In both books, Rigney characterizes empathy not as a virtue, but as a “passion” that must be “governed.” Where Rigney’s argument differs from Stuckey’s is in his emphasis on the subversion of traditional gender roles as a key contributor to the rise of “untethered empathy” in the church.
Rigney, a member of the Council of Biblical Manhood and Womanhood (CMBW), argues that the emotionality of women “is a blessing in one place [but] a curse in another.”
“The same impulse that leads a woman to move toward the hurting with comfort and welcome becomes a major liability when it comes to guarding the doctrine and worship of the church,” writes Rigney.
At the heart of the problem for Rigney is men’s discomfort with the “unhappiness and displeasure of women.” This is especially true for “servant leaders” who see “a woman in distress (that is, engaged in online debate with a man), and come to her aid by attacking her opponent” with greater zeal than he would if a woman were not involved.
In “Leadership and Emotional Sabotage,” Rigney warns against the influence of elders’ wives on church decisions, arguing that, sometimes, church elders channel “the world’s angst and agitation into the [elder] meeting, because his wife is channeling it into his home.”
“You can predict a pastor’s sermon application on Sunday by reading his wife’s Facebook page on Friday,” Rigney adds.
In “The Sin of Empathy,” Rigney argues that allowing women to influence church leadership inevitably causes churches to affirm that “Sodomy Is Cool.”
“The frequent move from egalitarianism to the affirmation and celebration of homosexuality is not so much a slippery slope, but simply what cancer does when left untreated,” writes Rigney.
It’s worth pointing out that Pentecostalism, the fastest-growing Christian tradition on the globe, is simultaneously egalitarian and one of the most socially conservative movements of our day.
To combat the “cancer” of untethered empathy, Rigney encourages Christians to “not only remove the feminist infection from our churches, but also to commend God’s design for men and women to a rebellious and confused world.”
What Stuckey and Rigney Get Right
Even while Stuckey and Rigney present partisan and patriarchal visions for compassion, they do offer a valuable insight. While they might object to my use of psychological language, both authors highlight the value of relational differentiation. That is, while we might feel for the pain of others, particularly when we are impacted by their personal stories or our relational connections to them, properly diagnosing the causes of that pain requires a sense of sobriety.
Expounding on carefully parsed definitions of “empathy,” “sympathy” and “compassion,” Rigney has often used an illustration of a person in quicksand, arguing that “untethered empathy” is like jumping in with the victim with both feet. The better course of action, sympathy and compassion, would be to pull the person out while standing on solid ground.
In the same way, Christians ought to be moved by compassion for the plight of others, but their aim should be not merely to address negative feelings but to cultivate human flourishing. This includes careful consideration of the best course of action, personally and politically.
This point is well taken.
Where the arguments goes awry in both Rigney’s and Stuckey’s works is when they dismiss any effort to address the systemic causes of poverty, racial disparity, gender inequality, or the plight of immigrants as inherently manipulative.
This assumption is shared among many evangelicals (who constitute a significant cross-section of political conservatism) and has shaped consensus on several policy positions. Whether evangelicalism is influencing political conservatism to reject empathy or vice versa, the feedback loop has seemed to strengthen the resolve of both.
