Does Eliot Spitzer deserve mercy? It’s a different question from whether Mr. Spitzer should be prosecuted. That is a matter of law, for prosecutors to decide. And if he is guilty, he must pay whatever price is imposed.

It’s a different question from whether he is responsible to make moral restitution to the women he exploited and abused. How that would be done, I do not know, but it remains a critical consideration in repairing the damage he has wrought.

It’s a different question from whether he deserves the shame he has brought on himself and from whether he owes his family deep contrition and repentance. He certainly earned the shame and owes an incalculable debt to his family.

Mercy, in other words, does not excuse or exonerate wrongdoing. By its very definition, mercy, in instances like Mr. Spitzer’s, presumes wrongdoing. An innocent man does not need mercy.

Against all these caveats, then, yes, Eliot Sptizer deserves mercy, for a simple reason: everyone needs mercy. Everyone sins. Every house of worship should be open to one who has committed any sin, no matter how heinous; and every criminal, whatever his crime, deserves pastoral support.

This is not meant to equate Mr. Spitzer’s transgressions with the common and relatively minor errors that define the failures of most of us. It means, simply, that there is no scale for mercy. Mercy is not like the price of tomatoes: lush tomatoes, very expensive; semi-soft tomatoes, low price.

Mercy does not work that way.

Mercy is an equalizer because it simply acknowledges the humanity of the perpetrator, the deep-seated and intractable roots of most human behavior, and the power of the social environment — the endless and unknowable list of inadequacies that we all inherit or pick-up against our knowledge or will.

“There but for the grace of G-d, go I.”

Needless to say, mercy is extended in some instances more easily than in others. It’s tough to extend mercy to a person who never, or rarely, extended it to others. It’s much easier to extend mercy to a person with a consistent pattern of charitable works and with a charitable demeanor, who, somehow, unexpectedly fell into a pit of crime or indiscretion.

But if mercy is a quality of the Almighty, mercy is infinite. And if we are tasked with imitating the Almighty, as I believe we are, we are tasked with the extension of mercy in difficult cases.

Who can truly say that he or she has lived up to his or her potential, has never hurt another human being, has never been in need of mercy? Compared to the infinite gifts of sunshine and health bestowed by the Creator on most of us most of the time, we are all difficult cases.

Again — not to equate a minor peccadillo with Mr. Spitzer’s acts. But if mercy ultimately stems from an infinite Creator, it is not a stretch to see that it applies to the likes of Eliot Spitzer, too.

Where I think mercy gets a bad name, and deservedly so, is when it is meant to substitute for the external accountability that the judicial system insists on or for the internal accountability that the sinner must accept. If I stole or killed, mercy should not substitute for a conviction. If I hurt someone in my dealings with people, mercy should not substitute for apology and other necessary, psychological restitution.

That said, mercy is always needed and always appropriate.

Who extends the mercy? It is most difficult for the victim himself, or for the family of the victim, and proportionately more easy the more distant one is from the perpetrator.

Where does that leave the public in Eliot Spitzer’s case? In a sense, we are all his victims, but virtually none of us knows him personally. Mercy is easier for us than for the people he directly hurt — his family, his staff, and close supporters. From them, mercy might well not be forthcoming soon. And there’s nothing wrong with that. I distrust automatic mercy. To be genuine, mercy must arise from the depths of personality. That’s probably impossible for those close to Mr. Spitzer right now.

But mercy, like justice, with which mercy is inextricably intertwined, remains a necessity. Society and human relationships could not function without it.

Rabbi Goldberg is editor of the Intermountain Jewish News at Denver.