Chapter 49: Theology, Psychology, and Friendship

Sunday Of The Prodigal Son — February 10, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

On Sunday morning, when I left the altar during the canon of Matins to retrieve Father Nicholas' homily, which he'd left in his office, I was pleased to see Mr. and Mrs. Greenwald standing near Mark and Alyssa. When I returned to the altar with Father Nicholas' notecards, I quietly let him know that they were in attendance.

As the Matins moved to the Divine Liturgy, the hymns foretold the destination of our Lenten journey, which was nine weeks away. From the Sunday of the Publican and Pharisee, each week built on the previous one, leading to the nadir of Great and Holy Friday and the pinnacle of Holy Pascha. I'd been through it twenty-one times and clearly remembered seventeen of them. The cycle of services still generated the sadness and joy they had from the time I'd become aware of those emotions.

This year had something unique to look forward to six weeks after Pascha, and that was my wedding to Elizaveta. In some ways, it hadn't hit me and probably wouldn't until Father Nicholas led Elizaveta and me around the table in the 'Dance of Isiah'. The same could be said for my ordination, which was about two months after my wedding and wouldn't feel 'real' until the bishop put his hands on my head and I raised the chalice for the first time during the Divine Liturgy.

I refocused on the liturgy just in time for the anaphora, and when the service ended, Elizaveta and I chose to sit with Mark, Alyssa, and her parents rather than taking our usual spot with Tasha, Nik, and Elizaveta's friends.

"Good afternoon," I said when Elizaveta and I sat down.

"Good afternoon," Mr. Greenwald replied. "The kids were right about how long the service is!"

I nodded, "You get used to it, but it can be pretty hard on your feet at first."

"To be honest, we sat for a good portion of the service. Mark and Alyssa told us the times we should stand."

"We each do what we are able to do," I replied with a smile. "Being here is the first step in what is a lifetime journey."

"What about assurance?"

"The promises made in the Scriptures are that the Church will be saved, and the Church is composed of those who love God. If you think about it, the assurance offered by your old church was contingent on you not showing yourself to be reprobate in the future, but I have to ask, how many sins does it take to be 'reprobate'?"

"A very interesting theological question for which I never received a satisfactory answer," he replied.

"If you love God, you're in," I said with a smile. "It's pretty much that simple. Now, that's no license to sin, but it does allow us to fall, get up, and move forward. Call it the trajectory rather than any individual acts. Fundamentally, any deity who decided, before he created you, to send you to Hell to prove he was just, isn't just by any definition of that word."

"This entire experience is very different from anything I've ever known," Mrs. Greenwald said. "Bert was up until 3:00am reading the book you gave us last night, and he was telling me about it at breakfast this morning."

"The best way to learn is to come to the services, listen to the hymns and prayers, and hear the Gospel and the homily. Sunday school is a plus, but everything you need is found in the services and in your daily prayer rule."

"We're not used to a ten-minute sermon," Mr. Greenwald said. "It's usually about forty-five minutes of verse-by-verse Bible teaching."

"For us, that's incorporated directly into the services, as I suspect you noticed."

"There was a lot of Scripture quoted, that's for sure!" he agreed.

"During Lent, we have extra services on Fridays — either Compline or an Akathist. And on Wednesdays, instead of Vespers, we have the Divine Liturgy of the Pre-sanctified Gifts. There are also other extra services at various times. They're listed in the bulletin, and there's also a complete list of every service between now and the end of Bright Week, which is the week following Pascha, on the table in the narthex."

"That's your Easter service, right? The one that starts around 11:00pm and goes until around 2:30am?"

"And then the party!" Elizaveta interjected.

"I can safely say I've never been to a party that started at 2:30am!" Mr. Greenwald said.

"I was two months old when I went to my first one!" I said with a grin.

"I made my mom miss Pascha!" Elizaveta declared. "I was born on Great and Holy Friday!"

"Mike, can I ask you a personal question?" Mrs. Greenwald said.

"Mom..." Alyssa warned.

"It's OK," I replied, fairly certain of the question she was going to ask.

"My apologies, but isn't Elizaveta awfully young to marry?"

I steeled myself for the righteous indignation which I could FEEL emanating from the young woman next to me who was soon to be my wife.

"No, I'm not," Elizaveta said, far more calmly than I'd expected. "I'll be sixteen when we marry, and it's exactly what I want to do. It's totally my decision, and I'm sure it's the correct one."

"But don't you think you should finish High School?"

"Yes, of course! We won't start a family until after I graduate."

"What about college?"

"I'm taking the necessary classes for college-bound students, but as of right now, I don't plan to go. I prefer to stay home with our kids, if possible, and it should be, given Mike will be a doctor."

"Why not wait?" Mr. Greenwald asked.

"Dad!" Alyssa protested. "I explained why! The bishop wants to ordain Subdeacon Michael to the diaconate, and once that happens, he's not allowed to marry. He has to marry beforehand, or not at all."

"Why is that, Mike?" he asked.

"Can you imagine the potential for scandal if a clergyman were dating?"

"That happens all the time with our youth pastors; it's normal."

"And has there ever been an issue? A nasty break-up? Some impropriety?"

"Remember what happened to Bill!" Mark prompted.

"An unfortunate situation, to be sure," Mr. Greenwald said.

"He had to resign because his fiancée was pregnant," Mark said. "He's selling shoes at the mall now instead of pastoring a church."

"That is exactly the kind of situation we avoid," I replied. "And can you imagine a priest counseling a young woman on marriage if he were interested in her? The conflict of interest could destroy a parish!"

"That makes sense," Mrs. Greenwald said. "But why not wait a few years to marry?"

"To what end?" Elizaveta asked. "Nothing will change in two years, and I am sure I want to be a deacon's wife and a doctor's wife. I spoke with our former deacon's wife as well as the wife of a doctor, plus our priest and a professional counselor. We have the blessing of our bishop and of my parents." Her voice became firm, and I could hear the «бабушка» (babushka) she was to become speaking, "This is exactly what I want and exactly what I intend to do!"

"Nobody is making you do this?" Mrs. Greenwald asked.

I laughed softly, "Elizaveta came to me and basically demanded I marry her. If anyone is being 'compelled', it's me because I'm not sure I would have survived saying 'no'!"

"Mom," Alyssa said. "Would you be upset if Mark and I got engaged?"

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

"No, I'm just asking."

"No, I don't think I would."

"I'm only about two years older than Elizaveta, and Mark is four years younger than Mike."

"Those two years make a big difference."

"She's WAY more prepared to be a wife and mom than I am!" Alyssa said. "She cooks, bakes, and sews, none of which I'm any good at! You still do my laundry because you never think I do it right!"

"There's more to marriage than that!" Mrs. Greenwald protested.

"I think she'll figure that one out fairly easily," Alyssa said with a smirk, surprising me, as I'd never heard her make a risqué remark in the time I'd known her.

I managed not to laugh out loud, but Elizaveta giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hand, and Mark tried his best but couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"Alyssa Michelle Greenwald!" her mom exclaimed in that voice that parents reserve for a three-name reprimand.

"What?" Alyssa asked petulantly. "I'm not supposed to know that's what married people do? Give me a break! I had health class! I'm not totally clueless! And, yes, it's for marriage, not before!"

The last bit was said with a glance to Mark to make sure HE understood that he was going to have to wait.

"That is also the teaching of the Orthodox Church," I said.

"I should hope so!" Mr. Greenwald declared.

We finished our light meal, and I was happy to see that the Greenwalds decided to stay for Sunday School. I went to the classroom where the High School and College students gathered to teach while Father Nicholas taught the adult class, Matushka Natalya taught the grade school class, and Mr. Varlov taught the middle school class. As was usual for the pre-Lenten season, we discussed the significance of the day's commemoration, which was the Sunday of the Prodigal Son, and discussed how it related to the events which would unfold over the next two months.

When Sunday School ended, Elizaveta and I bade 'goodbye' to Mark, Alyssa, and her parents, then walked out to my car, where I removed my cassock before we got in to head for Tasha's apartment for our usual Sunday afternoon with her and Nik.

"Did you catch that look Alyssa gave Mark?" Elizaveta asked with a smirk as I pulled out of the church parking lot.

"I did. And I have to say I was surprised you didn't respond harshly to the question about your age."

"Have you ever heard Matushka Natalya or Matushka Anastasia speak harshly?"

"No."

"And do you think the bishop would be happy to have me speak that way to inquirers?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then don't you think I should act like a Matushka now?"

"Obviously," I chuckled. "But Russian women are not known for moderation!"

"You just wait, husband! You'll see a complete lack of moderation where it counts!"

"And where might that be?" I asked with a smirk.

"You'll have to wait to find out!" she teased.

February 11, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

On Monday, when I returned to the dorm after Physical Chemistry, I found a message pinned to the board outside my room asking me to call Doctor Mercer. I went into my room, set my books down on the desk, then picked up the handset and dialed. Doctor Mercer's assistant put me through right away.

"Hi, Mike."

"Hi, Doctor Mercer. I assume you're calling about Angie?"

"Yes. She's not being released because she's not coöperating with taking her medication."

"So what happens now?" I asked.

"They'll continue providing it via IV."

"But she can't stay at Clermont County long-term, can she?"

"No. She'll have to move, most likely to The Christ Hospital. They have a licensed inpatient unit."

"Would she be committed?"

"No. Her parents will check her in. They're her guardians, so they can do that without a formal legal process."

"Do you think it might help if I visited her? Maybe she'd take her medication if I asked."

"That's risky because you're setting her up to ask you for something in return; something you can't give her."

"Wonderful."

"It's common amongst patients who resist following their treatment plans and not just ones who are being treated for mental illness. A lot of times, kids will basically blackmail their parents by only following their treatment plan if they get something in exchange. You'll see that in the ER. You'll also see parents who seek medical intervention for their kids, which isn't strictly necessary and patients who will try to manipulate you into giving them narcotics."

"And you think she's going to ask me for some kind of commitment or sex?"

"It might be more subtle — a promise to come to see her regularly, for example."

"I just never saw her as manipulative."

"She probably doesn't see it that way, either. It's as much out of desperation as it is anything else. Obviously, I'm just speculating."

"And she's lucid enough to do that?"

"If you remember how she was before we weaned her off the medication, she's a bit better than that because we know the proper dosages."

"What if I brought Elizaveta with me?"

"That runs the risk of setting her off."

"Then, pardon me, but what the fuck CAN be done?" I asked, sure I sounded as perturbed and exasperated as I was.

"Mike, relax," Doctor Mercer said gently.

I took a deep breath and let it out.

"Sorry," I said as calmly as I could.

"You're frustrated, which is normal. I'm frustrated, and so is Angie's psychiatrist. So are her parents. And Mike, so is Angie."

"Let me ask this — if I came to see her with Elizaveta, what's the worst possible outcome?"

"She puts you in the 'bad' category and never lets you out."

I sighed, "Does that really matter at this point?"

"I think it does. Will you accept talking again at the end of the week to see if we've made any progress?"

"You're the doctor," I replied. "I'm not, and even when I become a doctor, this won't be my field of expertise. I have to defer to you, even if I don't necessarily like it."

"The best doctors in the world are the ones who know their limits and work right to the edge of that envelope. Call me on Friday around this time, please."

"OK," I agreed, though I wasn't happy about it.

"Hang in there, Mike."

"I won't go off half-cocked or do anything foolish."

"I'm more concerned about depression than I am about a bout of foolish spontaneous behavior. Talk with Clarissa and Jocelyn and ask them to keep an eye on you, please. They're at school with you, so they're a better choice than Elizaveta for the next few days."

"I will," replied. "And thanks."

"You're welcome. I wish I'd had better news for you. I'll speak to you Friday."

We said 'goodbye', and I replaced the handset. I opened the door to my room and saw Jocelyn and Clarissa waiting in the lounge. They saw me and came to the room. After they came in, I closed the door most of the way, and the three of us sat on the couch with me between my two friends.

"Doctor Mercer said I should ask you two to watch for signs of depression."

"Angie?" Clarissa asked.

"Yeah," I sighed. "She's refusing to take her prescribed medications, so they're going to check her into the psych ward at The Christ Hospital in Cincinnati. I suggested going to see her and trying to convince her, but Doctor Mercer said that wasn't a good idea. She's afraid Angie will try to extract promises from me in exchange for taking her drugs; promises I obviously couldn't keep. I even offered to take Elizaveta with me, but Doctor Mercer is afraid that might set her off. I feel helpless."

"Is this how you felt when I tried to kill myself?" Jocelyn asked quietly.

"Pretty much, though, given our relationship, that was worse. I told you about sitting on the bench in the snowstorm without a coat, hat, or gloves after the Polaroids."

"I'm sorry."

"It's in the past, Jos. Everything is forgiven, and you forgave me for everything I did."

"I know, and I'm grateful. So what now?"

"I'm supposed to call Doctor Mercer on Friday for an update. Until then, there isn't much I can do except pray for Angie."

Clarissa put her arm around my shoulder, "I'm sure I'm repeating what you said, but this sucks."

"Tell me about it," I sighed.

"Put on some upbeat music," Jocelyn suggested.

I got up and put on Centerfield.

February 14, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

"I'm sorry about my parents," Alyssa said when she and Mark arrived at Doctor Blahnik's house on Thursday for catechism.

"It's nothing I haven't heard before," I replied. "And Elizaveta IS young. But that also doesn't mean she isn't ready to get married. In fact, I'd say you could argue she's more ready than I am! Did your parents say anything more?"

"No. I think the way she responded pretty much left them without an argument."

"I agree. How long have you two been discussing marriage?"

"What?" she asked innocently.

I smiled, "I saw the look that passed between the two of you when you made the comment about the limits of physical relationships before marriage. And trust me, I'm well aware of the temptations that arise."

"About six months," Mark said. "We've been dating since Sophomore year."

"How serious is your conversation?" I asked.

He looked to Alyssa who raised her eyebrow.

"Serious enough, I guess," he replied. "I think we'll need to finish college first. We'd both have to work, and money would be very tight."

"But we could do it," Alyssa said, her voice very soft and almost longing.

I wondered, if, like Tasha, SHE was the one who, despite setting clear limits, had the stronger desire to get things out of order, as it were.

"If that's a consideration, you probably want to speak to Father Nicholas about it. He'd certainly want to arrange pre-marital counseling."

"Would you do that?" she asked.

I shook my head, "No, that's a pastoral issue, so it would be Father Nicholas who did it. After all, he's married and has boys in their early teens. I suggest you wait until after you're chrismated before you broach the subject with him. You have a lot to do just with catechism and your first Lenten journey. And given that Sunday is Meatfare, I think today is a good day to talk about the shape and form of the Lenten services and the cycle of feasts."

I began with the cycle of the so-called 'movable' feasts, such as Pentecost, whose dates were determined in relation to Pascha, and then the so-called 'fixed' feasts, such as Theophany and Nativity, which were on set days each year. That occupied most of our time, so I was only able to spend about ten minutes describing the Lenten cycle of service.

"Are we supposed to attend every service?" Alyssa asked.