The word rahmah is often translated into English as “mercy,” particularly in translations of the Qur’an and in religious discourse. Yet this translation, while familiar, does not do justice to the depth and richness of the original Arabic term. It narrows the meaning to something legalistic or conditional, whereas rahmah, in its proper sense, carries with it a profound sense of unconditional, nurturing love. This is a love that gives without being asked, that shelters without being sought, and that continues regardless of worthiness or reciprocation.
When we turn to the classical Arabic lexicons, we find that the root of the word rahmah, made up of the three letters rā, ḥā and mīm, is associated not with the notion of judicial pardon but with tenderness, gentleness and compassion. For instance, in Maqāyīs al-Lughah, the renowned lexicographer Ibn Fāris writes that the root denotes riqqa, meaning emotional softness, ʿaṭf, meaning kindness, and raʾfah, meaning gentle affection. He explains: “الراء و الحاء و الميم أصلٌ واحدٌ يدلُّ على الرقة والعطف والرأفة” (Ibn Fāris, Maqāyīs al-Lughah, vol. 2, p. 419). These are intimate and emotive qualities that arise from sensitivity to the condition of another. This kind of response is not calculated or deserved but natural, instinctive and giving.
The most beautiful and revealing aspect of this root appears when we recognise its direct connection to the word raḥim, meaning the womb. In Mufradāt alfāẓ al-Qur’ān, Rāghib al-Isfahānī begins the entry on rahmah by stating: “الرّحم: رحم المرأة، ومنه استعير الرحم للقرابة لكونهم خارجين من رحم واحدة” (Rāghib al-Isfahānī, Mufradāt alfāẓ al-Qur’ān, vol. 1, p. 199). This means, “Al-raḥim is the womb of the woman, and from it, the word for kinship is derived, since relatives come from one womb.” This is not a poetic coincidence. It is a deliberate and deeply meaningful connection. In the womb, the child receives everything it needs without effort or request. The mother gives from her very being, purely out of love and instinct, without expectation or condition. This is the original image of rahmah, a space of total care, protection and selfless giving.
This concept is reflected in how the Qur’an and the Prophet describe divine rahmah. It is not something that is earned, nor is it something that must be deserved in advance. Rather, it is something that already exists, fully and universally. In Surah Al-A‘rāf, God says plainly,
“My rahmah encompasses all things” (7:156).
No boundaries are drawn here and there is no mention of faith or behaviour as a prerequisite. The divine rahmah is described as embracing all of existence, everything that is. This verse alone should be enough to unsettle the claim that God’s rahmah is limited to believers or only revealed in response to good deeds.
We see this same expansive vision in the opening verses of Surah Ar-Raḥmān: “The All-Compassionate taught the Qur’an, created the human being” (55:1 to 3). The order here is telling. God teaches before we ask and creates before we can respond. These are acts of rahmah that are not initiated by human worthiness but by divine love. Similarly, the Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, is described as nothing but a rahmah for all the worlds:
“And We have not sent you except as a rahmah to all the worlds” (21:107).
This description leaves no room for exclusion. It encompasses all peoples, all creatures and all of creation, not merely the pious and not only the grateful.
Even the Divine Names themselves point to this limitless compassion. In Surah Al-Isrā’ we read,
“Say: Call upon Allah or call upon the All-Compassionate” (17:110).
Here ar-Raḥmān is presented not only as one of God’s Names but as one that holds the same weight and status as the name Allah itself. It speaks to God’s very nature. Rahmah is not an occasional act of kindness. It is the very being of the Divine. In another verse, this depth is beautifully expressed by the angels who say,
“Our Lord, You have encompassed all things in rahmah and knowledge” (40:7).
God’s compassion is paired with knowledge, not blind sentiment but conscious and purposeful love.
There is also a well-known prophetic tradition in which God addresses the womb and says, “I am al-Raḥmān and you are al-Raḥim. I have derived your name from Mine. Whoever keeps ties with you, I will keep ties with them.” This intimate connection between the divine name and the maternal womb is more than a linguistic parallel. It is a spiritual truth. Just as the womb surrounds, nourishes and protects without demand, so too does divine rahmah envelop all beings.
This understanding makes it clear that rahmah is not limited to the deserving or the faithful. Those who claim that divine rahmah is exclusive to believers are missing the heart of the word itself. The Qur’an tells us plainly that God’s rahmah encompasses all things. His provision and care extend to all of creation, without distinction between the righteous and the sinner, the believer and the one who has not yet found faith. Faith does not earn God’s rahmah; it is awakened by it. We are not loved because we are good. We strive to be good because we are already loved.
Seen in this light, rahmah is not a transaction. It is not a reward for good behaviour. It is a condition of existence, a gift that flows from the very nature of the giver. Like the womb, it surrounds, sustains and nurtures before we even understand what it is. To reduce it to the word “mercy” alone is to overlook the beauty, depth and warmth that the Arabic word carries. It is, more rightly, unconditional love, the kind of love that holds us close even when we forget, that gives even when we cannot return and that calls us back not with punishment but with patience and care.
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