By Fr. Glenn Jones:
Well … a sad week. As has been said many times over the last few days, it’s tragic when someone who exercises calm, rational free speech is murdered simply because his beliefs differ from some others. Christians, of course, are historically well acquainted with persecution: from the beginnings even to the present day. And, no, in many nations (like ours, gracias a Dios) we don’t generally have to be overly concerned about being killed for Christian faith, but other types of persecution exist. It’s now known that in the previous administration, ardent Christians were scrutinized as possible “threats”, and it’s not hard to find websites documenting arson at Christian churches both here and in Europe.
Charlie Kirk was likely killed for a specific reason: he was very effective. Many hold similar beliefs, yet he was the one targeted. A calm, rational, courteous debater who rarely, if ever, was bested, he was therefore perceived as a threat by many who disagreed. And loathsome are the social media posts celebrating the death of this young family man whose desire was simply the exchange of ideas in the democratic ideal.
In her reflections on human nature, philosopher Hannah Arendt observed, “The death of human empathy is one of the earliest and most telling signs of a culture about to fall into barbarism.” This warning resonates in our oft-fractured world, where divisions often eclipse compassion. This idea echoes throughout Scripture and the writings of the early Church. Scripture portrays empathy not as a fleeting emotion, but as a divine mandate rooted in God’s own essence, essential to true Christianity and human flourishing. Societies can lapse into moral decay and eventual collapse without empathy for one another and the embracing of Christlike compassion.
At the heart of biblical teaching is that call to empathy, which Scripture often frames as compassion, mercy, or loving one’s neighbor. The Old Testament lays the early foundation: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18), a command which demands active identification with others’ suffering. In the New Testament, Jesus elevates it to the second greatest commandment (Matthew 22:39), embodying it in parables like the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), where a despised outsider shows mercy to a beaten man, while religious elites pass by indifferently. Jesus asks, ‘Which of these three, do you think, proved to be a neighbor?” The answer underscores that empathy transcends social barriers, calling us to “go and do likewise”.
Scripture also warns of dire consequences when empathy erodes. St. Paul describes societies given over to a “depraved mind”, marked by unrighteousness, malice, and heartlessness (Romans 1:28-32). Without empathy, people become “inventors of evil”, fostering envy, strife, and slander.
This hardening of hearts finds an analogy in Exodus, where Pharaoh’s repeated refusal to empathize with the enslaved Israelites leads to national catastrophe. Similarly, prophets decry Israel’s lack of compassion: “They sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals” (Amos 2:6), and Micah laments a society where “the godly has perished from the earth” (Micah 7:2), and people “lie in wait for blood”. Does this “waiting for blood” not sound familiar in our time, as we have recently witnessed with the Kirk assassination and the Annunciation Catholic school shooting in Minneapolis—the murder of even children? These illustrate that empathy’s death precedes barbarism—be it through exploitation, violence, or apathy.
The early Church Fathers built on these biblical themes, viewing empathy as integral to Christian society and its absence as a way to ruin. St. Basil the Great fiercely critiqued the wealthy’s indifference, “The bread you are holding back is for the hungry, the clothes you keep put away are for the naked, the shoes that are rotting away with disuse are for those who have none, the silver you keep buried in the earth is for the needy.” St. Basil saw hoarding as theft from the poor, warning that such lack of mercy invites God’s wrath: “You are poor indeed and bereft of all goodness: poor in love, poor in kindness, poor in faith in God.” For Basil, a society’s failure to empathize with the marginalized and those in spiritual or material need erodes its moral fabric, leading to division and decline.
St. Augustine of Hippo further wove empathy into his vision of a just society: “What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men.” He argued that Rome’s fall stemmed partly from moral decay, including the elite’s disregard for the suffering masses.
In modern times, C.S. Lewis, the 20th-century Christian apologist, echoed this in “Mere Christianity”, arguing that objective moral law—including compassion—is innate, derived from God. He observed that societies ignoring this law devolve: “Morality is not something that interferes… but the mold in which a happy life is shaped.” In “The Abolition of Man”, he warned that without moral education rooted in virtue, humanity risks becoming “men without chests”—lacking heart, prone to barbarism.
Yet, Scripture offers hope. Jesus, the ultimate embodiment of empathy, “had compassion on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36). Through His death and resurrection, He restores hardened hearts (Ezekiel 36:26). The Church Fathers and ardent Christians modeled this: Basil and many others to this very day founded hospitals for the poor, advocated for social reform, formed charitable societies, decried slavery and inhumane aspects of society. They showed us how we must cultivate empathy through prayer, service, and community—clothing ourselves “with compassion, kindness, humility” (Colossians 3:12).
In a world constantly teetering on division, let us heed the biblical and common-sense imperative. Empathy is not weakness but the glue of civilized society. Its renewal, especially grounded in Christ’s love, can avert barbarism and foster a culture of grace and charity. In empathizing with others, we find God—and safeguard our world.
Editor’s note: Rev. Glenn Jones is the Vicar General of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe and former pastor of Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic Church in Los Alamos.