful. It is the necessary soil for cultivating humility, and humility is essential for those who truly desire to follow Christ.
That Reminds me of a Song: Jon Guerra’s song Nothing to Say to The New York Times is written from Jesus’s point of view, and is a poignant reminder of who Jesus really is. Just as he had nothing to say when Pontious Pilate asked him if he was king of the Jews, the song imagines that he would have nothing to say to The New York Times (the left), or Fox News (the right). He would not self-righteously offer life lessons or advice to the harlot or the tax collector. He has no interest in rallies or vote tallies. He simply offers forgiveness and love, and asks us to examine our hearts and come to our own conclusion to the question He asked his disciples, “who do you say that I am?” Jesus really is neither a democrat nor a Republican, and earthly governments will always fall short of God’s righteous standards, regardless of which party is in power. But what this song so beautifully conveys is that empathy is not what is sinful or toxic. Jesus taught that what is toxic is the self-righteous, judgmental hypocrisy of believing that God is completely in agreement with your tribe, your politics. Only via genuine, nonpartisan empathy can we cultivate the humility necessary to avoid this toxin.