Karuṇā: Compassion
Karuṇā is the heart's response to another's pain. A widow in that town had no husband's wage and no way to earn one, so a coat was not decoration, it was getting through winter. Dorcas put her needle where the need was sharpest, down to the specific cold shoulders of the women now standing in the room.
Dāna: Giving
Dāna is the act of giving. Hers came stitched: thread pulled through cloth, seam after seam, hours of eyesight spent on something someone else would wear. Giving of that kind carries the giver inside it, which is why these women can hold the sleeves in their hands instead of searching for words about her kindness.
Puñña: Merit
Puñña is the good weight a deed leaves behind. Dorcas is dead and her hands are still, yet the coats are on shoulders all over Joppa, doing their work without her. A deed outlives the doer the way a well-dug well keeps giving water long after the digger is gone.
Anicca: Impermanence
Anicca is the passing of everything that arises. "While she was with them" only becomes a sayable phrase afterward; no one used it last week, when she was simply there in the room. Every ordinary presence turns into a "while" eventually, and the cloth in their hands is now older than the woman who made it.
Parideva: Lamentation
Parideva is crying out in grief. The widows stand rather than sit, weeping while their hands keep lifting garments toward a stranger from Lydda, because sorrow wants something to do with itself. Their weeping measures how dear she was, and dearness is where the ache comes from: losing what we love hurts in exact proportion to the loving.
Kataññutā: Gratitude
Kataññutā is knowing what has been done for you. Its full form adds katavedī, showing it openly, and that is the entire gesture in the upper room: holding up a sleeve so Peter can see whose hands made it. Gratitude carried silently stays with the grateful; theirs gets placed in front of a visitor as evidence, stitch by stitch.