From Utah, but also Dnipropetrovsk, members of the Church of Christ of Latter Day Saints arrive to win over locals
On a foggy recent morning in Shevchenko park, two neatly dressed and smiling young men were handing out leaflets and a blue hardcover book.
Attentive passersby may have noticed that each wore a small black nametag bearing the honorific “Elder” over his last name – a sign that they are missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, or Mormons. This morning, the park was less crowded with students than usual, and 19-year-old Elder Wardell from Utah and 20-year-old Elder Lazurenko from Dnipropetrovsk seemed a little nervous. There weren’t as many souls ripe for conversion to the Utah-based church around as they would have liked.
As it turned out, Elders Lazurenko and Wardell had nothing to worry about. Within five minutes they were talking to a teenage student on his way to classes at Kyiv National Taras Shevchenko University across the street. After a chat, the kid walked away holding the Book of Mormon, the church’s foundational text. The Book tells the history in America of the descendents of a prophet named Lehi between 600 BC and 400 AD. Lehi was from near Jerusalem, but he was compelled by God to migrate to the New World. The student looked a little confused. The missionaries said that, though he was curious, he wasn’t ready to set up an appointment with them to delve deeper into the Mormon mysteries. But both were positive that he would eventually call them back.
Soon another man walked up. “But America isn’t even mentioned in the Bible,” he exclaimed at one point in the conversation. The missionaries explained that it doesn’t matter. The young man left the missionaries his phone number and said he looked forward to seeing them again.
Later, Lazurenko and Wardell counted up their total. In 40 chilly minutes they’d had seven conversations with passerby, two of which seemed successful. That wasn’t bad, especially since male missionaries are discouraged from approaching women. The point is “to avoid a conflict of interest,” as Elder Wardell puts it.
On a mission
Michael Wardell is in the midst of his third month in Kyiv, and on his first Mormon mission. Missionary work is strongly encouraged for young Mormon men; about 40 percent of them take up the missionary’s calling somewhere in the world, and there are estimated to be around 60,000 Mormon missionaries at any given time. They are given the title “Elder”; female Mormon missionaries, of whom there are relatively few, are called “Sisters.” Missionaries tend to stand out for their crisp appearance: clean white dress shirts and sharp black ties.
On a typical day, Wardell wakes up at 6:30 a.m. After breakfast, study and prayer, he leaves the three-room apartment on Peremohy Prospekt that he shares with Mykhaylo Lazurenko no later than 10:30, in accordance with Mormon rules. With the exception of a one-hour lunch break, a missionary is expected to proselytize until 9 p.m., and be in bed by 10:30.
A Mormon missionary is also forbidden from watching movies or TV, visiting night clubs, or listening to profane music. Dating, tea and coffee are also prohibited – so is alcohol. The point, as Wardell put it, is to avoid what “drives the spirit away.” Before he was on his mission, he personally avoided movies or Internet sites that contain sexual content. As a child he saw a version of “Forrest Gump” out of which the kissing scenes had been edited by his parents.
Lazurenko says Mormons are must be very selective about what music they listen to. “Eminem’s music is cool,” he says, “but there are lots of bad words in it.”
The missionaries are expected to pay $400 a month toward the cost of their mission. The church covers the rest of their expenses. Both Wardell’s and Lazurenko’s missions were financed by themselves and their families.
The missionary blues
In warm weather, Wardell works Kyiv’s sidewalks and parks; when it gets colder, he’ll switch to “tracting,” the missionary’s term for the intimidating business of going from building to residential building, knocking on people’s doors. That’s when the rejection rate goes up and things can get unpleasant.
Wardell says he doesn’t take rejection, even rude rejection, personally.
“Some people say, you dumb American, why you are here? Go back to America – we don’t need you. But I know that I am here because I am supposed to be.”
Sister Phyllis Peterson, another Kyiv missionary, says talking to strangers on the street is an anxious business. Using her faith to repress her fear is a daily necessity, she says.
“If I do meet unpleasant people who don’t have very nice things to say, I can let it go pretty easily now. Maybe somebody else is more ready.”
Elder Michael Christensen, a 20-year-old from Utah, says the only people he avoids buttonholing are drunks.
“If I’m going to open my mouth, using the breath that God gave me, I’d expect it to be well used – I’d much rather talk to that men when he is sober,” he says.
Each missionary is assigned a country to go to, and schooled in the appropriate language. Wardell, Peterson and Christensen are currently learning Russian.
“I simply want to be able to say to my family ‘I have no regrets, and I didn’t waste my time,’” says Wardell. He views the mission as a kind of spiritual exercise. He says it was hard for him to part with his family, which remains back in the States, and postpone his university studies in pharmacology.
Lazurenko says being on a mission has cost him dearly, because he lost many of his friends and a computer maintenance job. But he adds that the spiritual knowledge he obtains on mission is worth the sacrifice.“Being obedient, after my mission I’ll receive a new job, and a beautiful wife. So I know I’ll be okay.”
