On Jan. 7, Pope Leo XIV announced a new cycle of catechesis dedicated to the Second Vatican Council and its documents. He praised the council for rediscovering “the face of God the Father, who, in Christ, calls us to be his children.” He further wrote that the council “initiated important liturgical reform, placing at its center the mystery of salvation and the active and conscious participation of the entire people of God.”

These words, profound as they are, cannot fully capture the gift, goal, impact and significance of Vatican II. They do, however, offer an important lens for approaching the council: the beauty and splendor of the church, whose center is Christ.

Scripture testifies to this beauty in several places, including where St. Paul describes the church as a community reconciled to God in Christ, presented as holy and without blemish (Col 1:21–22, Eph 5:27). Holy men and women across the ages have testified to this beauty, not only through their words but also through their lives of charity, sacrifice and fidelity. But while the church is indeed beautiful, what this beauty consists of is not always easy to see.

Throughout the history of the church, its beauty has often been misunderstood, missed, obscured and even ignored. Hence the axiom ecclesia semper reformanda, or “the church must always be reforming itself.” What is beautiful about the church can also be concealed by our imperfections as Christians or by our own reductionist ways of imagining what the church is and ought to be. When people imagine or speak about the beauty of the church, there is often an unconscious tension between competing visions: good works versus structures; things versus people; the cult of clergy versus the baptismal dignity of every Christian; purity of belief versus loving embrace; glamour versus the gift of leadership; obsession with certainty versus pilgrimage; simplification versus paradox; the quest for social dominance versus the commitment to mediate Christ’s presence; power versus love; riches of gold versus richness of the Spirit; homogeneity versus diversity; hierarchy versus walking together.

The beauty of the church transcends any single attempt to define or fully articulate its manifold dimensions. It is rooted in Christ and therefore cannot be exhausted by any particular historical expression, structure, culture or theological formulation. Every Christian is called to embody it in their lives and actions. Asking what constitutes the beauty of the church is therefore always a valid question.

One way to think about Vatican II is that it sought to draw attention to the church’s inherent beauty and to dimensions of this beauty that had become obscured. In continuity with previous councils, the council is clearly invested in the enduring task of stating, clarifying and defending the truths of Christianity. It can be understood as having a particular concern with bringing forth the beauty of the church and the beauty of the truths the church teaches. It invites the church to look again at itself in the light of Christ and to rediscover how the Gospel becomes beautiful when embodied in the life of the Christian community.

In announcing this year’s cycle of catechesis, Pope Leo reminded us of what motivated Pope John XXIII to call the council and the task he set before its fathers and theologians. Asked why a council was needed, John XXIII is said to have replied, “I want to throw open the windows of the church so that we can see out and the people can see in.” Whether or not this quote is true, we know that in his opening address to the council on Oct. 11, 1962, he urged that the way in which the church communicates the truth must emphasize a pastoral approach characterized more by the “medicine of mercy” than by the severity of condemnation. It is in this way, he argued, rather than in “renewing sentences” or condemning heresies, that the church proves the validity of her doctrines.

Vatican II’s vision, captured in different ways in its 16 documents, is that the church’s beauty is not primarily found in its buildings, institutions, ceremonies or even in the brilliance of its theological formulations, but instead in a community in whose life the presence and beauty of Christ are clearly visible. Its reform is less a call for reimagination than a ressourcement—an invitation to return to the source, Christ, and to the primary identity of Christians as witnesses to the life and death, ministry and teachings of Jesus.

Pope Francis affirmed John XXIII’s conviction when he recommended in his 2013 apostolic exhortation “The Joy of  the Gospel” (“Evangelii Gaudium”): “Instead of seeming to impose new obligations, [Christians] should appear as people who wish to share their joy, who point to a horizon of beauty and who invite others to a delicious banquet. It is not by proselytizing that the church grows but by attraction” (No. 15).

Pope Paul VI, who closed the council, made a similar point in “Evangelii Nuntiandi,” issued on the 10th anniversary of the council and affirming one of its profound insights: the centrality of evangelization to the self-identity of the church. As he observed, “Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses” (No. 41). We might therefore summarize Vatican II’s vision as the call to make the beauty of the church visible by witnessing to Christ’s love and compassion for all people, irrespective of their creed, race or nationality.  

This article appears in November 2026.

The Rev. William I. Orbih, from Abuja, Nigeria, is a visiting assistant professor of theology and the seminary rector at Saint John’s School of Theology and Seminary in Collegeville, Minn. He received his Ph.D. in theology from the University of Notre Dame.