Use It or Lose It

February 9, 2025

Rev. Roberta Howey

Lawrence Park Community Church

Empathy is not just a nicety. It is the connecting point in our society. After Bishop Marian Budde delivered her powerful reflection at Trump’s Inauguration service, tweets like this were posted-

 “Do not commit the sin of empathy. This snake is God’s enemy and yours too. She hates God and his people. You need to properly hate in response. She is not merely deceived but is a deceiver. Your eye shall not pity.

-Ben Garret, Twitter, January 2025

This is not the first time empathy was called a sin. Joe Rigney wrote “The Sin of Empathy: Compassion and its Counterfeits” in 2019, and it warns against being too compassionate to others because they could take advantage of that kindness. That empathy, too much of it, not guided by the voice of a God that says that the world is a dark and scary place, will lead you astray. 

I won’t dive in too deep. But let’s leave it that when Jesus is telling us to cast out our net to fish for those who are at the deepest of the deep, the furthest from love and hope possible, and then someone tells me that call is sinful, I know that one of us is terribly mistaken. And it ain't me. So let’s talk about why storytelling and empathy are a part of God’s kingdom. After all, I am not worried about anyone here intellectually knowing that caring about people is a good thing. That we know the stats about racism in Canada and the US, especially around police brutality, discrimination in employment and schooling, and the generational trauma that the impact of centuries of bigotry has on those who are oppressed, and those who are descended from the oppressors. Black History month is not about just engaging the numbers, it is engaging the stories. 

13 years ago and change, I started dating my husband Greg. And while many wonderful people and experiences have come from this relationship, one of the people I want to mention today is his mother, Susan. As far as mothers-in-law go, I am fortunate. 

Susan has cared about stories for as long as I have known her. She writes, and more importantly, wants everyone else to write. Prose, poetry, memoirs, fiction, just write what is on your brain down so others can see it. She started a small nonprofit, the Toronto Writers Collective, along with Greg’s stepfather, and a few years ago it went national as the Writers Collective of Canada.

Susan’s goal is simple; she asks people who have little experience writing their stories to share something. And her facilitators give participants the tools to write, teaching them about the basics of the writing craft. It becomes art. 

The participants are what makes her collective special. No person is too far, too marginalized, or deemed too incapable of being able to share their story. She has worked with veterans, the recently incarcerated, people living on the streets, those in the sex trade, those in rehab. People who have had few chances to share their own stories in their own words and on their own terms. Not everything will win a Pullitzer, but they don’t have to be. They touch the soul.

Storytelling is as ancient a craft as we can get with humans. From the moment we were able to communicate complex emotions and concepts, we dove into telling each other stories. Whether to pass the time, to share our origins, or to explain the nuances of humanity. It is why Jesus is shown so frequently giving parables, because they are relatable and entertaining in a way that a textbook may not. It is why the Bible is so memorable until you get to the book of Numbers which is, frankly, quite dry. 

Stories are a part of human nature. In Mary McCampbell’s Imagining our Neighbours as Ourselves, she explores books and films from across the past 60 years in North America. Her primary goal is to show one of the most important ways that stories touch our souls- they foster empathy. 

Empathy is not sympathy. Sympathy is, as Brene Brown says, someone seeing us in the hole, in suffering, and agrees we are suffering, but doesn’t engage beyond that. It stays in the head. Empathy is when someone jumps in the hole with us, feels what we feel, engages with our suffering. Or engage in our joy when we are doing well. Or simply feels our feelings and understands on a heart-to-heart level. We can’t do this all the time, but it is a part of our calling by Jesus to be empathetic. And empathy can be bloody exhausting. 

McCampbell, and my mother-in-law, both know that empathy is not something that can be checked off. I can’t put on my resume “exhibits level 5 empathy” or something to demonstrate I have mastered it as a flat skill. It is a muscle, a habit that needs time and care to form. When our worldview is small, it is that much harder to see and empathize with people outside our experiences. This doesn’t mean we aren’t kind, or nice, or want everyone to be okay. But that level of empathy that Jesus is asking us to do, to be willing to cast our nets once more and fish for people, requires more than thinking of an abstract other. It requires being willing to put ourselves in their shoes for a minute, whoever “they” are. And by hearing more and more stories about people that aren’t like us, in whatever capacity, we grow that empathy muscle just a little bit more. 

I want you to think about the last time you were able to share a vulnerable story of yours. Maybe it was to a neighbour, or a friend or family. Maybe to a therapist, or to someone in this building. What was that feeling when they received your story? And on the other side, when someone felt they could share with you a vulnerable part of their life, what was that feeling? Trust? Affirmation? Love? Maybe being overwhelmed because “woah, that was a lot!”. 

Casting out that net, and receiving way more than you bargained for. Taking a risk and hoping and praying that the other person receives it well. And that feeling when it went well, and both storyteller and audience feel something profound; that is the Sacred, moving through us. It is when we hear of a whole other facet of the human experience and it grows our heart a few sizes. It is when we see not just another person, but the face of Christ in another human being. That is where our empathy muscles are flexed. No wonder we can be exhausted!

We are now living in a world where empathy is needed more than ever, and yet it is characterized as sinful, as weak, and naive. That the only people we should care about are the people in our own boats. Let everyone who is overboard fend for themselves and focus on the people who think and speak and look like us. And it is pretty clear that it may feel easier in the short run, but in the long run just doesn’t work. 

But to be willing to encounter people who are far beyond our selves. To hear their stories, to know their pain and joy and love and fears. To see the Christ in them and they can see Christ in us. 

The importance of Black History Month, along with Asian History Month, Indigenous History Month, Pride Month, and all of the commemorative seasons we note in the calendar is not out of grandstanding or to wallow. It is because they are times where we stretch out those empathy muscles. A time to remember to cast out the net again, to read new stories and engage in the process anew.