The Mormon mission

Andrew Glazer

They spend most of their time cruising Costa Mesa streets in a long sedan

like many suburban teenagers.

But inside their car is silence--no “Thong Song” or Dr. Dre booming from

the speakers, no unnecessary chatter.

And unlike weekend cruisers--out to waste time, pick up girls and see the

scenery--these two young men have a mission.

“Our job is to invite people to hear the gospel,” said Benjamin

Wilkinson, 20, who is from a small town outside Minneapolis.

He and his partner, Ed Bryan, 20, from Boise are amid a two-year

commitment to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, during

which they will knock on doors, lead at-home blessings and study the Book

of Mormon for several hours each morning.

This commitment involves cutting off all ties to the world outside the

Mormon Church.

“No movies, TV, radio or newspapers,” said Bryan, a thick-necked high

school football star in his life before the mission. “The only music we

can listen to are hymns or classical. No dates or girls. We can only call

our families twice a year. And every half-hour of every day is planned

out.”

Both elders, as missionaries are known in the Mormon Church, said they

don’t miss knowing what’s going on outside their sight lines. They said

losing touch with news, family and friends brings them closer to God and

helps them learn about themselves.

“This mission is something you anticipate your whole life,” said

Wilkinson, whose lanky build and boyish face make him the Laurel to

Bryan’s Hardy. “You don’t start anything serious in your life until

you’re finished. This is your big opportunity to give back to the Lord.”

The two said their biggest challenge was to swoop into a city where

Mormons are the minority--both come from areas with heavy Mormon

populations--and knock on the doors of households where only Spanish is

spoken.

While neither Wilkinson nor Bryan spoke the language before they began

their missions, the church designated them as Spanish-speaking

missionaries. They were required to take elementary language lessons

before diving into neighborhoods that mainly consist of recent Latin

American immigrants.

“People were inviting us to have dinner at their homes, but I wasn’t used

to the chili peppers,” Wilkinson said. “I threw up eight times in my

first eight weeks.”

But a year later, they have adapted more, sometimes a bit awkwardly, to

their surroundings.

They approach a door and knock. A man, speaking only Spanish, answers and

squints at the two, who are dressed in white button-down shirts, black

ties and black nameplates.

“Hi, how are you?” Bryan fires in Spanish. “Where are you from? Wow,

Puebla. Wow, you must eat a lot of mole,” a spicy sauce native to Puebla,

Mexico.

The man stares ahead, nodding slightly.

“Do you go to church? Are you familiar with Mormons?”

The man says he’s heard of Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses and other

Christian groups.

“Can we come in and talk about the Book of Mormon? Do you have time?”

“You see, I can’t right now,” the man said. “But why don’t you leave your

number and I’ll call you.”

Walking back to the car, Wilkinson said he didn’t think it was worth a

follow-up visit.

“But we’ve learned about areas all over Mexico, where there are ranches,

the native foods, etc.,” Bryan said. “It sometimes helps to gain their

trust.”

Which is essential, they said. People must trust the missionaries to

invite them into their homes. They must trust the elders even more to

open themselves to their theological principles, which can be very

foreign to the primarily Catholic Latino population.

Red-eyed Gloria Garcia Ferrera, 38, trusted the elders. She had a

miscarriage three days before and was grieving her child with her

husband, sister, nephews and niece in her sister’s cluttered apartment.

She asked them for a blessing of comfort.

They sat her down on a wood chair in the center of the room, hushed the

children and placed their hands on her head.

Garcia Ferrera stared silently ahead, swallowing, her eyes tearing. After

the short prayer, she thanked the elders.

“Now I feel a little better,” she said in Spanish.

Wilkinson and Bryan left the apartment.

“My friends back at home ask ‘How can you do that, give up everything?”’

Bryan said. “‘But if you give 100%, then you’ll get a lot back. Some days

can be ragged. Others, very rewarding.”