When I was a junior in college, I developed a severe and extremely visible skin condition alongside several other chronic health issues. I had had patches of eczema on my arms and legs since I was a little girl, but by the time I was ending college, I was covered from head to toe in peeling, bleeding, swollen red skin.
That was right around the time my now-husband proposed to me, and I was extremely insecure about how much my appearance had changed. Didn't he deserve somebody beautiful and healthy, instead of an autoimmune disaster who couldn’t wear makeup, perfume, or even fitted clothing without pain?
During our engagement, he came to visit my family’s home, and my youngest sisters, who were both under 5 years old, begged for us to tuck them in. After we read them stories, sang them songs, and gave them hugs, he told me that when he watched me take care of my sisters, “That’s why you’re beautiful. And that’s why I want to marry you.”
Now, my skin condition has mostly healed. But as I experience the changes of motherhood, I am so grateful that I have a husband who reminds me that beauty is so much deeper than appearance.
What is beauty?
In modern culture, we often think of beauty as merely aesthetic, something that is pleasing to the physical senses. But in the philosophical tradition of the Catholic Church, beauty is much deeper.
St. Thomas Aquinas wrote that beauty is “that which pleases upon being seen;” however, Donald DeMarco explains, this is not merely aesthetic or sensory. St. Thomas means that the mind perceives, understands, and delights in the beautiful object. Thus, there is an objective or intellectual component to the enjoyment of beauty.
St. Thomas Aquinas teaches that beauty has three marks: unity, proportion, and radiance. In other words, beauty goes deeper than appearance. It is about a life that is whole, rightly ordered, and shining with meaning.
This is why a virtuous woman is beautiful: Her life is unified in love, her actions are rightly ordered toward the good, and her presence radiates the light of Christ to others.
Beauty and the soul
The Catholic philosophical tradition has a unique teaching, called hylomorphism, on the relationship between the soul and the body. Hylomorphism is the idea that the soul is the form of the body — in some mysterious way, the soul makes the body what it is, a unique living thing. Thus, the body is unique as an expression of the soul, not merely a prison or vessel for the soul.
In addition, each person is made in the image and likeness of God, and thus has a certain beauty by reflecting the goodness of God.
With this idea in mind, we can see the connection between moral beauty and physical beauty. The goodness of somebody’s character often radiates out to their appearance, even if that person may not meet certain physical beauty standards. Their face, movements, and voice reflect the goodness of their soul and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.
Beauty in imperfections
We live in a fallen world, and thus the relationship between our body and soul is imperfect. We desire things that we know are wrong; we become sick; and we get injured, grow old, and die. But can these imperfections actually show us something about beauty?
When Our Lord appeared after His Resurrection to His apostles, His glorified body was still wounded. These wounds, meant to demean and defile Our Lord when they were inflicted, are now a mark of His glory and power.
Many theologians think that after the Resurrection of the Body, martyrs will still have their wounds, showing the means of their salvation. I think this is a helpful framework for accepting aging, illness, and the other changes that may make us feel less beautiful.
A mother may hate her stretch marks or the way her figure has changed, but these are signs of the sacrifice she made to bring a child into the world as a co-creator with God. A woman may want to get rid of the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, but they are a sign of the joy and sorrow she has lived. A woman may not like the callouses on her hands, but they are a sign of how she has worked to serve those she loves.
Obscuring the image of God
If our bodies, and even our imperfections, can reveal the truth about our souls to others, is it moral to change our bodies?
Obviously there are normal and ordinary means of taking care of our bodies well – exercising, healthy eating, and getting enough sleep are all important ways of taking care of the gift of our body. Dressing well, wearing makeup, or other minor enhancements of our natural beauty are morally permissible in most cases.
But undergoing surgery, engaging in disordered eating, or other extreme bodily modifications can present serious problems. In a recent Vatican document called Quo vadis, humanitas? from the International Theological Commission, the Church warned that cosmetic surgery and other tools “greatly change the relationship with one’s own body and therefore with reality and with others.”
“The result is a widespread ‘cult of the body’, which tends towards a frantic search for a perfect figure that is always fit, young and beautiful,” the document continues. “Once modified, often with relentless frenzy, the body becomes a body-object in which the person-subject mirrors themselves, creating a relationship in which the person is no longer his or her body but ‘owns’ a body, from which arises the search for a ‘borrowed’ identity. In this dynamic, it is no longer necessary to accept one’s own body in order to realise one’s identity. It can be transformed according to the tastes of the moment.”
This dynamic creates a situation where the real body is not loved, since it is a source of limitation, while the ideal body is exalted and sought after, the document states.
When people undergo cosmetic surgery, they often complain that their face becomes less expressive, making them seem less human and more difficult to relate to. This seems symbolic of the problems that occur when we seek physical beauty over all else: Are we willing to alter our ability to relate with others, possibly affecting our communion with one another, to appear unnaturally young?
Conclusion
When my husband looked at my swollen face and told me I was beautiful, he was seeing me as God sees me. He showed me that I had not lost my beauty through suffering and illness. My true beauty came from deeper within my personhood.
Rather than asking ourselves how to become more beautiful, let us ask: How can I live my life in a way that radiates the beauty of Christ to others?