Encountering the Grace of Compassion

During Lent, we were encouraged to engage in a practice that is straightforward yet essential: taking time to pause. 

During a recent online Lenten reflection led by Becky Eldredge, we stepped away from the pace of daily life. Work, family, responsibilities… all the things we carry. And in that pause, we were reminded of how much space we need to breathe, to notice, and to pray. 

The time began quietly. A candle was lit. We were invited to take a few deep breaths, calling to mind the presence of God, of Jesus, of the Spirit.  

From there, we were led into a reflection on compassion, not as an idea, but as something lived. 

Drawing from “Putting on the Heart of Christ” by Fr Gerald Fagan SJ, compassion was described in three simple movements: 

• to see suffering, 

• to feel suffering, 

• and to act with purpose to alleviate or comfort 

First, to see. To really notice what is in front of us: our own lives, the lives of others, the places of struggle we might otherwise pass by. 

Then, to feel. To allow our hearts to be moved. Not to stay distant, but to be drawn in, the way Jesus is moved with compassion in the Gospels. 

And finally, to respond. To step toward. To offer presence, care, or whatever is possible in that moment. 

What stayed with many of us was how real this felt. Compassion isn’t abstract, it’s often very ordinary. A friend who notices. A word spoken at the right time. Someone who “holds hope” for us when we can’t hold it ourselves. 

We were invited to remember moments like that in our own lives. Moments when we were seen in our pain and met with kindness. And then, just as gently, we were asked to turn inward: Where do I need that kind of compassion today? 

There was also a quiet invitation to receive compassion from Christ himself. 

In the Ignatian way of prayer Contemplatio, we were encouraged to imagine Jesus near us: to speak honestly, to name what is real, and to allow ourselves to be seen. Not with perfect words, but with truth. Like the woman in the Gospel who simply reaches out and tells her whole story. 

As the reflection moved toward Lent and the coming of Holy Week, the focus shifted. 

If we have received compassion, how might we offer it back? 

We were invited to stay close to Jesus in his suffering, not to fix anything, but to be with him. To stand near the cross. To notice his pain. To let our hearts be moved. And to ask, in a very simple and personal way: What can I do for you? 

There was something very human in that moment. A sense that love, when received, naturally desires to return. 

And then, as always, the movement turned outward. 

Compassion is not meant to stay within us. It sends us. 

We were invited to consider the people in our own lives: family, friends, neighbours, colleagues. Not in a grand or overwhelming way, but simply: 

• Who is God placing before me? 

• Where am I being invited to notice, to feel, to respond? 

  
  

This is how compassion grows. Quietly. Faithfully. In the ordinary places of our lives. 

As we continue through Lent, this reflection lingers as an invitation, to slow down, to pray honestly, and to remain close to the heart of Christ. 

If you are longing for space to do that, to step away, even briefly, and listen more deeply - we invite you to consider a private retreat with us. 

Here, there is room for that kind of prayer. Room to be honest. Room to receive. 

And perhaps, to encounter the grace of compassion in a way that stays with you long after you leave. 

We would be glad to welcome you. Book a private retreat and make space for what matters most. 

(All photos are from Becky Eldredge presentation)