The first post explored the definitions and usages of the two terms, noting the differences in how they are sometimes defined and employed, with empathy earning from one writer the characterization, “squishy,” although I did try to establish my own understanding and appropriate uses of the terms.  That said, we turn now to the importance of one characteristic in expressing either of them.

The role of sincerity in expressing either sympathy or empathy

How many times have we been in a situation where we come across someone by chance—in person, on Facebook, or in a text or email—and upon discovering that they are ill, have lost a loved one, have experienced some misfortune, we feel the need to express our sympathy or try to be empathetic but the best we can come up with is superficial?  Such shallow or perfunctory expressions that lack warmth and authenticity are usually “heard” in just that way. It’s hard to fake true empathy, or even sympathy.

Laura Veroba, in an article on providing patient care, made the case for the importance of sincerity in being empathetic about as well as it can be said:

“A lack of sincerity means a lack of empathy. What do I mean by this? Empathy is your ability to feel what another person is feeling and understand what’s going on with them in order to address the issue. But how can you do any of that if you are not being sincere in your efforts to listen and understand? The core ingredient in being more empathetic is sincerity.”

In an entirely different context, Chandler MacLeod, on his Unleashing Potential website, wrote about the importance of empathy and honesty for being effective leaders:

“People want leaders who show that they care. . . . enough to address the tough issues and have direct conversations. It’s also important to know that delivering honest feedback will strengthen your relationship, not damage it. The great thing about empathy and honesty is that you don’t need years of experience to possess them, yet they can have such an impact on others.”

Now, with all that said, there is, as usual, one caveat, and that is recognizing the likelihood that you cannot always match another person’s experience or their reaction to it. We have established that since empathy is more deeply engaged than sympathy and “feels the other person’s pain,” it is more likely to happen if the person has a shared experience with the one who is suffering.  

But real empathy would also acknowledge that what the person is experiencing may be very different from your own reaction to the same circumstance.  Real empathy does not impose your understanding of how someone is feeling, or should be feeling, in response to a similar experience that you share with them—instead, it asks and wants to know.  It is an open hearted invitation for the other person to express how they are feeling and—to repeat the metaphor often associated with empathy—a desire for the listener to “put oneself in their shoes and walk a while with them.”  

Among a series of quotations on this issue cited by the “ Grief Experts” that I quoted earlier is this one, appropriate to the point I’m trying to make: “A very wise dear friend of mine once said to me ‘Just remember, a man who has never felt hunger can’t know what it is like to feel that pain’.” I would add, of course, that even if I have felt hunger, I cannot be sure that my reaction to the experience is identical to that of the person with whom and for whom I am expressing genuine and sincere empathy.

As a related postscript, note these two observations about compassion as a step beyond empathy—the first one from Neel Burton again.  He says that “Compassion, or ‘suffering alongside’ someone, is more engaged than simple empathy” and he suggests that compassion seeks actually to alleviate the suffering of the person who is the object of such deep concern..

And this is from the “Grief Experts” that I have quoted a couple of times: “Sympathy is feeling for someone. Empathy is feeling with someone. Compassion is empathy in action” (Emphasis mine).

Let me conclude this section with these two quotations that speak profoundly of empathy, sincerely offered, without ever using the word itself.

The first one is from Henri Nouwen in one of his Meditations on the Christian Life:

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice . . .have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us . . . who can stay with us . . . ` who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares”  (Emphasis mine)

And, finally, this piece of advice is given to his daughter, Scout, by Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird:*

“If you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you’ll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view, until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it” (Emphasis mine).

In the third post, we will explore some of the potentially positive and negative effects of sympathy and empathy on both the receivers and the givers.

I hope you will choose to follow along.

A list of sources consulted/cited will be appended to the final post of this blog.

*The role of Atticus Finch is one that I fondly recall portraying in the SART production of To Kill a Mockingbird in 1982 with 10-year old Erika Conrad, who played the role of Scout at a level far beyond her years.

One Responses

  • David H Johnson

    I’m often chagrined when reading a Facebook post that many, if not most, of the responses to an announcement about a person’s having lost a family member (say, for instance, their mother) will be for the respondent to recount their own experiences of losing their own mother. This may seem like a way of proving your bona fides in speaking to the grief of the person, but it is just making their moment all about yourself.

    On another note, Nouwen is one of my favorite authors, too. I once had the great pleasure of having dinner with one of his former graduate assistants and hearing some of the more personal reflections. It was a cherished evening.

    Reply

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