We grow up believing some people are made of marble. Untouchable. Perfect. They speak with authority, act with certainty, and seem immune to the doubts and flaws the rest of us wrestle with. We place them on pedestals—teachers, parents, mentors, public figures. We imagine they must have something we don’t: a stronger will, a cleaner past, a purer heart.

And then, something cracks. They stumble. They fall. Or they show a side we never expected. And we realize—they had feet of clay all along.

The phrase comes from the Book of Daniel, where a towering statue made of precious metals—gold, silver, bronze—has feet made partly of iron and partly of clay. It looks strong. Impressive. But when struck, it crumbles because its foundation is fragile.

It’s an ancient image, bu...

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