Empathy Has A Place At The Lord’s Table

This is the sermon for February 2, 2025, based on Luke/Lucas 4:21-30.

Omissions

In last week’s sermon, I concluded by speaking about how we need unity and community to continue Jesus’ work. This unity has nothing to do with uniformity. We don’t have to think alike. We don’t have to look alike. We don’t have to be from the same place. I believe we just must recognize, as Bishop Budde stated, that the foundations for this unity are dignity, honesty, and humility. None of these qualities are based on the color of our skin or our political preferences.

The sad truth is that in United States culture, we struggle greatly with this kind of unity. While preparing last week’s sermon, I came across an online blog about Bishop Budde’s closing words. The blog quoted her—but I noticed an omission in the quote. They had chosen to leave out these words: “In the name of our God… I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now. There are gay, lesbian, and transgender children in Democratic, Republican, and independent families—some who fear for their lives.”

It would be tempting to exclude those words in a place where people disagree with them. Where people think being part of the LGBTQIA+ community is a sin. Where people believe in civil rights, but only for the immigrant community, or only for the African American community, or only for the White community, or only for union workers—or just for whatever group we belong to or prefer.

But if we use dignity, honesty, and humility as the basis for building unity, we must view anyone who doesn’t “belong” to our preferred group as someone who deserves dignity because he, she, or they are human beings, just like us. We must honestly examine our prejudices and fears. And we must acknowledge, in humility, that it is not our place to pass judgment on anyone. That is God’s role, not ours.

The post-war confession written by Pastor Martin Niemöller in 1946 comes to mind. It speaks to our failure to practice unity and empathy:

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

When we rationalize omissions and make others invisible, true unity—the kind we need to make a difference in the world—becomes impossible. Tragically, that is exactly what our society has been attempting to do for a long time.

Jesus’ Manifestation

As Galen mentioned last Sunday, we are reading the second part of last week’s Scripture. This passage reveals the crowd’s reaction to Jesus’ words. Scripture states, “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, ‘Is not this Joseph’s son?'" I don’t believe they are speaking disparagingly. They are genuinely thrilled that Joseph’s son is in town, especially since he is so famous elsewhere. They have heard about the things he did in Capernaum. But it is not the crowd’s tone that changes—it is Jesus’ tone that shifts. Something is not sitting right with him.

As preachers, we are instructed to handle this passage with care. And I want to be careful. I am not preaching against the synagogue or against the Jewish people. I am not suggesting that the Jewish people are unwilling to share God’s favor with others, while implying that Christians have the upper hand because of Jesus. To do so would be to engage in the same divisive tactics that foster separation instead of unity. I am merely observing that Jesus’ tone changes. And I ask myself, as Warren Carter does, “Why does Jesus seem to assume a challenge and a rejection if verse 22 is a positive response?”

This is not an easy question to answer. But it reminds me of an experience I had long ago. I wrote a song called “Consuélanos Señor” (Comfort Us, Lord). I wrote it out of concern for issues within my church. Ixzus, the band I was part of, performed this song for our congregation. The last part of the song included these words:

Nos sentimos desterrados, en penumbras que no ven,lugares santos sofocan, por mentiras y no amor.Nos velamos las espaldas en vez de partir el pan…¡Queremos que las sonrisas vuelvan ya a este lugar! (We feel banished, in shadows that cannot see,holy places suffocate, because of lies and not love.We cover each other’s backs instead of breaking bread…We want smiles to return to this place now!)

When we finished singing, everyone applauded. They enjoyed the song because it reminded them of God’s comfort—but they missed the deeper message.

So I wonder if Jesus felt that his message—bringing good news to the poor and proclaiming release to the captives—was not sufficiently understood. After all, Scripture speaks of the poor and the poor in spirit. Yet misunderstanding or dismissing one for the other leads to a distortion of Jesus’ message.

When Jesus observes the crowd’s reaction, he may have drawn the same conclusion I did. A Spanish proverb summarizes it well: “No hay peor ciego que el que no quiere ver” (None are so blind as those who will not see).

Jesus begins to speak about his mission in broader terms: “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor, cure yourself!’ And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’” Then he continues, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown.”

He illustrates his point with stories from 1 and 2 Kings. These stories describe situations of poverty and desperation, highlighting prophets as agents of divine transformation. They identify the recipients of God’s intervention as the poor and the outsiders.

In this moment, Jesus challenges his audience to reconsider their definitions of what God does and for whom God acts. It is not for one group of people but for all people. It is not for one class of people but for all people. God’s grace accepts no limitations, no labels, no boundaries. It is unconditional and extends to the poor and poor in spirit of every nation. God’s grace reaches those in positions of power and favor, but it is especially present for those who are oppressed and suffering. There is no way to confine Jesus’ mission as God’s agent. He came so that all might receive grace.

So, what is the crowd’s reaction when Jesus expands on his message? Rage. Fear. Violence. Unfortunately, these are responses we have witnessed time and again. Instead of empathy or even apathy, there is a violent cruelty aimed at erasing those who dare to challenge our limited understanding of grace. 

Our Manifestation

Recently, I’ve heard about the resurgence of an idea that has been circulating since at least 2019: that empathy is a sin. Doug Wilson, a controversial pastor and theologian, has argued that empathy can be dangerous because it supposedly leads people to abandon biblical truth in favor of emotional compromise. He distinguishes between sympathy (which he sees as godly) and empathy (which he claims leads to moral relativism). James White, a Reformed apologist, has similarly criticized empathy, arguing that it can be manipulative and lead people away from doctrinal truth.

What is empathy, anyway? Empathy is the ability to understand and share the feelings, thoughts, or experiences of another person. It involves putting yourself in someone else’s position and recognizing their emotions—whether joy, sorrow, or pain. Empathy helps foster compassion, connection, and effective communication in relationships. How could that possibly be a sin?

Apparently, it is considered a sin because it challenges a view of the Bible in which grace is seen as limited to a certain group of people. It is a sin because it challenges our understanding of whom God loves. And it is a sin because it dares to ask us to see another human being that is different than us as a true child of God.

The Presbyterian Church does not explicitly define “empathy” as a theological or polity concept in the Book of Order. However, its principles and commitments reflect an implicit understanding of empathy through its emphasis on love, justice, reconciliation, and community. We are called to love and serve. The law is simple: love God, love your neighbor. We are a church committed to reconciliation, called to be a "community of love, where sin is forgiven, reconciliation is accomplished, and the dividing walls of hostility are torn down” (Book of Order, F-1.0301).

We train our leadership for pastoral care and community support, which includes being present in times of suffering, advocating for justice, and offering comfort—practices deeply rooted in empathy. Historically, the church has also emphasized listening to marginalized voices, a commitment that reflects an empathetic stance toward those experiencing injustice.

Empathy, therefore, has a place in our beliefs. It has a place in Jesus’ message. And it even has a place at this table! When I invite people to participate in the Lord’s Supper, I say something like this: It does not matter if you are Presbyterian or not… if you are baptized or not… if you are a member of the church or not… if you consider yourself a sinner… or not (though we all are). Communion is a sign of God’s grace, not a reward for moral purity!

We do this not as a ritual but as a way to encounter Christ’s presence, to be spiritually strengthened, and to experience unity in the body of Christ. We do this because we serve an empathetic God—one who became human in Jesus Christ, the most extraordinary act of empathy I can imagine!

This symbolic table is, therefore, an invitation to forget who we are and become something new. It is a place that resists labels and prioritizes God’s agenda over ours. At this table, no one deserves to be the odd person out. No one is omitted. No one is forgotten. This is a table of empathy. This is a table of unlimited and unconditional grace.

So whenever you feel like you don’t fully understand what God is doing, come to this table. Whenever you feel tempted to limit your ability to love someone who is different, come to this table. Whenever you feel unloved, come to this table. Whenever you feel the holiest, come to this table. Whenever you feel sinful, come to this table.

And when you are served from it, go out and serve. Manifest God’s love. Manifest God’s grace. Manifest God’s empathy. I cannot guarantee what the crowd’s reaction will be. But I can guarantee that God’s Spirit will be with you. Amen.