Chapter 33: A Minor Misstep

August 22, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

On Thursday morning, we continued what we intended to be our pattern for the school year — running together, then showers. I placed my call to Father Nicholas while Elizaveta was showering.

"A young woman from an Antiochian church in Fort Wayne approached me yesterday at school," I said after he confirmed I was doing OK and not depressed. "She saw my cassock and made the correct connection. She'll probably start attending this weekend."

"Very good. What church does she attend back home?"

"Saint John Chrysostom," I replied.

"I'll call there later today to confirm she's in good standing. What's her name?"

"Maryam Khouri. She asked to join our study group."

There was a brief pause, "I suppose there was no way to avoid that. Remember what we discussed?"

"Yes, I do. Elizaveta and I discussed it yesterday, and then at the banquet, Elizaveta spoke to Maryam for about ten minutes. I met a few guys at the banquet last night, and Clarissa and I are scoping out the guys for the final member of the group."

"Your wife is right on top of the concern."

"There was also a concern at the medical school about me wearing my cassock for the yearbook photo and for the 'White Coat' ceremony. Doctor Warren, the Dean, took it under advisement. He's supposed to let me know today."

"Did he express a concern about wearing it to class?"

"Not directly, though he did mention that there were other occasions for which they required a coat and tie. I got the feeling he was uncomfortable with the whole idea. I can't imagine the beard and ponytail helped. Nearly all the guys were clean-cut with relatively conservative hairstyles."

"That's not surprising. Think about most doctors you know, including Doctor Evgeni."

"True. The Dean is supposed to let me know today. I'll call you tonight and let you know."

"You're having dinner at Nik and Tasha's tonight, correct?"

"Yes. Mark and Alyssa will be there."

"That seems to have settled down. Matushka Elizaveta's doing?"

"I would have to say it was, though I think it was more about Tasha having someone to talk to and confide in who was close to her age and in a somewhat similar situation."

"Was your situation worse than you let on?"

"No, I don't think so. It really was just a small bump in the road. I think once Tasha asked Elizaveta for guidance, the entire problem basically disappeared, and I think you understand why."

"I do. And that's a reason you need to be very careful with your actions towards other young women."

"Yes, Father, I know."

"I know you know, Deacon, but as we discussed, it doesn't hurt to be reminded. Anyway, please call me this evening to let me know what the Dean had to say."

"I will."

We said 'goodbye', and I flashed the switchhook and dialed my grandfather's house. My mom was in the shower, but Grandpa Michael said she was doing as well as could be expected and asked if Elizaveta and I would join them for breakfast on Saturday. I quickly checked with my wife, who was dressing, and then affirmed that we'd be there.

After my call, Elizaveta and I had breakfast, then I left for MMS for the second day of orientation. I met the four girls in the cafeteria for doughnuts and coffee, and we compared notes on the people at our tables at the banquet. The best guy at my table had been Mo, but I wondered how a Muslim and an Orthodox Christian would relate, especially given the history of Christians in Syria and Lebanon under the Ottomans, so I didn't mention him.

The morning agenda was an introduction to the curriculum by Doctor Warren, followed by a talk about the principles of clinical medicine by Doctor Mertens. That took us to our morning break, after which there was a lengthy session about career planning, with the admonition not to wait until clinical rotations began to decide where to focus, as success would require additional study in advance of those rotations.

As soon as we broke for lunch, I went to Doctor Warren's office, and his secretary showed me directly into his office.

"Good afternoon, Michael," he said. "Or do you prefer Mike?"

"Either one is OK," I replied. "I'm called both with fairly equal frequency. Well, my sister calls me Mikey, but I'd prefer you didn't use that name."

Doctor Warren laughed and nodded, "Understood."

"Have you reached a decision?"

"I had, but then I was contacted by two students about the situation, and I am sitting on the horns of a dilemma. I could simply enforce the rules as they are written, but that strikes me as a bit too heavy-handed because of an exception which was made three years ago."

"May I ask?"

"An Iranian refugee had a religious objection to wearing a tie, such that he'd have been unable to participate in any event for which a tie was required. That's one of the reasons I asked you how important it was. But as I thought about it last night, it dawned on me that I can't judge how serious someone's belief might be, and I'm in a position where someone might demur because they felt they couldn't be firm because I'm the Dean. So I had decided that I had to leave it to you, but then two students approached me, one who was uncomfortable with you wearing your cassock and one who was offended that I asked you to remove it."

I could guess who they were with some level of certainty. The one who was offended that he'd asked me to remove it HAD to be Maryam because neither Clarissa, Sandy, nor Fran would have done that without talking to me. The one who was offended by my wearing it was very likely Mo, though my level of certainty wasn't nearly what it was about Maryam.

"I didn't ask anyone to talk to you," I replied.

Doctor Warren nodded, "That's what the student said, and I'm going to guess you know who it was, though I can't confirm nor deny anything."

"I have a pretty strong suspicion," I replied.

"And the other one?" he asked. "Just out of curiosity, mind you."

"A suspicion, but not one strong enough that I'd hold it against the person absent proof, nor would I be willing to voice it. And, to be honest, people are entitled to their opinions."

"Well, the objection to you wearing the cassock to class is, frankly, irrelevant and inappropriate. I don't see how it's unprofessional in any way, especially as I see clergy in the hospital dressed that way all the time. Before I decide about Friday, I did want to ask you about your comment about people being upset if you weren't in your cassock for the ceremony. May I ask who? You don't have to answer."

"My father-in-law and my grandfather would be very unhappy, but it's my wife who would take the most serious issue."

"I don't recall your application stating you were married."

"I wasn't. We married at the end of May. In the Orthodox Church, once a man is ordained, he is no longer free to marry. I had to marry before I was ordained, or I would have been required to take a lifetime vow of chastity. That was NOT in the cards."

Doctor Warren nodded and smiled knowingly, "I'm right there with you on that idea! A cousin of mine is a Catholic priest, and I told him what I thought before he went to seminary. And I should have realized you were married, given there was a young woman, who is not a student, sitting next to you at the banquet last night."

"Given the number of students and faculty there last night, I'm not sure I'd even call it an oversight."

He smiled, "Thank you. I think, all things considered, I don't find the cassock disruptive or unprofessional, and given we made an exception on religious grounds in the past, I'm going to allow an exception in your case for our ceremonies, but I would very much prefer conformity in the yearbook. The Iranian student was in a coat with a collared shirt buttoned to the top. Would having your picture in your coat and tie offend you?"

"That won't offend me," I replied. "And just so we're clear, I didn't take offense at your concern, either. We Orthodox may be rigorous, but in general, we're not fanatical."

"I don't know much about your church," he replied. "But what I do know is it seems close to Catholic."

"Most people not familiar with the Orthodox Church do see externals that look Roman Catholic, at least if they're familiar with the pre-Vatican II church, which I would guess you are. The theology is significantly different, and unless you're signing up for a theology class, I think we'll leave it there."

Doctor Warren laughed, "I haven't set foot in a church except for weddings or funerals in thirty years. Anyway, I think we have something we can both live with, and you should go get your pizza."

"Thank you, Doctor Warren. I appreciate the accommodation."

"You're welcome. And thank you for being eminently reasonable."

"You're welcome."

"I'll see you later, then."

We shook hands, and I went to the cafeteria to join Clarissa, Sandy, Fran, and Maryam. I chose three slices of pepperoni pizza and then sat down next to Clarissa.

"What did he say?" Clarissa asked.

"No problem with the cassock, including for tomorrow, but he did request I allow them to use the coat and tie picture in the yearbook. I agreed. He also mentioned that two students had approached him about my cassock. One who was for and one who was against."

Maryam averted her eyes, confirming instantly that she was one of the two.

"What asshole complained?" Sandy asked.

I shrugged, "Don't know; don't care."

"Clarissa, did you go to the Dean?" Sandy asked.

Clarissa shook her head, "I wouldn't have done that without asking Petrovich if it was OK, and I didn't do that."

"It was me," Maryam said quietly. "I felt it was totally wrong to ask a deacon to remove his cassock! That's no different from asking someone to take off their clothes because you don't like them!"

I was so tempted to joke that I hadn't thought of that idea, but I couldn't say that in front of Maryam! I also wished she hadn't gone to the Dean, but I completely understood why she had, and frankly, I suspected my wife would have had the same inclination.

"Thank you," I said. "I appreciate it."

"Mom and Dad have told me about the disrespect for our clergy in the Old Country."

I nodded, "And I've heard horror stories from my grandfather and his friends about the treatment of clergy in Russia at the time of the Russian Revolution, and I've read about the persecution under the Communists."

"Mike," Fran asked, "aren't you worried about a jackass who complained?"

I shook my head, "No. His or her problem is his or her problem."

We finished our lunches and then went to our next session which was a Q&A with current fourth-year students. None of us asked any questions, but we listened intently to the answers to questions other students asked. Mostly, the answers conformed to what we already knew, especially with regard to the need for strong study groups. There was also some good information on the NBME part exams, which we'd have to take at various points during medical school.

"Those exams sound like even more of a bitch than I thought," Sandy said during our break following the Q&A.

"I don't think any part of this is going to be easy," I said. "And how about that question about anatomy?"

"I'm a bit freaked out even thinking about that happening on Monday!" Fran said. "I mean, I know I have to deal with it, but the idea of a dead body gives me the willies!"

"Well, given your chosen specialty is about increasing the population, I can see that," I replied. "Ours is about preserving it!"

"What about lots of blood?" Maryam asked. "That's what concerns me."

"That's not a problem for Petrovich," Clarissa said. "In fourth grade, he saved a little girl who was bleeding profusely."

"Really?" Maryam asked.

"He was in the newspaper and everything."

"All I did was take off my shirt and use it to put pressure on her wound. It was the ambulance guys who said I saved her life."

"In fourth grade, I'd have run away screaming!" Maryam said.

"Which is what most of the kids did, except for a couple of guys who thought the fact that she was bleeding all over the place was cool."

"Boys!" Maryam said, shaking her head. "That sounds like my two little brothers!"

"In case you didn't notice, Petrovich is a boy," Clarissa smirked.

Maryam frowned, and I was sure she was uncomfortable with Clarissa joking and teasing.

"Maryam," I said gently, "Clarissa is my closest and dearest friend. She has my express permission to tease and joke."

"You don't find it disrespectful?"

I shook my head, "No, I don't. Have you known a deacon my age before?"

"No. Our church doesn't have a deacon, and the ones I know are all my dad's age or older."

"So you've probably never seen them with their friends, then."

"No."

"I suspect, strongly, they joke and tease. And in Clarissa's case, I expect her to challenge me, too. She's one of the primary reasons I've been successful for the past four years."

"How did you become friends?"

"She asked me to join her study group Freshman year. She, Fran, Sandy, and I studied together all the way to graduation. Clarissa, Sandy, and I agreed to go to the same medical school. Fran's choice was more or less dictated because her husband received a scholarship and stipend to get his Master's degree at Taft."

"Your study group was all girls?"

I shook my head, "No. Sandy's boyfriend Pete and Fran's husband Jason were part of the group, and the next year, our friends Robby and Lee joined us, along with our friend Sophia, who's Greek. She comes to church somewhat regularly. And there was a mix over the rest of our time at Taft. We do need to find a guy for this group, as I said."

"Six appears to be the correct number, at least for anatomy," Clarissa observed. "And given they said they'd only guarantee to honor fully formed groups of six, we do need to find someone today or tomorrow. But we need to find the right person."

"We have our small group breakout sessions this afternoon," Sandy said. "Even though they're on balancing school and life, it's a good chance to hear people talk."

"I think it really needs to be Mike who chooses," Clarissa replied.

"Why?" Maryam asked.

"Petrovich needs a male friend here, per both his pastor and his wife."

Maryam nodded, "It is a bit strange for a deacon or priest to have close female friends."

"Mike is WAY more than a bit strange," Sandy teased.

That earned her a sour look from Maryam, who, while not nearly as conservative as Nik, was going to have to adjust to the playfulness and teasing of our small group, especially with me being the target of much of the teasing.

"You didn't mention anyone from your banquet table, Mike," Fran said.

I nodded, "The one guy who I thought was the most serious student is probably not the best choice."

"Why?"

"Just a feeling," I temporized, as I didn't want to cast aspersions.

I was reasonably certain that 'Mo' was short for Muhammad, and while I knew an Antiochian priest with the same last name — Abdallah — I strongly suspected Mo was a Muslim. And if so, that might create significant tension in our group, not to mention I had a good idea that he might have been the one who had complained to Doctor Warren. If that were the case, he'd turn us down.

The more I thought about it, though, the more I wondered if I should get the potential conflict out in the open rather than allow it to simmer and manifest itself in some ugly way in the future. If I asked him to join our group, it would put him in the more difficult position where he'd have to decide what to do going forward, and I could simply go about my studies.

Of course, I could be completely wrong in my assessment, and the complaint could have come from a fundamentalist evangelical, which, all things being equal, was probably more likely when it came right down to it. I realized I was letting the historical prejudices of Orthodox Christians against Muslims guide me, and I wasn't even completely sure Mo was a Muslim, though everything pointed in that direction.

"You know what?" I continued, "Let me talk to the guy from my table. I don't want to make a mistake based on an initial impression which might be wrong."

We finished our lunch and went to our breakout sessions. By random luck, Maryam was in my session, but none of the others shared a session. The next two hours were spent basically reprising the strategies which Doctor Hart and Doctor Mercer had discussed with me during the course of my undergraduate studies. It appeared to be very new to many of the students, and I was surprised at the few students who appeared to have been straight-A students without studying hard in college. They were disabused of the notion that it was possible to get through medical school without studying and without a study group.

During our break, instead of going to sit with my study group, I went to where Mo was standing, filling his coffee cup.

"Hi, Mo," I said.

"It's Michael, right?" he replied, turning to face me.

I nodded, "Yes. I was wondering if you were interested in joining a study group?"

A look of surprise spread over his face, but he quickly recovered.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked.