In our current state of affairs in the United States, it’s hard to know how to make sense of it all, in striving to appreciate various facets and layers of what makes it into the news, and in attempting to grasp a moment that sheds light on where we are and who we are as a country. There are just so many things going on all at once.

I have long been troubled by those who identify themselves as Christian, but somehow manage to espouse not much that is actually attached to any of the lessons contained in the New Testament. It’s also unsettling to recognize the continued support the current Administration receives from the evangelical Christian community, even as we witness the violence and cruelty directed at immigrants, refugees, asylum seekers, and just plain ordinary American citizens who happen to have dark skin or an accent— and their children. Jesus taught many challenging lessons about love, yet those lessons have been cast aside by many who claim an attachment to the Christian faith. While immigration is a significant problem in the eyes of many Americans, an issue in need of attention and action, the lack of empathy, kindness, and care in regard to the reality of the lives of our fellow human beings is simply unconscionable.

Last year, the notion of the “sin of empathy” gained remarkable, and disconcerting, traction among many conservatives, including conservative Christians. I remember listening to an episode of Albert Mohler’s podcast “Thinking in Public,” a program supposedly “dedicated to intelligent conversation about frontline theological and cultural issues.” In this particular podcast, the guest of honor was Joe Rigney, the author of the book The Sin of Empathy. The discussion was long and multi-faceted, so I can’t really give a good summary here, but I remember two related topics that struck me, topics that I continue to think about these many months since that episode aired: empathy equated with feelings and feelings equated with women, especially feminists (side question here: do they know any feminists? Most of the feminists I know are not the kind of people I would describe as full of squishy feelings). Because empathy is, according to these men, primarily of the female realm, and there are females who are feminists then that must mean that empathy is a problem because women are not capable of discernment when it comes the proper judgment of the experiences of others, as in some suffering, I guess, is worthy of Christian empathy and other suffering is not. Or something like that.

And, now we see the next stage of the diminishment of empathy (which is not just about feelings, by the way, but rather the ability, the action, of understanding the experiences of others, as in stepping into other people’s shoes and learning), in which compassion and mercy may be shown in regard to the suffering of a friend or family member, but not toward the suffering of a stranger.

One example is J.D. Vance who declared last year that there is a hierarchy to love and mercy, that a Christian should love family first, then immediate neighbor, then community, then fellow citizens, and “then, after that, you can focus and prioritize the rest of the world.” Um, the Parable of the Good Samaritan anyone? Good thing that poor guy who was beat up and left on the side of the road wasn’t relying on J.D. Vance for help.

Let’s take Megyn Kelly, as another example. While she’s not exactly a clear conservative Christian (she is a Roman Catholic, but has had something of a bumpy ride in her faith, as far as I can tell from a quick view through YouTube videos), she is certainly an influential conservative voice, with 2.3 million subscribers on YouTube. One can see videos of her openly expressing her deep feelings of sadness and grief after the assassination of Charlie Kirk, with whom she was friends. But, then there’s a much more recent video of her declaring, in a defiant, angry tone: “I know that I’m supposed to feel sorry for Alex Pretti, but I don’t. I don’t. Do you know why I wasn’t shot by border control this weekend? Because I kept my ass inside and out of their operations.”

Mercy for me, but not for thee.

As the appreciation of mercy as a critical component of one’s life of faith, personally and publicly, erodes, it feels very much like Christianity itself is being drained of its meaning and purpose. While it can be a legitimate test to figure out how much of one’s faith should be cast into the public square, it is also clear that the Christian faith is not intended to be practiced solely in private, nor is it meant to be carried around simply as a talisman around one’s neck. The Christian faith is to be lived out, influencing our behavior toward ourselves, those we know, and those we do not know, with an awareness that others— that strangers— are people, created in the image of God and therefore deserving of care and kindness, of dignity and respect, of compassion and love. And, that not even one person can be characterized as “garbage,” a label that the President has bestowed upon way too many people, without one peep from his evangelical fan base. If Christianity is turned into something that involves a “hierarchy of affections,” a faith tradition that turns a blind eye to (or worse, supports) violence and cruelty, the whole enterprise becomes untethered from its essential moorings, set adrift with no true purpose, other than to offer a clubhouse for the bigoted and hateful, bereft of the “Christ” part of its title.