When I was five, I found out my best friend, Felicia, was Jewish. I was a WASP in the first degree, able to trace my roots back to Captain Miles Standish and the Mayflower (though I didn’t know that at the time). But I had been told about my privileged place on this earth, as one of the Saved. I had been baptized, and I would go to heaven when I died. When I found out that Felicia was Jewish, I asked whether that meant she would not go to heaven. I was told that she would not, unless she accepted Jesus as her savior.
At the tender age of five I faced my first conscious existential crisis. Unable to abide such injustice, my heart closed to a god who would shut his door on my friend. Thus began my wandering life.