Simone Weil once wrote that “attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” As the shadows of Lent begin to fade and the light of Easter approaches, we often find ourselves looking back at the 40-day journey with a sense of “unfinished business.” We ask ourselves: Is there something left undone? Is there a discipline we meant to master, or a kindness we ran out of time to offer?
To answer this, we must look closer at Weil’s wisdom. She suggests that our primary task is not necessarily to do, but to attend. “Our task,” she says, “is to pay attention and listen… Finding beauty in a broken world is creating beauty in the world we find.”
At first glance, this seems simple. Many would argue our world is currently fractured, and there is certainly no shortage of evidence to suggest we have seen better days. But is the world truly devoid of beauty, or have we simply stopped paying attention?
When I look out my window, I see a cherry tree in full, triumphant blossom. When I sit to write, the intricate architectures of Bach or the nocturnes of Chopin provide intense pleasure. On my daily walks, I witness the quiet wonders of the natural world. Yet, I suspect that the “beauty” Weil is talking about isn’t just the aesthetic delight of a flower or a melody.
Nature’s beauty is a gift given to us; the beauty Weil describes is a beauty created by the observer. It is the beauty that emerges when we apply the discipline of attention to things that are difficult, broken, or mundane.
The Lenten season and its four disciplines are designed to sharpen this focus. They force us to look both inward and outward—at our own souls and at our neighbors. It is a dual perspective, much like a legendary Army football duo, covering both the “Inside” and the “Outside.”
We are called to be generous with our attention, not just to the neighbor who is starving for a witness to their life, but also to the “self” that sits quietly in the corner of our consciousness asking, “What about me?”
To pay attention to a neighbor is to recognize their humanity in a world that often treats people as data points. To pay attention to oneself is to honor the image of the divine within, rather than rushing past it in a blur of productivity. Both are acts of profound generosity.
We have only a few days left in this season of preparation. As we approach the finish line, perhaps the most meaningful thing we can do is to stop “doing” and start “attending.” Be generous to your world, and be generous to yourself. In these final hours of Lent, remember that to look—really look—is the first act of love.
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