Virtuous Sins & Overcoming Yiddish-British: Strange Bedfellows Indeed

"Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.” You’ve heard that line before, I am sure. 

A storm is raging across Prospero’s island, and Trinculo is caught without cover. In his wandering he stumbles upon Caliban, the island’s deformed and despised native, sprawled upon the ground. No cave to hide in. No tree to shield him. Merely a strange creature under a cloak. Trinculo, under pressing necessity, enters the cloak of Caliban, saying that famous line:

“Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.” (Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act II, Scene 2.)

Enter Dr. Joe Rigney with his “empathy is sin” mantra and Mr. David Brooks with his quest to grow in emotional intelligence while fighting against his upbringing of, “Think Yiddish, act British.” The misery of life in twenty-first century America, with all of its social and emotional burdens, calls on you as a reader to stop and learn from these strange bedfellows. The tempest is raging around us; let’s get under this cloak. 

The Strange Bedfellows 

Dr. Joe Rigney is the associate pastor of Christ Church in Moscow, ID. He is also a professor at New St. Andrews College, which is also associated with the infamous Doug Wilson. I have no idea about Rigney’s pastoral abilities. I have no idea of his professorial skill. I have no idea as to what he believes about the Federal Vision or other errors frequently connected to his denomination. I do know that he most-likely has the Moscow Mood—and whatever you think of that—I also enjoyed very much his book, The Sin of Empathy: Compassion and Its Counterfeits. 

Plus he’s a self-professed Narnian, that’s got to be worth something! 

Mr. David Brooks is a very different creature indeed. Brooks is a fourth generation Manhattan Jew. He was trained in journalism at the University of Chicago. Brooks is a mainline journalist with associations that segments of Rigney’s crowd might largely distrust and find deplorable: NPR, PBS, NY Times, The Atlantic, among others. 

Is David Brooks a Christian? I have no idea, although I do doubt he’s converted. He’s at least not baptized. In Brooks’s words on that question he says, “Today, I feel more Jewish than ever, but as I once told some friends, I can’t unread Matthew… So these days I’m enchanted by both Judaism and Christianity. I assent to the whole shebang.”

David Brooks’s 2023 New York Times bestseller, How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen should be an important book in our circles. Not an important book because of its insights into the Bible, reformed theology, the history of religion, or other matters of the like. Brooks’s How to Know a Person is important because it helps expose a need in reformed circles:

Emotional intelligence. 

Me reading Rigney’s book might be triggering you. Surely some of you will have, with prejudice even, made up your mind about The Sin of Empathy because of several reasons: 

The Moscow Mood.
The current reviewer. That’s me!
The accusation that the reformed world is shifting right and MAGA obsessed.

Sure, there’s problems.

Others may be triggered because I am reviewing Brooks’s book, How to Know a Person. 

Brooks is not a believer. 
Brooks is among the coastal elite. 
Brooks shifts left or at least center-left.
Brooks largely leans on secular psychology here. 
And let me say it again: Brooks is not a believer.

What am I doing here? 

Why does our current tempest require these strange bedfellows? 

I Don’t Mind Saying It

Rigney and Brooks are very different persons from very different worlds. Rigney’s book was amazing and I read it more than once. Brooks’s book was really good as well, although there were, in the words of Canada’s Rev. Dr. Rich Ganz, some “psycho-babble” bones to spit out. 

But the books paired well. Really well, actually. 

Brie goes very well with pears, especially the Bosc variety—thanks Mrs. Buck for introducing me to them. Red wine goes well with steak (white wine if you are having lobster or scallops).  Mint and lamb were made for each other. Who doesn’t love medium rare lamb with chutney?  Or as my maternal grandfather would have it: apple pie pairs best with a thick slice of cheddar cheese. I can hear him singing now:

An apple pie without the cheese
Is like a hug without the squeeze. 

So whatever your pairing preferences, Joe Rigney’s The Sin of Empathy and David Brooks’s How to Know A Person are best read one right after another. They are strange bedfellows, but a pair worth reading. Where Rigney lacks, Brooks helps. Where Brooks falls short, Rigney picks up the pieces. Why do I say this? 

As reformed people—and especially reformed pastors—most of us are not falling off on the empathy side of the proverbial horse, we are falling off on the “I have no emotional intelligence” side. Are not reformed people sometimes poked fun of for being brainy and nerdy and maybe a bit theologically-neurodivergent? Most of our churches are not known for being cool places with high social IQs where empathy reigns. Quite the opposite, to be honest. We surely need some help. 

I had a seminary professor who told me once what I would experience when I went into the ministry: most men that were deposed, removed from pulpits, asked to leave, or just plain tanked their ministries would do so not because of theological error, but because they lacked the social intelligence and emotional awareness needed to shepherd Jesus’s church well. 

Fair enough. 
He was right. 

I can name several men who are orthodox in their theology that have failed tremendously in the world of interpersonal interaction in their ministries.  Ministries have tanked. People have been hurt. That hurt is largely because it takes wisdom and discernment to both avoid sinful empathy and to positively practice the art of knowing people. 

In a New Yorker interview, David Brooks said, “We emphasize the things that are easy to talk about: IQ, academic performance, salaries. But the skills that really matter are much harder to define and measure—like the ability to control your impulses, to read a situation, to connect with other people. These are the qualities that lead to a fulfilling life, and they’re not always correlated with intellectual achievement.” That sounds like it could be said of a reformed church.  We’ve got our own tempests, don’t we? 

The Sin of Empathy

The Sin of Empathy: Compassion and its Counterfeits is an accessible and attractive book of 140 pages. The book has hit a nerve in the church and outside of it. Vox connected the book to “Christian nationalism.” The Guardian titled their review, “Loathe Thy Neighbor” and threw Elon Musk into the conversation just for fun. AP News's review claimed that Rigney sees “empathy is a cudgel for the left.” Tempestuous responses in the midst of a cultural  storm, for sure.

If you want to discuss the provocative nature of the title of the book, Appendix A discusses the various definitions of the word “empathy” as well as the idea that “provoking a reaction in one person is sometimes necessary to provoke thought in another.” (Empathy, 125)

The book begins with this question in the Forward: “What does Christian love look like when you see someone drowning in a river?” 

As that question is asked, the writer gives three response examples: the “hard-hearted observer” who feels no moral responsibility. He says, “Not my problem.” The second observer seeks to “affirm the victim’s feeling and joins the victim in the problem. Suffering together takes priority over problem-serving.” A third example, “the sympathetic observer” tethers himself to “something more lasting and substantial than the victim’s feelings. He cares for the potential victim in body, soul, and emotions and carefully executes a rescue plan.”

Tethering. 

Tethering is the key to the book. To what or to whom are you tethered? Years ago, in response to ethical, moral, and legal discussions, the question was asked, “By what standard?” Rigney essentially asks the same question: 

“To what are you tethered?” 

What is empathy? Why does Rigney say that it is sinful? Chapter one is an attempt at clarity and provide definition. (Side note: I wish he was clearer on the definition although it is quite fluid, as far as words are concerned.) Empathy is a rather new word in the history of words. The English word “empathy” was introduced as a translation of the German word einfühlung around 1908–1912, especially through the disciplines of psychology and aesthetics. The psychologist Edward B. Titchener is usually credited with first using “empathy” in English to capture the idea of “feeling oneself into” another’s experience.

Feeling in. 

Rigney shows how this differs from sympathy (from the Greek): suffering with; or compassion (from the Latin): with suffering.  Empathy and sympathy are two very different concepts. The sympathetic person comes alongside of the sufferer and provides “emotional presence” while keeping one foot planted or tethered in truth (the Bible). The empathetic person goes into the suffering without being tethered—emotion and response are shared. This is dangerous for the Christian. 

Think quicksand: do you help from the solid ground or do you help by getting in with the sufferer? Sympathy helps from alongside. Empathy seeks to help from inside the quicksand. Rigney said: 

"The danger is particularly acute for those who are naturally empathetic—those who are highly sensitive to the emotions of others and therefore easily swallowed by their grief and distress. What’s more, sufferers frequently make unreasonable demands of those who are trying to help them. After we’ve climbed down into the pit with them, they demand we agree there is no way out. They may even demand that we destroy the ladder we are offering them. And empathy, in its zeal to stay out of judgment, is often willing to burn the ladder in the name of fueling connection.” (The Sin of Empathy, 11-12)

Compassion and sympathy untethered from truth goes wrong. Enter empathy, a counterfeit virtue. At this point the book you might think that the unloving and uncaring Rigney has made all this up in his head. You might think that it is a whole book striving about words…

Remind them of these things, charging them before the Lord not to strive about words to no profit, to the ruin of the hearers… But avoid foolish and ignorant disputes, knowing that they generate strife. (2 Timothy 2:23, 26)

Is this a striving about words? Is this book a Moscow-mood attention generator? Click bait for the angry and alt-right? No. Rigney goes on to show that making distinctions between compassion and its counterfeits has a long history in Christian thought, both biblically and in Christian literature. 

Pity, compassion, or sympathy have been weaponized. 

“Love,” according to CS Lewis, in The Four Loves, “begins to be a demon the moment he begins to be a god.” When love demands “unconditional allegiance” it goes beyond the bounds of Christian love. Rigney illustrates this point by speaking of several characters from Lewis’s The Great Divorce. Emotional manipulation, emotional blackmail, erroneous ways of dealing with emotional pain, the weaponizing of compassion, and other important themes are drawn from Lewis’s stylized retelling of the afterlife.

Rigney demonstrates that “Faithful compassion leans into the suffering of others, weeping with those who weep, genuinely joining the sorrowful in their grief, and then, when the time is right, taking action to relieve the pain.” (Empathy, 30) Rigney importantly adds—after following several characters from The Great Divorce, that “true compassion always reserves the right not to blaspheme.” (Empathy, 30)

Why does he say that? Chapters three, four, and five unfold what Rigney calls “the sins of the empaths,” “life under the progressive gaze,” and he swings quite hard at Feminism, which he monikers “the queen of the woke.” These three chapters, in my estimation, make up much of the negative press that Rigney has received from this book—even in the church. They are worth reading and examining your heart against. Surely some touchy subjects are discussed in these pages—things for which Christians disagree—things that make tempests—or at least are the symptoms of one.

Covid responses.
BLM protests.
LGBTQ+ and gender identity.
#MeToo movement.
Woke ideology.
Race relations.
Gender roles and male leadership. 

Surely 140 pages cannot solve all of those mysteries! What Rigney does is not seek to solve the above, but demonstrates the way that the evangelical church has responded to the above. The response has largely been with untethered virtue—empathy has driven much of evangelicalism’s participation in these matters and it has not served the church well. It has harmed the church’s witness in the world. 

Disagreement, with compassion standing on truth, is a much different response than empathy resulting in de-conversions, a hard shift left among Christians, or a practical theology built on emotional pragmatics rather than standing on the Scriptures. 

I found the chapter “Life under the Progressive Gaze” to be intriguing and convicting. I have only ministered in largish to large liberal, coastal, urban centers. Why does the church seem to want to impress the left and the coastal elites more than it does the red-hatted right or middle America? Why is New York more important than Appalachia? How is this connected to empathy? Rigney walks through the cultural shift, starting in a pre-1994 world and shows the perfect storm—the tempest—a cultural shift that included how the culture views Christians, how Christians respond to that culture, and a world of victims, advocates, and Christians seeking respectability in a society obsessed with empathy. 

Rigney provides answers for the above. He says, 

"Believe the Scriptures are both true and good for the world. Speak boldly, clearly, courageously, with no muttering or mincing of words. Refuse to be embarrassed by anything the Bible says. More than that, refuse to be embarrassed and steered by association with fellow Christians, even ones you disagree with. If God is unashamed to be called their God, why should you be ashamed to call them brothers? Live beneath the gaze of God… seek his approval above all else, and based on that approval, seek to love your neighbors and commend Christa with courage and compassion." (Empathy, 75)

To balance out Rigney’s own book, he concludes with a chapter called “In Praise of Compassion” and calls the church to practice compassion and sympathy in a sober and biblical way. Rigney uses the life of Christ, many Bible verses, and Dostoyevsky to build a case for a better way. Tethered compassion—founded in truth and on Jesus Christ, results in biblical sympathy rather than untethered empathy. 

The Tempest & Empathy 

Who is reading The Sin of Empathy? I doubt, in my church, the ones that are reading it are those who struggle with untethered empathy. Are empaths reading the book or are the apathetic reading the book? 

Reformed churches are filled with all types of people, but we do have a high number of people that lean more towards stoic (the small “S” is purposeful) apathy than bleeding heart empathy. As I noted, many reformed ministers that leave the ministry—either on their own or because they were shown the door—do so, not because there is too much empathy, but because of their perceived apathy.

Our tempest may be a bit different than mainline evangelical storms, and therefore I am proposing that The Sin of Empathy be read, be enjoyed, be learned from, and put into action. It is a really good book, even for those of us that do not have the Moscow Mood. But the current misery in our churches and society calls for a strange bedfellow. In steps David Brooks and his How to Know a Person. 

How to Know A Person 

David Brooks’s book, How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen was stumbled upon, to be honest. It is not in my normal realm of literature. It was on some reading list from The Gospel Coalition or some other site like that.  It seemed interesting and proved to be—and I believe there is value in reading these two books in tandem. 

Strange bedfellows, for sure. 

Brooks’s book is much longer than Rigney’s, coming in around 300 pages. Rigney wrote with a back against the wall feel, protecting us from a societal tempest—the untethered emotional shift in society’s ethics. Brooks also is answering a societal question, but a much different, yet connected, one. Brooks said: 

…People need social skills, We talk about the importance of ‘relationships,’ ‘community,’ ‘friendship,’ ‘social connection,’ but these words are too abstract. The real of, say, building a friendship or creation a community involves performing a series of small, concrete social actions well: disagreeing without poisoning the relationship; revealing vulnerability at the appropriate pace; being a good listener; knowing how to end a conversation gracefully; knowing how to ask for and offer forgiveness; knowing how to sit with someone who is suffering; knowing how to host a gathering where everyone feels embraced; knowing how to see things from another’s point of view. (How to Know, 8) 

If empathy requires a lesson in tethered virtue; then what Brooks is offering is a lesson in social skills and interpersonal connections. In an interview about the book, Brooks said that our society has gotten "sadder, meaner, and more lonely.” I can see that, and I can see how a biblically and virtue-driven crusade against untethered empathy could lead us further into that storm. In quest against sinful empathy, we may end up sadder, meaner, and more lonely. Often when culture—even church culture—shifts right, it overcorrects. And sometimes way overcorrects! 

Let’s not do that. 

Brooks’s book, How to Know a Person is divided into three sections: 

I See You
I See You In Your Struggles
I See You With Your Strengths 

Brooks brings to light basic skills of truly knowing a person and seeing them for who they truly are. After telling of his own struggles in the social skills department he describes growing relationally and moving from “merely knowing” to “beholding.” It is quite a good story, to be honest. 

Why are people not seen? What are some of the struggles of people not seeing others? Several mindsets related being a “diminisher” are emphasized:

Self-centeredness: “I can’t see you because I am all about myself.” 

Anxiety: “They have so much noise in their own heads, they can’t hear what’s going on in others heads.”

Naive realism: “The assumption that the way the world appears to you is the objective view, and therefore everyone else much see the same reality you do.” Brooks here gives a very useful analogy of the man by the river: “A woman standing on the opposite shore shouts to him: ‘How do I get to the other side of the river?’ And the man shouts back, ‘You are on the other side of the river!”

Lesser minds problem: “We don’t have access to all the thoughts that are running through other people’s minds... This leads to the perception that I am much more complicated than you are—deeper, more interesting, more subtle, etc.”

Objectivism: “Detached, dispassionate, and objective stance, its hard to see the most important parts of a person, her unique subjectivity—her imagination, sentiments, desires, creativity, intuitions, faith, emotions, and attachments—the cast of this unique person’s inner world.”

Essentialism: “Essentialism is the belief that certain groups actually have an essential and immutable nature. Essentialists imagine that people in one group are more alike than they really are.” Germans are ______________.  Californians are ____________. Blacks are ________________.

Static Mindset: The idea that the person in front of you has not grown or developed since the last interaction—maybe even years ago. 

Diminishers and Illuminators 

Brooks compares two types of people in relation to others. He titles them “diminishers” and “illuminators.” Diminishers make others feel small, less important, or unseen. They may dominate the conversation, turn attention back to themselves, or flatten people into stereotypes rather than individuals. People leave their presence feeling drained or dismissed, as though their inner complexity was ignored. They interrupt, fail to listen closely, or project assumptions instead of asking questions. Sometimes, they even make others feel invisible by simply not acknowledging their existence in a meaningful way. Brooks said, “They are the sort of people who, when you leave their company, you feel diminished.” As reformed people, we need to at least hear out what Brooks is saying. Are you a diminisher? 

Illuminators, on the other hand, are those who make you feel seen, heard, and valued. They approach conversations with genuine curiosity. Instead of waiting for their turn to speak, they ask questions that draw you out. When you leave an Illuminator’s presence, you often feel bigger, not smaller. They give you the sense that your story matters and that your inner life is worth knowing. They ask follow-up questions, they notice subtle shifts in tone or emotion, and they often help you discover things about yourself you hadn’t fully articulated. 

Brooks said, “Illuminators have a persistent curiosity about other people. They shine a light on them, and when you are in their presence you feel bigger, respected, lit up.” Illuminators are “life-giving” conversationalists, and Brooks suggests that everyone can learn to become one, though it takes training in attentiveness and humility. He provides you with some of that training as he tells his story of growing in emotional intelligence. 

Do you see why this is so important to fill the “empathy is sin” void with good interpersonal relationships and conversations? Brooks, although not writing from the perspective of a pastor or theologian helps us to plunder the Egyptians and to receive the best from a wide range of studies in human interaction. 

“Speak now in the ears of the people, and let every man borrow of his neighbour, and every woman of her neighbour, jewels of silver and jewels of gold.” (Exodus 11:2)

Illuminators have a “gaze” of their own—and Brooks characterizes the illuminator as:

Tender
Receptive
Actively curious
Affectionate
Generous
Holistic 

Each of these themes is expanded on. 

Chapter after chapter, 4, 5, 6, 7… 5, 16, 17, Brooks weaves his journalistic style with his inquisitive nature into diving into the best of human psychology to know himself better that he would be better at knowing others. Remember there are “psycho-babble” bones (Rich Ganz’s phrase, not mine) to spit out, but much of the meat is delicious and well-seasoned. 

Themes such as “accompaniment” and truly defining personhood become important themes for Brooks to really know a person—to know the complexities of what it means to be an image bearer of God and to learn to interpret, interact with, and display interest in another person. Concerning accompaniment, Brooks says: “Accompaniment is an other-centered way of moving through life. When you’re accompanying someone, you’re in a state of relaxed awareness: attentive and sensitive and unhurried. You’re not leading or directing the other person. You’re just riding alongside as they experience the ebbs and flows of daily life.” Accompaniment gets to know—we might call that fellowship. 

Empathy and Serving Friends in Despair 

Empathy, in the mind of Brooks, is connected to knowing. He says, “Perhaps to really know another person, you have to have a glimmer of how they experience the world. To really know someone, you have to know how they know you.”

In his definition he sets boundaries and limits that seem to tether the virtue. Rigney would be satisfied, I am sure. One can understand without agreeing. One can sympathize without patronizing. Where there is the sharing of the cloak in the tempest, both Brooks and Rigney discuss the differences between sympathy, empathy, and compassion. 

In the midst of the tempest, both men come to the conclusion that compassion is the superior virtue. Brooks said, “She who only looks inward will find only chaos, and she who looks outward with the eyes of critical judgment will find only flaws. But she who looks with the eyes of compassion and understanding will see complex souls, suffering and soaring, navigating life as best they can.” He goes on to say, “Wise people don’t just possess information; they possess a compassionate understanding of other people.”

Rigney, also speaking of compassion said, “Empathy jumps in. Whereas compassion says, I’m going to throw you a life preserver… but I’m remaining tethered to the shore. I’m not letting go of what’s true, what’s good… compassion reserves the right not to blaspheme.” Rigney goes on: “Compassion only suffers with another person; empathy suffers in them. It’s a total immersion into the pain, sorrow, and suffering of the afflicted.” 

Compassion is seen as the highest of these similar virtues—Rigney searching the Scriptures elevates compassion over empathy; and Brooks searching the “book of nature” elevates compassion over empathy. They pair well. 

Finishing Brooks 

After a very interesting chapter on personality and how personality effects both how we interact with others and how we perceive others, Brooks concludes with a chapter by chapter, play by play, of Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of development and how they relate to knowing a person. Is this helpful for the Christian reader? It depends on who you ask, I am sure. Either way, it was interesting in the light of the two book discussions on communication, compassion, empathy, and how we relate as image bearers of God. His chapter on personality was very insightful nonetheless. 

A Penultimate Conclusion 

Texting with some friends about this review, one pastor friend brought up a review that I wrote several months ago that some thought was a bit “extra” as the kids today would say. I am being “extra” by promoting Rigney? Am I writing click-bait? No. I think these books are useful—and they are more useful as bedfellows. 

What are the pitfalls to avoid in reviewing Joe Rigney alongside of David Brooks? 

I really liked the book by Rigney, but then again I read it in a certain context with a certain set of social skills in my own proverbial social toolbox. I do think that Rigney answers a problem that is common in our evangelical churches and our society at large. Untethered empathy has let madness and nonsense run wild in so many of our homes, churches, and communities. It cannot continue. Our virtues must be tethered to the Lord Jesus Christ and tethered to the Word of God. 

But the Christian reader must proceed with caution. The opposite of empathy is not apathy, it is sympathy with compassion. Rigney spends 20 pages on this making sure that his reader do not over-react and swing too far right. But those 20 pages might largely go unheard since the previous 120 pages are such an important clarion call against untethered empathy. The sabers may be rattling by the time the legal disclaimers are read at the end. 

In steps David Brooks—not trying to be Christian, not trying to teach biblical virtue—but trying to be a good person and to help his readers (remember: New York Times bestseller) to be good persons. For three hundred pages he largely teaches how to actively listen, how to be compassionate as a hearer and speaker, and essentially how to be an illuminator in conversation and in other’s lives. We need more of that in our circles. We need more social intelligence, not less. We need more biblical virtues, not less. Compassion is all-encompassing. 

Compassion 

JC Ryle one time spoke in compelling ways of the sympathy of Jesus Christ, the God-man. Ryle said:

“I find a deep mine of comfort in this thought, that Jesus is perfect Man no less than perfect God. He in whom I am told by Scripture to trust is not only a great High Priest, but a feeling High Priest. He is not only a powerful Savior but a sympathizing Savior. He is not only the Son of God, mighty to save, but the Son of man able to feel.

Who does not know that sympathy is one of the sweetest things left to us in this sinful world? It is one of the bright seasons in our dark journey here below, when we can find a person who enters into our troubles and goes along with us in our anxieties, who can weep when we weep, and rejoice when we rejoice.

Sympathy is far better than money, and far rarer too. Thousands can give who know not what it is to feel. Sympathy has the greatest power to draw us and to open our hearts. Proper and correct counsel often falls dead and useless on a heavy heart. Cold advice often makes us shut up, shrink and withdraw into ourselves, when tendered in the day of trouble. But genuine sympathy in such a day will call out all our better feelings, if we have any, and obtain an influence over us when nothing else can. Give me the friend who, though poor in gold and silver, has always ready a sympathizing heart.” (JC Ryle, Holiness, 200-201.)

“Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.” From under the cloak as the tempest rages, Rigney cries out, “empathy is sin!” From under the same cloak, Brooks is heard growing in his own social skills and emotional intelligence as he throws off “Think Yiddish, Act British.” We’ve got a problem in our society and in our churches. Untethered empathy is changing our ethics. But the correction to the that is not less social intelligence or emotional IQ, but more. It is a both and problem. 

Misery may acquaint a man with strange bedfellows, but biblical compassion and wisdom in the arms of the right man or woman are great virtues—tempest or not. Pair these two books and ask God to use them in his kingdom amidst the storm.