Chapter 21: The Fruits of the Spirit

October 12, 1987, McKinley, Ohio

“Master, bless!” I said to Vladyka JOHN when I walked into Father Nicholas’ living room.

“The blessings of the Lord be upon you, Deacon Michael,” he replied, making the sign of the cross over my upturned palm.

I kissed his hand, and he invited me to sit.

“We’ll eat first,” he said. “Then sit together and determine what’s best for you. Where is Rachel?”

“With Elias and Serafima,” I replied.

“Dinner is in five minutes, Your Grace,” Matushka Natalya said coming into the room.

Once we’d finished eating, Vladyka JOHN, Father Nicholas, and I went to Father Nicholas’ study, while his sons helped Matushka Natalya clean up.

“First,” Vladyka JOHN said, “I want to ask about your daily practices.”

“I say my morning and evening prayers, together with Rachel, though she’s sometimes sleeping while I say them.”

“Father Nicholas informs me that he directed you not to fast, at least until the end of the month.”

“I’m following that rule,” I replied.

“And according to Father Nicholas, you’ve confessed regularly and regularly receive the Eucharist.”

“Yes.”

“I need to ask this, Mischa, so please understand, but have you done anything, anything at all, which would violate your obligations as a member of the clergy?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no. Specifically, I have not engaged in any inappropriate intimate behavior with anyone. To be clear, I’m not making my request to you to avoid discipline of any kind. I have a letter with my formal request I would like to give to you.”

“I was hoping we could discuss the situation and perhaps find a different solution.”

“I would ask Your Grace to accept the letter, with the understanding that you may grant or deny my request, and I may withdraw it any time before you render your decision.”

He nodded, his face grim, as he knew that meant I was determined. I removed the letter from the inner pocket of my cassock and handed it to him.

The Right Reverend JOHN, Bishop of Ohio

Master, bless!

It is with a heavy heart and sincere regret that I write to you to request that I be formally relieved of my duties as a deacon, and request that you return me to the order of the laïty. I do not make this request lightly, nor am I making it to avoid discipline, nor to avoid confessing my sins, which are many.

These last seven weeks have been painful, and not solely because of the loss of my beloved Matushka Elizaveta. The enormousness of the challenges before me has been magnified by the prospect of being a single father while completing my medical training. The challenges are exacerbated when my actions, taken solely in Rachel’s best interest, are met with backbiting and gossip, including not just to Your Grace, but to Father Nicholas and to my grandfather.

I believe my position has become untenable. I will, in the pursuit of my medical license and in providing the best possible care for Rachel, no doubt create further ‘concern’ and the reactions to my choices will only serve to increase my level of stress. The current stress I’m under is already affecting my health.

There are other concerns as well, but I believe what I have written in this letter is sufficient. I ask your consideration of my request, and await your answer, when you are prepared to give it.

Kissing your right hand,

Deacon Michael Loucks

Vladyka JOHN read it, then handed it to Father Nicholas to read, and once Father Nicholas had read it, he handed it back to the bishop.

“One of your other concerns is the prospect of raising Rachel on your own, is it not?” Vladyka JOHN inquired.

I nodded, “Yes, it is. But that is not the reason I am making my request.”

“I understand, but I also know from Father Nicholas, that is weighing heavily on your mind. Were you aware that Metropolitan George Khodre, one of the leading Orthodox theologians, permitted the marriage of a widowed priest in the Archdiocese of Zahleh?”

“I was not aware,” I replied. “Under Antioch or Jerusalem?”

“Antioch. And that case is not unprecedented, though I find none outside the Middle East.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine the turmoil and uproar such extreme «ekonomia» might bring. And I’m not sure how one would go about dating or courting in such a situation, without uproar similar to what we’re experiencing now, and very likely worse.”

“But you would agree that it is in my power to grant it, would you not?”

“I would,” I replied. “The canons are guidelines for bishops, providing advice on how to best care for their flocks and defining their relationship with their brother bishops.”

“Then, let us discuss the situation, and see if we can come to an appropriate resolution.”

“Before we do that, I need to apologize to Father Nicholas for the way I spoke to him yesterday.”

“Apology accepted, Deacon,” Father Nicholas replied. “You are under tremendous stress, and I take that into account.”

“Very good,” Vladyka JOHN said. “Though, Deacon, we must watch our tongues at all times.”

“Yes, Vladyka,” I replied.

“Father Nicholas, do you know who has made the accusations?”

“The only one to say anything directly was Yulia Kozlov, and I believe that was only because she was distraught at the loss of her daughter, and was also the product of a long-simmering dispute between mother and daughter over who was best qualified to make decisions for Rachel.”

“A situation I witnessed on more than one occasion as a parish priest,” Vladyka replied with a slight smile. “And true even when the young women in question were in their twenties, rather than their teens.”

“The others simply expressed a ‘concern’ which, I believe, is also true about comments made to Mikhail Ivanovich Borodin, Deacon’s grandfather.”

“Actually, it was couched as a concern,” I replied, “but it was a clear accusation against Natalya Vasilyevna Antonov, Deacon Vasily’s daughter. As you may know, we dated, at least as much as Father Deacon Vasily would permit, but concluded that her vision of marriage and family were not compatible with my medical training and my ordination.”

“And that is true about the person who approached me as well,” Vladyka replied. “Father, how many people approached you?”

“Three, besides Yulia,” Father Nicholas replied.

“Natalya Vasilyevna,” I said, “is of the opinion that her ex-husband may be behind the whispering campaign against her, which, I believe, Father Alexi has heard about.”

“He has,” Vladyka confirmed. “Father, have you spoken to those individuals?”

“I have,” Father Nicholas replied, “but they maintain they are hearing what Deacon calls a ‘whispering campaign’.”

“Did you inquire as to whom they heard it from?”

“They declined to say.”

“This insidious gossip must stop!” Vladyka said firmly. “I will put a stop to it, one way or another. Deacon, you have gifts which the church sorely needs. I accept that it is possible for you to exercise them as a member of the laïty, but I believe they’d better serve the needs of the Holy Church if you exercise them as a deacon. My question to you is this — am I wasting my spiritual and emotional energy in trying to find a solution which allows you to remain a deacon?”

“My concern, Vladyka,” I said carefully, “is what I expressed to Father Nicholas — there are things I have to do for my medical training for which there are no compromises and no alternatives. If someone were to object to me performing a vaginal exam, inserting a Foley catheter into a woman, or some other procedure that involved female anatomy, I’d tell them to mind their own business. That is, to be blunt, nobody’s business but mine, except insofar as I come to you or Father Nicholas for spiritual advice.”

“I am in complete agreement,” Vladyka JOHN said. “Father Nicholas, has anyone complained about Doctor Evgeni Vladimirovich Petrov, because he delivered babies?”

“Not once in my nineteen years here,” Father Nicholas declared.

“So, then, we hold Deacon Michael’s treatment to the exact same standard,” Vladyka JOHN declared. “What else, Deacon?”

“The same would be true for my choices for how I care for Rachel. The only reasonable option at this point is the one I worked out with Larisa Sergeyevna Federova. My mother-in-law is in no state to help, and my mom is in Goshen, and is caring for a fourteen-year-old foster child who has an infant about Rachel’s age. Rachel’s godmother works, as do all of my female friends, unless they are in school full time, such as Subdeacon Mark’s wife.

“But it’s not just that, because I will, of necessity, spend quite a bit of time with members of my study group, most of whom are female, as well as my mentor doctors, who are mostly female. That wasn’t by my orchestration, by the way, it’s simply that I was assigned to them at one time or another. My advisor is female, as is my secular counselor. That is not to say I do not have male friends or mentors; I do.

“There is also the situation with my friend Angie. I know Father Stephen Andreyev in Loveland has spoken to you about her, and that you’re aware I’m involved in her treatment, and visit her when I can. I coördinate those visits with Doctor Mercer, who is in touch with Father Stephen. I cannot in good conscience cease supporting Angie in her struggle with her illness.

“Lastly, all the single parents I know are female, and all the support groups for single parents are largely female. If I were to start attending one and make friends with other single parents, I suspect someone would object to that. I hope you can see how this presents what amounts to an untenable situation if people are going to come running to you or Father Nicholas every time they see something they don’t like.”

“Those are all legitimate concerns,” Vladyka JOHN agreed. “None of them would likely have arisen if it were not for Elizaveta’s shocking and unexpected repose. It would be a terrible message to send to allow gossip and backbiting to harm you or others, especially a young woman with a terrible illness such as Angela. The question remains, Deacon, could you see your way clear to allow me time to find a solution?”

I absolutely had to give Vladyka JOHN an opportunity to address my complaints and deal with them. Any other response would be extremely disrespectful. I had been one of his main supporters because I trusted him to be a good bishop, and that meant I had to trust him now.

“Yes, Vladyka, of course.”

“Father Nicholas,” Vladyka JOHN said, “I will change my schedule and serve a hierarchical liturgy at Saint Michael the Archangel this Sunday, and will use my homily to command an end to this nonsense of gossip and backbiting. Deacon, I wish you to serve with me so that the congregation sees you have my full support. I will contact Father Alexi and the following Sunday I will serve at Holy Transfiguration, and I would like you to serve there with me, Deacon. Then, the third Sunday, I want you to serve with me at the Cathedral. I’ll be ready to offer my proposed solution that afternoon, and will have discussed it with my brother bishops.”

“I will make the necessary adjustments to my schedule,” I said.

“And I will ensure the parish knows you will be here, Vladyka.”

“Good. Both of you, please do not discuss this situation with anyone except each other.”

“May I have permission to discuss it with Doctor Mercer, should I have a counseling session before the end of the month? I’m not sure one will happen, but I don’t want to hide things from her.”

“She’s required to keep anything you say confidential, is she not?”

“Yes. She’d lose her license if she didn’t, with the exception of a patient confessing intent to harm someone or having committed or intending to commit certain crimes.”

“Then similar to our rules for priests hearing confessions,” Vladyka JOHN observed. “You have my blessing to speak to her.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Let us say evening prayers together with your family, Father Nicholas, and then I will have Subdeacon Paul drive me home.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Visiting with Subdeacon Mark and Alyssa.”

We left Father Nicholas’ study and went to the living room where the family icon corner was, and were joined by Matushka Natalya and Father Nicholas’ two sons. Once the prayers, most of which I read as deacon, were completed, I asked Vladyka’s blessing then headed home.

October 13, 1987, McKinley, Ohio

On Tuesday evening, after karate, I ate dinner, then picked up the phone to change my plans for Sunday. First I called Doctor Blahnik to let her know that our Dinner Club wouldn’t be meeting, then I called Mark and Elias to let them know, then called Tasha.

“What’s going on?” she asked, obviously suspicious.

I could tell her one thing without getting into trouble, as I knew she’d hear about it the following evening.

“Bishop JOHN will be at Saint Michael next Sunday,” I said. “And I do not know for sure what he intends, so rather than have you drive all the way for nothing, I felt it was better to skip dinner this week. We’ll likely actually miss the next two weeks, as His Grace will be at Holy Transfiguration the following Sunday, and I will be at the Cathedral the Sunday following that.”

“Now I’m positive something is up!” Tasha declared.

“I can’t say anything beyond what I just said,” I replied. “Please do not ask anything more and please do not say anything to anyone before Father Alexi makes an announcement tomorrow at Vespers. If you say anything at all, to anyone, I could get into serious trouble.”

“Mike,” Tasha said lovingly, “you know I won’t ever betray you.”

“I know, but I was commanded to not discuss anything with anyone, and I will not disobey Vladyka JOHN’s instructions. If you care about me, and I know you do, just let it be.”

“Fine,” she replied. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you a week from Sunday at Holy Transfiguration.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up, then dialed Sheila’s number.

“You’re not calling to cancel, are you?” she asked as soon as I identified myself.

“No; well, at least not the way you mean. Next Sunday will be a hierarchical liturgy, which means the bishop will be here again, and I’m not sure what he has planned afterwards. I did cancel my dinner with my friends, so we’ll have time together, but we’ll have to play it by ear. I hope that works for you.”

“We can make it work. How will you let me know?”

“I should know more details on Saturday night; I’ll call you.”

“That sounds good. How was work today?”

“Today was just a series of things people should see their own doctor for, but either couldn’t get in or didn’t try. Yesterday we had a couple of burn victims from a flash fire in a fryer. One of the guys is going to need plastic surgery for his burns, but they’ll both make it.”

“I don’t think I could handle that!”

“Which is why I’m training to be a doctor and you’re a market analyst for P&G! How is Michael doing?”

“He’s a bit happier and he’s sleeping a bit better, which is helping. How is your perfect child?”

“It’s the chrism,” I replied.

“It’s something! I couldn’t believe how all the kids were so well behaved for over four hours!”

“The cry room is almost never used for that purpose; it’s used for nursing far more than it is for fussy babies. You even said Michael was more content than usual.”

“Is it like that in all Orthodox churches?”

“The ones I’ve been to,” I replied. “I’m sure you noticed the kids are free to move around the nave.”

“That was strange, but the entire experience was strange! Almost other-worldly.”

“Which it is,” I replied. “Everything we do is meant to remind us of the throne room of God.”

“It’s way different from the Methodist Church I went to when I was little.”

“It is, as Metropolitan PHILIP of the Antiochian Archdiocese said earlier this year, the best-kept secret in America. The sights, sounds, and smells are just the surface, though. It’s a completely different way of viewing our place in the universe, our relationship to God, and our relationship to our fellow men and women.”

“Is there something I can read?”

“The best book would be The Orthodox Church by KALISTOS Ware. He’s an Orthodox bishop in England who is also a lecturer at the University of Oxford in Eastern Orthodox studies. He’s a convert from the Anglican Church.”

“Where would I get that? A bookstore?”

“Our parish bookstore has copies,” I replied. “You can get one on Sunday.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you didn’t cancel. You’re a very interesting person and someone I think could be a good friend.”

“Thanks. You never know, but our kids might get together in fifteen years or so.”

“You’ll allow your fifteen-year-old daughter to date?”

“Yes,” I replied. “One thing I’ve come to understand is that as a parent you cannot control what your kids do. All you can do is teach them and guide them, but in the end, they decide.”

“There has to be a story there.”

“Several,” I replied.

“See you Sunday?”

“See you Sunday.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up, then picked up my guitar to play until bedtime.

October 15, 1987, McKinley, Ohio

“What’s going on, Petrovich?” Clarissa asked when she arrived at the hospital on Thursday morning.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Your bishop doesn’t come to McKinley three times in two weeks for nothing!”

If she knew about the Monday meeting, someone had leaked, and that could only have been Mark or Alyssa, who were the only ones besides Father Nicholas, his family, and me who knew of the bishop’s visit to meet with me.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” I replied.

“That can’t be good.”

“Seriously, Lissa, I can’t discuss it. Come to church on Sunday morning and you’ll find out. Speaking of which, I might need a big favor.”

“What’s that?”

“I told you about Sheila — the ‘forever’ labor? She’s coming to visit on Sunday. I had planned to spend the afternoon with her and Michael, but I don’t know for sure what the bishop has planned beyond the usual lunch that is served when he visits. I might need you to entertain her for a time.”

“She swings both ways?” Clarissa asked with a smirk.

“That is NOT what I meant and you know it!”

“I can do that for you, Petrovich. How serious is this?”

“She’s a friend,” I replied. “You know I would never violate the conditions of my ordination.”

“And when you are no longer a deacon?” Clarissa asked.

“That is still an open question,” I replied.

“Even after speaking to your bishop on Monday?”

“How do you know about that?” I asked.

“May I simply say that I heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend?”

“So long as you don’t add that I’ve been messing around,” I said, continuing the riff on REO Speedwagon’s Take It on the Run. “That’s the source of most of my stress now.”

“Lack of messing around or accusations?”

“Accusations. I have absolutely no desire for the other thing at all.”

“You were always able to turn off your libido,” Clarissa observed. “But I still don’t see that as meaning you could do it for a lifetime. Not to mention what we discussed about your desire to give Rachel a mom.”

“Why are you pushing so hard, Lissa? It’s only been seven weeks.”

“I only want what’s best for you,” Clarissa said defensively. “And that is not lifetime chastity or basically being alone. I’m not trying to denigrate Elizaveta’s memory, nor am I trying to push you someplace you don’t want to go.”

“Running amok with the eligible girls?” I asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“You know I was teasing.”

“You were, but you weren’t,” I replied.

“What do you mean?”

“That in the near term, you are teasing me; in the long-term, you think I need something like that to break the logjam caused by my emotional and spiritual situation. But I want to turn the tables on you. What happens if, and this is still an if, I do decide to remarry and I ask you?”

“You’re serious?”

“It’s a hypothetical question, no different from the ones you’re asking me.”

“That question is no easier to answer now than it was three years ago!”

“Which is my point. There are no easy answers. And honestly, if it weren’t for Rachel, I don’t think I’d even be considering any alternatives to remaining a deacon. But she is here, and that changes things in ways I could never have imagined. Combine that with the gossip, and that’s why I’m considering a future where I am not a deacon.”