Let’s talk about empathy.
Empathy is the ability to understand and share another person’s feelings. Clinically, empathy involves recognizing emotional cues, accurately interpreting others’ mental states, and responding with appropriate concern, support, and sensitivity. Jesus consistently responds to human suffering with deep empathy— he weeps with mourners at Lazarus’s tomb and touches the leper with compassion. He breaks social barriers to join sufferers. Jesus’ actions reveal a heart attuned to pain and a will to restore dignity through shared belonging. This is the gospel, after all.
The incarnation is God’s ultimate act of empathy and solidarity— entering human flesh to feel our pain, bear our burdens, and journey alongside us. As Christians, a high view of empathy is codified into our creeds and woven into the fabric of our faith. Questions about suffering and God belong together, and those questions are connected through empathy that we steward, share, and make sacred.
Sympathy is the one-sided action of feeling for someone that is separated from the experience. Empathy, on the other hand, is something that’s shared together. No separation.
Today, there are attempts to make an enemy out of empathy by labelling it toxic (Allie Beth Stuckey) and even suicidal (Dale Partridge). Notably, the empathy they’re targeting is specific to women. Allie Beth Stuckey defines toxic empathy as a form of compassion that prioritizes emotional affirmation over truth, often leading people to endorse harmful ideas or behaviors. She argues that when empathy is detached from moral clarity, it becomes a tool for manipulation— especially in political and cultural debates. Allie’s work, however, is focused on mobilizing western evangelical women politically in a way that is palatable for the white, wealthy, and well off. Obviously, anything that challenges their comfortability is considered a direct threat.
But when we begin to categorize and rank empathy, we’ve actually done something even more insidious. We’ve bought into the hoax of selective empathy. Selective empathy is the tendency to extend emotional understanding and concern only to certain individuals or groups— typically those who are familiar, similar, or socially favored— while ignoring or minimizing the suffering of others. It reflects a biased emotional response, shaped by personal, cultural, or ideological filters, and often leads to moral inconsistency, exploitation (think inspiration porn), and social injustice.
Selective empathy rejects solidarity with outsiders and uses the Bible to justify that separation. Selective empathy’s sole motive is to retain power so that it can trade empathy like currency that is earned and bestowed rather than given freely.
Allie uses the story of King Saul’s disobedience as an example of toxic empathy. But as a seminary grad who’s scholarly work focusses on the book of Samuel, the reality is that Saul wasn’t exemplifying any empathy at all. Saul was using people to avoid responsibility for his disobedience. He wanted to appear empathetic— but he wasn’t actually. See, empathy is much more about solidarity and mutuality than arbiting sympathy by another name.
Importantly, scripture has much more to say about selective empathy then Dale and Allie’s toxic and suicidal propositions. And because the authors of scripture recognize that we tend to withhold empathy much more that share it liberally, a high view of scripture should inspire us to respond to suffering with emphatic compassion instead of twenty questions. We should steward our power (like our vote) for the flourishing of our most marginalized neighbors rather than favoring the status quo that perpetuates harm. Selective empathy withholds justice and ignores ongoing harm while prioritizing competing values and ideals. Truthfully, selective empathy isn’t empathetic at all— it’s just self-serving. We push back against it by refusing to cater to vipers dressed in selective empaths clothing.
The Bible actually gives us countless examples warning against selective empathy:
For example, following David’s abuse of power against Bathsheba, Nathan tells David a parable about a rich man who steals a poor man’s only lamb to feed a guest. David, enraged by the injustice, declares the man deserves death— only for Nathan to reveal, “You are the man!” This exposes David’s selective empathy: he condemns injustice in theory but fails to see his own abuse of power against Uriah and Bathsheba. God’s prophet reveals David’s wickedness.
In Matthew 23:23 Jesus rebukes the Pharisees for tithing meticulously while neglecting “justice, mercy, and faithfulness.” He exposes their selective moral concern— obsessing over ritual while ignoring the weightier matters of the law that affect how people relate to one another.
In Luke 10:25-37 while responding to a question about loving one’s neighbor, Jesus tells a story where religious leaders go out of their way to avoid a wounded man left for dead, while a Samaritan— socially despised outsider— shows him compassion. The parable critiques selective empathy based on social or religious identity and redefines neighborly love as action, not affiliation. See selective empathy is about who we’re willing to give our time, attention, and are care to— not just our dollars and cents.
And later in Luke, when a woman dares to anoints Jesus and is subsequently scolded and mocked by his disciples, Jesus goes out of his way to combat their disdain and honor her. He advocates for her flourishing and wellbeing, and his buddies still don’t get it.
So what does all this empathy-speak this look like for our churches and ministries:
Ministries that prioritize giving to an organization over joining others in love actually practice sympathy and selective empathy. When ministries focus more on financial contributions than on relational presence, they risk practicing sympathy— feeling for others from a distance that reinforces a sense of separation—rather than empathy, which requires entering into others’ lives with love, humility, and bearing one another’s burdens. Jesus didn’t outsource compassion—he touched the leper, wept with mourners, and walked with the poor.
Ministries that mirror his example prioritize presence over performance, and relationship over reputation. Selective empathy occurs most in evangelicalism when congregants are trained to extend compassion only through institutional filters or to those deemed “worthy,” while ignoring situations that might actually disrupt our routines, challenge our rigid worldviews, and impact our comfortability.
Giving to the church often doesn’t disrupt us at all. It makes us feel good. We pat ourselves on the back for our generosity. We delight in our sparkling reputations and “commitment to truth.” And we never even have to interact with those receiving our benevolence— unless its for a heartfelt thank you, of course.
But generosity that reinforces separation rather than inviting us to commune resists the pattern of reciprocity at work in God’s own inner life. To be human is to give and receive, to share, and to recognize our interconnectedness. We belong to one another. It is our shared humanity that propels our empathy. Empathy isn’t about exercising power over others; it’s about refusing to use power against others to score political points.
It’s no secret that our communities are currently experiencing widespread large-scale suffering as a result of the government shutdown, SNAP cuts, and continued economic uncertainty. We know families are stressed and pocketbooks are stretched thin. And we know that when there are additional monetary stressors, instances of domestic violence, child abuse, and substance abuse skyrocket. Our current cultural moment demands a trauma-informed response that’s willing to acknowledge the current scale of suffering. Christian influencers peddling toxic empathy make money off of the clicks and likes that keep their audience trapped in the scroll. We need believers who are willing to put their entertainment down long enough to show up for their communities (without posting for credit). Instead of feeding the algorithm, we need to feed the hungry. We need to protect our neighbors from the violence of ICE. Instead of focusing on capitalism and control, we need to care for our neighbors with love, dignity, and respect.
Willingness/ Unwillingness
I don’t expect these words to change hearts or minds that are intent on looking for ways out of loving their neighbors. But I do hope that we can recognize that the real threat here isn’t our willingness to care too much, but our unfortunate unwillingness to care far too little.
This is why Jesus says, when it’s all said and done, when the Prince of Peace judges the world for its injustices, humanity is sifted by our willingness and unwillingness to see suffering and respond with compassion. (Matt 25)
The Christian faith is messy, risky, and weird. This life is all about solidarity in suffering, taking care of one another, and allowing empathy to move us toward compassion.
I’ll leave you with Paul’s words to the Corinthian churches: “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.”
That word for “comfort” shares linguistic and theological roots with the title for the Holy Spirit, Paraclete. This Greek word describes an advocate who comes alongside. God not only soothes our emotional pain but joins us to strengthen, guide, and restore.
Our understanding of empathy is directly connected to our understanding of the divine response to see suffering and respond with compassion.
God’s empathy for a suffering world isn’t toxic, suicidal, or selective.
God’s empathy is incarnational, compassionate, and willing to be misunderstood.
Liz
*Art: Parable of the Good Samaritan by Bertram Poole
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