Love Calls Us to Empathy

There is a stereotype, probably justified, of the angst-ridden teenager who cries, “No one understands me.” No matter are age, we all feel this adolescent attitude from time to time.  But if we let that feeling fester, it can turn from self-pity into the sin of self-absorption. Like all sin, it not only separates us from God, but from each other. It clouds our judgement, turns our hearts, and gives us an attitude of selfishness. When we are hurt, our sinful nature tells us to lash out, to nurse our anger, and to refuse comfort. It is that original sin of pride which causes us to say “they wouldn’t understand” and “no one else has been hurt like I have.”

When we learn to look around with open eyes, however, we begin to see that no matter how real our own pain, it is not unique among humanity. All around us people are misunderstood, betrayed, heart-broken, and experiencing loss. It is part of the human condition, whether the pain we suffer is brought about by our own sin or brought about by living in a sinful world full of death and fallible human beings.  There’s a reason Catholics call this world “the vale of tears.”  The Catholic response to a world hurt by sin, however, should be neither to ignore pain nor to despair on account of it.

God has given us the ability to make something beautiful out of suffering. Not only can we “offer up” our own suffering for others, but we can reach into the world of those who are suffering with God’s love and grace. One of the spiritual works of mercy is to “comfort the afflicted.” This doesn’t mean dismissing their pain, candy-coating it, or telling them to “just cheer up.” We are told to “mourn with those who mourn (Romans 12:15).” We are meant to get right down into what they are going through, and feel their sadness.  This is empathy, to feel what another feels, and it is how charity deals with suffering.

We are often so caught up in differences today — in flaunting what separates us from others and makes us unique — that we lose the ability to empathize with those not exactly like us.  Even as adults, we can isolate ourselves in cliques and get embroiled in so many “wars” that we forget that those outside and those who disagree with us are coming from similar places. We need to be willing to discover the human connections with those who think, believe, and act differently from us if we truly want to mourn with those who mourn.  When we pull off the labels and look underneath at their raw humanity, we find that we are all driven by the desire to be loved, the fear of loss, the hope of salvation, and the need to protect those close to us and ourselves.  Of course, we are all complex mixtures of all these things. No two people think or feel exactly the same, but we all have human feelings and the dignity of a human soul.

When we allow ourselves to identify with others, to say “I understand you are suffering and I am here suffering with you,” we do more than comfort them, we open ourselves up to comfort. We admit that we too can be understood and consoled. This is one way of looking at the beatitude “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Not only will God wipe away our tears at the last day, but He has given us the gift of bearing one another’s burdens. This is what we are meant for: to hold each other up, to walk each other forward, and find our way together back to God. This is one great purpose of the Body of Christ. Of course, we are to spread the gospel of Christ, but we are also to spread His great love for mankind by loving individuals.

Sorrow and suffering are the inheritance from our first parents, but love which suffers for another is the gift of Christ. It is Christ who first came down into our pain, became human like us, and suffered for our sin. We are now His community, called to go and do likewise: reach into sin, hold the hurting, and bring good news to the suffering.