
Something impressed upon me early on about my husband was his passion for asceticism. He spoke about saints who wore hair shirts or walked around barefoot or put ashes in their food or slept on a bed of nails with an excitement that perplexed me.
I can see how you would admire these people who were so dedicated to the mortification of the flesh, but appreciation from a distance is as far as I typically go. Any desire to imitate them is feeble and fleeting. I still dread Lent at some level and am slow-moving in giving up any of my (many) comforts in life.
Part of this reluctance to embrace asceticism is certainly my fallen nature. However another reason for this hesitancy is my pull toward beauty. Sunsets, mountaintop views, dark mahogany, candlelight, ancient cathedrals, delicate linens, flowy dresses, art, music, poetry…these things give me life, even at a spiritual level. I have therefore had a difficult time reconciling this need for being immersed in beauty with complete detachment from material goods.
As Stephen and I have built a home together, we’ve slowly come to see each others’ perspective a little more clearly. Stephen has a deeper appreciation for religious art and fictional stories and inviting furniture. I have started to see that leading a beautiful life isn’t all about the perfect wardrobe or a magazine-worthy home.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m in no hurry to start wearing sackcloths or break up with my curling iron—perhaps eventually. However, I have started to see some different components to a beautiful life. Part of this is because of the influence of Saint Teresa of Calcutta. She has weighed heavy in my mind and heart for the past few years. Most of us know about and can’t help but love her. We have heard about her life of service to the poorest of the poor. As I’ve learned more about her and contemplated her life, I’ve developed a different perspective in what consists of a life that is truly beautiful.
We know Mother Teresa didn’t shop at Pottery Barn. She wore the same simple outfit for the majority of her life and (as I learned recently) didn’t even want new sandals when hers broke—she just kept fixing the same pair. There was nothing glamorous about her lifestyle. And yet, I don’t think any of us would hesitate to say she led a beautiful life. If this is true, then what are the elements of a beautiful life? The following are some ideas that I have come up with, based on what I’ve learned from her example so far (it is by no means an exhaustive list):
- caring for self and for others: I think a beautiful life necessarily includes caring for yourself as an act of thanksgiving to God. Furthermore, when we take care of ourselves, we are free to take care of and serve others. Taking care of others is participating in the life of charity we are called to by God: to love and be loved. As women, we are built to nurture others. That could be physically, or in a number of different ways. A word of encouragement, a smile, a work of art, a home cooked meal… these are all ways that we give of ourselves to foster growth in others. One of the most beautiful parts of Mother Teresa’s life was how she sought out the sick, abandoned people of Calcutta and showed them love and dignity. Years after her death, we are all still in awe of the beauty in this concern for others.
- contemplation: this is a topic I have written a fair amount about recently. In an age where we excel in consuming, contemplation has fallen on the wayside. Yet I think contemplation is essential to a beautiful life. Certainly (and most importantly) contemplation of Christ, but also the contemplation of the goods He has given us in the form of art, music, writing, nature—the good, the true and the beautiful. These lead us to a greater understanding and love of Him. I know Mother Teresa spent many, many hours of her life in prayer—especially contemplating the Blessed Sacrament. This was undoubtedly the source of her strength and loveliness.
- sacrifice: self-indulgence is the siren’s call of countless advertisements today, but there’s nothing inherently beautiful about it. Sacrifice, though much more difficult, sanctifies and elevates us. Nothing beautiful can be achieved without sacrifice, ask any successful artist. Getting up early to pray, skipping sweets during Lent, saying ‘no’ to the second hour of a show… these small acts of death to self end the tyranny of the ego and base desires so that we are truly free. This freedom is an important element to a beautiful life. We know that Mother Teresa could not have accomplished the good she did without tremendous sacrifice—and look at the difference she made.
- simplicity: with the minimalist movement taking over Instagram, I think many of us are seeing the beauty there is in simplicity. This doesn’t mean you have to wear the same thing every day or be an actual minimalist. However, keeping clutter out of our lives in some way leaves room for us to be immersed in beauty. This might mean saying ‘no’ to some purchases, but it can also mean keeping a lighter schedule or daily routine, eating more simply from time to time, or consuming less entertainment throughout our week. Or even simply recognizing the things worth giving our time and energy to, and those that aren’t (it’s more than you think). This simplicity invites SPACE for a deeper appreciation of the goodness and beauty in our lives and the world. Mother Teresa had a simple intention that was behind every decision. This singleness of purpose (without being distracted) is what contributed to her helping so many people.
- intentionality: it is easy to go on autopilot day to day, without considering what we are really aiming for long-term. We laugh because someone made a joke, attend an event because we were invited, say ‘yes’ because we think we’re supposed to. However, there should be purpose behind what we do daily. Doing what we feel called to do will bear much more fruit than doing what we think others want us to do, or what will look good, or what will bring us pleasure at that given moment. Pausing to consider our purpose and how are daily activities line up with that will prevent us from living an unhappy life of resentment and complacency. Mother Teresa knew that her purpose was to serve God by serving the poor. This purpose is what helped her persevere even when it was exceedingly difficult.
- joy: it’s no secret that I love celebrations. To me, celebrations are a way of fostering joy in my life and the lives of others. A joyful Christian is one of the most powerful people on the planet. There is nothing more infectious or more convincing than sincere joy. Joy makes us beautiful. Mother Teresa embodied this in the midst of death and the most tragic of circumstances—this joy captured the attention of the world and made her impossible to ignore. A woman who was attending to the decrepit and dying… happy? Nothing is more counter-cultural or more beautiful.
- investment: by this I don’t mean having a good financial advisor. But I mean a life-well lived is one that invests in others. Whether that’s your marriage, your friends, your family, or your co-workers, a beautiful life takes a sincere interest in those they encounter and does not dismiss anyone as unimportant. Similarly, it is good to invest in our interests and passions. Learning new skills, mastering them, growing as a person in some way daily is an absolute gift we can give to ourselves throughout our lives.
A beautiful life is something most of us desire, and it is not at odds with holiness. In fact I think holiness begets a beautiful life and vice-versa. But it is also true that a beautiful life does not necessitate materialism (something I need to be reminded of often). Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to hunt for beautiful pieces at antique shops, and keep an eye out for new additions to my wardrobe—but while we may not be called to a life of asceticism as extreme as some of the saints, we can still learn from Mother Teresa and live a beautiful life that is far from the Instagram notion of #goals. And that’s okay, this is better.
“Let’s do something beautiful for God.”
— St. Teresa of Calcutta
Peace,
Miranda