Empathy

I have been watching a series, “The Greatest Jewish Tales,” beginning with Genesis. The lecturer, Rabbi Ariel Burger, who had been a student of Elie Wiesel, shared a video of Wiesel discussing the serpent, whose punishment for tempting Eve to eat the forbidden fruit is to eat the dirt of the earth for the rest of his days. “What kind of punishment is that?” asked one of the Hasidic masters, “He will never be hungry.” “But that,” he continued, “is the punishment.” If we are never hungry, we can never have empathy. We will live self-centered lives devoid of yearning, incapable of relationships.

I have always been convinced that what got me my first community college presidency was my ability to relate to the students. Many of them were older than traditional college students and had children at home. I had finished college after having my first child and remembered all too well trying to study for an exam while my daughter howled in pain from an earache. When I became a single parent, I was working and in school full time. I learned there was no such thing as work-life balance. Something, usually my children, always got less attention.  And while I struggled to provide the basics, they wanted designer jeans and the other trappings of privilege most teens in our wealthy neighborhood had.  So, I knew first-hand what many of the students were experiencing.

I have been thinking about empathy a lot in the context of COVID. We are not “all in this together.” I am writing this on the terrace of a spacious apartment in Florida. I have had two vaccinations. I have food delivered when I need it, very likely by someone living with an entire family in fewer rooms than my apartment who is trying to educate children at home without reliable Wi-Fi or multiple devices or the home library I take for granted.  She has almost certainly not yet been vaccinated because the Governor of Florida decided people over 65 (who vote in greater numbers than supermarket clerks) should receive the vaccine before essential workers. I empathize; I am angry. And I have no idea what to do about it. I give to food banks and other community programs. I advocate for more equal justice. But my empathy is from a distance and that doesn’t feel like enough.