Conscience at the Crossroads: Womb, Mercy and Creation

 

-Savio Saldanha SJ

DOI- 10.5281/zenodo.18279916

17-01-2026

Mercy from the Womb

            I did not intentionally set out to study the etymology of ‘Mercy’. The question came to me quietly, during a reading group conversation where we were speaking about mercy. A Syrian Jesuit, Mike Kassis, mentioned that in Arabic the word raḥma (رحمة) means mercy, and that it comes from raḥim (رحم), the womb. A Croatian Jesuit, Robert Matečić, agreed and added that in Hebrew we observe the same roots reḥem (רֶחֶם), womb and raḥamîm (רַחֲמִים), meaning mercy or compassion and also in Aramaic – the spoken language of Jesus – we notice the same root r-ḥ-m, with similar meanings: womb, tender mercy. For me this etymology seemed more than a coincidence, mercy and womb coming from the same word family.

            That short exchange stayed with me, unsettling something within me. I began to sense that this conversation had opened a new perspective for me, and yet it was also something that brought me to this crossroads of conscience. One path led to the way I had often heard mercy explained in Western theology while the other led back to the languages Jesus himself spoke and prayed and most importantly thought. This essay traces the path of my reflections.

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Mercy in the Semitic languages

            As stated earlier, in Hebrew the word reḥem means womb. From this word comes raḥamîm, mercy or compassion. Hence, we see that mercy is not just an idea, it is an actual place. This is a sacred place where life begins, where the weak are held and where growth happens in darkness and trust. It is a sacred place because in this place humans become co-creators with God. The Psalmist says in Ps.139:13-14, “For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made”. It will be interesting to note that Aramaic, the daily language of Jesus, shares the same root and so does Syriac, the language of early Eastern Christianity. Mercy is again linked to the womb which gives life before judging it.

            The Arabic language preserves this link with great clarity, Raḥim is womb, Raḥma is mercy. Even the most common names of God in Islam, al-Raḥmān and al-Raḥīm, speak of a mercy that shelters and brings forth life. Mercy here is not a response to failure but the very source of existence! Across these languages mercy is creative because it generates and sustains. Interestingly, it does not begin with guilt but with life.

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The Latin turn

            When Christianity moved into the Latin world the meaning shifted. Latin did not have the same root. Mercy became misericordia. The word joins miser, meaning wretched, and cor, meaning heart. Mercy now means a heart moved by another’s misery. Simply explained, I see someone in pain, and feel sympathy or empathy with that person.

            The image is no longer the womb, but the heart. Mercy becomes a reaction. Mercy responds to misery. It does not give birth. It forgives after the fact. Over time, this shaped theology. In practice, sin often came first and mercy followed. Law often stood before life. Suddenly, mercy was no longer ‘life-giving’, but became ‘life-saving’. In all this change the human conscience learned to ask, “Am I guilty?” more often than, “Am I alive?”

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The early Church

            In biblical theology, mercy (raḥamîm) is not merely pardon but, re-creation, restoration of life and even covenantal rebirth. Ezekiel 36 (very close to John 3!) speaks of water, new heart and a new spirit. All of this is the language of ‘creative mercy’ and not merely an emotion or reaction.

            The early Church Fathers still stood close to this biblical world. Greek and Syriac writers spoke of salvation as rebirth. Baptism was new creation, not only cleansing. God’s mercy was seen as a power that brings forth a new person. Especially in the Syriac tradition, the Spirit gives life like a mother; hence the Church is a place of birth. Mercy is not simply a weak kindness but a strong and patient love that forms Christ in us. Even in the Greek Fathers, mercy was linked to participation in divine life. God does not only overlook sin but shares life. As theology developed in the Latin West, moral order and legal clarity became more central. Much good came from this, but something quieter was lost. Mercy slowly became thinner, less of creative, and more of law.

            St. Augustine thought in Latin categories, when he wrote that, Grace heals the will, Mercy forgives guilt and thus, God’s love is paternal, judicial and sovereign. The maternal imagery never fully disappeared, but it was no longer structural. Thus, in Augustine, we see a careful articulation of guilt, grace, and healing, framed in a juridical vocabulary. Saint Augustine’s Latin articulation of grace and guilt remains a profound and necessary contribution, even if it speaks more readily in juridical and paternal language than in maternal metaphor. Later Western developments sometimes leaned heavily on this juridical line and muted the more maternal, creative metaphors. The juridical tradition that followed served a real pastoral need in its time, offering moral clarity and protection, even as it sometimes left less room for the older language of creative and generative mercy.

            What is striking is how Pope Francis and contemporary theology are retrieving the Syriac intuition. In Amoris Laetitia, we see multiple times that Pope Francis states, Mercy as source, not exception. He refers to the Church as mother, while stressing on discernment rather than legalism and accompaniment rather than judgment. When he speaks of mercy as: “God’s way of touching the human heart”, he is, actually moving back toward raḥmē, away from pure misericordia.

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Conscience at a crossroads

            This is where my conscience stands today. Many of us experience conscience as pressure, as a fear of failure and a list of rules to measure up to. Mercy is then reduced to an escape clause, something applied when we fall short. The Semitic vision challenges this, if mercy is womb-like, then conscience is not first a judge, but a place where life is being formed, slowly, sometimes painfully but always with care. This does not remove responsibility, but it changes its tone. Growth matters more than perfection. Direction matters more than control.

            I found that reading the Gospel with this lens changed how I heard Jesus. His Call was not first about moral sorting, but about new life and being drawn into the life of God. It becomes about mercy as the ground we stand on, not the exception we beg for. Mercy, understood in this way, does not cancel truth or human responsibility; rather, it creates the space in which truth can be faced and responsibility can be assumed without fear.

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Mercy as new creation

            To speak of mercy as a creative force is to return to the heart of Christian faith. In Christ, God does not only repair what is broken, but creates again. The womb-like images of mercy found in the biblical and Semitic tradition do not replace other images of God, but stand alongside them, enriching our faith by reminding us that God’s justice is always life-giving. This reshapes my perspective on mercy. I see the Sacraments become places of formation, and not reward. Moral life becomes response to life received, not a ladder to earn love. Conscience becomes a listening space, not only an alarm. At the crossroads where many believers stand, this matters. A conscience shaped only by law risks forgetting why it exists. St. Paul speaks of this when he says, ‘They show that what the law requires is written on their hearts, as their own conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts will accuse or perhaps excuse them’. (Rm.2 :15) A single conversation led me here. It helped me see that words carry worlds and that by listening to the roots of mercy, I came closer to the Gospel itself.

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References

 Biblical Texts

• The Holy Bible. New Revised Standard Version. Psalm 139:13–14; Ezekiel 36:25–27; Romans 2:15.

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Magisterial and Contemporary Church Teaching

• Francis. Amoris Laetitia. Apostolic Exhortation on Love in the Family. Vatican City, 2016.
  See especially §§6–9, 56–59, 296–312.
• Francis. Misericordiae Vultus. Bull of Indiction of the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy. Vatican City, 2015.
• Catechism of the Catholic Church. Vatican City, 1992. §§1996–2005 (grace), §§1422–1424 (sacraments of healing).

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Saint Augustine and the Latin Tradition

• Augustine of Hippo. Confessions. Translated by Henry Chadwick. Oxford University Press, 1991.
• Augustine of Hippo. On Nature and Grace. In Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, Vol. 5. Edited by Philip Schaff. Hendrickson, 1994.
• Augustine of Hippo. Enchiridion on Faith, Hope, and Love. Translated by J.F. Shaw. Regnery, 1955.

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Greek and Syriac Fathers

• Ephrem the Syrian. Hymns on Paradise. Translated by Sebastian Brock. St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1990.
• Ephrem the Syrian. Hymns on the Nativity. Translated by Kathleen McVey. Paulist Press, 1989.
• Aphrahat. Demonstrations. Translated by K. Valavanolickal. St Ephrem Ecumenical Research Institute, 2005.
• Gregory of Nyssa. On the Making of Man. Translated by H.A. Wilson. Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 5.
• Basil of Caesarea. On the Holy Spirit. Translated by Stephen Hildebrand. St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2011.

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Studies on Semitic Mercy and Syriac Theology

• Brock, Sebastian P. The Luminous Eye: The Spiritual World Vision of Saint Ephrem. Cistercian Publications, 1992.
• Schmemann, Alexander. Of Water and the Spirit. St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1974.
• Rahner, Karl. Foundations of Christian Faith. Crossroad, 1978.