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.
He was tired of carrying her weight. Her financial choices and responsibilities. Her alcoholism. And he knew she was tired of his drug abuse and laziness and porn addiction. And Train played. And the guy kept talking. “Thing is, man… if it weren’t for divorce, I’d have student loans.”