For if I am truly merciful I shall derive the principle of my conduct towards others from that ultimate love which is above all concerned precisely with the good of the person in question—regardless of whether it is easy or hard for my own nature to insist upon my right. This—and not pliancy or tractability as such—is the essential mark of mercy, that, by virtue of my participation in the love of God, I relinquish my nature as a central frame of reference and shatter the narrow perspective in which I would see things and situations merely with my own eyes.

And this transformation implies that the instinctive tendencies of my nature, whether in themselves more possessive or more yielding, will no longer play any decisive part in the shaping of my conduct.

He who is guided by true mercy, then, will yield his right on the supposition only that he does not, by so doing, bring moral harm to his debtor. Consider the parable of the Prodigal Son more closely, and you will immediately discover that the doctrine underlying it is by no means that of indiscriminate forgiveness. To be sure, the father hastens to welcome his spendthrift son, but he does so in response to the youngster’s repentant homecoming. The presupposition, in other words, is that the disaster his son has brought upon himself has evoked in him a sense of his guilt and a resolution to change his ways.

On the contrary, had he been supported by his father after he had eaten up his fortune, he would—far from having remorse and undergoing conversion—only have been consolidated in his sinful way of life. Unlike those who are compassionate from weakness, the truly merciful will never, as it were, interfere with the divine government of men by substituting mercy for justice regardless of the state of mind of those who are meant to benefit by such a course.

Mercy can be exercised toward those who have no claim against us

Now we must turn to the second dimension of mercy: its exercise with regard to such men as are not our debtors and to whom we owe no specific service. For, wherever such a specific obligation is present—founded, for example, in ties of family or friendship or wardship—it is self-evident that the wretchedness of such persons, whether it be illness, need or a deep sorrow, should concern us. Here our fellow being has a claim to our active help and our full solicitude. There is consequently no room here for the actualization of mercy as such.