Christian nationalists decided empathy is a sin. Now it's gone mainstream.

Vox

22-05-2025

writes about pop culture, media, and ethics. Before joining Vox in 2016, they were a staff reporter at the Daily Dot. A 2019 fellow of the National Critics Institute, they're considered an authority on fandom, the internet, and the culture wars.
It's a provocative idea: that empathy — that is, putting yourself in another person's proverbial shoes, and feeling what they feel — is a sin.
The Bible contains repeated invocations from Jesus to show deep empathy and compassion for others, including complete strangers. He's very clear on this point. Moreover, Christianity is built around a fundamental act of empathy so radical — Jesus dying for our sins — that it's difficult to spin as harmful.
Yet as stunning as it may sound, 'empathy is a sin' is a claim that's been growing in recent years across the Christian right. It was first articulated six years ago by controversial pastor and theologian Joe Rigney, now author of the recently published book, The Sin of Empathy, which has drawn plenty of debate among religious commentators.
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In this construction, empathy is a cudgel that progressives and liberals use to berate and/or guilt-trip Christians into showing empathy to the 'wrong' people.
Had it stayed within the realm of far-right evangelicals, we likely wouldn't be discussing this strange view of empathy at all. Yet we are living in an age when the Christian right has gained unprecedented power, both sociocultural and political. The increasing overlap between conservative culture and right-leaning tech spaces means that many disparate public figures are all drinking from the same well of ideas — and so a broader, secular version of the belief that empathy is a tool of manipulation has bubbled into the mainstream through influential figures like Elon Musk.
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What 'empathy is a sin' actually means
The proposition that too much empathy is a bad thing is far from an idea that belongs to the right. On Reddit, which tends to be relatively left-wing, one popular mantra is that you can't set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. That is, too much empathy for someone else can erode your own sense of self, leaving you codependent or open to emotional abuse and manipulation.
That's a pretty standard part of most relationship and self-help advice — even from some Christian advice authors. But in recent months, the idea that empathy is inherently destructive has not only become a major source of debate among Christians, it's escaped containment and barreled into the mainstream by way of major media outlets, political figures, and influencers.
The conversation began with an incendiary 2019 essay by Rigney, then a longtime teacher and pastor at a Baptist seminary, in which he introduced 'the enticing sin of empathy' and argued that Satan manipulates people through the intense cultural pressure to feel others' pain and suffering.
Rigney's ideas were met with ideological pushback, with one Christian blogger saying it 'may be the most unwise piece of pastoral theology I've seen in my lifetime.' As his essay incited national debate, Rigney himself grew more controversial, facing allegations of dismissing women and telling one now-former Black congregant at his Minneapolis church that 'it wouldn't be sinful for him to own me & my family today.' (In an email to Vox, Rigney denied the congregant's version of events.) Rigney also has a longtime affiliation with Doug Wilson, the leader of the Reformed Christian Christ Church in Moscow, Idaho.
In practice, what Rigney is typically decrying is any empathy for a liberal perspective or for someone who's part of a marginalized community.
In an email, Rigney told me that both he and Wilson developed their similar views on empathy from the therapist and Rabbi Edwin Friedman, whose posthumously published 1999 book, A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix, has influenced not only family therapy but conservative church leadership and thought. In the book, Friedman argues that American society has devalued the self, leading to an emotional regression and a 'low pain threshold.' Alongside this he compares 'political correctness' to the Inquisition, and frames a 'chronically anxious America' as one that is 'organize[d] around its most dysfunctional elements,' in which leaders have difficulty making tough decisions. This correlation of emotional weakness with societal excess paved the way for Rigney to frame empathy itself as a dangerous weapon.
Despite using the incendiary generalization, 'empathy is sin,' Rigney told me that it is not all empathy that is sinful, but specifically 'untethered empathy.' He describes this as 'empathy that is detached or unmoored from reality, from what is good and right.' (An explanation that begs definitions for 'reality,' 'good,' and 'right.')
'Just as 'the sin of anger' refers to unrighteous or ungoverned anger, so the sin of empathy refers to ungoverned, excessive, and untethered empathy,' Rigney told me. This kind of unrestrained empathy, he writes, is a recipe for cultural mayhem.
In theory, Rigney argues that one should be 'tethered' to God's will and not to Satan. In practice, what Rigney is typically decrying is any empathy for a liberal perspective or for someone who's part of a marginalized community. When I asked him for a general reconciliation of his views with the Golden Rule, he sent me a response in which he brought up trans identity in order to label it a 'fantasy' that contradicts 'God-given biological reality,' while misgendering a hypothetical trans person.
The demonization of empathy moves into the mainstream
Despite receiving firm pushback from most religious leaders (and indeed most people) who hear about it, Rigney's argument has been spreading through the Christian right at large. Last year, conservative personality and author Allie Stuckey published Toxic Empathy: How Progressives Exploit Christian Compassion, in which she argues that 'toxic empathy is a dangerous guide for our decisions, behavior, and public policy' while condemning queer people and feminists. 'Empathy almost needs to be struck from the Christian vocabulary,' Josh McPherson, host of the Christian-centered Stronger Man Nation podcast and an adherent of Wilson and Rigney's ideas, said in January, in a clip that garnered an outsize amount of attention relative to the podcast episode itself.
That same month, Vice President JD Vance struck a nerve with a controversial appearance on Fox News in which he seemed to reference both the empathy conversation and the archaic Catholic concept of 'ordo amoris,' meaning 'the order of love.' As Vance put it, it's the idea that one's family should come before anyone else: 'You love your family, and then you love your neighbor, and then you love your community, and then you love your fellow citizens in your own country,' he said. 'And then after that, you can focus and prioritize the rest of the world.' In a follow-up on X, he posted, 'the idea that there isn't a hierarchy of obligations violates basic common sense.'
Vance's statements received backlash from many people, including both the late Pope Francis and then-future Pope Leo XIV — but the controversy just drove the idea further into the mainstream. As part of the odd crossover between far-right religion and online reactionaries, it picked up surprising alliances along the way, including evolutionary biologist turned far-right gadfly Gad Saad. In January, Saad, applying a survival-of-the-fittest approach to our emotions, argued against 'suicidal empathy,' which he described as 'the inability to implement optimal decisions when our emotional system is tricked into an orgiastic hyperactive form of empathy, deployed on the wrong targets.' (Who are the wrong targets according to Saad? Trans women and immigrants.)
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In a February appearance on Joe Rogan's podcast, Elon Musk explicitly referenced Saad but went even further, stating, 'The fundamental weakness of Western civilization is empathy — the empathy exploit. They're exploiting a bug in Western civilization' — the 'they' here being the left wing. 'I think empathy is good,' Musk added, 'but you need to think it through, and not just be programmed like a robot.'
By March, mainstream media had noticed the conversation. David French had observed the 'strange spectacle' of the Christian turn against empathy in a column for the New York Times. In April, a deep-dive in the Guardian followed. That same month, a broad-ranging conversation in the New Yorker with Albert Mohler, president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, led to interviewer Isaac Chotiner pressing him about why empathy is bad. The discussion, of deported Venezuelan immigrants wrongfully suspected of having gang tattoos, led to Mohler saying that 'there's no reason anyone other than a gang member should have that tattoo.' (Among the tattoos wrongly flagged as gang symbols were the words 'Mom' and 'Dad' on the wrists of one detainee.)
The pro-empathy backlash is fierce
The connective tissue across all these disparate anti-empathy voices is two-fold, according to Christian scholar Karen Swallow Prior. Prior, an anti-abortion ethicist and former longtime Liberty University professor, singled out the argument's outsize emphasis on attacking very small, very vulnerable groups — as well as the moment in which it's all happening.
'The entire discourse around empathy is backlash against those who are questioning the authority of those in power,' she told me, 'not coincidentally emerging in a period where we have a rise in recognition of overly controlling and narcissistic leaders, both in and outside the church.' Those people 'understand and appreciate empathy the least.'
'Trump made it okay to not be okay with culture,' Peter Bell, co-creator and producer of the Sons of Patriarchy podcast, which explores longstanding allegations of emotional and sexual abuse against Doug Wilson's Christ Church, told me. (Wilson has denied that the church has a culture of abuse or coercion.) 'He made it kind of cool for Christians to be jerks,' Bell said. 'He made the unspoken things spoken, the whispered things shouted out loud.'
Prior believes that the argument won't have a long shelf life because Rigney's idea is so convoluted. Yet she added that it's born out of toxic masculinity, in an age where stoicism, traditionally male-coded, is increasingly part of the regular cultural diet of men via figures like Jordan Peterson. That hypermasculinity goes hand in hand with evangelical culture, and with the ideas Rigney borrowed from Friedman about too many emotions being a weakness. In this framing, emotion becomes non-masculine by default — i.e., feminine.
'Everybody's supposed to have sympathy for the white male, but when you show empathy to anyone else, suddenly empathy is a sin.' — Karen Swallow Prior, Christian scholar
That leads us to the grimmest part of Rigney's 'untethered empathy' claims: the way he explicitly genders it — and demonizes it — as feminine. Throughout his book, he argues that women are more empathetic than men, and that as a result, they are more prone to giving into it as a sin. It's an inherently misogynistic view that undermines women's decision-making and leadership abilities.
Though Rigney pushed back against this characterization in an email to me, arguing that critics have distorted what he views as merely 'gendered tendencies and susceptibility to particular temptations,' he also couldn't help reinforcing it. '[F]emale tendencies, like male tendencies, have particular dangers, temptations, and weaknesses,' he wrote. Women thus should recognize this and 'take deliberate, Spirit-wrought action to resist the impulse to become a devouring HR department that wants to run the world.'
As Prior explains, though, Rigney's just fine with a mythic national human resources department, as long as it supports the status quo. 'Everybody's supposed to have sympathy for the white male,' she said, 'but when you show empathy to anyone else, suddenly empathy is a sin.'
What's heartening is that, whether they realize what kind of dangerous extremism undergirds it, most people aren't buying Rigney's 'empathy is sin' claim. Across the nation, in response to Rigney's assertion, the catchphrase, 'If empathy is a sin, then sin boldly' has arisen, as heard in pulpits, seen on church marquees, and worn on T-shirts — a reminder that it takes much more than the semantic whims of a few extremists to shake something most people hold in their hearts.