Plaster Saints

I’m sure you’ve heard of the book “Tuesdays With Morrie.” It’s a memoir Mitch Albom wrote about a series of visits he made to his former sociology professor Morrie Schwartz.  Well, I have “Tuesdays with Mary” (not her real name). We used to enjoy getting together for coffee after Wednesday morning Mass but the virus-that-shall-not-be-named put a stop to that. After a few weeks of soul crushing loneliness, we figured out a way to continue getting together and started meeting outside at her house, under the eaves, and spaced several feet apart. We are sheltered from the incessant rain this summer but we’ll have to figure out a new plan once the weather turns cold. One day at a time…

This past Tuesday we were discussing the wildly popular TV drama The Chosen. If you haven’t seen it, we highly recommend you watch it! The director describes it as “not your grandma’s Jesus show” and he isn’t kidding. The series portrays Jesus through the eyes of those who met him. I can guarantee you will see yourself in one or more of the characters. I can totally relate to temperamental and impulsive Simon Peter! What I love about this show is that the apostles are depicted as flesh and blood humans that sweat, cry, laugh, feel emotion, and make mistakes. They are not plaster saints.

It was Mary that introduced me to the phrase “plaster saints.” The dictionary defines them as a person without human failings. In pious literature and art these people are often held up as tranquil and perfect examples of what we should aspire to be. In my personal experience it’s impossible to achieve that. Thankfully God’s grace goes a long way to assist me in overcoming struggles and temptations.

The most plaster-y plaster saint has to be St. Therese of Lisieux. She is almost always portrayed as cloying and sweet. Her sister edited her writings and likely introduced an element of florid Victorian piety into Therese’s original diary entries. Therese is also reputed to send roses in answer to a prayer and many people find this very appealing, myself included.

The truth is that St. Therese was a spoiled brat when she was little. She was the baby of 5 surviving daughters from a fairly comfortable family and her mother died when she was very young. It’s no wonder her family overcompensated for this great loss and pampered and indulged her. But Therese had a tremendous and sudden conversion at the age of 14. Most of us don’t experience sudden conversion. It’s more like 5 steps forward and 3 steps back and repeat and repeat and repeat. Eventually St. Therese followed her sisters into the Carmel but it wasn’t all smooth sailing after that. She struggled with the other nuns at times because she was high-spirited and often misunderstood. Near the end of her life she experienced a very dark period that tested her faith.

I bought Therese’s diary titled “Story of a Soul” in the first flush of my conversion/reversion but the book sat unread on my shelf for quite some time. Then one year I needed to find something to read for Lent. By this time, I had heard rumors that Therese’s writings were saccharine and antiquated so I figured if I could get through this book it would make for a great Lenten penance. It would be right up there with putting dried peas in my shoes. So, I cracked open the book and was surprised to find msyelf becoming engrossed in it. Out came the highlighter – the book soon sported baby blue lines and stars throughout. Yes, Therese’s writings can be somewhat effusive but she was very much led by Love and the Holy Spirit so it’s no wonder she found it hard to rein herself in.  

In Therese’s thirst for life she also acknowledged her littleness, her utter dependence on God. I was tempted to post several of Therese's quotes referring to this but there are simply too many. Instead I will close with her last words at the tender age of 24 – “My God, I love you.” 🌹