Beauty will Save the World

In The Idiot, the 19th-century novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky creates a story around the quote, “Beauty will save the world,” exploring the transformative power of beauty in a world marked by corruption and suffering. The protagonist, Prince Myshkin, is described as “the idiot” because of his innocence, honesty, and compassion. His capacity to see beauty in others contrasts sharply with the cynicism, materialism, and moral decay of those around him. While the novel neither confirms nor denies whether beauty is enough to save the world, it leaves us to wonder about its redemptive potential and its role in confronting darkness.

It’s a powerful thing to consider—to believe, even just for an instant, that beauty has the power to save the world. It sounds outrageous, tone-deaf, and even idiotic in the face of what we can only imagine life is like in war-torn and climate-devastated places. Beauty, it would seem, is the last thing that could save the world.

And yet, we get a hint, a whiff, and a taste of the power of beauty in our Gospel reading today: the only account of the Wedding in Cana found in any of the Gospels. Perhaps because of its uniqueness, this story has captured minds from Christians and non-Christians alike across time and space.

In the first of his miracles in John, Jesus chooses to turn water into wine—a miracle that has no utilitarian purpose other than keeping the party going and saving the married couple from shame. It also reveals his glory to his disciples—not by healing someone blind, restoring movement to someone who cannot walk, or raising a loved one from the dead—but by transforming water into wine. And it’s a miracle that almost didn’t happen.

Enter Mary. The same Mary who said “yes” to the angel Gabriel, who carried Jesus for nine months, who sang a song of joy and revelation, and who knew the stigma of shame as an unmarried Jewish teenager in a hyper-patriarchal society. She defied that world by birthing a vulnerable, beautiful baby—the Messiah—into the world anyway. Her faith had deepened, her soul magnified, and she became Jesus’ mother.

Now Mary, like most mothers, has a way with words. From the text, it’s clear Jesus has no intention of putting his “Messiah” hat on. He’s at a wedding to let loose after traveling around gathering disciples. But just as mothers do, Mary spoils the fun by tactfully saying, “They have no wine”—in other words, “Jesus, do something.”

Even the Son of God hesitates. He says, “Woman, what concern is that to me and to you? My hour has not yet come.” He thinks he knows better, but mother knows best. Mary turns to the servants, ignoring Jesus’ remarks, and says, “Do whatever he tells you.” Classic mom move.

What Mary seems to know before Jesus does is that what seems innocuous, unproductive, and unnecessary is often the means by which God brings glory into the world. God used her—an understated, unmarried girl—to birth God’s glory. Jesus, finally catching on, instructs the servants to fill six empty jars with water. When they draw it out and present it to the master of the banquet, a miracle happens: 180 gallons of water are transformed into the best wine. In this act of unnecessary abundance and beauty, the disciples see Jesus’ glory and their hearts are changed forever.

During the beginning of COVID, I read an article about the power of beauty during difficult times. The author, Ari Honarvar, shared her experience living through the Iran-Iraq war. One night, as missiles flew and sirens blared, her family watched the anti-aircraft fire from their rooftop. To her seven-year-old eyes, the brilliant red patterns in the pitch-black sky were the most magnificent fireworks she had ever seen. From another rooftop, someone shouted a verse of Rumi’s poetry:

“Even if, from the sky, poison befalls all, I’m still sweetness wrapped in sweetness wrapped in sweetness…”

This poetic challenge to the bombers became a gauntlet of beauty, defying fear and despair. In an instant, her world became infinite and glorious—and no bomb could touch that.

In a world where war runs rampant, where convicted felons can become world leaders, and where misinformation thrives, it seems idiotic to think that beauty could make a difference. And yet, this is exactly the medium through which God chooses to reveal God’s self: using Mary’s soft, vulnerable body and belief to birth the Messiah, and the Messiah’s choice to reveal his glory through acts of beauty.

This story reminds me why I came to Christ. It wasn’t because of doctrine, theology, memorizing scripture, or Sunday school. I came because of witnessing God’s glory overflowing in my community through music and art. This is what changed my heart—and continues to do so.

The miracle of turning water into wine as the first sign revealing Christ’s glory is no coincidence. Mary’s hand in it, reminding her son of the power of beauty and awe, is purposeful. This sign not only changed water into wine but also changed the hearts of his disciples. It ushers in a heavenly banquet where all will gather around an extravagant, unnecessary, beautiful feast—a sign that is all around us even now.

This is the power of looking for, participating in, and beholding beauty in our lives despite the evidence: so that our hearts might be changed and so that we might become disciples of the one who is bringing more than enough justice, more than enough love, and more than enough beauty.

So, where are the places of beauty in your life? And how is Christ inviting you to participate in it? Because beauty will save the world—for it already has.