Volume Five, Issue 3
EDITORIAL
Lucinda M. Vardey
APPREHENDING BEAUTY
Mary Jo McDonald
A LIFE EMBROIDERED: THE BEAUTY OF THE CLOISTER
Chiara Marisa Melodia O.S.C.
THE BEAUTY OF JESUS
Lucinda M. Vardey
SALVE REGINA
The Dominican Sisters of St. Cecilia
WHISPERS OF ETERNITY: BEAUTY’S DEPTH AND THE URGE TO SURRENDER
Leanna Rose Parekh
BOOKS OF INTEREST
Adrienne Corti
To introduce the subject of Beauty has its challenges because magnificence can only be hinted at and never fully captured. One of the reasons is that beauty is primarily experiential, involving the senses and is particular to each person. The paradox, though, is that beauty moves us collectively beyond ourselves and unites us in moments of its manifestations. These moments would include experiencing with another the awesome light-play of a dramatic sunset, the powerful surge of ocean waves against a rocky shoreline and the delicacy of an open red rose, while smelling its dulcet, otherworldly fragrance. The created world, then, provides a pathway to encountering beauty, and the wonders of nature that illustrate God’s handiwork.
In this issue Mary Jo McDonald explores how what is aesthetically pleasurable can transform us and invite us to participate in beauty’s expression. Not only does our participation involve creating beauty through art, but also the art of living beautifully.
Sr. Chiara Marisa Melodia O.S.C. shares her journey from a career in science to a cloistered life as a Poor Clare sister. She addresses the beauty of legacy, of embracing a Rule of life from centuries before, where the Spirit still guides the prayer and the purpose of singularly loving and serving God and others. The call to wholeheartedly follow Jesus is one that is imbued with the beautiful. We reflect upon Jesus’ beauty especially as it has touched and affected those who followed Him.
The short video of the Dominican Sisters of St. Cecilia’s singing Salve Regina at Compline embodies the aesthetics of order and harmony as a prayerful and loving example of transcendence so central to expressions of beauty. As Evelyn Underhill wrote in her classical work Mysticism, “Beauty is simply Reality seen with the eyes of love.”
Yet beauty too, touches us in ways and means that are not always delightful and pleasing. Leanna Rose Parekh sees only glimpses of beauty in her daily life, and addresses the need to notice what lies between “life’s tangible pain and the mysterious promise of eternal renewal.” She writes of the spiritual necessity to heed “the delicate nuance between holding on and letting go” in the “sacred, ever-unfolding mystery” of our existence.
Adrienne Corti concludes our issue with a review of John O’Donohue’s book Divine Beauty: The Invisible Embrace . Influenced by its underlying Celtic spirituality, the book merges poetry and soul, landscape and imagination, symbols and metaphor, love and
beauty, to provide a rich resource to open to “unexplored mysteries” and experience “an endless thirst for the divine within and without.”
Lucinda M. Vardey Editor
“There is nothing so beautiful and so delightful as the inward scenes and hidden mysteries of the life of the spirit.”
Carthusian (Where Silence is
Praise).
Mary Jo McDonald is a theologian, spiritual director, retired hospital chaplain and ecumenical liturgy leader as well as a founding member of the lay community, Contemplative Women of St. Anne. She volunteers on her local church’s Parish Council and the Diocesan Lay Pastoral Council, leads community reflection within church groups and gives retreats and speeches. She has published reflections in “Called to Pray: Advent, Lent and Easter with the Revised Roman Missal” (Novalis editions 2011, 2012) and provided the interview entitled “Conversion and the Body” in the With One Accord: Learning and Living the Feminine Dimension as Church (Vol One, issue 4, 2021). She has contributed chapters in “Perspectives on Psychic Conversion” (Ed. Joseph Ogbonnaya, Marquette University Press, 2023) and “The Call of the Heart” ( Ed. Bertha Yetman, Novalis 2025).
Mary Jo McDonald
I remember reading Thomas Aquinas’ heady material on beauty, at first struck by the dry, intellectual language on a subject that surely can only be understood by experiencing the symbolic language of poetry, music and art. Yet, with perseverance I can say that without Aquinas, I would never have fully grasped the importance of the role that beauty plays in human transformation.
Human nature is naturally designed to appreciate beauty. All of our senses—sight, sound, smell, taste and touch—are involved in an encounter with beauty. However, the perception of beauty requires more than just sensibilities. Our intellect is needed to work hand-in-hand with our senses in order to discern the particular characteristics of beauty.1 Aquinas specifies these characteristics as clarity (that which shines through
form and light, immediately capturing a person’s attention), and proportion (that which gives order and harmony to what is being perceived). It is by experiencing clarity and proportion that we discover what is aesthetically pleasurable. Our intellectual function, then, allows us to both perceive and to appreciate the attribute of beauty beyond the mere physical appearance of something. Of course, not everyone appreciates the same things as beautiful. For example, someone who loves nature might be drawn to an interior design that features flowered wallpaper and earthy tones, whereas a mathematician might be more attracted to an interior design that highlighted patterns such as an orderly, straight-lined arrangement of furniture or musical notes on couch cushions. All choices portray the inherent properties of beauty, harmony, proportion and clarity; however, the various expressions represent the differing interest of each.2
One striking example of the impact that beauty plays in human experience occurs in a scene from the movie The Shawshank Redemption. The leading character, a prisoner named Andy Dufresne, manages to send an operatic musical piece over the prison’s sound system. Within seconds, the whole prison yard comes to a standstill. As the camera pans the faces of the inmates, we witness a sudden change in the prisoners’ faces and their body postures. Prison yard angst gave way to expressions of awe, wonder, and longing. The transformed features of the inmates also hinted to something more that had happened in that moment. The inmates seemed to have been collectively caught up in a new awareness, as though called beyond the depravity of their present existence to a fuller sense of their felt humanity. Beauty caught their attention, overwhelmed their imaginations and evoked feelings that, perhaps, had long been buried. We viewers became witnesses to the innate human desire for beauty and its transforming effects, even on those we might deem “lost souls.” To what, then, does beauty call the human person?
Aquinas attests to beauty as God’s nature. Since human beings are made in “the image and likeness of God” (Genesis 1:27), carrying within themselves the “spark of the divine,” beauty plays the profound role of connecting humanity with the realm of the Divine, with God.3 In fact, Aquinas believed that those aspects of beauty—proportion, colour and clarity—visible in nature, such as the vibrant hues of autumn leaves or the unique design of a snowflake, point to a deeper order working within all of God’s creation. In other words, beauty evokes not only an aesthetic pleasure but also fulfills the human soul’s innate desire for God. Nineteenth century French Carmelite and mystic, St. Elizabeth of the Trinity, believes beauty to be humanity’s apprehension of God and the means to mediate God’s presence to others. She prayed “May He imprint His divine beauty in us, and, wholly filled with Him, may we be able to give Him to souls…”4
Beauty points the way to God but it also manifests the presence of God’s love in a person’s soul. As a hospital chaplain leading an ecumenical Sunday worship service, I recall being moved by the beauty on the faces of the elderly veterans as we prayed together. All beauty, especially the beauty in each other, must surely radiate and reflect the beauty of God.
A person may enjoy the aesthetics of beauty but refuse to follow beauty’s invitation to transformation which draws human nature more fully into the divine realm. Such transformation requires a willing response to the graces given in the experience of beauty.
In an age of constant distraction fuelled by social media and frenetic activity, the adage “take time to stop and smell the roses,” speaks profoundly of our need to not only appreciate beauty but also to create it. The practices of “arts” in cloistered orders (embroidering altar cloths, for example), as part of the daily routine, along with prayers, hymns and participating in household duties, portrays a great wisdom. Through creating as well as appreciating beauty, we are drawn closer to God, and so to our own ongoing transformation and fulfillment.
Beauty’s role in our ongoing transformation becomes intentional when we, too, become mindful of taking time to make of our daily lives, a work of art. This requires that we invest time for our need for beauty, look for ways to create beauty and, furthermore, open ourselves to receive God’s loving beauty to transform our souls and radiate God’s presence. ■
Chiara Marisa Melodia O.S.C. is a Poor Clare sister. Born in Alcamo, Sicily on 9 th January, 1967, she entered the Clarisse convent in Cortona, Tuscany, where she took her solemn vows in 2002. She is currently Superior of the community of St. Clare in Sansepolcro in the province of Arezzo in Italy. With a degree in Chemistry, she has always been passionate about researching the Word of God and classical humanities. She regularly holds spiritual retreats and conferences at the monastery, and offers specific biblical courses for different age groups.
Chiara Marisa Melodia O.S.C.
Clare of Assisi, founder of our Order and the first woman in Church history to write a Rule for Religious Life (the Order of the Poor Clare Sisters) ended her earthly pilgrimage on 11th August 1253. She was described in the earliest biography of Francis as “Clare by name, clearer by life, clearer by virtue.”1 Who, then, was our holy Mother? Born in 1193, Clare belonged to the noble, wealthy and influential Offreducci family in Assisi and was renowned for her physical and spiritual beauty. When she was 18 years old, and while her relatives were planning her marriage to a person of prominence, she escaped from the family home on the night of Palm Sunday 1211 for the small Franciscan church of Porziuncola. This bold gesture was inspired by a deep desire to follow Christ Jesus, as well as her admiration for Francis. At Porziuncola Francis, who was not a priest but a layman, officiated at the para-liturgical rite of cutting off Clare’s abundant blond hair. From that moment on, Clare became the bride of Christ, totally consecrated to Him, humble, poor and crucified. Shortly afterwards she was joined by her sister, Agnes.
After a brief stay with Benedictine nuns in the monastery of Sant’Angelo di
Panzo near Assisi, the two sisters found a permanent home in San Damiano, the place Francis had restored a few years earlier. There he had prophesied that it would become the home of holy women consecrated to God. For a while, Clare and Agnes remained alone, but soon they were joined by other companions who were eager, like Clare, to incarnate the Gospel in a contemplative dimension and to live in poverty as a Privilege. These women were Pacifica, Benvenuta, Balvina, Filippa, and over time a growing number of other women were added to this list, including us, the Poor Clare sisters of Borgo Sansepolcro.
Life in personal and communal poverty, dwelling together as family in the style of the first Christian communities, are the dominant features of the Clarissan charism. Significant and beautiful is our life and mission, considering “the many gifts we have received and do receive daily from the Father of Mercies, especially that of our vocation”2 as Clare reminds us in her Testament.
Our monastery is an oasis of peace and silence In the heart of the Tuscan town of Sansepolcro, famous for being the birthplace of Renaissance artist, Piero della Francesca. The small cloistered community is presently composed of five sisters who live simply in the spirit of family, sharing life, work and prayer.
Many people visit the parlour in need of being listened to and helped in finding meaning in a fast-paced world that isolates us and is more and more marked by individualism. The monastery is an icon of synodality, in which we can assure people that journeying together in kinship is indeed possible. An authentic love for the Lord inevitably expresses itself as fraternity, despite all the challenges it entails.
My sisters are elderly, but not at all discouraged by their advancing years. They remain in the present, open and hopeful towards the future, exposed to the promptings of the Spirit and ever trusting in divine providence. Theirs is indeed an authentic lesson in Christian living! Undoubtedly the protection of the cloister enables us to gain a fuller encounter with the Lord, but the message that our monastic community brings to the outside world is not one of enclosure but of communal contemplation. We serve and are available to listen, pray and welcome all who desire to be guests at the monastery, where they can find a place to reflect and detach themselves from the ordinary routines of their daily lives.
Our seraphic Father, St. Francis, introduced this way of living faith and praising God, not as a hermit monk but together with his brothers. For it is in human relationships, beginning with our families, that we all make our journey towards maturity and awareness.
Being the third of four children, there was certainly no lack of fraternal relationships at home. I was educated in Christian principles mainly by my mother, whom I consider a great theologian. She was outspoken in her faith and grounded in its expression much like Timothy’s mother Eunice (cf. 2 Timothy 1:5). In my parents I always had examples of commitment to duty, to work, to sacrifice and was very much loved at home. Everything was at my disposal including support for my studies at the Liceo Classico Cielo d’Alcamo, and later in the faculty of Chemistry at the University of Palermo. But that strange and irritable restlessness God had long put in me in a latent form to lead me to Himself, nagged at me and magnified more intensely when I had earned my degree and realized my dream of becoming a researcher. Researching molecules was indeed fascinating, but it was not enough. What to do? I felt that I should waste no
more time, so I set out to find a place where I could be in silence and solitude. A priest friend suggested I visit a Poor Clare Monastery and when I came out of the parlour, I was changed: all the anxieties and longings that had previously plagued me had mysteriously disappeared. From that moment on, I kept in regular contact with the monastery. My parents adamantly opposed my entering religious life as they had other aims and expectations of me.
I left my native Sicily thirty years ago and joined the Poor Clares of Cortona where I underwent formation and took my final and solemn vows. I was asked to serve the community of Fiesole (near Florence), low in numbers and stability, so I left Cortona being made aware of what it means to be a “pilgrim and a stranger” in this world. After six years among those sisters and having closed the monastery, I landed in Sansepolcro.
I had never thought of becoming a cloistered nun. In truth, I had always felt a sort of repulsion for this kind of life, for those prison-like grilles, but I understood the beauty of prayer, of singing, of reciting the divine office. Only through prayer could I reach everywhere, reach all categories of people and be face-to-face with the Lord, be a voice for those who have no voice.
Monasteries are embroideries of multiple stories, and each story, like each life, is singular, precious and unique. However, each life has in common an encounter, an event that touched the fibres of the heart, that effected its course: “Christ Jesus who became our way.”3
Monastic life, while a pillar of the Church, faces several challenges today, not the least of which is the lack of vocations. This crisis, however, does not paralyze or discourage me: from its earliest days, Clarissan life has proven to have depth and be capable of enchantment.
This Jubilee Holy Year with its theme of Hope is now underway. It is up to we monastics to continue to offer meaning and credibility by striving to cultivate and prioritize our passion for God and humanity. As St. Clare’s mystical experience brought her totally in God and totally in history, so may be it with us. ■
“God is invitation, beauty, and permanent surprise.”
Iain Matthew O.C.D. (The Impact of God).
Lucinda M. Vardey is the editor of With One Accord and the author of ten books. For more on her background please visit our website.
Lucinda M. Vardey
“The beauty of Jesus is how God planned humankind to be.”
John Navone S.J. (Toward a Theology of Beauty).
Jesuit theologian, John Navone wrote that the “presence of God is Beauty itself.” This presence is one that is experienced in differing ways: by feelings, through an ambience or atmosphere, in scripture, within liturgy or participation in the sacraments, and in private prayer alone or with others. We feel such presence in creation, in nature, and the changing seasons, when all our senses are brought alive in memories, in the movements of our hearts, in the magnificence of a waterfall. French philosopher, Simone Weil explained that the “pure authentic feeling of beauty” contains the presence of God, and that we experience an “incarnation of God in the world” through beauty. “The beautiful” she wrote “is the experimental proof that the incarnation is possible.”1
How then could the beauty of the incarnated presence of God in humanity be captivated and described? Jesus’ beauty is beyond description or measurement as beauty pervaded everything he was, did, and spoke. The prophet Isaiah foretold how beautiful were his feet upon the mountains “who brings glad tidings of peace, bearing good news announcing salvation!” (Isaiah 52:7). What was it that made Simon Peter, Andrew, John and James, drop their
nets and follow Jesus from the shores of Galilee? Weil’s words could provide us with an answer: “Beauty captivates the flesh in order to obtain permission to pass right to the soul.”2 Jesus was so integrated that the beauty of his entire being shone like light that pierced the souls of the early apostles and his followers. “Come follow me” was like an initiation to participate in his beauty: “Come and see” was an invitation to partake of its relationship. As St. Louis de Montfort referred: “There is no beauty apart from You.”
Artistic interpretations of Jesus help bring alive a personal relationship with his beauty. St. Teresa of Avila valued religious art as means of deepening prayer and spiritual growth, as did many after her. “O adorable Face of Jesus, sole Beauty that ravishes my heart,” wrote St. Thérèse of Lisieux in her autobiography. Many mystics who entered into a spiritual marriage with Jesus were led to deeper blissful states, as if bathed in and possessed by his beauty. These experiences with the mystery of God’s presence in and through Jesus, bring souls to unity with Divine beauty; that inner abiding that lives interiorly in the soul.
The “redeeming Beauty of Christ” calls
us to “know Him, not only in words, but if we are struck by the arrow of his paradoxical beauty,” said Pope Benedict XVI (as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger) “then we will truly know him, and know him not only because we have heard others speak of him. Then we will have found the beauty of Truth, of the Truth that redeems. Nothing can bring us into close contact with the beauty of Christ himself other than the world of beauty created by faith and light that shines out from the faces of the saints, through whom his own light becomes visible.”3 ■
“Happy indeed is she who is to cling with all her heart to Him whose beauty all of the heavenly hosts admire unceasingly.”
St. Clare of Assisi (Fourth Letter to Agnes of Prague).
https://vimeo.com/78790623
Leanna Rose Parekh is a devoted writer, editor, strategist, and theologian, whose work spans both the poetic and the practical. From vibrant local communities like St. Basil’s Parish through renowned Canadian charities such as the Heart & Stroke Foundation, to global humanitarian organizations like World Vision International, Leanna’s story and editorial work spans both scale and depth. With over a decade of experience in content creation, tone and voice work, and brand messaging, she brings a deeply human approach to storytelling. Her leadership philosophy is radically people-centred, nurturing environments where high-performing teams root and creativity blooms. As a wordsmith with a heart for humanity, she is profoundly passionate about climate justice, humanitarian aid, child protection, maternal health, and the empowerment of women and girls. Her work is a quiet revolution, a call to explore faith not merely as doctrine, but as a living, breathing encounter with the Divine.
Leanna Rose Parekh
Life’s exquisite beauty is born of the holy feminine urge to surrender—to let go, to marvel at life’s mystery even as we encounter its raw, ruthless underbelly. Beneath every captivating bloom hides a shadow of harshness, a reminder that beauty is as deep as it is delicate. In every season of nature, in every ebbing moment
of time, I have encountered beauty as a teacher; inviting my heart to pause and ache for Heaven’s promise.
I have learned that true beauty is never one-dimensional. It is steeped in contrasts—the soft and the brutal, the transient and the timeless. As a woman, I
feel this Divine Lover inviting me to marvel not only at life’s luminous gifts, but also at its wounded, imperfect parts. In that intricate moving tapestry, beauty’s transformative potential unfolds when we dare to lean into its opposite.
Growing up as a nature child, I roamed wild spaces that seemed to whisper secrets of eternity. In those days, time was endless. Now, as a wife and mother, I am rewilding those childhood meditations, reminding myself that both the earth beneath our feet and the hours in our lives are finite gifts. Each moment carries with it the bittersweet invitation to yearn for an eternal paradise, even as we fumble to capture each fleeting detail. To truly experience nature’s beauty, we must learn to honour its bitter ferocity as well as its tender grace.
The earth is a living thing—dynamic, unpredictable, and wildly generous. It pulses with life in its growth, its death, and its miraculous rebirth, all unfolding in a delicate ecosystem. We often try to tame this force by tending to it lovingly, but control is an illusion. Nature does not yield to our human need to hold it safe; its wondrous power is revealed when we simply watch, listen, and allow. In the ruthless cycle of life and death, even the discomfort can become a doorway, an invitation to be transformed by the wild grace of creation.
This past winter, during the spring thaw when icicles began to pop against soft, melting snow, my husband and I took our children on an unplanned wander through the woods. In that shifting light, while the little ones collected sticks and sought out traces of fairy doors, our path led to a startling sight—a vivid streak of red across the snowy canvas. A fellow hiker mentioned that ahead lay the remains of a deer. In that moment, I chose to welcome the children’s unfiltered curiosity rather than shield them from life’s harder truths.
In the silent clearing, the children approached the stillness of that scene with wide, searching eyes. There were no rehearsed words—only a gentle invitation to observe, to hold space for wonder and grief alike. At dinner, our conversations meandered from the mystery of nature’s cycles to the wonder of what constitutes both body and spirit. The “dear dead deer” became for us a natural parable, bridging the gap between life’s tangible pain and the mysterious promise of eternal renewal. In that honest moment, a pause to see allowed the Spirit to speak in whispers that transcended textbook explanations. It reminded us that every encounter with loss deepens our longing for Heaven.
Yet even as the forest taught us with its vivid cycles, another invitation came from the relentless passage of time. Earthly hours slip away with quiet insistence. We often try
to outsmart time—squeezing days into minutes, overloading ourselves in a desperate effort to hold on to what seems precious. I confess, I have been a chronic doer: a solver of problems, a keeper of schedules; from the sprawling complexities of work to the ceaseless demands of motherhood. In chasing efficiency, I too almost missed the soul of living.
I have discovered, however, that the true art of life is learned in the spaces between busy moments. In the soft, lingering hug with my daughter—taking an extra few seconds to notice the curl of her hair, her tiny hands, the weight of her cheek—I found a quiet sanctuary where the Divine whispered assurances of love and presence to us both. In those precious minutes spent with my son when he returns home from school, sharing a slowly prepared snack and listening about his day, the fast cadence of life gently decelerates. In these rituals, life’s profound beauty is not measured by the tasks we complete, but by the mindful love we pour into each moment.
Slowing down is not about abandoning momentum. It is about choosing what counts and clearing the clutter, making way for what aligns with our highest values. In letting go of the constant chase for completion, I learned that life gifts us abundance in its stillness: in the textures of dough kneaded in a sunlit kitchen (even amidst the arguing little ones), in tending a garden (regardless of the tools and toys strewn in planting), in folding linens with the care (even with stains that refuse to disappear). These moments, delicate yet defiant, remind us that being present is the purest form of worship.
Ultimately, the secret of our existence unfolds in the delicate nuance between holding on and letting go. We must first face the raw ugliness of decay and impermanence before we can fully appreciate beauty’s promise of flourishing eternity. It is in the honest witnessing of loss—the fallen deer in the snow, the silent fade of a child’s morning slumber—that our hearts awaken to the bittersweet call of Heaven. This is not a call to escape this world, but an invitation to be present to its full measure.
Let us then be present: to notice tender details—a soft touch, a quiet pause, an honest glance—and to honour the impermanence of our days. In accepting both the wild ferocity of nature and the swift passage of time, we find that true beauty, in its fullest expression, is a prayer of surrender. And in that surrender, we come home—not just to ourselves, but to a sacred, ever-unfolding mystery that whispers of eternal life. ■
“Each day in our world beauty is born anew, it rises transformed through the storms of history.”
Pope Francis (Evangelii Gaudium n. 276).
Adrienne Corti
Divine Beauty: The Invisible Embrace by John O’Donohue is a book that enveloped my whole being the first time I read it when it was published in 2003. The more recent U.S. edition removed the word “divine” from John’s original title “Divine Beauty.” I wonder if that was to emphasize the fact that beauty is encoded in everything; being present to us in our ordinary everyday lives. Perhaps it was felt that the descriptive word “divine” placed it in a realm beyond the reach of everyone, such as the separation of the sacred from the profane. I believe that some people think that the divine is something to be attained, but, as O’Donohue makes clear throughout the book, we are awash in the divine.
This book has an element of timelessness about it. Beauty seemed to be for O’Donohue an antidote for the suffering and insane inhumanity he observed in the world. So it is for us today as we are faced, more than ever, with the challenge to bring blessings, light and hope to a world darkened by destruction, cruelty beyond measure and a consumerism that is rampant and against all to which the Gospel calls.
Divine Beauty gives us one key we can use daily and moment by moment, inviting us to be present to all that we have been given, to reach out in compassion to all of creation and bring wholeness to what needs healing. What then would give our lives a profound sense of peace no matter what distress and chaos surround us? We can turn to the grace of a river as O’Donohue did: “If only our lives could achieve, or indeed allow such grace and elegance. If we could but find a rhythm of being which could balance
contemplative grace, a poetry of motioning and an accompanying stillness and silence, our pilgrimage through this world would flow in beauty through the most ragged and forsaken heartlands of confusion and dishevelment.” He re-iterates this same flow of thought on the last page of the book as he exhorts once again: “If we could but turn aside from the glare of the world and enter our native stillness, we could find ourselves quickening to new life in the eternal embrace.” How would our lives be different if we took his words to heart?
John O’Donohue (1954-2008) was an Irish author, poet, priest and philosopher who was steeped in Celtic Spirituality. It is evident that the Celtic landscape and Irish heritage which cradled O’Donohue from birth, strongly influenced the poetic soul using broad brush-strokes to paint with words and descriptions that seep through all of our senses. Ignited by the Divine, O’Donohue’s Celtic imagination sparks and gives fire to his deep passion for all of life. Themes of awakening and surrender are woven throughout the book and invite us from the beginning to open ourselves to all the possibilities that divine beauty creates in us. These come from the seed in our mother’s womb, to the budding of innocent childhood, to the flowering of adulthood and then our final breath when we are fully embraced by the Invisible. Love and beauty are intertwined reminding us that both are fleeting and ephemeral as well as real and eternal.
Quotes and scholarship from a font of sources and schools of thoughts are interwoven throughout the book, enticing us to delve deeper into philosophy, theology, literature, science, mathematics, architecture, music, art and all that stirs us to respond to the richness of this universe of ours. O’Donohue does not simply borrow from these sources but uses them as
springboards to launch his own profound thoughts and reflections on beauty. In the background to all of this is love. Towards the end of the book, he delves into the power and ecstasy of love, its tenderness and openness that can awaken and transform the hardest of hearts.
O’Donohue invites us to a banquet where we can feast and linger on rich imagery, abundant morsels on which we can chew and ruminate, then meditate in quiet and stillness on the nourishment we have ingested. Reading this book felt like swimming in a fathomless ocean, discovering new depths, opening to unexplored mysteries and experiencing an endless thirst for the divine within and without. ■
by John O’Donohue
268 pages
Published by Bantam Books (2004) Available in Hardcover US $20.79 and Paperback US $16.83
O God, our Creator, You, who made us in Your image, give us the grace of inclusion in the heart of Your Church.
R: With one accord, we pray.
Jesus, our Saviour, You, who received the love of women and men, heal what divides us, and bless what unites us.
R: With one accord, we pray.
Holy Spirit, our Comforter, You, who guides this work, provide for us as we hold in hope Your will for the good of all.
R: With one accord, we pray.
Mary, mother of God, pray for us. St. Joseph, stay close to us. Divine Wisdom, enlighten us.
R: With one accord, we pray. Amen.
We welcome your comments and reactions and will consider sharing them in future editions or on our website.
Please send to editor@magdalacolloquy.org
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With One Accord journal is published in English and Italian and some past issues are also available in French. To access the other language editions please visit our website.
With One Accord signature music for the Magdala interview composed by Dr. John Paul Farahat and performed by Emily VanBerkum and John Paul Farahat.
Mary Jo McDonald—Apprehending Beauty
1 What does Aquinas say about beauty? “Harmony, clarity, and wholeness in beauty,” Shawn Buckles, https:// wisdomshort.com/philosophers/aquinas/on-beauty , May 9, 2025.
2 Lonergan, Bernard, Insight: A Study of Human Understanding,.ed. Frederick E.Crowe and Robert M.Doran. vol. 3. Collected Works of Bernard Lonergan (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992) pp 204-212.
3 Ibid.
4 Lines From Her Letters #1, compiled by Lucinda M. Vardey for Contemplative Women of St. Anne, Toronto. Chiara Marisa Melodia O.S.C.—A Life Embroidered: The Beauty of the Cloister
1 Tommaso of Celano First Life of St. Francis of Assisi Page 216 (ref. Fonti Francecane no. 351).
2 Clare of Assisi Testament (Verse 2, ref: Fonti Francescane no. 2823) Page 1175.
3 The Rule of Saint Clare (chapter 8: verses 1 and 2: ref Fonti Francescane no. 2795) page 1165
4 Clare of Assisi Testament (Verse 5, ref Fonti Francescane no. 2824) Page 1175.
Lucinda M. Vardey—The Beauty of Jesus
1 Simone Weil Gravity and Grace (Routledge, 2002) p. 137.
2 As above, p. 135.
3 Card. Joseph Ratzinger in his Address to the Communion and Liberation (CL) Meeting in Rimini, Italy 2430 August 2002.
Images used in this edition:
Cover: “Lavender and Butterfly” photo by John Dalla Costa.
Page 2 “Red rose” photo by John Dalla Costa.
Page 5 “Hand and Dove” sculpture. Photo by John Dalla Costa.
Page 6 “St. Clare with her sister Agnes and Nuns” (Anon. French School, 17th-19th century).
Page 8 “Tapestry” from Notre Dame, Paris. Photo by John Dalla Costa.
Page 11 “Christ in the Tomb” by Pietro Perugino (1805-1881).
Page 12 Detail from The Ghent Altarpiece: “Virgin Mary” by Jan Van Eyck (1390-1441).
Page 13 “Dead Deer” by Franz Marc, 1913.
Page 14 “Mother and Child” by Léon Bazile Perrault, 1894.
Page 15 “River Scene” by Samuel Palmer (1805-1881).
This edition
Copyright © 2025 Saint Basil’s Catholic Parish, Toronto, Canada For editorial enquiries, please contact editor@magdalacolloquy.org ISSN 2563-7924
PUBLISHER
Morgan V. Rice, CSB
EDITOR
Lucinda M. Vardey
ASSOCIATE EDITOR
Emily VanBerkum
CONTRIBUTING EDITOR
Gregory Rupik
PRODUCTION COORDINATOR
Michael Pirri
VIDEO EDITOR
Michael Pirri
CONSULTANT
John Dalla Costa
ITALIAN TRANSLATOR
Elena Buia Rutt
ADMINISTRATOR
Margaret D’Elia