Not counting equality with God as something to be exploited,
he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.
Philippians 2:6-7
Over the last year I have mentioned more than once the impact that sociologist Arlie Russell Hochschild’s book Strangers in Their Own Land has had on me. In her fascinating report of the time she spent among the folks who live in Lake Charles, Louisiana, she tries to unpack the “great paradox” lived by people who acknowledge and endure the pollution of their land by the powerful petrochemical industry and yet who also shun the government regulation that might repair and prevent it. A key aspect of her work is to identify “empathy walls” that thwart understanding and to build “empathy bridges” that promote understanding. Essentially Hochschild lived among these folks and simply asked the question: What does it feel like to be you?
Hochschild’s work especially commends itself in this time of deepening political polarization, because the question “What does it feel like to be you?” directs our attention to a realm that is very different than the question “Why do you think that way?” It moves our awareness beyond the head to the heart. It asks us to let go of a demand that the other convince us of the logic of their position and rather demands of us the work of trying to grow in our awareness of their experience. It sets argument aside and instead invites us to simply pay attention to what is. Or more accurately, pay attention to who is standing in front of us and what they know simply, and perhaps only, because of who they are or how they feel.
The lovely thing about these exercises in empathy is that we do not engage them to get at a solution or to convince one another of the right or the wrong way to think about something. We engage in this work to simply know who the other is. And if we experience that miracle of feeling even a sliver of what the other feels, we have made a connection that might just lessen the tension between us. At that moment of empathy, we have entered and experienced the world as the other perceives it. That experience makes us bigger. It creates room in us for something we had not previously imagined. Sure, there are miles to go before we can get to a place of agreement because of this discovery, and to be honest that agreement is likely never going to come about. But when the personhood of the other is acknowledged and embraced, the seeds of relationship are planted, and relationship is big enough and resilient enough to hold the tension of disagreement.
In the first chapter of Colossians St. Paul celebrates Jesus Christ as the one in whom all things hold together. The reason for this is wrapped up in Paul’s other description of Jesus as the one who emptied himself of his divine prerogative, took on human form and humbled himself to the point of entering into our experience of death. The way of Jesus, the mind of Christ, is the way that lets go of selfish ambition and regards others better than oneself. The way of Jesus is the way of opening space in oneself for others. It is a way characterized by empathy. The space in his heart is big enough to hold all things together.
The great commandment that Jesus gives to his disciples is to love God with our whole being and to love our neighbors as ourselves; yet he also adds the addendum to love our enemies. That last bit is a tall order. Yet I think we can take a step toward it through intentional exercises in empathy. Just as a physical therapist instructs us in how to stretch our muscles, the Holy Spirit works in us to stretch our stunted imaginations. We cooperate with the Spirit and start the work of loving our enemies when we let ourselves imagine the truth that there is plenty of room for them in the heart of Jesus. And once we stretch to make space for the possibility of this proximity to them, we extend that stretch to the point of asking them the question: “What does it feel like to be you?” If we have the patience to stretch a bit farther and actually listen for their answer, we effectively take a step toward relationship. That little crack in our armor lets some light in. The light reveals that there is more space in us than we thought. For the love of Christ is long and high and wide and deep and he can do abundantly more than we can ask or imagine.
David Rohrer
10/09/2020