Social Skills

Where do they stand? Perspective-taking

Every person you meet is the center of a world you can only partly see. The boy who snapped at you in the hallway may have just failed a test, or may have been up all night with a crying baby brother. The girl who never raises her hand may be thinking hard, or may be new to the subject, or may simply dread being wrong in public. Empathy begins with remembering that there is more going on than you can see, and with a habit of asking, "What might this look like from where they stand?"

But imagining is only the first half. The second half is checking. Our guesses about other people are often wrong, because we tend to assume they feel what we would feel. Jane Austen describes exactly this fault in Marianne Dashwood: "She expected from other people the same opinions and feelings as her own." Marianne, wrapped up in her own grief, decides that kind old Mrs. Jennings is only a gossip, when in fact Mrs. Jennings is trying, clumsily, to help. The cure is humble questions.

A simple three-step habit helps. Notice (something seems different). Wonder (what might be going on for them?). Ask (gently, privately, with a way out). You do not have to guess right; you only have to care enough to find out.

• Notice: a change in face, voice, posture, or habits.
• Wonder: list two or three possible reasons, not just one.
• Ask: privately, simply, and with an easy way to decline.
• Don't assume they feel what you would feel; let them tell you.

Reading faces and situations

Augustine, remembering how he learned to talk as a small child, noticed that he understood people's meaning long before he understood their words, from "the motion of their body, the natural language, as it were, of all nations." We all read faces constantly, but we can learn to read them more carefully and more charitably.

Some signals are fairly reliable: a forced smile that doesn't reach the eyes, arms wrapped tight, a person who stops eating or keeps checking their phone, eyes that are red or looking down, a voice that goes flat. Situations give signals too: a friend whose grandparent is in the hospital, a teammate who didn't make varsity, a classmate whose parents just moved them across the country. You don't need to know everything to know that this is a day for gentleness.

Two cautions. First, signals are clues, not proof; a frown may mean concentration, and a quiet person may be perfectly content. That is why you ask. Second, some people show feelings very little, and some show them a great deal. Learn the people around you, and notice what is normal for them.

• Face: eyes, mouth, whether a smile is real or polite.
• Body: posture, arms, stillness or restlessness, distance from others.
• Voice: flat, shaky, short, or louder than usual.
• Situation: recent news, losses, disappointments, changes at home or school.
• What's normal for this person? A change matters more than the signal itself.

Compassion versus sentiment

Feeling sorry for someone is not the same as helping them. In the parable of the Good Samaritan, the priest and the Levite both see the wounded man; the Levite even comes and looks at him. Then both pass by on the other side. The Samaritan sees him and "had compassion on him," and the very next words are verbs: he went to him, bound up his wounds, poured in oil and wine, set him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and paid for his care. Real compassion moves the feet and the hands.

Thomas Aquinas, explaining the Latin word for mercy (misericors, being "sorrowful at heart"), says that the merciful person is sorrowful at another's misery "as though it were his own," and therefore "endeavors to dispel the misery of this other." The feeling exists for the sake of the action.

Sentimentality is the counterfeit. It enjoys its own feelings, sometimes even its own sadness, and is more interested in how moved it is than in what the other person needs. Austen makes gentle fun of this in Marianne, who would have thought herself "very inexcusable" if she had managed to sleep after Willoughby left, and contrasts her with her sister Elinor, whose sympathy is quieter, steadier, and far more useful. Compassion is steady (it doesn't vanish when it's inconvenient), it acts (it does something concrete), and it respects the other person (it helps them in the way they need, not the way that makes the helper feel important).

• Compassion acts; sentiment only feels.
• Compassion is steady; sentiment fades when the drama ends.
• Compassion keeps the focus on the other person; sentiment keeps the focus on the helper's feelings.
• Compassion respects dignity; it doesn't post someone's trouble, make a scene, or treat them as a charity project.

Rejoicing with those who rejoice

Paul's command in Romans 12:15 has two halves, and the first is often harder than the second. It can be easier to comfort a friend who failed than to celebrate a friend who won the scholarship you wanted. Rejoicing with others means giving them your full, glad attention when good things happen, without competing, adding your own news, or quietly finding the flaw.

Practically: when someone shares good news, ask a follow-up question that lets them tell more ("How did you find out? What was your reaction?"). Say plainly that you are glad. Do not immediately share your own similar news, and do not add a "but." If you are envious, admit that to God privately and choose to celebrate anyway; the feeling often follows the action.

• Don't: "Oh, I got that last year."
• Don't: "That's great, but..."
• Don't: change the subject to your own news.
• Do: ask, celebrate, and remember to mention it again later.

What to say (and not say) to someone grieving or disappointed

When Job lost his children, his wealth, and his health, three friends came to comfort him. At first they did something wise: "they sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him: for they saw that his grief was very great." It was only when they started explaining his suffering that they went wrong, and Job called them "miserable comforters." The lesson for us is not that words are bad, but that presence comes first, and explanations rarely help.

Jesus, standing at the tomb of His friend Lazarus, knew He was about to raise him. Yet He wept with the mourners first. If the Lord of life took time to grieve with grieving friends, we need not rush to fix anyone's sorrow.

Good words are usually short. Say that you are sorry, name the loss if you can, and offer something specific. Then listen; let them talk about the person or the disappointment if they want to, and let them be quiet if they don't. A note or text a week or a month later, when everyone else has moved on, often means more than anything said on the first day.

• Avoid: "I know exactly how you feel." (You may not, and it shifts the focus to you.)
• Avoid: "Everything happens for a reason" or explaining why it happened.
• Avoid: "At least..." ("At least you have other grandparents").
• Avoid: "Cheer up" or jokes too soon; Proverbs says singing songs to a heavy heart is like taking away a coat in cold weather.
• Avoid: retelling your own similar story at length.
• Do: be present, keep it short, listen, offer specific help, and follow up later.

Practical help

"Let me know if you need anything" is kindly meant, but it puts the burden on the person who is already burdened. Offer something specific instead, and make it easy to say yes or no. Think about what their day actually looks like now: who will take notes in class, carry the books, walk the dog, sit with them at lunch, bring dinner?

In Mansfield Park, young Edmund Bertram finds his little cousin Fanny, newly arrived and miserable, crying on the attic stairs. He sits down beside her, asks patient questions until he finds the real trouble (she misses her brother William and has no paper to write to him), and then fixes it at once: he gets the paper, rules the lines, and promises the letter will go with the post. That is empathy at its best: notice, ask, discover, act.

Practical help can be very small. Scrooge's change in A Christmas Carol is great and dramatic, but most of the help we give will look like a ruled sheet of paper: a saved seat, a shared set of notes, a ride, a casserole, a card.