Our ugly tree and what beauty isn’t

(What even is beauty, beyond beauty products?)

Last winter was our first Christmas back in New Hampshire, our beloved north country, in 15 years. We were all – especially my Daniel Boone-style homesteading husband – delighted. December came and there was only one thing to do: drive to the national forest and fell a tree. It was only fitting. What could be more “New Hampshire Christmas?” So off he went with two of our kids, axe in hand. They made a day of it and chopped down a tree that fit the bill, brought it home, put it in the stand, ready to decorate. Everyone was thrilled. There was only one problem: it was beyond ugly. And so began the running commentary and string of jokes about our terrible tree – epic in concept, gross to look at. We talked about it all year… and this year opted not to repeat that particular adventure.

Why do I tell you this story? Because beauty is at the heart of Christmas and then, more than other times, we seek it and long for it. Beauty’s a centerpiece of the holiday in a way that isn’t true of almost any other facet of American life. Think about it: the traditions we love and celebrate are all about beauty. The twinkling lights. The fir on the mantel. The serene, glowing candle. We lay our eyes upon things that are lovely to look at, and as we do we’re warmed and heartened. The same is true of the enchanting music we hear at Christmas time – the Nutcracker’s “Waltz of Flowers” or Messiah’s “Wonderful Counselor.” Most of us don’t encounter this type of music any other time of year.

This is what beauty does: it lifts us on the inside. When we behold it, something in us transcends from the visible sphere to the invisible one in a way that’s lovely. This is what we mean when we say beauty is transcendent.

The key thing about beauty is so obvious that you just might miss its power: beauty is good. It’s about the good. It isn’t for anything except itself… and because it’s good, interacting with it causes us to flourish. This is why you take a picture of a sunset but not a pile of trash. You glory in the view from a mountaintop but turn away from a trailside rotting carcass. You stop when you hear the music of a lone violinist emerging from a town square but cover your ears when a toddler bangs a pot endlessly with a spoon. You catch your breath when gazing at the stain glass of a cathedral but beeline out of a squat office building with ceiling panels and fluorescent lights. Beauty is better than ugliness in every form. It’s one of the basic goods.

When we hear the term “beauty” in the modern age, it’s almost always related to physical appearance. “Beauty products,” after all: skincare, makeup, hair styling. We’re interested and invested in looking as good as possible as humans. And humans are beautiful, and some combination of physical features - or emphasizing particular features - are more visually pleasing than others. But we’re missing the point as a culture when the word “beauty” means grooming, clothes selection, and makeup routine.

Because beauty is a good and transcendent, the point isn’t and can’t be simply encountering something that pleases (visually or otherwise). Pleasure on its own sucks. So beauty’s not compliments or social media likes. True beauty points us up and out; it innately calls us to something higher. This is why there’s no beauty in a pretty person who’s harsh or proud or catty, and there can be great beauty in a person of plainer appearance with a warm, inviting face and a twinkle in her eye. I’m not saying “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” because beauty is objective and that isn’t actually true (beyond a point). I’m saying beauty is a fuller picture than our flat physiological response to physical inputs.

We aren’t very good at conceptualizing the full picture anymore – rationalism and modernism have driven it out of us. In today’s world if we can’t measure it, we can’t discuss it or even sometimes apprehend it. And this is to our great detriment since the things that matter most like beauty (and for that matter friendship and truth, poetry and character) can’t be measured.

But at Christmas, we still can grasp aspects of the full picture; we can still feel it. The wonder still penetrates at some level – wonder being another word for what beauty does inside of us. We can laugh at the ugly tree because we know the beautiful tree is actually objectively better, the thing we were (or should be) aiming for. We can wear the ugly sweater as a joke, because we know it’s making a point about what Christmas actually is about: beauty. And we can acknowledge, whatever our views may be, that a woman – whose face was never photographed – willingly becoming a mother to a beloved baby is beautiful and heart-lifting. It’s in every way one of the most beautiful things we humans encounter. (For those who believe that child was God, it’s also Beauty coming down through beauty to bring about ultimate beauty… but that’s a post for another time.)

So for all of us, I say… to beauty. To being fully human. To flourishing. To Christmas.