Rabbi Polonski answers his door to find Joan standing there: "Ah, you again." Joan apologizes for bothering him, but asks to speak to Grace for a minute. He says, "I'm afraid she just left for Hebrew class." "Family thing," huh? He says she'll be back around 9:30 or 10:00. Joan: "Did you say 'Hebrew class'?" He says he did: "You know, when pasta begins to get cold, it's really…" Joan apologizes and says Grace has a notebook she really needs. He says she's welcome to come in and look, but that Grace took her books with her and said something about a chemistry exam. Joan mutters, "Perfect. Cursed by Hebrew class." She suddenly realizes how bad that sounded and gasps: "No offense, Rabbi." He replies, "Well, unfortunately, Grace seems to share your point of view, which is why she's managed to put off her bat mitzvah for three years." Joan: "Bat -- her what?" Oh, please. Is Joan really this sheltered, this uninformed? Honestly, even if she'd never met a Jewish person in her entire life, surely she's watched enough TV to pick this up. I knew what a bat mitzvah was before my age was in double digits. Then again, she didn't seem to have picked up the fundamentals of laundry from watching television either, so maybe she just has never watched television, or she's exceptionally oblivious. But then, why would God select an exceptionally oblivious person for all these missions and projects? Yeah, yeah, "mysterious ways." The Rabbi explains what a bat mitzvah is. Joan: "You've given up on the pasta, right?" He agrees: "Mmm, a while ago, yes." Joan: "So, after you do this mitzvah thing…that's it, you're all grown up?" Rabbi Polonski: "In theory, yes, but in practice, becoming an adult is more a series of steps and missteps. Don't you think?" Joan's cell phone rings and she answers it, saying, "Luke, I'm working on it." But it's Helen: "Joan Girardi, where the hell are you?" Joan says she can explain everything, but Helen doesn't want to hear it: "Just get your butt home right now." She hangs up, and Joan turns to Grace's father, saying she has to go: "I think I have some coming of age to do." He wishes her luck, and makes a mental note to install a peephole first thing in the morning.

As Joan's leaving, her phone rings again, but this time the ring tone is "When the Saints Go Marching In" and the display says, "Incoming Call: God" against a background of fluffy white clouds. Ha! That? Was awesome. She answers it: "Ha ha, very funny. What now?" It's Convenience Store God, asking, "Joan…should you really be going home right now?" Joan replies, "Okay, can I get something off my chest here? What's with God the sexist? Yeah, I said it. How come the girl in the family has to do all the cooking and running around? How old-school is that?" Convenience Store God ignores some customers while he defends himself: "Okay, Joan, check my record: I think you'll find when I call one of you to action, it doesn't matter which chromosome I gave you." Joan: "Oh, and this is your call to action? Go and run a bunch of ridiculous errands?" He reminds her she made Luke a promise. Joan: "I also promised my angry mother I would get my butt home." God thinks she's in an interesting situation: "What are your priorities? Which commitments will you honour?" Joan says he's getting very good at stating the obvious. He says he couldn't hear her and that the line is breaking up. He's totally faking the static. Couldn't God just arrange for static? Joan says, "This is not funny…hello? Hello?" She finally hangs up, sighing heavily.