For the most part, those aesthetics are absent in Kruszewski's bare-bones "church." The most ritualistic experience here is bowing your head to view the stories in the lectern tablets. But it doesn't feel like reading a Bible or listening to a sermon, even when Muth Jr.'s artful, humor-infused homily plays in front of the pews. Kruszewski does not seem concerned with forming his own doctrine critiquing or praising the church, but rather dissecting the complexity of Catholicism and of Catholics. As Rachel says in front of the pews, "People think it's incompatible to be gay and Catholic." But knowing how contradictory the Bible is in itself and in its relationship to modern Catholic dogma, it's no more incompatible to be Catholic and queer than it is to be Catholic and, well, anything else. Thanks to Kruszewski's intimate lens and his subjects’ openness, these well-told stories prompt reflection on not only the fraught relationship between the Catholic Church and LGBTQ communities, but about how and why people, period, exist—both fighting and making peace—within institutions catered to others.