Experiencing Faith in Authentic Beauty

“Late have I loved you, Beauty so ancient and new.” Augustine’s Confessions

Before I go into the main topic of authentic beauty as a way to experience faith, I will first give a

short background of my faith. Faith was very much in the periphery growing up. Elementary

through high school, faith and religion talk was taboo. Religion was addressed only when it

needed to be in history textbooks. I grew up attending a Presbyterian and then later a Catholic

church. The switch between the two churches seemed arbitrary for my young mind perhaps

because I didn’t understand the differences in beliefs and rites, or maybe because both

churches stood only two blocks from each other. At some point, I stopped attending church

altogether. We remember when we come into the Church, but rarely recognize when we fall

away. I attribute my moral values to my family through my parents’ teaching and interacting

with my brothers. If you want to have moral conflict and conversations of justice, I suggest

having siblings.

Though I always identified as a believer, I only truly came closer to Christ and the Church beginning my junior year at BC. God held me on to me all those years prior through what I call authentic beauty.

I am blessed for my exposure to music at such a young age and such a high level. Weekly

lessons and regular practice for trombone and piano started in 2nd grade and continued

through high school. It was a language beyond words. “The heart has its reasons which reason

knows not,” but which beauty is all too familiar. I fell in love with making music, that in

communicating beauty so much so, music became a sort of religious practice. On Sundays,

the University of Michigan offered four youth ensembles for skilled high school musicians in the

state. They had a Symphonic Band, a Jazz Orchestra, a Symphony Orchestra, and a Trombone

Choir. I participated in all of them at one point in high school, at most doing three groups at a

time (all things in moderation right?); three groups, two-hour rehearsals, six hours of music, all

on the Lord’s day. Why was I this crazy?

Music, when done right, is an expression of authentic beauty. Authenticity must come on part of the listener with an open heart to receive, but also to give back. Music, art, and beauty have the mysterious capacity to uncover our true selves. World famous atheist Frederich Nietzsche’s philosophy was centered on authenticity. He also enjoyed composition and playing piano. I don’t think beauty is found in the faceless pleasure of senseless lyrics nor the artificial ecstasy of a mechanical beat. Beauty embraces joy and suffering. It accepts offense, pain, and the mystery of death. Beauty is held not in a pristine golden calf, but on a bloodstained cross. I found authentic beauty in music, but the ultimate comfort is found in the origin of the two. Authenticity and truth rests in what is immovable in all of us, and where else could beauty be born than from creation itself? Many Sundays, I would go at an appointed time for two hours to sit in my seat with the ensemble as we collectively moved, sang, and participated from the conductor’s directions so we could all partake and share that authentic beauty in our performance. Today, we do the same thing, except Mass lasts only an hour, and we have a performance every day. God heard my prayers through my playing, and by His grace I was brought back to Him. If we can find God in all things, surely He can find us anywhere. For 14 years I have played the trombone and piano, and I hope to carry the authentic beauty in music until the very end. When my muscles become too weak to raise a trombone, I’ll play piano. When arthritis sets in and restricts my fingers from a melody, I’ll sing. When my final breath rings out in this world, I’ll sing a song of praise.