Divinity refers to the quality or state of being divine or godlike. It can encompass broader concepts, not just the nature, powers, or essence of gods, but also abstract universal principles such as a “divine energy”. So a divinity may be a specific, personal being or just something that is beyond human or material, such as the Dao of Daoism.
It seems that humanity has acknowledged the presence of a divinity at least since the beginning of recorded history, and probably before. As a presence, it is felt, so it is hard to ignore, and we don’t ignore it. We—people everywhere—have always sought to understand and often to control the nature of this presence, this divinity, and have come to think about it and describe it in various ways. Those of Abrahamic persuasions think about the divinity as being a singular God. For Hindus, the divinity is represented in its many aspects by a pantheon. For Daoists, it is the Way, and Daoists are more up front than other beliefs in acknowledging its divinity, the Way, to be indescribable and uncontrollable. But like the Abrahamics and the Hindus and everyone else, Daoists too sense the presence of a divinity.
The chief way we sense the presence of a divinity is through the awe that Michael spoke so eloquently of last week. We are in awe at extraordinary acts of grace, mercy, and compassion that we may witness personally or read about in the news or in Scripture (the Prodigal Son and Good Samaritan spring instantly to my mind); acts that are so self-sacrificing that we feel compelled to impute a divine origin for them.
My goal today is to explore the gracious, merciful, and compassionate nature of divinity through Christian, Moslem, Hindu, Buddhist, Sikh, Judaic, Taoist, and Confucian eyes. If there is a common human understanding of the concepts of grace, mercy, and compassion, surely we could discern it in the nature of the Divinities recognized by those faiths which, collectively, blanket much of humanity. Let’s take a look.
I. Divinity By the Book
The Trinity of the New Testament
In Christianity, the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—embodies a relational, loving God whose agape love, exemplified through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, reflects the unconditional and self-giving nature of the divine. Through the Trinity, God is seen as deeply involved in the redemption and sanctification of humanity, providing both mercy and grace as acts of divine compassion.
The Allah of Islam
Islam presents Allah as the one, sovereign God, who is both merciful and just. Allah’s Rahma (mercy) is central to His relationship with humanity, encompassing not just forgiveness but a comprehensive compassion that sustains life itself. Yet, Allah’s mercy is balanced by His justice, demanding faith and righteousness from believers.
The Deities of Hinduism
In Hinduism, divinity is expressed through a pantheon of gods, each representing different aspects of the divine. Vishnu, the preserver, is often associated with compassion and grace, while Shiva embodies both destruction and mercy. The gods interact with humanity through bhakti (devotion), offering grace and mercy to those who seek them earnestly.
The Enlightened Bodhisattvas of Buddhism
Buddhism does not posit a personal god, but the ideal of Bodhisattvas—enlightened beings who delay their own enlightenment to help others—embodies compassion. Karuna (compassion) is central to alleviating suffering, guiding Buddhists in their interactions with the world. Divine mercy is less about a deity’s intervention and more about cultivating compassion within oneself.
The Waheguru of Sikhism
Waheguru, the Supreme Being in Sikhism, is characterized by almost unconditional love, mercy, and grace. Nadar (grace) and Mehar (mercy) flow to those who live according to the teachings of the Gurus—the priests, essentially—emphasizing devotion, humility, and service. God’s compassion is all-encompassing but you have to be righteous to get grace.
The Yahweh (YHWH) of Judaism
Yahweh was established by covenant as the God of the Jewish people. The covenant specified that Yahweh would extend Rachamim (mercy) and Chesed (covenantal loyalty) to those who follow His commandments and those who break them but repent.
The Dao of Daoism
The Dao—the Way—is the principle governing the universe. On it alone depends the natural order and balance of life. Compassion is a natural component of that order and that balance—it is a fundamental characteristic of the Way.
The Ethical Humanism of Confucianism
Confucianism emphasizes human virtue and ethical living rather than a personal god. Ren (humaneness, humanity) is central, encompassing kindness, mercy, and compassion as ethical obligations. Confucian thought stresses the cultivation of virtue to maintain harmony in society, and compassion arises from living in accordance with these principles.
So for the most part the major faiths and traditions seem to recognize the concepts of grace, mercy, and compassion. But do they really all mean the same thing by them? Words for grace as something distinct from mercy, for example, are present only in Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Sikhism. [Question: What about Judaism?]
II. Concepts of Grace, Mercy, and Compassion Across Religions
First: Grace
In Christianity, Grace is defined as unmerited favor, offered freely through Jesus Christ. Though unconditional [citation], it is sometimes tied to faith and repentance [citation]. In Islam, grace (Fadl) is unearned and given by divine will. It is available to all believers, though believers who live righteously are assured of greater blessings. In Hinduism, grace (Kripa) is bestowed by the gods to assist in achieving liberation (moksha), and is unmerited but still conditional upon devotion and surrender. In Sikhism, grace (Nadar) is essential for spiritual progress but is conditional upon a life of humility and devotion to the teachings of the Gurus.
Second: Mercy
In Christianity, Mercy is God’s compassion and forgiveness extended to sinners. While it is freely offered, experiencing mercy often requires repentance and faith. In Islam, mercy (Rahma) is available to all believers but preference is given to those who seek forgiveness and live in accordance with the law. In Hinduism, devotion (bhakti) is prerequisite for mercy to alleviate suffering. In Buddhism, mercy (Karuna) is offered freely by Bodhisattvas to all beings. In Sikhism, mercy (Mehar) is available to those who seek it through humility and devotion. In Judaism, mercy (Rachamim—sounds close to the Arabaic Rahma)) depends on repentance. In Daoism, mercy is just a part of the nature of the Dao.
Third: Compassion
In Christianity, compassion is a reflection of God’s love, and is expected of Christians to all, especially the marginalized. In Islam, compassion is a moral obligation, following the Prophet Muhammad’s example, expressed through acts of charity and kindness. In Hinduism, compassion is a duty (dharma) embedded in ahimsa (non-violence) and caring for all living beings. In Buddhism, compassion for all suffering beings is a core human attribute that we should work on developing within ourselves. Having compassion helps us be less self-centered and more likely to serve others. The Dalai Lama has often spoken of this. In Sikhism, compassion is for all of humanity and is practiced through selfless service (seva). In Judaism, compassion is shown by obeying the commandments (mitzvot) to care for others. [Cite the specific commandments]. In Daoism, compassion is one of the Three Treasures (the others being frugality and humility) in humans and is intrinsic to the Way and therefore to you—if you don’t struggle against the Way.
So let’s sum up the similarities and differences in how the major faiths view grace, mercy, and compassion and draw our conclusions.
III. Conclusions
Compassion is generally viewed as a fundamental human and divine virtue tied to ethical living in humans and to divine favor. Mercy is generally presented as a human ethical or a divine response to suffering or wrongdoing, with varying degrees of conditionality. Grace is almost universally understood as unearned divine favor, though the conditions for experiencing it vary. It seems to be primarily a divine virtue, and although Christians believe it can be passed on through humans, its origin is strictly divine. Christianity alone singles out grace as central to salvation, while Islam and Judaism focus more on mercy as a balance of compassion and justice, whether practiced by humans or by the divine. Buddhism and Daoism emphasize compassion toward all, but it is a dispassionate compassion (a concept I find intriguing). Sikhism uniquely blends grace, mercy, and compassion into a singular path of devotion and service.
Though they may differ in certain doctrines associated with the concepts of grace, mercy, and compassion (such as salvation), I see a profound commonality in the understanding of the concepts themselves in a way that transcends theological and doctrinal boundaries and points to a shared moral framework that defines our interactions with the divine and with each other. No matter what faith you espouse, as a human being the pursuit of forgiveness, kindness, and favor is a part of your nature. We are, at heart, far more united than we are divided. We—all of us—share a desire for spiritual connection, compassion, and moral progress. If we could all see that, maybe the world would be a better place.
I leave you with just two questions: Can you see it? And if you can, what is stopping everyone else from seeing it?
Anonymous: This came to mind about the fellow—Will of Jesus—when he talked about the person who had a big debt, 10,000 denarii or whatever, and he was forgiven. Then he went to one of his friends, who only owed him 100, and he wasn’t compassionate to him. I mean, these kinds of people, no matter how compassionate, graceful, and merciful God is to them, they still don’t see it. And what makes them not see it? That’s a good question. I think they don’t have any relationship with God. They—I think it all starts with faith. If you don’t believe in God, you won’t believe He’s merciful or gracious. They don’t see it. So it has to start with some kind of love relationship based on faith. So…
Donald: So I think you’re about right. I’m just thinking of what causes a person to have an interest in spiritual matters. You know, some people just don’t, and others certainly do. Is this a personality thing? Or, I think certainly, you know, your environment that you’re raised in and those you’re surrounded by can play a role in that, but it just seems that there are people who don’t give it substantial thought. They just live life independent of a spiritual journey. And if that’s the case, then where does all of this fit?
C-J: Well, if you believe in karma, I think people, if trauma happens to an individual, are going to fall into one camp or the other. They’ll either become extremely selfish and survivalist, or they’ll completely trust God in all things, thinking that this is all temporary anyway. So if they lose their life, it means relatively little because what comes after is peace. And if they fall into that camp, then you have to ask, what makes somebody like that? Is it something they learn? Is it inherent? I’m going large here and saying I think it might have to do with karmic law. You know, that person hasn’t evolved, or maybe they’ve come to be an instrument in the hand of God in a different way. Maybe the choices that person makes will inspire another person to pray for them, to have empathy, to be generous, to be merciful. And eventually, that person who seems stubborn or like they don’t care will have their heart softened by God. Only God can soften the heart and make you receptive to what can’t be defined or seen—the spiritual realm. So I don’t know if it’s just karma. It’s an easy door to say, “Well, we don’t know what came before, we don’t know what will happen while they’re here, and we don’t know what will happen after.” It makes it easier to forgive. To me, when I see karmic law doing things I don’t like, I just think, “Connie, grace and mercy or take care of that now.”
Anonymous: Another verse that came to mind while Don was talking says that faith comes by hearing the Word of God. I think that’s the way to come to God. Without someone telling them, people who have no interest won’t be interested in finding out. But when they hear, they hear the Word of God. That answers the question for me.
C-J: What about the people who are wired differently and don’t recognize what they’re hearing, not out of stubbornness, but because of how their brain processes information? It could be due to trauma, disease, or genetics.
Anonymous: Of course, God knows that, and He knows how to deal with them.
Donald: God softens the heart, so I’d think He softens all hearts, not just those that seem wired to receive it. The other thing, David, that I was thinking about is grace, mercy, and compassion. I was speaking with someone who is a fine Christian this week, and they see all three of these as part of their spiritual journey. But they felt that within Christianity, or at least certain groups, there’s more focus on works. Where does works fall into this? You know, what do you have to earn? It seems like denominations can vary, at least in Christianity, on the idea of works. It’s not an independent thought from those three things you outlined this morning.
Don: I have a feeling, and I could be wrong, that mercy has something to do with works—that there’s some association between mercy and what we have to do. We have to repent to receive mercy. We have to be sorrowful, we have to regret our actions. Grace seems to be on a different level. Grace seems to be, as David pointed out, the prerogative of divinity. I think about the prodigal son. He comes back home, and he’s looking for mercy. That’s what we all want—it’s a cause-and-effect kind of thing. We’re not expecting grace; we’re hoping for mercy. Like the publican who says, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” We want to be pardoned and relieved of the consequences of our behavior. But in the case of the prodigal son, the father has a completely different agenda—he’s thinking about grace, throwing a party, not even considering what the past held. So I’m thinking mercy is associated with works, in the sense that when we’re pardoned, we’re not freed from our propensity to sin or do ill. But grace seems to have a transformative quality, as seen in the prodigal son or the woman caught in adultery in John 8. Jesus forgives her and says, “Go, and sin no more,” implying transformation. So grace has this divine, transformative aspect that doesn’t seem to come from mercy alone. That’s kind of how I see the relationship between mercy and works.
Donald: Grace is about receiving good things we don’t deserve. Mercy is about not receiving the bad things we do deserve. It’s subtle, but it’s important.
C-J: I think cultural rules of the road and earning your way are human constructs to keep control of a productive society. But when we see it in Scripture, many places talk about good works—the widow, the orphan, the poor, the sick. It shouldn’t just be a human construct. It should be, as you said, about grace and mercy. What is the motivator for that? Is my motivator that I don’t want to go to jail? Or is it that I want to build my Stairway to Heaven? Or is it me being an instrument in the hand of the Divine, saying, “This is who God is, it’s not me. It is God resident within me by His mercy and grace.”
David: The notion of mercy as a human construct is interesting. In Confucianism, which isn’t a religion at all—there’s no God involved—it’s a human construct. The concept of “ren,” or humanity, embraces mercy. Mercy is an aspect of humanity. Nearly a quarter of the human race has lived pretty well by this precept. China, like every other country, has had its dictators, but it’s also had very good people, and yet it’s arrived at the same ethic that we’ve arrived at through religion, through having a divinity. So you’re left with the question: to what extent is mercy a man-made thing when God seems to deal primarily in grace? You could say that grace encompasses mercy, compassion, and everything else, but grace is something that seems to be particularly divine. When the prodigal son came home, he wanted to beg his father for mercy, as you would from your father. He might even have wanted to go to his older brother and beg for the older brother’s mercy. He didn’t do that in the story, but you have to wonder what would have happened if he’d met his brother, not his father, on the road and begged the elder brother for mercy. How would the elder brother have responded? In that parable, the father didn’t respond as a human being would—he responded as God would. He gave grace, which was a divine response. Mercy would have been a purely human response. So I think mercy may well be a human construct.
Michael: I want to thank Dr. Weaver for distinguishing between mercy and grace. Usually, even in Christianity, we somehow make grace a little less by referring to it as an unmerited favor of mercy. But I think I understand where David is coming from, trying to see grace in other religions. We’ve been discussing Islam, and whenever we talk with Muslims, the conversation usually shifts to mercy. But now, I think we should be careful to understand whether the concept or notion of grace even exists in Islam. If all they refer to is mercy, then where is grace? No one has mentioned it when we’ve discussed it with them.
Don: I think grace is the concept that’s associated with transformation. Mercy is simply a transaction—“You deserve this, but you’re not going to get it.” You’re going to be pardoned. But grace has a transformative element as well. The prodigal son isn’t just coming back as a servant; he’s coming back as a son. The woman caught in adultery is told, “Go and sin no more.” This is not an injunction but an opportunity for her to have a completely new way of life. It seems to me that the element of grace we probably don’t emphasize enough is its transformative power, and that’s something that only comes from divinity. So, my question is: to what extent does the transformative understanding of grace permeate some of these other religions? Or is this a fairly unique Christian concept?
David: It does appear in some other religions that behaving in a graceful, merciful, or compassionate way can be transformative. It makes you more inclined to become good and to serve your fellow man. The Dalai Lama said as much—that it’s the Buddhist approach. If you develop within yourself compassion for other people, it follows naturally that you will serve others better. But how is that compassion developed? To me, it’s driven by the inner divinity. It’s divinely driven but humanly executed. It’s driven by the Holy Spirit within us. We tend naturally to be compassionate. Daoism also believes that compassion is inherent, innate, a part of the Way, and therefore a part of all of us. But we don’t always practice compassion. We are capable, through free will, of choosing not to practice it. On the whole, however, we tend to practice it unless we succumb to anger, which the Dalai Lama points out is the opposite of compassion. When you’re angry, you don’t like anything and are in no frame of mind to be compassionate. If humanity, as a whole, were angry, it wouldn’t have survived. We would have slaughtered each other, and it would all be gone. We survive because of the presence of compassion, which I see as having a divine origin, across the world’s faith traditions.
Don: It seems that what we, as humans, want is mercy. We want to be pardoned, we want to be free from the consequences of our behavior. But what God wants to give us is not just mercy—He wants to give us grace. That’s the fundamental difference between mercy and grace as I see it.
Donald: But don’t you think the reason we’re looking for mercy is because we can’t comprehend grace, but we can understand mercy? If we deserve something and somebody lets us off the hook, that’s mercy. But to be given grace—that’s a God thing. Mercy is like saying, “I deserve this, but I didn’t get it. Somebody stepped in on my behalf, or I was lucky.” It’s the right word for that situation. But grace is beyond our comprehension. Mercy is a human construct we can handle because it’s a human way of thinking, but grace is beyond that.
Don: Mercy is cause-and-effect thinking, even though it’s a suspension of cause and effect for one particular instance, like a single pardon. Grace is something much bigger. It’s awesome, incomprehensible, and overwhelming.
Reinhard: Grace to me is God’s prerogative. God is the only one who can give grace. God’s grace may be translated to mercy and compassion. Remember when David was visited by the prophet after his sin with Bathsheba? In Psalm 51, verse 1, he wrote: “Have mercy on me, oh God.” In this case, I think mercy and compassion are what, with the help of the Holy Spirit, allow us to ask God for forgiveness. It’s about erasing or eliminating the guilty feelings we have when we transgress or sin. That’s almost instantaneous—you know, we immediately seek forgiveness from God. That’s when we ask for mercy and compassion. If we could change mercy into love, maybe we could share that with other people—the mercy and compassion, but not grace. In our day-to-day life, we need compassion and mercy from God, first and foremost, to direct our lives so we don’t feel left behind or lacking after we commit some violation against God’s law. That’s what we pray for, again, with the Holy Spirit working together to help us feel good, like what Ellis experienced the other day. We ask for God’s mercy and compassion through our relationship with Him, through prayer. And, of course, the Holy Spirit is always working in His people, His followers.
Sharon: So what I’m struggling with is, why is mercy necessary if I have grace? I think I’d rather have grace than mercy. It’s like mercy may be the human side of grace. And as I interact with my teams all week, I’m thinking, “I probably should err on the side of grace more often.” I do have compassion and mercy, but those seem to come with conditions and expectations. So I’m wondering in my own walk with the Lord, as I interact with others, if I need less conditional mercy and more unconditional grace. Because compassion, by itself, can sometimes be patronizing. I consider myself a compassionate person, but I seem to always expect that with mercy, there will be some kind of behavior change. So I’m sitting here contemplating these questions myself, wondering if maybe I need more grace and less mercy in my interactions with people.
Carolyn: But mercy is given to us, and I always think of it as reciprocal. Grace, though, to me, gives us a choice to accept it. It’s there, but we have to accept it. And I think that’s reflected in other religions—you must accept grace. I’m not sure it’s the same with mercy.
Donald: I think grace should prevail. Mercy is about timing. I did something wrong, and now I’m hoping I will receive mercy. It’s sequential. Mercy says, “I’ve done something wrong, or I deserve something, but because of mercy, you’re going to pardon it.” Grace, on the other hand, doesn’t seem tied to timing; it prevails before and after.
David: When you seek mercy, you’re not seeking transformation—you’re just seeking forgiveness. But we don’t seek grace. Grace has to come to us, and it is transformative by its nature. That’s the difference between grace and mercy that I think Don has been pointing out. Grace is transformational, but mercy is not necessarily. Mercy is all about forgiveness, whereas grace brings transformation.
Don: What about our Islamic friends? Where do they stand on the difference between mercy and grace? I’d be interested to know their thoughts on this interface.
Michael: In Arabic, grace is “nana,” but it often gets translated as “rahma,” which is mercy. I don’t understand why, because they’re very different words. Whenever I discuss grace with my Muslim friends, the conversation immediately shifts to mercy. I’m not sure how they differentiate. It may be that they see grace as conditional: if you don’t change, it won’t keep coming.
* * *
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.