‘What would you do if you saw this suffering?’ asked 14th-century Catholic theologian Ludolph of Saxony, expressing the sentiments of the Devotio Moderna. This mediaeval devotional movement believed that meditation on the Passion should move believers to compassion – from the Latin compatī, to suffer along with. They took that very literally. And that’s the context in which you have to see these penance items. The imitatio Christi, the physical imitation of Christ’s suffering, was seen as the path to a perfect union with Him. The spiritual response to that covered a broad spectrum of emotional and physical behaviours: from an intimate and subdued personal relationship with Christ to the most excessive imitations of His suffering. 13th-century mystic Elisabeth of Spalbeek portrayed the Passion in mime, beating herself until she bled. 14th-century hermitess Dorothy of Montau used to stand for hours with her arms outstretched along the wall of her cell, or hang herself from nails in the wall. Such extremes were fortunately exceptional. And they were generally frowned upon by the authorities. We therefore shouldn’t regard the imitatio Christi simply as a slavish copying of Christ’s suffering. That would detract from its depth. It is about far more than passive imitation; it is about active recreation: the contemplation of Christ's suffering in order to feel His presence and to feel near to Him. It is more about a powerful expression of love – the ultimate love – than it is about suffering.