Mercy vs. justice: Pope Leo and President Trump take differing stances | Opinion

There is a basic conflict between mercy and justice: When someone breaks the rules, justice requires punishment, but mercy can be granted by those who have the power to punish.

The justice-mercy moral dilemma is confronted by parents, teachers and leaders everywhere. This conflict also points toward deep questions about theology and the good life. In the background of this dilemma there lurks the temptation of violence, rage and fury.

Justice demands that we follow the rules and give people what they deserve. Rule-breakers should be punished fairly and rationally. This is the point of the ancient “lex talionis” — the idea of “eye for eye, tooth for tooth, life for life.” This principle limits the fury of revenge, which often becomes excessive.

The right amount of punishment must be proportionate to the offense being punished. Mercy makes an exception to the rule of eye-for-eye.

Mercy does not punish, even though punishment is deserved. Instead, mercy responds with love and forgiveness. For this reason, advocates of justice claim that mercy fails to deliver just deserts. But advocates of mercy claim that compassion and grace represent higher values, taking us beyond retaliation toward a gentler world.

Shakespeare described mercy as a gentle rain. He suggested that mercy ought to season justice. This way of speaking conceives of mercy as a bit of leavening that lightens the arid density of justice. It is a gift of grace that the powerful give to the powerless.

But this gift appears to depend on the arbitrary goodwill of the powerful. This arbitrariness leads defenders of justice to reject mercy as subjective, mercurial and unfair.

In response, advocates of mercy often aim at a deeper commitment to love and other nonviolent virtues as the basis of an entire way of life. Christianity is often understood in this way. Pope Leo put it this way in his Palm Sunday sermon: “Christ, King of Peace, cries out again from his cross: God is love! Have mercy! Lay down your weapons! Remember that you are brothers and sisters!”

War has often dried up the gentle rain of mercy. Secretary of War Pete Hegseth recently prayed for “overwhelming violence of action against those who deserve no mercy.”

“Let justice be executed swiftly and without remorse, that evil may be driven back, and wicked souls delivered to the eternal damnation prepared for them,” Hegseth said.

The secretary suggests that when the American military kills people, it is exacting divine retribution and sending evil people to eternal damnation. Pope Leo appears to be praying to a different God — one who is peaceful, loving and merciful. The pope said of Jesus, “He remains steadfast in meekness, while others are stirring up violence.” And he said God “does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war.”

Hegseth sees things differently. He understands war as a holy battle against an evil enemy. In his telling, our soldiers are holy warriors fighting in the name of God’s remorseless justice.

Which brings us to the threats that President Donald Trump made to obliterate Iran’s power grid and desalination plants: “We are going to bring them back to the Stone Ages, where they belong.” This implies tactics that could be described as war crimes, causing obvious harm to noncombatants. Justice would condemn this since noncombatants do not deserve to be harmed.

But this is irrelevant to furious warriors, who ignore the logic of moral argument. Indeed, the name for our “excursion” in Iran, “Epic Fury,” points in this direction. Fury is passionate and vengeful. In ancient Greek myth, the Furies were dark spirits associated with madness. In ordinary English, words like “fury,” “furious” and “infuriated” denote unreasonable and immoderate rage.

Fury is not justice. It is not measured or rational. Rather, it is disproportionate, remorseless and cruel. Justice aims to limit fury. Mercy, in turn, points beyond justice.

This conflict points to the depths of theology. Is God merciless, just or loving? Which God should we worship? In answering these questions, we decide what we value, who we are and what we think is worth fighting for.

Andrew Fiala is a professor of philosophy and director of The Ethics Center at Fresno State.