I have yet to be thunderbolted in the neck by an angry Old Testament God, so come on in. I’m not much of a churchgoer, so my friends think it’s funny to joke about walls crumbling when I enter a vestibule or water boiling as I pass by a baptismal font. I did go to Catholic preschool and lie to a nun about where I put the cold, slimy tomatoes they served us at lunch (I chipmunked them in my cheeks, of course, and then spat them into the toilet), so hey, anything’s possible.