Living With a Saint Statue. The Basic Rules of Etiquette

When you share your home with a saint statue or two there are some basic rules of etiquette that apply.  It's a good idea to familiarize yourself with them and show a sense of propriety that may help earn you a spot in heaven.  While it alone won't get you there, it may add some weight while you are standing at the gates.  You could say...."I always kept the Blessed Virgin on the top shelf, where I looked up to her and I used a soft cloth when I dusted  her.  No harsh chemicals..." and St. Peter might say in return..."Oh, great! That's exactly what I needed to hear.  You've hit the tipping point. Come on in.".

First rule of thumb is never leave an old saint statue rolling around in a drawer or box destined to Goodwill regardless of how chipped up it is.  It seems every house whether Catholic or not has a least one broken statue that they just can't toss out.  If you can't or don't care to have a professional repair your statue, put it out anyway.  You'll be surprised when you look at a statue every day with chips and dents and a broken finger, how comforting it can be.  Just like us, we show our wear.  History tells a story on our earthly body.  My arthritic ankle tells about a night when I was 11, sneaking out for a moonlit horseback ride. I had to hobble a mile back home with an ankle the size of a football.  The horse was already back at the barn eating his hay while my father waited for me.

The extra wide thumbnail on my right hand is proof that my mother was wrong when she said sucking my thumb would ruin my teeth.  Instead it ruined my nail which grows more ridges than a topographical map now that I am older but also,  it tells about a childhood filled with separation anxiety.  I didn't get the scar on my knee until I turned 34 and began running wilderness ultramarathons.  Falling in Mule Creek Canyon was something I barely noticed until my shoe was warm with blood but that scar holds such great stories of self discovery and confidence.  All these little dings that life hands out, makes us a walking storybook, some grand memories, others deep unsettling heartbreak.  Enjoying the imperfections of an old saint statue can offer us the reminder to embrace our own imperfections, visible or not.

Our Lady of Lourdes from Chris Hart Studio

When I paint a Blessed Mommy statue, I usually paint her eyes looking down.  That is because she is made to be placed above your eye level.  That way you are always looking up to her face, toward heaven.  And that's a rule.  But rules can be broken as in the case of a very large Blessed Mommy statue, 36" or taller, whose eyes I paint looking out and slightly down.  She can be placed lower and because of her height she will appear to be radiating her love out into the world you live in.

Now, the Christ statue is usually shown looking down toward his flock, as well. So try to place the Christ statue up on a shelf or a stand of some type or in a reliquary.  A big rule here is, if you have a statue of both, your Christ statue should be comparable in size to your Mary statue if they are in the same vicinity.  That seems to be an important rule to some.  If you have a disparity in your statue size, put them in different rooms.  Personally, I like this because each saint has a message of it's own and like telekinesis, too much in one place gives you a boat load of spiritual static.  There's enough already out there.

The Blessed Mother and the Christ statues are what I consider to be a direct line to the big gun and I don't usually call them into play until I have exhausted my other saints.  Being raised a good Catholic, I hate to bother God until it's really necessary.  He's pretty busy and I know he hears me regardless of who I am talking to, as long as my petition is clear and honest.  So I prefer to have St.  Lucy where I can see her when I start my day.  She reminds me to see clearly, look below the surface and to be real with those around me.

St. Rita from Chris Hart Studio

St Rita hangs out by my bed.  At the end of my day, she reminds me to be careful what I wish for because I might get it and that makes me mindful of the unintended consequences of negative thought.  Those wasted moments hoping for some disaster to happen to someone that pissed me off are tempered by her wisdom.  Sometimes I wish for bad things to happen to someone I have no control over just to make myself feel better, less angry, less put upon. I can taste it like a glass of wine gone bad.  St. Rita helps me to replace the cork and put it somewhere to mellow.      

I keep a small St. Teresa statue at my work table to bring to mind her love of the simple things in daily living. The value of talking with people when you don't have time, watering the tomatoes on a hellishly hot day, picking up someone elses dog's poop and the inconvenience of doing the dishes after a meal with a loved one.  She helps me see that the chores I sometimes dread are a privilege and not a burden.  Believe me, I don't feel that way by nature but she keeps me mindful enough in the moment to try.  My Aunt Margaret said to me when she was 92..."It was just yesterday when I had my 16th birthday and it's gone in the blink of an eye."  She died a few days later. I don't think she'd mind the opportunity to do tonight's dinner dishes. I thank St. Teresa for trying to turn my resistance into an appreciative act of love, as hard as it may be.

And what about saint statues for non-Catholics?  I say the more the merrier.  One in every home.  Find the saint with a meaning that works for you. The story of how a person became a saint is a story that affects us all.  Their stories are archetypes that help us stay conscious in our own lives.  Yes, I know, you tell me, some of the saints were probably having psychotic visions before Prozac was invented.  So what?  That doesn't make their journey to sainthood any less valuable then your own journey through this crazy life on earth.  Embrace the saints, and be grateful you don't have to be martyred to to learn from their lessons.