The Strength of Empathy
On Wednesday afternoon, a number of hours before the heartbreaking news of Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Milgrim’s murder, I had the profound honor of learning alongside a small group of Rabbis from Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, a figure deeply revered for his works like Jewish Literacy and Jewish Wisdom. But while his scholarship is vast, what stood out most that day was not just his intellect—it was his extraordinary empathy.
Rabbi Telushkin shared stories from his forthcoming book on Moral Imagination, each one highlighting the capacity to step beyond rules and expectations in order to do what is right. These were not abstract lessons in ethics—they were vivid, deeply human examples of what it looks like to truly feel with others, to respond to their pain not with judgment or detachment, but with compassion and creativity. It was a masterclass not in moral superiority, but in moral sensitivity. His empathy wasn’t soft or sentimental—it was bold. It required courage to confront complexity and resist the comfort of easy answers. In each story, Rabbi Telushkin challenged us to imagine not just what should be done, but what could be done if we allowed ourselves to feel the full weight of another’s experience.
When evening came and we learned the news of incomprehensible loss and profound hate, the lessons from that session felt even more urgent. In moments of profound sorrow, empathy becomes more than a virtue—it becomes a necessity. It is what allows us to remain human in the face of inhumanity, to offer presence where there are no solutions, and to reach out rather than retreat.
Rabbi Telushkin’s unique gift is his ability to model an empathy that is neither naïve nor performative. It is deliberate, informed, and deeply spiritual. He reminded us that empathy is not about agreeing with everyone or excusing everything; it’s about entering another’s reality with humility and care. It’s about seeing each person as a whole world, worthy of understanding. In a time when it's easy to grow numb or self-protective, Rabbi Telushkin's teachings call us to lean in—to feel more, not less. To listen harder. To respond from the strength of openness rather than the weakness of defensiveness
Empathy, as he taught it, is not the opposite of strength. It is strength. And it is what will allow us to move forward—not just as thinkers or doers, but as people who refuse to let tragedy strip us of our humanity. |