If you are looking for a Catechism for your young Catholic friend or family member who thinks that The Lego Movie was cool and who might possibly believe that Raiders of the Lost Ark is still relevant, you need look no farther than Kevin and Mary O’Neill’s Catechism of the Seven Sacraments, a comic book version of part of the larger Catechism of the Catholic Church, illustrated with LEGO®, with all the ‘Nihil obstat’ and Imprimaturs you need to feel doctrinally safe giving it to kids. Additionally, you get the latest interpretations of Covenant Theology from Pope Emeritus (!) Benedict XVI et. al., with its fancy focus on the Abrahamic covenant instead of the pesky Mosaic one. Written by a couple with an axe to grind against another’s LEGO® Bible, so the back of the book copy says, “this book makes profound theological concepts accessible to both the Catholic and the curious, the child and the adult.”
Of course, this is not a LEGO® production, as the publisher makes clear on the copyright page, as well as right there on the back of the book. No, this product is one of a host of Christian products using LEGO® but hiding behind the fig leaf of “brick-illustrated” denomination for their productions. At some point, I may pursue more deeply the legal intricacies of this use of LEGO® products for Christian wares, as I did in my investigation of so-called “Christian parody music”. My favorite example of LEGO® Christian products is Father Leopold Celebrates, which includes a Roman Missal and Lectionary, as well as Father Leopold’s collar, made especially for this item. (Full disclosure, I get nothing if you bought that item by clicking that link, except a small sad feeling deep inside.) Yes, some day I may delve more deeply into the world of LEGO® Christian warez, but that day is not that day.
And I honestly learned some things from this book, which isn’t too surprising, as I was not raised Catholic, but rather lapsed Baptist. (Though I turned out to be a crypto-Methodist, which is an entirely different story.) I learned just what to do with a Rosary, and some deets about the sacrament of Holy Orders, and …. Well, that’s mostly it. The rest is interesting doctrinal assertions, but having just read Voltaire’s “Ingenuous” I wasn’t completely convinced by the “brick-illustrated” argument placing the rite of confession in the Bible, and of course R. W. Morgan’s St. Paul In Britain—whatever else its faults may be—makes a strong case against the Bishop of Rome being more than just one among many bishops. But this is a Catholic book, so I am not surprised by any of these. And I wasn’t surprised by the bloody Jesus, either. Oh, the scourging. LEGO® Jesus does suffer here.
Inspired by “questionable interpretations in a popular brick illustrated Bible”, the authors set out to create this doctrinally safe story of the Seven Sacraments, and they quite honestly do a pretty good job. They are especially good with water scenes, and their set pieces—such as King David’s throne, or the plagues of Egypt—are worth the price of this book. The price I paid, that is, being next to nothing as I discovered it in a Little Library whilst walking our dogs. I suggest you pick up your copy in the same manner.
Perhaps the doctrinal issues with the popular “brick-illustrated” Bible are deeper than the fact that it (I’m guessing that The Brick Bible is what’s meant) uses a ghost figure for the Holy Ghost, or that sex and birth are depicted. Perhaps not. Certainly Catechism of the Seven Sacraments avoids using a ghost, and instead uses a funny little figure that I’m guessing is a dove, though it at times looks like a white rubber ducky about to drown itself.
And maybe it’s just being catty to despise the horrid font used, with the ‘H’ that is simply distracting and pointless, though I’m sure that’s the font the software came with. But reading through the nearly 300 pages is hard going, and as cloying as you might suspect. A lot of work went into this production, and I wonder what the kids think about this now that they’re older. (Not that much older; this was published in 2018, in the Before Time.)
There is also the Pentecost, which in this LEGO® version makes the descent of the Holy Spirit look like the apostles have flaming bags of poop on their heads.
But these are mere foibles, and though I was tempted to file this under The Banality Of Feeble, it is no worse than many other Christian tracts that I have read, and that I have and still do love. So you can check it out, if you’re into that sort of thing. In fact, you can get it on Amazon in a package deal with Father Leo celebrating mass.
And you can use the extravagant church backgrounds for your Zoom meetings, or just to remember what going to church was like.
Hopefully, you won’t have the same issue with this book that finally became a deal breaker for me: the lead narrator in the book, Fulton by name (which just happens to be the name of one of the authors’ kids), goes through the entire book wearing a backwards baseball cap. I guess that’s supposed to be … cool? (This is a slight exaggeration; he has his hat off once, whilst talking to some priests.) You know what’s cool? Smores. Though I’m not sure that LEGO® Smores are for me.
So … it’s the kind of thing that people who enjoy this kind of thing will find enjoyable. Maybe that means you. In which case, you can enjoy the spectacle. Even Charlton Heston couldn’t chew this scenery, that’s for sure.
And don’t forget the scourging.
