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Empathy & A Defense of Saying “Dude, That Sucks”
In nursing school — at the both undergraduate and the graduate levels — we talk a lot about “therapeutic communication” as a way of dealing with patients who are angry or upset. It consists of listening and responding, not with peppy platitudes, but with things like “I know how upset you must feel,” “That must be very frustrating for you,” or “I can see that you’re sad about your recent diagnosis.” As with most buzzwords, I always responded to discussions of therapeutic communication by rolling my eyes. Another buzz word in healthcare is “empathy,” something I admittedly struggle with. On several occasions, I have been known to walk out of a patient’s room with a panicked look on my face after they started crying to me about how terrible, upset, or scared they feel. “I don’t do crying,” I have been wont to say. Recently, however, I’ve had a couple experiences that have changed my mind on the subject.
Mr. T was a middle-aged man in for antibiotic therapy after a joint had become infected in the wake of total joint replacement. He had been an active member of his church, and his wife and church family visited him often. After several weeks of IV antibiotics, physical, and occupational therapy, Mr. T failed to progress. One night when I walked into his room, he was on the verge of tears. After I told myself to be a good nurse and not ignore the tears, I asked what was going on.
“I just feel like I’m never going to get better. And everyone that comes to see me keeps saying the same thing: ‘You just gotta do what the doctors and therapists tell you to do’; ‘Keep fighting and you’ll get better.’ Everyone keeps telling me that I need to do this or do that, but no one ever just listens! I wish someone would just listen to me and not tell me what I need to do!”
I stood there and listened to him. At the end of his meltdown, he said, “Thank you for listening. That’s all I wanted: someone to just listen.” I told him I was happy to, and to call me if he needed anything else. I think at one point I may have said, “Man, that sucks,” and that simple acknowledgement of his situation and his feelings was enough to be helpful to him emotionally.
My second lesson in empathy came just a few weeks ago, when my serious boyfriend unceremonious dumped me. My coworkers — and even one of my family members — resorted to unhelpful and immensely frustrating platitudes as a way of trying to offering comfort: “You’re better off without him”; “Well, at least you found out now how he really is”; “You’re gonna find someone when you least expect it”; and (my personal favorite) “God is saving someone really special for you.” I wanted to scream at them, “That is not helpful!” I didn’t want anyone to fix things (though one of my fellow nurses offered to do a little “pillow therapy,” and it made me feel better for a little bit that someone would be willing to do that for me). I just wanted someone to listen and say, “Dude, that sucks.”
Throughout our lives we’re told fairy tales of causal justice. If you work hard, you’ll be successful; if you pray, God will answer; when you get married and have children of your own… The truth is, there are no guarantees in life and we set ourselves — and each other — up for unnecessary pain by perpetuating fairy tales of inevitability. Our sense of justice doesn’t like to admit it, but karma is a fickle mistress. Good things happen to bad people who don’t always get their comeuppance, and bad things happen time and time again to good people. Similarly, there are smart and beautiful people who never find someone to spend their lives with, just as there are insufferable people that end up with wonderful, devoted spouses. Life is a string of “if’s,” and “maybes’s,” not “when’s.”
The next time someone is upset — I mean truly upset about something — please consider responding with a simple, “Dude, that sucks.” I think you will find it more therapeutic than you know.
Published in General
Excellent question; I’ve got an answer, but I think it might be lacking. Even so, we’re fairly far afield at the moment. Allow me to dip into Job once more:
“Once I have spoken, but I will not answer; Yes, twice, but I will proceed no further.”
I’m sorry that you feel that I wasn’t listening at all.
True.
God Himself calls Job a blameless, upright, God-fearing man [1:8]. Moreover, Job early on expresses his desire to be taught and corrected [6:24] and acknowledges the problems with counting oneself righteous before God (Chapter 9). Even before God speaks to Job, Job says, “But how can a man be righteous before God? [9:2]… How then can I answer Him, and choose my words to reason with Him? For though I were righteous, I could not answer Him; I would beg mercy of my Judge.” [9:14-15]
Maybe we are meant to experiment with taking God at His word that Job is blameless and God-fearing, rather than conveniently assuming that Job is being self-righteous. And if Job later does overstep the bounds of rightful humility in his replies to his friends (i.e, after Chapter 9), perhaps we should consider the degree to which the asininity of his friends’ pat platitudes would provoke even an upright man.
Viewing Job as a type (prefiguration) of Christ is a venerable Christian tradition. I doubt Christians are meant to consider Christ’s occasional despairing question toward his Father (“Why hast Thou forsaken me?”) as sinfully self-righteous. If Christ, who Christians count as sinless, can say such a thing, maybe it’s possible to ask such questions without sinning.
I suspect that the freedom to question and argue with God is a sign of human dignity, not human sinfulness. Sin of course easily perverts this dignity, so for most of us most of the time, it’s a safe bet that we don’t voice our existential complaints to God in good faith. But perhaps Job, human (and therefore imperfect) as he was, did question God in good faith.
Or perhaps the book of Job is simply meant to be read two ways, once supposing that Job’s questioning of God is sinfully self-righteous, and once supposing that it’s not.
I think God not only tolerates but welcomes the questions. Questioning shows a person’s search for understanding. Let every man be persuaded in his own mind. We were created in his image with the power to think and to do; to think that God is hurt or threatened by our questions and doubts is kind of funny to me. Again, I think it comes down to what does one believe to be the character of God, and what kind of relationship does he want with us? Let us turn to John 15:15, “No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing: but I have called you friends, for all things that I heard from my Father, I have made known to you.”
Well, I was going to tell you hooray for being a nurse that doesn’t think she can fix people’s sadness. I can’t even begin to tell you the messes made worse and the pieces that have fallen all over the floor from someone who thinks therapeutic communication is all that’s needed for long-standing characterological or psychiatric problems.
However, instead, I’m going to refocus from that rant to the questions you posed above. In grad school, we read a tiny little book called “May I Hate God?” In summary the author says that hatred is a form of communication and that we experience hate toward those we are in relationship with who have let us down or disappointed us. Thus, hate isn’t the proof of absence, but rather, existence of a relationship. I think you’ve asked the really good questions for conversations, what do you believe the character of God is?
I think asking questions of God is like asking questions of your parents when you are a young child. Ask whatever you like. Just watch your tone. He is in charge. He loves you. Keep both points in mind and it will be a smooth conversation.
Christianity is full of mysteries and dichotomies. One is that God gave us not only faith but reason, and invites us to use both in order to know Him. He doesn’t merely allow questioning, but encourages it. On the other hand, in the words of St Michael: “Who is like God?” (That’s essentially what the name “Michael” means). There will always be a limit to our understanding.
I’m reminded of an exchange from The Mothman Prophecies.
God doesn’t relate to us like cockroaches, but you get the general idea. God is a whole different level of Being, not merely a wise old architect in the sky.
The key to maintaining faith during times of hardship is to ask yourself how your suffering relates to God’s own suffering. There is usually, if not always, a connection. Loneliness, inability to share insights or joys, physical pains… you name it. Above all, unrequited love.
As you say, that is often not what a person wants to hear when hurting. I try not to lecture during those moments unless invited to. But it’s a good general habit for helping yourself through hard times.
We suffer because He suffers. You can become close to someone by only sharing that person’s joys, but even closer by sharing also that person’s pains. Because these earthly pains are fleeting, they are not such a terrible price to pay for getting to know God better… and better experiencing the joys of His presence.