
In the ancient Syriac conception, there is no contradiction between the justice of God and his mercy. Rather, they are both aspects of God’s goodness and his divine plan for salvation. To take one without the other is to separate dimensions of the unity of God. We do this because we only have human minds, yet we must also remember that, in God, these qualities are one.
St Ephrem (c. 306–373), an older contemporary of St Maroun, devoted the fifth of his Hymns on the church to exploring the mystery of the relationship between God’s mercy and His justice. Incidentally, although the Syriac fathers also wrote in prose, their use of hymns to convey what we would call theological ideas is one of the hallmarks of ancient Syriac thought.
It was, among other things, a way of teaching people the truths of their religion in a memorable form. In this hymn, Ephrem wrote: “… although the sea of goodness is full of mercy, no drop of mercy will fall, on the Day of Judgment, on those who do not repent.”
That is, God’s mercy is infinite, but in its fullness it will not and cannot be known until the Day of Judgment, when it will be poured out upon those who have repented, and only upon those.
This follows from several considerations. First, the aim of the goodness of God in dealing with us is to bring our souls to a point where they are conformed to His Goodness, His Beauty and His Truth. God wishes that we be remade according to His image and likeness, which have been disfigured by sin.
So, to understand mercy and justice, the image of a courtroom is insufficient. It is not just a question of deciding what a person deserves. The divine plan of salvation involves refashioning the soul so that a person is made worthy of dwelling in the Presence of God.
This fact alone shows the need for mercy to perfect the work of justice. While justice gives to each what they deserve, none of us can say that we deserve to enjoy the beatific vision forever. But God, in His mercy, grants us that gift when we have repented and are able to bear His mercy.

To express this in a way we can understand, we often speak in terms of chronological development. We are schooled by justice and fitting punishment, and then, when this has done its work, we are redeemed in His mercy.
Ephrem himself speaks in this way, but it is only a way of speaking. In reality, God is forever dealing with us according to both His justice and His mercy. As stated, we see them as different only because of our limited and diverse perspectives on His goodness.
If, on some occasions, we see only the front of something large, and on other occasions we see only its back, we may not realise they are part of a whole too large for us to comprehend. So it is, and must be, when we ponder God.
Ephrem also proposes that there is mercy even in God’s justice because God could simply have left us alone. Instead, in His mercy, He has disclosed to us His justice and its proper consequences.
Hence, in the Maronite Divine Liturgy we refer to God as a good father who comes seeking for us. If it is an act of mercy to discipline someone who is in need of discipline, then God’s mercy is also perfected in His justice.
We must never presume upon the mercy of God, states Ephrem, or imagine that we can dispense with seeking holiness and turning away from sin. But a contrite soul cultivates the virtues needed to bear what Ephrem calls His “strong mercy,” for purity cannot exist where impurity reigns.
To summarise, God’s justice is perfected in His mercy, and His mercy is perfected in His justice, because both are aspects of His mysterious goodness. He disciplines us so that we may come to know, love and serve Him as much as we are able.
But even the best of us are still human, and to leap across the chasm between our limits and His infinity is beyond us. None of us, not even the best and purest, can climb to heaven unaided.
His mercy can therefore be thought of as the helping hand that lifts us beyond the top rung of the ladder and into the Divine Presence and its perfect ecstasy.







