Why Do We Aestheticise Catholicism?

It was a wonderful Tuesday morning — which was then interrupted by the collision of my sudden awareness of music, song, and lyrics that belted, “I heard Jesus did cocaine on a night out.” For a moment I was confused. Checking my surroundings — no, I had not fallen into some dystopian world. This is a 21st-century reality. This lyric isn’t an anomaly, either — it’s a product of what appears to be a revival of Catholicism in popular culture. 

Visual and material culture have always been intrinsic to the Catholic religion. As John Ruskin wandered through England’s gothic churches, he assessed Catholicism’s ritual and visual symbolism and commitment to the sacred as features harnessing an ideal environment for art. Ruskin’s 1855 analysis has withstood obsolescence rather well; even in 2024, the media remains profuse with ‘Catholic-core’. Much of Catholic core appears in fashion trends — the rosary-wearing fanatics, stickers of the Virgin Mary and Joan of Arc, and a whole lot of lace clothing. 

Catholic core may sound rather niche, an obscure crevice of the internet encountered by algorithmic chance, madness, or both — but I promise it is not. Catholicism, for the sake of aesthetics and stylistic purposes, has existed and flourished for quite some time. The twentieth century saw the adoption of Catholicism in numerous ways, its presence serving different roles, sometimes ornamental, and, at other times, ideological. 

Madonna’s music video ‘Like A Prayer’ is a prominent example of its role in the counterculture. Madonna appropriated Catholic imagery and terminology in an act of defiance and emancipation from an institution associated with tradition, oppression, and sexism. The video caused such a riot that Pope John Paul II spoke out against Madonna, accusing her of blasphemy. Then, nestled in the same decade, Catholicism appears in the 1981 television adaption of Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited, incorporated into ideas of disillusioned youth and the seduction of nihilistic English aristocracy. Rooted in aesthetics, Catholic core is no longer confined behind our screens but is also in the way we fashion and ornament ourselves. 

The aesthetic of Catholicism steers well clear of the Catholic dogma, its principles, and teachings — an obvious example being abstinence. But this is not the only teaching Catholicism encourages its believers to practise, despite being the most popular example to cite. There is Lent, confession, belief in transubstantiation, embodying an ethos of humility, truth, selflessness, and forgiveness. These are beliefs and principles that are entirely amiss in today’s aestheticised Catholicism. The idea of praying for those who persecute you is entirely foreign to a neo-liberal society which endorses competitiveness and hyper-individualism.

Catholic core whittles down a dense and complex religion into yet another Pinterest board. I cannot help but empathise with Larkin's perspective that it is cosplaying in its most absolute definition. But is it blasphemy, harmful, or just a natural by-product of popular culture — a subconscious cry for help, even? We live in an age largely devoid of religion, driven by staunch rationalism.   

In this case, is Catholic-core a reconnecting of sorts? Emulating, maybe there is a desire to re-discover and perhaps even embody, in our own thoughts and actions, the principles that Catholicism teaches. To not pass judgement, to be unconcerned with vanity and material possessions and, above all, to be kind. Or maybe I have got the wrong side of the stick with Catholic core. Perhaps it truly is not that elaborate, or thoughtful. Perhaps cross-necklaces are just good accessories to a white blouse.

Image from Wikimedia Commons