Empathy climbs into the hole, sympathy looks down from above

Picture a friend calling to say he keeps sending in rewrites at work, and nothing pleases his editors. An empathic response tries to feel with him. A sympathetic one feels for him from a safe distance. Researcher Brené Brown, who studies vulnerability and human connection, puts it bluntly: empathy fuels connection, and sympathy drives disconnection.

Empathy has a sequence. You try to see the other person's point of view, you stay out of judgment, you recognize what they are feeling, and you communicate it back. Brown describes it as a deep hole. The person at the bottom shouts, "I'm stuck," "it's dark," "I'm overwhelmed." Empathy climbs down and says, "I know what it's like down here and you're not alone."

Sympathy stays at the top and looks down. It offers pity from a distance rather than company below. Brown says the phrase bless your heart is a familiar Southern version of this. That sounds kind, but the message underneath, as she puts it, is "that sucks but too bad and God is on my side." Sympathy often shows up, she says, when we "don't want to be vulnerable to someone else's struggle."

Nothing exposes the gap like the words at least. As Brown puts it, "rarely if ever does an empathic response begin with at least." "I had a miscarriage," and someone says, "at least you know you can get pregnant." "I think my marriage is falling apart," and someone says, "at least you have a marriage." "John's getting kicked out of school," and someone says, "at least Sarah is an a student." Each tries to put a silver lining around pain. When Brown asked her audience how that feels, someone called out "awful."

What helps is connection, not correction. Brown says it is better to admit, "I don't even know what to say right now I'm just so glad you told me." Empathy is not scripted, and if you get it wrong, you can repair it by saying, "I'm with you keep telling me." You do not need the right line. You need to get in the hole.