A Non-denominational Jew Weighs in on the Conclave and Catholic Leadership
Fr. Fred came off more as a hippie than a priest. He wore the collar, but other than that, you never would have guessed he was a man of the cloth. He was a small man, cute, even. His office was adorned with macramé plant holders and beanbag chairs and quilts. It felt like a new-age birthing center without the feminists.
A (Non-denominational) Recovering Jew Among Them
At church I felt OK. In sat next to Tommy who explained Catholic things to me. Ironically, I felt more comfortable in that Catholic church than I did in any Jewish temple I’d been in in the last 10 years. Maybe it’s because I feel betrayed by the Jewish people. Maybe it’s because I think Zionism is as evil as anti-Semitism. Maybe it’s because the rabbi at the temple where I grew up seems to have next to no concern for his dwindling congregation and the economic slide of his community so long as he keeps collecting his handsome salary—with benefits. I dunno, but I felt OK.
Jake and Caroline’s first date was at The Whistler. They talked about Ronnie, how much they loved The Diplomat, and debated the better ride-share service, Uber or Lyft. She was Uber, he was Lyft. They got wasted on Sazeracs and had sex at her apartment. It was incredible for both of them. Caroline stopped taking sex advice from Ronnie.