“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” This common refrain permeates our culture, and, I argue, it is a most devastating lie. Of course, it may be true in some sense. As many have pointed out, imagine if all man-kind universally agreed that one woman was the most beautiful… I think we can be glad that every good husband believes his wife to be the most beautiful in the world. But just because some aspects of beauty are subjective does not mean that all beauty is subjective. A Rembrandt is objectively better than a little child’s preschool craft-time ‘art’—which itself is slightly better than your average Jackson Pollock-esque work. But even if disagreement is found when it comes to objective beauty, this will surely not be the case with ugliness. The dumpster behind a modern-day retail center is objectively ugly. Compare it to stained glass in a medieval cathedral and not one sane person could really deny the ugliness. We cannot have objective ugliness without objective beauty, for we must have straight to know the bent.
A few weeks ago, I finished CS Lewis’ That Hideous Strength for the second time [1]. I read the entire Space Trilogy (or the Ransom Trilogy, nerds) a few years ago, but I did so practically blind. Only really understanding what CS Lewis was doing afterwards, thanks to some helpful podcasts by ND Wilson. Three or so podcasts (one on Patreon only) have documented this stage. This summer I resolved to read The Abolition of Man, an essay in which Lewis warns of the dangers extreme materialistic scientism poses to all that is good, true and beautiful. That Hideous Strength, which I listened to right after finishing The Abolition of Man, is the novelized version of the ideas Lewis presents in that essay, and this time through, boy could I tell. The reason I bring it up now is for the following passage.
I was having a conversation with a man whom I used to work with, who happens to be gay, and he said something like: “The more I learn about humans, the more I feel that ‘normalcy’ is a construct, and that in reality, there’s just different forms of expression.” I strongly disagreed with this, but I failed to respond. My heart cried out, “What happens when a ‘form of expression’ involves a heinous crime? Will we not punish them for not complying to the standard of normalcy? Nobody wants copy-cat “normal persons” (such a thing is nigh impossible, anyways), but we all at some point want a line to be drawn as to acceptable behavior. But to avoid drawing an arbitrary line, we need an objective, transcendent standard, which ultimately is a transcendent God.” That’s what I should have said, but I didn’t. A little later, I listened to the following section, the beginning of Chapter 14, in THS. To give context: the evil N.I.C.E is trying to inoculate Mark and desensitize him to perversion and evil. To complete his ‘training’, they bring him into a room that at first appeared normal, but upon further inspection was off and wrong and bent in most disgusting ways. But then, instead of accepting the perversity of the room as normal, he says this:
“But after an hour or so this long, high coffin of a room began to produce on Mark an effect which his instructor had probably not anticipated. There was no return of the attack which he had suffered last night in the cell. Whether because he had already survived that attack, or because the imminence of death had drawn the tooth of his lifelong desire for the esoteric, or because he had (in a fashion) called very urgently for help, the built and painted perversity of this room had the effect of making him aware, as he had never been aware before, of this room’s opposite. As the desert first teaches men to love water, or as absence first reveals affection, there rose up against this background of the sour and the crooked some kind of vision of the sweet and the straight. Something else—something he vaguely called the “Normal”—apparently existed. He had never thought about it before. But there it was—solid, massive, with a shape of its own, almost like something you could touch, or eat, or fall in love with. It was all mixed up with Jane and fried eggs and soap and sunlight and the rooks cawing at Cure Hardy and the thought that, somewhere outside, daylight was going on at that moment. He was not thinking in moral terms at all; or else (what is much the same thing) he was having his first deeply moral experience. He was choosing a side: the Normal. “All that,’' as he called it, was what he chose. If the scientific point of view led away from “all that,” then be damned to the scientific point of view! The vehemence of his choice almost took his breath away; he had not had such a sensation before.” (Lewis, 296-297)
Wow! What a powerful example and declaration of the crooked demanding the straight. Today’s culture has spent so much time rejecting the straight, the objectively beautiful, that they fail to realize this means the crooked or ugly is also by necessity non-existent.
Just a few months ago, I started watching a guy on YouTube called Redeemed Zoomer, who talks about theology while playing Minecraft. To be clear, I’m there for the theology, not the Minecraft, but it does a good job of drawing in young people who don’t want to watch ‘dry’ theology videos. He did a video recently titled “the spiritual power of music”, and in it, he discussed the Transcendentals: Goodness, Truth, and Beauty, and how at some point, all humans innately know that these exist, and that they cannot exist objectively without a standard--a transcendent one--which must be a Transcendent God. He claims it to be one of the most persuasive arguments for God’s existence, and I’m inclined to agree. Another thing he discusses is the importance of the Church recognizing all three as objective, not just goodness and truth. And it’s true: many Christians I’ve talked to seem to imply or say that beauty is subjective. Hopefully, I’ve just explained the importance of that, but here’s some more backup.
In the video, he dunks on modern worship, pointing out how it’s mayyyybe good and true, but never really beautiful. This is in sharp contrast to the rest of church history which has proclaimed the goodness and truth of Christ with beautiful music and in beautiful sanctuaries. Speaking of beautiful places to worship, another thing he points out is the general blandness or sometimes even ugliness of contemporary church buildings, and how they more resemble office buildings than themselves being their own form of beautiful worship. Beauty does attract those (consciously, or unconsciously) who may reject goodness and truth (and is a signpost to them), and it’s important to make music and places that are objectively beautiful, to the glory of God.
In his book, Love What Lasts [2], classical educator Joshua Gibbs comments on the idea of the offensive nature of beauty (ibid, 120). Why exactly is beauty offensive? Because it seems inefficient. Wasteful. Insensitive to circumstances. Many have pointed out that the medieval church built massive cathedrals, taking centuries to build, with exquisite masonry, artisanry, and carpentry. Why not have given all this money and effort to the poor instead? Wouldn't such a task be more worthwhile? No, he argues. If all the beauty in the world was "liquidated", as Gibbs says, such a world would be not worth giving to save or preserve (ibid, 124). Beauty is valuable and glorious in-and-of itself.
Next, on to how this connects to differing taste.
One of the beauties of humanity is its diversity. Now, I know that when I use that word everybody freaks out and thinks of some Marxist DEI program. I get that. But sometimes in our (well due) revulsion, we swing the pendulum too far the other way and forget the glories of the different ways in which God has made us. I love to read and write while Isaiah loves math and coding. Bryson is an excellent musician, and while I have great love for music, I can’t match him in his talents. And Tanner has soooo much rizz that I can’t even… okay, too far.
This applies to taste in art as well. What do I mean by taste--specifically, the diversity thereof? I mean the different ways in which God has made us in which he allows to reflect that in the good, true, and beautiful things we love. I like fantasy more while my dad prefers sci-fi. Is one of us right? Not really. Many enjoy country music while I feel that folkish music is far superior. Is one of us right? Maybe.
So, does this then refute my thesis of objective beauty? I say no for three reasons.
First, there is a subjective aspect in responding to objectively beautiful art. Second, unlike the other transcendentals, beauty needs to be experienced. Finally, as long as we agree there is such a thing as objective beauty, the debate is then about what is objectively beautiful or not, not over whether such a thing exists in the first place. (Imagine our podcast if we were all relativists. Gack!) Allow me to expound on each of these, and then I’ll shut up. For now. Promise.
Firstly, the subjective aspect. The second defense makes more sense at first glance, but the first one is more confusing. “Let me explain. No, there is too much; let me sum up.” - Inigo Montoya. I really don’t know how to communicate this without giving more examples, and maybe you can get the gist.
Let’s take hymns, for example. It’s very easy to imagine someone who has experienced piercing sorrow, perhaps through the passing of a family member, and desperately loving “It is well with my soul” for the very reason that speaks deeply about loss. But another person who often struggles with the idea of receiving grace—grace that forgives and loves no matter what—resonates with “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” Which one is right? Which is better? If beauty is objective, which is objectively more beautiful?
What I am trying to communicate is, whether the piece of art is architecture, music, or woodworking, an individual person may recognize objective beauty in something but also bring a subjective experience to it that by no means diminishes the transcendent beauty of the thing, but in fact increases it. And when it comes to debating with fellow friends over which movie, painting, or car design is better, we must acknowledge our own personal preferences and tastes when evaluating. When asked what my favorite genre of literature is, I often say, repeating Andrew Peterson in Adorning the Dark, “Good books”—for I would much rather read a good romance/mystery/drama over a bad fantasy, and I think we should all do similarly.
This brings me into the second reason why diversity in taste doesn’t mean the downfall of objective beauty: As Sir Roger Scruton once said [3], beauty is the odd man out when it comes to the transcendentals (Scruton, 3). Gibbs points this out in his book: truth and goodness can be verified second hand. "Our sink is broken. Know any good plumbers?" I might ask a friend. "Why yes," they would reply, "I do. He's quite good!" And that would be the end of it. It's same with truth. Our very own Lord, Truth incarnate, has said, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29b, ESV). As Gibbs summarizes: "[B]eauty must be experienced directly, while we are willing to acknowledge truth and goodness by way of a proxy" (Ibid,122). Should I hear a gorgeous piece of music, or lay eyes on a stunning painting, my friends will remain skeptical of the art's beauty until they see, hear, feel for themselves. He goes on to clarify my distaste of the 'eye of the beholder' mantra. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder does not mean that every man is free to determine beauty on his own terms. Rather, beauty is the point at which knowledge of God must be tasted, not merely acknowledged by way of rational assent... knowledge of beauty comes only by way of incarnation" (Ibid, 123).
Finally, the debate is based on a standard. I’ve been in many theological debates with my friends over the Millennium, the Rapture, Calvinism, etc. Just because my friends and I disagree as to what scripture reveals, this does not mean we reject the objective standard scripture provides. In fact, it demonstrates our belief in it when we use it as the authority. Similarly, it is good and even productive for us to have conversations about what is beautiful and what is not; about what is more beautiful and what is less, precisely because we believe in objective beauty. I guess that somehow it is possible to argue over whether or not Spider-Man: No Way Home is good even though it’s pretty clearly not.
In short, beauty is a gift. It is objective transcendental, above time, and good for a man's soul. Places of worship ought to be beautiful for that very reason, giving praise to God in their splendor. But this in no way diminishes the glory of mankind's diversity in taste, in fact, it speaks to the incarnate nature of beauty. So, let us train our taste to match that which is beautiful, and give thanks to our God, who, in his mercy, grants us the glory of diversity in taste and objective beauty.
Works Cited:
[1] CS Lewis, That Hideous Strength (New York: Scribner, 1974).
[2] Joshua Gibbs, Love What Lasts: How to Save your Soul from Mediocrity (Concord, NC: CiRCE Institue, 2023).
[3] Roger Scruton, A Very Short Introduction to Beauty (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009).
Love it Cooper!
Tanner’s rizz though 🤣😂🤣