Beauty and the Priest
One of the most influential novels of the past two centuries is Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Idiot. In that novel, there is an intriguing exchange between Ippolit, a terminally ill and deeply cynical character, and Prince Myshkin, a man of deep goodness and saintly innocence. Ippolit mockingly asks: “Is it true, Prince, that you once said, ‘Beauty will save the world’? ‘Gentlemen,’” he suddenly addresses the whole company, “the prince contends that beauty will save the world! And I for one fully agree with him! But what kind of beauty will save the world?”[i] Indeed, beauty will save the world and beauty has saved the world in Christ. The constant refrain in the creation story in Genesis is, “And God saw that it was good” (Gen 1:31). God’s creation is a mirror of His beauty because He is Beauty itself. Through the beauty of creation, He draws us to Himself, for we are made in His image and likeness, and like Him, we perceive the goodness and beauty of creation. God draws humanity to Himself through beauty.
In his Letter to Artists (1999), Pope St. John Paul II wrote: “Beauty is a key to the mystery and a call to transcendence. It is an invitation to savor life and to dream of the future. That is why the beauty of created things can never fully satisfy. The beauty that truly saves is the beauty of Christ, crucified and risen.”[ii] Beauty in the world is a sacrament that points to the beauty of the Creator; it is a metaphor for God. That is why the great Swiss theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar stated: “Whoever sneers at beauty as merely superficial has not penetrated to the depths of God’s revelation in the Word made flesh.”[iii] Beauty never leaves us indifferent. It always evokes a feeling of awe. Are we not stunned when we stand before the majesty of Notre-Dame de Paris or Sainte-Chapelle? We are transported into a new world, one that is beyond ourselves. C.S. Lewis captured this human longing for beauty when he wrote: “We do not want merely to see beauty. We want something else which can hardly be put into words, to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.”[iv]
The Catholic tradition has always understood that beauty is our participation in God’s divine splendor since God is Truth, Goodness, and Beauty (verum, bonum, pulchrum). Thus, every authentic experience of beauty points beyond itself to its divine source. This is why our churches are meant to radiate beauty. In the 12th and 13th centuries, while theologians composed theological summas to express divine truth to the rational mind, Gothic architects revealed God’s beauty through summas made of stone in the form of cathedrals. These magnificent churches were not simply built for spectacle but designed to draw men into the mystery of divine beauty so that they could encounter the transcendent. Thus, beauty remains one of the most powerful tools of evangelization. Even in an age of skepticism, beauty can pierce the human heart, leaving even the most hardened atheist stunned and moved.
The priest is an alter Christus, a living sacrament of Christ. He must embody the beauty that draws and pulls the world to God. At ordination, a priest is ontologically a new creation, reflecting the three Thomistic elements of beauty: Integritas (wholeness).His life must have integrity, aligning with the Gospel. Consonantia (harmony). He must live in harmony with God, his people, and himself. Claritas (radiance). His ministry should radiate Christ’s light for all to see. A beautiful priest is a holy priest, one whose life is integrated, harmonious, and luminous. Because the priest understands the beauty of God, he must strive to make his parish a place of beauty. People are naturally drawn to beauty. It is one of the greatest and most effective tools of evangelization. However, when these elements of beauty are distorted or corrupted, the priesthood and by extension, the Church, descends into chaos. The saying goes, “The corruption of the best is the worst form of corruption.” When beauty is corrupted, what remains is ugliness, chaos, and disintegration. This is why the devil is always depicted as grotesque and deformed; he is the antithesis of beauty, lacking integrity, harmony, and radiance. Dante, in The Divine Comedy, describes Satan in the Ninth Circle of Hell as a hideous and frozen figure with six monstrous eyes and three gaping mouths, endlessly chewing on the traitors Judas, Brutus, and Cassius. He is trapped in ice, constantly flapping his wings in a futile effort to escape, only further freezing himself in his prison. His grotesqueness is a mockery of the Holy Trinity, a parody of beauty, truth, and goodness. Dante’s vision shows Hell as cold and icy, in stark contrast to the warmth of divine love. The passion and fire of love warm the human heart, whereas Satan’s coldness represents a soul completely devoid of grace and beauty. The ugliness of the devil is a warning: when beauty is lost, so is holiness. When priests cease to be icons of divine beauty, they become mere functionaries, losing their power to draw people to God. Therefore, humans must avoid the devil at all costs and by all means for he represents everything reprehensible.[v]
Unfortunately, in our local Church, beauty has become the most neglected tool of evangelization. Many priests are not taught about the power of beauty and its impact on the human soul. Worse still, many priests are unaware of the beauty that emanates from the grace of ordination and the need to make that beauty visible in their parish ministry. Our churches should be places of transcendence, places that lift souls to God. But too often, we have allowed mediocrity to replace magnificence. Too often, we settle for functional spaces instead of places that radiate divine splendor. If we want a renewal of faith, we must rediscover beauty. As Benedict XVI observed, the only really effective apologia for Christianity comes down to two arguments: the saints the Church has produced and the art which has grown in her womb.[vi] The saints and the beauty of Christian culture remain the strongest witnesses to God’s presence in the world. It is for this reason that the priest must have a particular and keen eye for beauty.
The appreciation for beauty must first take root in the priest himself. He must be in harmony with God and with his own soul. Without this harmony, he loses his priestly beauty. Any spiritual imbalance within him creates disorder, not only in his own life but also in his parish. If he is not a reflection of divine beauty, he cannot effectively communicate God’s beauty to the faithful, because they do not see it radiating from him. The priest must never forget that, at ordination, a halo is placed above his head, visible for all to see. But the further he distances himself from the source of beauty, God, the dimmer and fainter this halo becomes, and the uglier he becomes spiritually. This spiritual ugliness often manifests itself physically. Our rector in the minor seminary often reminded us: “Cleanliness is next to godliness.” And by implication, dirtiness is next to ungodliness. The way a priest carries himself, especially in the celebration of the sacraments, determines whether he radiates the beauty of faith. His external appearance speaks volumes. I once heard a parishioner complain about a priest whose shoes at Mass were always dirty, whose alb was twisted and appeared unwashed for years, and whose chasuble hung on his shoulders like a beggar’s rags. The parishioner also lamented the state of the sacristy: the liturgical vessels were tarnished, the vestments were damp and soiled, and the priest celebrated Mass with no visible reverence. When confronted about his appearance, the priest responded, “St. Francis of Assisi wore rags and still converted the world. Stop focusing on externals.” But this response overlooks an essential truth of Catholic worship: our faith is deeply sacramental, and externals play an important role in pointing to deeper realities. A careless approach to the externals of worship can signal a lack of interior devotion. If a priest neglects the external beauty of the liturgy, meant to mirror the heavenly liturgy, it may indicate a deeper spiritual disharmony within him.
Secondly, the priest has an obligation to ensure that his parish reflects spiritual and physical beauty. As a pastor of souls, he must lead his parishioners into harmony with God by nourishing them with the sacraments, providing them with opportunities for deeper commitment to God, and teaching them the truths of the faith. A spiritually vibrant parish is a beauty to behold, one that balances contemplation and action, prayer and charity. At the same time, the priest must care for the physical surroundings of his parish. The church building is not merely a brick and mortar structure; it is a sacrament of the heavenly Jerusalem, where pilgrims go up with shouts of joy. Even if a parish lacks the resources to build a grand church, it should keep its humble space clean and dignified, recognizing that it is a house of worship where the beauty of God is seen and heard.
The priest must also ensure that the liturgy in his parish is beautiful. He does this through a ministry of presence. A seminarian once lamented how most of the parishes he served lacked clean, dignified vestments for altar servers and other ministers. Many wore albs partly eaten by rats, some dating back to the early days of the Mill Hill Missionaries. The same neglect applied to the vestments of lectors and catechists, whose once-white garments had become discolored with age. How can these vestments reflect the “white robes” of the saints participating in the heavenly liturgy in the Apocalypse if they are in such a state? Good and beautiful liturgy demands proper training. The priest should ensure that Altar servers are trained to serve with reverence; Lectors are properly prepared to proclaim the Word with clarity. The priest himself should celebrate Mass with profound devotion, knowing that the way he handles the sacred mysteries teaches the faithful about God’s holiness.
In our province, I am hopeful about the power of beauty to transform and sustain faith. My hope comes from observing young Catholics in our parishes. What truly draws and retains these young people in the Church is music. Think of the number of young people who are active in church choirs. See how dedicated they are, how passionately they sing. It is a beautiful and uplifting sight. Why is this happening? Because music has a unique power to evoke God’s presence in the soul in a way that no other human invention can. Sacred music is an audible icon of beauty. Today, I firmly believe that any priest in our province who neglects the ministry of music is failing his young people. Liturgical music is not just a “nice addition” to worship, it is a vital tool of evangelization. It helps connect the human soul to the divine. The priest has an obligation to accompany and support those engaged in this ministry. Pope Benedict XVI further emphasizes this point: “As the Old Testament speaks of the Temple, the Church is to be the place of ‘glory’ and, as such, too, the place where mankind’s cry of distress is brought to the ear of God. The Church must not settle down with what is merely comfortable and serviceable at the parish level; she must arouse the voice of the cosmos and by glorifying the Creator, elicit the glory of the cosmos itself, making it too glorious, beautiful, habitable, and beloved.”[vii] I see hope for the future of our Church in this. If we harness our young people’s love for sacred music, we can lead them into deeper encounters with God’s beauty. However, this must not stop with music alone. The priest must match the young people’s love for beauty with a renewed focus on the beauty of the sacraments. The Church should be well-kept. The rubrics should be observed with reverence. The mysteries of Christ should be explained so that the faithful understand the beauty of the faith. Thus, the priest must ensure that his people do not merely ‘attend Mass’ but encounter the living God in all His beauty. The world will always be drawn to beauty, and if the priest fails to embody that beauty, the Church will lose souls to lesser imitations.
[i] Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot (Calcutta: Signet Press, 2010).
[ii] John Paul II, Letter to Artist, 4 April 1999.
[iii] Hans Urs Von Balthasar, The Glory of God: A Theological Aesthetics, vol 1 (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2009).
[iv] C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses (London: MacMillan Company, 1949).
[v] Dante, The Divine Comedy.
[vi] Joseph Ratzinger, The Ratzinger Report (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1985) 109.
[vii] Ibid.