Slower and slower I shuffled as I approached his door. All too soon, he would see the blackness in my soul, and judgment and disapproval would flash from his eyes. It took all the courage I could muster, to knock on the door.

Yet what I stepped into was far from a judgment hall. I entered a place of peace, stillness… and the smell of freshly-brewed coffee! I felt not condemnation but welcome.
Though I managed, barely, not to burst into tears, the floodgates were opened, and out poured my woes and self-condemnation.

When it was all out, Fr. Sharkey said, “You have a plaster saint on a shelf in your mind, don’t you? An image of what you think you should be, to be holy”.

Immediately, I saw her: silent and serene, hands folded in prayer, eyes cast down, heart looking inward where she remained in union with her God.

“Oh yes, I do”, I cried somewhat proudly, and I expected a little talk on trying harder to achieve that state of holiness.

Instead, I was shocked to hear this holy poustinik say, “You must take that plaster saint, and smash it. It is not real. It is not God’s image for you. It is not you. You will never measure up to that image, and until you smash that idol, you will continue to condemn yourself.”

Tellingly, it was terror that seized my heart. This beautiful plaster saint was all I knew. She had been my model since I first started on the path to holiness. If this wasn’t who I was supposed to be, then what was?

How did God see me? How could he possibly bring forth holiness from my heart?

And yet, my spirit told me Fr. Sharkey was right.

Not Right Away

I didn’t smash that plaster saint right away. It was too frightening. But I began to ask God to lead me on his path, and gradually the idol melted away. And as it did, more of the real Cheryl Ann could emerge.

To my astonishment, I discovered in me a fire and passion, laughter, and a deep love of people.

What remained true was a love of prayer and a profound love, longing and reaching for God. But it looked different. It looked… well, more like me. And it was much more alive!

His Bit of Clay

This whole process has been unfolding now for many years. Obviously I can’t see the final picture yet, but already, I like this one better. It is the Divine Potter who is molding and working on his bit of clay—he who is fashioning my image to reflect him. And the result will be much more beautiful, radiant and true than my plaster saint could ever be.

And with the passing years, I have become aware of more plaster statues on other shelves in my mind: the Church should look like this. Madonna House should be like this. Those I live with should, of course, look like this.

Each one of those idols has to be smashed—or melted, or dismantled in some fashion. They, too, are not real. They don’t allow God to be the potter.

Each idol is a prison of false expectations, judgments, and myopic vision.

It’s true that things are changing. The Church we’ve known, for example, is looking different: many of the traditional religious orders are waning, at least in North America. But at the same time, the Spirit is also forming new ecclesial communities and calling forth lay movements. This is not death, but a new molding from the Potter’s hand.

Different Faces

Several refashionings have taken place in Madonna House, too, through the years: different “faces” given through an emphasis on the corporal works of mercy, or interracial justice, the poustinia, or a more international flavoring.

We cannot stay the Potter’s hand so that we can remain frozen in any particular look. He must remain free to mold us—and surprise us!

So too for each one of us: do we expect, demand, long for our children, spouses, co-workers, pastors, community members to look a certain way, to act a certain way, to be a certain way?

How many plaster saints remain on the shelves in our minds? Do we have the courage to let them be smashed and remolded into what God wants them to be? Do we truly believe with St. Paul that we are God’s work of art, created in Christ Jesus (Eph 2:10)? Could any of us top that?!