A recent trip down memory lane led me to wanting a Lego set (my maternal grandmother had Legos for us to play with when we were children…..). So, it seems that I’ve joined the Legos craze. I wasn’t going to be satisfied with just any of the latest “Legos sets.” I drove across town this morning in search of a Legos store where one can find “anything Legos.” I ended up combing through several bins and tables of individual Legos pieces in search of the pieces and colors I wanted. After a time, I realized “perhaps I’ve been here awhile?” I checked the time, I’d been combing through bins for two hours in search of the individual types of Legos pieces I was there to find. A bit manic, perhaps! Perhaps the store clerk was a bit amused (I was the only customer in the store for most of that two hours, so my active hunting through piles of Legos was readily observable). The money I paid for my carefully-selected bag of Legos was perhaps justified simply by the enjoyment of two hours searching intently through piles of Legos!
I subsequently spent much of the afternoon at home beginning to assemble the Legos creation I had envisioned – a Legos church. An unlikely way to spend my day off?
Then, disappointment. After so much effort to collect all the desired Legos pieces I could find, I found out at home (I rather suspected when leaving the store) that I don’t yet have enough pieces to finish erecting a church. I got the foundation laid, started the walls, installed doors and windows, and have something of an altar and tabernacle. Off to the side, I have Legos pieces for a steeple. There aren’t enough pieces, though, to complete the upper portion of the walls or a roof.
Perhaps, however, this is a case of art mimicking life. Or, more specifically, Legos mimicking how we experience faith. We can lay a foundation and start building a faithful life, but we’re really never done. Nor can we finish this on our own. We’ll likely never have all the pieces.
Perhaps I’ll never want a roof on this Legos church. If there were a roof, I’d never be able to see what’s inside. In faith, what’s inside needs to be made visible rather than hidden (i.e., the inside of this Legos church would be hidden to viewers if there were a roof) – we likewise lay ourselves (our insides) before God to be improved upon. We’re to take what we learn in church out into our lives and communities – our faith needs to be made visible by how we live (sometimes pastors say at the end of mass, ““Go forth, glorifying the Lord by your lives”).
In a sense, maybe my Legos church is as done as it is suppose to be. On with the continued building of life and faith.
Kim Burkhardt blogs at A Parish Catechist and The Books of the Ages. If you are a new visitor, it would be great to have you follow this blog (thank you!). If you know someone who would like this blog post, please share it with them (thank you!).
