The location is the small city of Le Chesnay, near Versailles. On the lot of 2.24 acres stands an old building, waiting for demolition. The building permit for the temple was delivered last October, after a thorough investigation. The city mayor, Dr. Philippe Brillault, had no reason and no legal ground to deny the application. His majority in the city council agreed and approved the project.

But, such a dossier is fair political game: a hard kernel within the opposition decided to make it their battering-ram.

In the ongoing procedure, people could still contest the approval by December 27th 2011. Four formal objections were lodged against the building permit. The municipality rejected all four this week. Opponents can now appeal to an administrative court. As long as appeals are possible, the Church has decided to leave the lot untouched. But matters look favorable for the Church, which also set up a website about the temple.

Which main arguments are being used against the plan?

One is simply procedural. Has the mayor showed enough openness and provided enough information during the whole procedure? The mayor says yes, the opposition no. Standard bickering with broad margins for interpretation.

Another argument is socio-economic. Chesnay needs no Mormon temple! Why not, for example, have the city purchase the lot, through expropriation, and build “social housing,” apartments rented at moderate prices, which the city badly needs? “Instead of building a national temple for a population that baptizes the dead, should we not first give proper equipment, work and lodgings to the living?” asks the anti-Mormon-temple website Avenir46—the name referring to the future of the location at number 46 boulevard Saint-Antoine. The answer of the mayor is as socio-economic: the purchase price of 20 million euros (26 million dollars), just for the lot, would have put an enormous strain on a town with a total year budget of 11,5 million euros. It would have prevented the planned building of a new school, the renovation of equipment, and all public works for at least three years. And no money left to demolish the old building (expensive because of asbestos clearing) and to construct social housing. Not one city council member, the mayor clarified in a well-argued editorial to the citizens, would vote in favor of such financial suicide.

Other arguments—and these make national and even international headlines—are emotional: For or against the Mormons? Some in the hard kernel of the opposition, using latent French chauvinism and xenophobia, are painting, in horrendous terms, the coming invasion of those dreaded Mormons to the quiet and lovely city of Le Chesnay. By January 31, Avenir46 had gathered 6,000 signatures to protest the planned Mormon temple. The site links to information railing against Mormonism, exposing the evils of this ‘blasphemous, polytheistic’ religion which degrades women, brainwashes children, and isolates its members from society—not to speak of the pagan rites for dead people at just a few yards from where you walk! Welcome to the 1880s. These contemporary anti-Mormons find support from various French anticult organizations, who are always eager to save victims from cultish destruction. But it should also be said that many French, in comments in newspapers and websites, are voicing their embarrassment at the bigotry of some of their fellow citizens.

Some anticult opponents also voice two concerns grounded in reality: tithing and non-admission for non-members. These are worthy of consideration as they are sometimes real obstacles in issues of cult-identification, recognition, and tax exemption for the Church.

In France (as in other countries) the government or an official watchdog defines a harmful cult according to a number of criteria. One criterion is extortion: requiring a significant amount of money to allow access to ‘vital’ religious material, sacraments or ordinances. On the basis of that criterion, Scientology has been a main target for judicial action in a number of European countries, also in France. Though the Mormon Church is not listed as a cult in France, the same critique of extortion is sometimes leveled at the Church. Since for Mormons the temple ordinances are a required step for exaltation and since a temple sealing is necessary for a religiously sanctioned marriage, a temple recommend is needed. To obtain one, one must be a full tithe payer. In a country like France, with high taxes and a high cost of living, tithing represents a significant amount of money. It is easy for outsiders to define as extortion this combination of the highest religious exigency and the obligation to pay for it. Some accuse the Church of building temples with the concealed purpose of raising more tithing. It seems that one way to defuse this criticism would be to leave out the tithing question from the recommend interview or to alter it to a willingness to pay tithing.

Once dedicated, a temple is accessible only to Mormons in good standing. The exclusion of non-members, even for a visit outside religious service hours, is not only difficult to understand for outsiders, but reinforces the image of a secret and therefore perfidious society. The exclusion has been, and still is, a major stumbling block in procedures of recognition and of tax exemption. In the United Kingdom, the claim to tax exemption for the temple was denied because the building does not qualify as a place of “public worship.” The appeal went all the way to the House of Lords in 2007 where it was treated in the context of race and religious discrimination laws. The Church lost. I do not know if Church leaders have ever seriously considered revising the policy of accessibility. One could imagine a temple being opened to visitors on Sunday for explanations on the function of temples, for listening to inspirational music and content, such as Music and the Spoken Word, or for meditation. Such a policy would make it a magnificent church building open on the Sabbath, tax exempt, and, in France, a serene space to welcome and appease the worried citizens of Le Chesnay.

Of course, I foster no illusion about the suggestions made.

Our prayers can be enhanced in other ways. We can use “right words”—special pronouns—in reference to Deity. While worldly manners of daily dress and speech are becoming more casual, we have been asked to protect the formal, proper language of prayer. In our prayers we use the respectful pronouns Thee, Thou, Thy, and Thine instead of You, Your, and Yours. Doing so helps us to be humble.

The current connotation of reverence, attached to those T-words, is undeniable. Aside from its obvious realm of application for Anglophone Latter-day Saints, the topic is also interesting from other angles.

- One is the international perspective. The Church operates in many languages: To what extent can the counsel apply to them?

- Next, we tally among us many (recent) members with limited knowledge of English, who attend Church in English: How do they cope with this “proper language of prayer”?

- Then there is the unavoidable disparity between formal, public prayer and the varieties of informal, personal conversation, or attempts at conversation, with God: How does this affect our lingual interaction with Deity?

- Finally, the way we pray, and the scriptural language we use, define, at least partially, our relation to other Christian churches, where the usage is different: What are possible implications?

These are the four questions this (long) post tries to explore.

But first, a look at the origin of the T-forms, which will help us address some of the questions raised.

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Where do the T-words come from?

Thou-thee-thy are common words, originating thousands of years ago. How did one address other people in those primeval times? Ancient Indo-European language forms, from which many current languages, including English, evolved, made a clear difference between addressing “one person” (singular) and “more than one person” (plural).

For the singular, this meant, here rendered in an English perfectly common at some time in the past:
- subject of the verb: Jake, thou must come quickly!
- object of the verb: So long, Magda, it was good to see thee and talk to thee!
- possessive: Ah, is Emma thy sister and Sam thine uncle? (thine before a vowel)

For the plural:
- subject of the verb: Children, ye should be ashamed!
- object of the verb: Cherry pickers, I’ll see you tonight to pay you.
- possessive: My friends, I appreciate your help.

These pronouns are identical in dozens of languages that have Indo-European roots—as diverse as Danish, French, German, Hindi, Hittite, Icelandic, Italian, Russian, Spanish, and on. Through phonetic assimilations and morphological adjustments these words have evolved from their primeval stems to their present forms in modern languages. E.g. (can you identify the language?):

- singular (known as predominantly T-forms): du, þu, te, thou, ti, tii, to, toi, tu, tui, tuk, ty, tvam…

- plural (known as predominantly V-forms): u, uw, vas, vi, vie, vii, vo, voi, vos, vous, vy, ye, you…

Originally the distinction between T- and V-forms was only numeral, without any other connotation, neither of reverence or of intimacy. Only the tone and content of the sentence, as used by an individual, set the “register”—respect or contempt, love or anger, decency or vulgarity.

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The T-V distinction: intimacy versus deference

In the early Middle Ages a practice developed to address the emperor, the king, or the pope with the plural form, therefore a V-form, in Latin vos. It recognized the ruler as superior to a simple, single person, or as representative for all. In the later Middle Ages this metaphor for power spread to also address noblemen with the plural form, and next any superior. Both vanity from above and servility or flattery from below bolstered this social play with semantics. Slowly European society as a whole moved to the so-called T-V distinction. In nearly all languages this shift occurred.

In French, for example, the pronoun tu became solely used for inferiors, close relatives, friends, children, or pets. Vous extended to address any superior, and, politely, every equal adult with whom one was less acquainted. By the 17th century, elegance among French nobility and bourgeois even required to address your own close adult family members with vous. Servants and peasants were T-users among themselves.

In English the plural you first addressed the king and next spread to all superiors, while thou-thee-thy dealt with equals or inferiors. But over time, compared to other languages, English prolonged this inflation of politeness, until the plural you became the standard for all relations, even when addressing children or intimates. The singular thou-thee-thy became more and more relegated to colloquial speech, even vulgar, or contemptuous. In some local English dialects that despising style survived up to now: “What’s thee doing, little brat? – Don’t thee me, it’s rude!”

The verb thoutheeing—as used by Goold Brown in The grammar of English grammars—to express this more intimate addressing, is found in many languages: tutoyer in French, jijen en jouen in Dutch, duzen in German, tutear in Spanish, tykat in Russian, etc. In those languages it is a social sign of closeness to be allowed to use the T-form with someone.

(Note that another style of distant politeness turned to the third person, to highlight the position of the addressee: Your Majesty, Your Highness, Your Excellency, Your Honor, with the verb following in the third person. In Spanish it led to an additional generalization: vuestra merced (your mercy) first became extended, from addressing nobility, to addressing all persons who aren’t close. The form next evolved into vusted, and then to usted. In Italian a similar development led to the use of the third person “courtesy pronoun” Lei. Indeed, honorifics, as they become common, never cease requiring altered forms.)

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How did English T-words become “reverential” for Deity?

How then to explain that thou-thee-thy, words which in common English finished at the lowest end of the spectrum—actually connoting coarse familiarity and rudeness—, are also identified as reverential religious forms? Simply because, already centuries earlier, they got secluded within their separate, sacred semantic field. The same word can have very different values according to its realm of use.

The earliest Old English (Anglo-Saxon) scriptural translations, such as those by the Venerable Bede and by Aldhelm in the 8th century, addressed Deity with the normal T-forms of their time (back then with the initial letter þ—the so-called thorn-letter). For example:

Fæder ure, þu þe eart on heofonum, si þin nama gehalgod.
(= Father our, thou that art in heaven, be thy name hallowed.)

It was simply logical: the singular T-forms were used to address one person, while plural V-forms were reserved to address several. No doubt this habit was already present in the earliest oral preaching when Christianity spread westwards.

The T-forms thus became ingrained in scriptural readings and quotations, in prayers and hymns, long before the T-V distinction became generalized in societal relations. Having attained such formulaic value in the closed religious realm, these forms escaped the later T-V distinction that developed in common language. It was therefore normal that they transferred into the more complete Bible translations—Wycliffe’s (1380), Tyndale’s (1526) and the King James version (KJV, 1611). It is also possible that Wycliffe and Tyndale sought to preserve the singular and plural distinction that they found in their sources (Latin, Greek, Hebrew)—a distinction which you alone, used for both singular and plural persons by Late Middle English and in Early Modern English, could not make.

Codified in the KJV, the T-forms remained the standard for addressing God, further reinforced by the Book of Common Prayer (1662). Thus, in a strange twist of language development, the more deferential form you was not used to address God, while what became less respectful in common language, thou-thee-thy, remained reverent in the religious realm (and was also kept alive in some rhetoric literature and poetry for archaic effect). The main reason for the T-forms to finally stand out as unique “religious language,” was their slow disappearance in common language. Thus these forms were not especially created to address Deity, but are isolated remnants of ordinary language use.

Whatever the history of the T-forms, in our Mormon sphere it is the present lingual experience, based on relentless identical input, that irrevocably ties to them the connotation of respectfully addressing Deity. Elder Dallin H. Oaks phrased it as follows, stressing that the very obsolescence of those words makes them apt at expressing something unique:

In our day the English words thou, thee, thy, and thine are suitable for the language of prayer, not because of how they were used anciently but because they are currently obsolete in common English discourse. Being unused in everyday communications, they are now available as a distinctive form of address in English, appropriate to symbolize respect, closeness, and reverence for the one being addressed.

Of course, in that ancient religious sphere, thou-thee-thy are not reserved distinctively for God. These words continue to be used, in KJV-language, for any single person being addressed. The examples are plentiful in the Bible—Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife. — Wherefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off. — Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? Even Lucifer is addressed that way: Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of the field; upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life.

The Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants use these pronouns similarly and abundantly to address single persons. Moreover, in various LDS hymns, admonishments and counsel are directed to you, individual person, with thou-thee-thy: Cast thy burden upon the Lord and he shall sustain thee (# 110); Be thou humble in thy weakness, and the Lord thy God shall lead thee (# 130); School thy feelings, o my brother (# 336), etc. This usage is part of the same lingual realm. It sounds “natural” for those who grew up hearing or singing those texts.

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Capitalization or not?

The use of capitals—Thou-Thee-Thy—helps to enhance deference in the written forms, but makes no difference in oral use. The Church has long followed the Chicago Manual of Style, with lower-case pronouns referring to Deity. The present editions of the standard works still follow that pattern. However, more recently, the Style Guide for Publications of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 3rd ed. (1998; printing of November 2006, p. 22), instructs to capitalize second and third person pronouns referring to Deity (Thou, Thee, Him, His…). In Elder Nelson’s recent talk, quoted at the beginning, it was printed that way. Will this change also be applied in future editions of the standard works? At the same time, the Style Guide asks to keep the relative pronouns in lowercase (who, whom, and whose).

The tendency, worldwide, also in other languages, is to lowercase all pronouns pertaining to Deity. The Associated Press Stylebook requires it, the Chicago Manual of Style, the Wikipedia Manual of Style, the Catholic News Service guidelines, etc. The basic rule is that capital letters should not be used for anything other than proper names. Capitalizing pronouns and determiners always raises questions as to the application limits, such as for the first person object Me (is it not inappropriate for God to capitalize himself when speaking?), for relative pronouns (doesn’t who have the same value as he?), and for possessive determiners (e.g. my God or My God, our God or Our God, in theory depending on who speaks, but linguistically ambiguous, and with trinitarian controversies when Jesus speaks)… It also requires lingual insight to apply capitalization correctly, such as in Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me? And he said, Who art Thou, Lord? And the Lord said, I am Jesus Whom thou persecutest. And he trembling and astonished said, Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?

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And still a reverent “you” for the divine

There is one peculiar Mormon context where also you and your appropriately and reverently address the divine, because of the plural need, as we sing in one of our major hymns, written by Eliza R. Snow:

O my Father, thou that dwellest
In the high and glorious place,
When shall I regain thy presence
And again behold thy face? …

When I leave this frail existence,
When I lay this mortal by,
Father, Mother, may I meet you
In your royal courts on high?
Then, at length, when I’ve completed
All you sent me forth to do,
With your mutual approbation
Let me come and dwell with you.

***

We now come to the four questions raised from other angles.

1 – How should we speak to God in other languages?

Can the Mormon “prayer counsel” for English apply to other languages? How do General Conference translators transpose in another language that “in our prayers we use the respectful pronouns Thee, Thou, Thy, and Thine instead of You, Your, and Yours“? To what extent are there equivalents?

Let’s look at French. Just as in English, the earliest French prayer texts and scriptural translations show that tu, te, toi, ton were the normal singular forms to address God. That tradition became ingrained in formulaic liturgy. The first French full Bible translations in the 13th century use the T- and V-forms logically to distinguish singular and plural. However, contrary to English, the French T-forms remained unchanged in familiar language use. Tu, te, toi, ton did not become archaic like thou, thee, thy in English. Therefore they could not be hallowed as “special forms” later on. Students of French learn they should never address a superior, a teacher, or even an equal adult with tu. Francophones remain very sensitive to the correct social use of tu or vous. So how to address God? As in the oldest texts with tu? Or respectfully with vous, according to more recent social rules?

The matter became controversial in the 17th century. Under the influence of the T-V distinction, some French Bible editions and prayer books shifted to vous and votre in addressing God. Such was the case in most Catholic Bible editions, with the argument of greater reverence. However, the French Protestants kept the T-forms in their Scriptures and prayers. This disparity became one of the symbols for the deep divide between the churches. The Catholics accused the Protestants of irreverence. The Protestants showed that the Catholics paid homage to the devil by having God speak reverently to him with a V-form.

However, in the 19th century French Catholic Bible editions started to shift back to tu, te, toi, ton, as linguists and exegetes confirmed the original distinction as purely numeral and showed the textual ambiguities resulting from the sole use of vous for both singular and plural. Moreover, the use of vous, originally a plural pronoun, raised doctrinal issues: could it be misunderstood as praying to a polytheistic Being? The whole concept of the Trinity and the character of the Persons got involved. It was safer to clearly pray to one God, thus better return to the T-forms. To justify the shift back, some invented the rule that the original tu was actually a super-reverential form, a level higher than vous.

In Mormon tradition in French, the use of the T-forms prevails, since nearly all Bible translations follow that pattern, including the version adopted as standard by the Church.

Scores of other languages follow the same pattern—German, Spanish, Farsi, Serbo-Croatian, Urdu … They use, to address God, the same informal, familiar T-forms that are still being used to speak to children or very close friends. There are no special pronouns to “protect the formal, proper language of prayer.”

What does that imply for reverence? Of course, none will pretend that the lack of special pronouns reserved for God makes the prayers of these people less humble or less respectful. It’s all in the tone, the intention, the spirit… This also shows that the use of thou-thee-thy in English is purely conventional. Conversely, one can ramble through a prayer with thou and thee, mumble stereotype sentences, and finish off with a breakneck inthenameofjesuschristamen.

Only very few languages in the Indo-European group use V-forms to address Deity. In Dutch, my mother tongue, the normal preference is given to U, which is a V-form, comparable to the English you. Portuguese, as far as I know, also uses a similar V-form, though its pronominal system is complex, with diatopical variations in Brazil and in Portugal. These V-forms are not uniquely religious either, just regular ones used for polite speaking. As to Eastern languages, such as Korean and Japanese with sensitive honorifics, how do they use pronouns to address Deity? Are there any “special ones,” solely reserved for God?

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2 – Limited English: how to cope with the “proper language of prayer”?

Elder Dallin H. Oaks expressed the following concern in the talk quoted above:

We are especially anxious that our position on special language in prayers in English not cause some to be reluctant to pray in our Church meetings or in other settings where their prayers are heard.

How true! If that is already a concern for some Anglophones, imagine what it means for the tens of thousands of non-Anglophone Mormons who attend English-speaking wards and branches and who have only a limited knowledge of English. Though I am reasonably fluent in English, and have heard thousands of thoutheeing prayers in English over several decades, I am most reluctant to pray in English in front of an Anglophone audience. When I have to do it anyway, I am compelled to concentrate on the forms I’m supposed to use, not on the prayer itself. At the same time, I try to circumvent: instead of We thank thee for the Gospel thou hast restored, I can move to We are grateful for the restored Gospel. But such techniques require pre-operational strategic thinking, which undercuts naturalness in praying.

Indeed, thoutheeing is not as easy as sometimes presented. In 1976 Don E. Norton devoted an Ensign-article to “the language of formal prayer.” An experienced Anglophone Mormon will have no or few problems with the following exercise, but the hurdles for others are real. Replace by the proper forms where applicable:

- We are thankful to you for all the blessings you give us.
- We are thankful that you restored the gospel through Joseph Smith.
- We thank you for all that you have done for us.
- We thank you that you do help us daily.
- You help us and you protect us always.
- We ask you that you will bless the sick in our ward.
- We ask you that your hand will protect us.
- You know our needs and we ask you that you keep watch over us.
- We know you are helping us with your blessings.
- We pray that you may always watch over us.
- Will you now bless this food.

With only you and your, and common verbal forms without any change, it remains feasible to pray “normally” with a limited knowledge of English. It should also be noted that all those sentences above, with you and your, can be said with due reverence, without the special forms. It’s all in the tone and in the spirit. Trying to use thou-thee-thy, along with forms like dost and hast, without proper lingual command, is not conducive to saying a natural prayer. Is it wilst or wilt? Thy hand or thine hand? Restorest or restoredest? Moreover, while listening, will not experienced Anglophones in the audience automatically focus on the lingual errors heard? Happily not so our Heavenly Father. Elder Oaks confirms:

I am sure that our Heavenly Father, who loves all of his children, hears and answers all prayers, however phrased. If he is offended in connection with prayers, it is likely to be by their absence, not their phraseology.

The reminder is most welcome. Are we fully tolerant when someone prays with you and your? Or could the repeated emphasis on the “correct prayer form” trigger negative reactions if one errs? How sad it would be if a foreign child, or a young convert, asked to pray in an English-speaking class, would be mocked or criticized for errors made.

If “the formal, proper language of prayer” is to be used correctly, should not some appropriate instruction be devoted to it, geared toward converts and members with limited English?

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3 – Public or private: Does this affect our lingual interaction with Deity?

For public prayer, we usually adopt, when called upon, a voice of quiet restraint. We speak in behalf of the group who listens to us. Social rules, tradition, and circumstances determine content and style. It can go from the quick prayer to bless the food to the most ornate dedicatory prayer. In any of these circumstances it is normal for experienced, Anglophone Latter-day Saints to pray with thou-thee-thy. No doubt many of these members address God the same way in private prayer—at least in normal conditions and in the steadfast relation they have built with him, especially if from their infancy on they only have heard praying with T-forms and if constancy is their life mark.

However, for average mortals, private prayer is often a battleground. We pray in despair. We pray in rebellion. We pray frantically in an agonizing process of repentance. We pray with anger at God’s apparent lack of intervention in unjust tragedies. Sometimes praying mingles with self-reflection, turns into an alter-ego dialogue, as thoughts and emotions roam, engaging God and self indistinctively. Prayer reflects the moods and levels of our faith—disbelief that anyone listens, desire to be listened to, a sprouting of the tiny seed, anticipation, hope. Or, at some other end, reaching profound intimacy, even camaraderie—speaking with God like a friend speaks with a friend.

It would make an interesting study of the language of prayer to analyze, if possible, to what extent Mormons, used to thoutheeing in their public prayers, shift to the more conversational, normal you when praying privately, intensely, pouring out their heart, their gratitude or their anxiety. In this deeply personal contact-seeking with the Lord, are they still using thou and thee? Moreover, it is not easy to transfer to T-forms earnest, but more colloquial sentences such as What can you do for us now? Why couldn’t you have prevented this? Why did you let this happen? Why aren’t you listening?

Even the strongest do not escape such moments. President Hugh B. Brown told of his struggles in dire circumstances and his frequent, anxious cry in response: Father, are you there? It’s difficult to imagine a Father, art thou there? to sound natural in such situations. If thoutheeing enhances reverence, it also creates distance.

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4 – Relation to other churches: What are possible implications?

As members of the Church, we accept the counsel given to use the KJV and abide by thou-thee-thy. Inevitably, the matter then raises a question as to our relation with other churches. Our use of thou-thee-thy is one element that contributes to the difference between us and many, if not most Christian churches today, as well as other religions. For these outsiders, our formal language of prayer may evoke the realm of old-generation Quakers, or of a dwindling group of rigorous, fundamentalist preachers. Together with pockets of staunch evangelicals, Anglophone Mormons may end up as the last major group to thouthee God. Perhaps this is a good thing, to stress our uniqueness that way. Perhaps it is not, if rapprochement with mainstream Christianity is deemed important. If we join in prayer with others, they may find our language and manners archaic and bombastic, and we may find theirs irreverent.

As to our missionary work among Anglophone Christians, those who have been exposed to the KJV constitute a shrinking pool. Most Christians have become unfamiliar with its language. Their conversion to Mormonism thus requires them to give up their familiar, easily readable Scriptures, as well as a prayer form they have grown up with.

Indeed, it seems that most Christian churches have now moved away from the T-words in English. Since the middle of the 20th century, new Bible translations, sponsored by various Bible societies and interdenominational councils, have modernized the biblical language, thus also modifying thou-thee-thy to you and your. In order to better understand our fellow Christians, I believe it is informative to summarize their main arguments, which are linguistic, social and scriptural:

a – Linguistically, languages never stop evolving. Words disappear from use or take on different meanings. New words enter to express old concepts. Structures alter. Pronunciation shifts inexorably. That way Old English became, after a few centuries, mostly incomprehensible: Fæder ure, þu þe eart on heofonum… In contrast, the 17th century KJV-version was “modern” at the time, written in “Early Modern English” (which still drew much from medieval French). As such it continued to have a major lingual impact up to the 19th century, especially in Anglican, Calvinistic, Puritan, or Quaker realms, where The Book was continually read and quoted. But since the middle of the 19th century societal changes deeply affected language use also in those realms. Nowadays the KJV contains hundreds of words and structures that, for most people, have become obsolete in form or in meaning. Certain structures offend current grammatical rules. Some are, strictly speaking, now disrespectful, like in Our Father, which art in heaven. The relative pronoun which, indeed, now only applies to objects. The KJV does not meet current readability standards for average readers. Moreover, four or five hundred years from now, our own, present English will sound archaic. The distance from the KJV will have doubled, making it even more difficult to comprehend. Therefore even the new Bible editions of now will need to be revised over time.

b – The social argument stems from the linguistic. According to modernizers, current language use broadens the appeal for the gospel message. As Christian missionary efforts are geared towards younger generations, and to the millions of less literate persons and non-native English speakers, the argument is that comprehension of the message should not be hampered by a 17th century lexicon and style, nor should Christianity be experienced as an elitist and archaic religion. Edwin H. Palmer, spokesman for the New International Version of the Bible, argued:

Do not give them a loaf of bread, covered with an inedible, impenetrable crust, fossilized by three and a half centuries. Give them the word of God as fresh and warm and clear as the Holy Spirit gave it to the authors of the Bible … For any preacher or theologian who loves God’s Word to allow that Word to go on being misunderstood because of the veneration of an archaic, not-understood version of four centuries ago is inexcusable, and almost unconscionable. (quoted in D.A. Carson, The King James Version Debate: A Plea For Realism, Grand rapids: Baker, 1979, p. 102).

The debates on Bible versions have been fierce. Before the “modern” viewpoint became generalized in Christian churches during the second half of the 20th century, opposition had to be convinced. Plenty of examples of verses can be given to sustain arguments in both directions. New translations miss a few of the fine distinctions that the KJV-language is able to make (if one knows how to discern them), while the KJV is far from perfect itself and will continue to distance itself from contemporary readers.

c - The scriptural argument deals with correct translation. The KJV was the product of its time, translated with only a narrow access to sources, controversial expansions, and the limited scholarship of a few individuals. Its first editions are said to be riddled with errors, which later editions tried to correct. Since the 20th century, the discovery of older sources and the use of advanced research techniques, supported by interdenominational teams of experts, have been able to better assess the oldest sources available. For our thou-thee-thy topic, the introduction to the New International Version of the Bible mentions:

As for the traditional pronouns “thou,” “thee” and “thine” in reference to the Deity, the translators judged that to use these archaisms, along with the old verb forms such as “doest,” “wouldest” and “hadst” would violate accuracy in translation. Neither Hebrew, Aramaic nor Greek uses special pronouns for the persons of the Godhead.

Such are the main arguments by modernizers. Over the years their viewpoint won by weighing: if in new translations something is lost, so much more is gained. Sales of new Bible translations have soared, bringing God’s word to millions who would never have taken the step to the KJV. But “KJV-only” tendencies remain, usually evangelical and fundamentalist, which continue to draw the rebuttal of others. Some churches, like the Seventh Day Adventists, have no official preference and leave it to the members to use a version which they like and comprehend best.

Though Mormon viewpoints toward Bible choice had been diverse and sometimes even quite liberal (see Phil Barlow’s Mormons and the Bible), in the 1950s a number of Church leaders adopted a clear stance in the KJV-debate. Apostle J. Rueben Clark published his Why the King James Version in 1956—a staunch defense of the KJV. In his Answers to Gospel Questions (vol. 2, 1958, p. 17), President Joseph Fielding Smith stated:

The changing of the wording of the Bible to meet the popular language of our day, has, in the opinion of the writer and his brethren, been a great loss in the building of faith and spirituality in the minds and hearts of the people.

Apparently, the new Bible versions were sensed as a betrayal of values, as a capitulation to modernity. While a peculiar liturgical language, just like Latin for Old Catholics, biblical Hebrew for Jews, or classical Sanskrit for Hindus, not only exudes a charm, but stresses coherence and reinforces unity. For people raised within the sphere of such language, it retains the essence of intimate childhood memories, tied to the earliest experiences of religiosity. The archaic terms, moreover, evoke the savor of the ancient world where it all started. President Gordon B. Hinckley expressed what many feel: “I love the King James Version of the Bible. I love the lift of the language, the depth and the height of its words, and the strength and the grace of its expressions.” There is no doubt that many Anglophone members, even young people, especially if they were raised in the Church, can identify with that statement.

What could further have prompted the Mormon rejection of modernized versions? Distrust of “higher Biblical criticism” as well as isolation may have played a role: Had Mormon experts been involved early on in Bible societies and interdenominational councils, perhaps reactions would have been different. Textual changes, decided by outsiders, carry risks of doctrinal mismatches. In 1992, a statement of the First Presidency affirmed: “While other Bible versions may be easier to read than the King James Version, in doctrinal matters latter-day revelation supports the King James Version in preference to other English translations.” There is little doubt that the use of different Bible versions in the church would reveal small differences with possible doctrinal implications.

Probably most decisive for retaining the KJV is this close relation of our other standard works—Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price—with the KJV-language and style. That relation stems quite naturally from the context of Joseph Smith’s religious world in the 1830s, where the KJV was the main source of literary experience and its language utterly familiar. Joseph rendered God’s words in the religious idiom of his time and his environment. But it made, more than a century later, any acceptance of modern Bible versions a matter with far-reaching implications, considering the other standard works. At present, in that same context, the gigantic efforts of the Church to produce correlated Scriptures with indexes, cross-references, footnotes, Bible dictionary, topical guide, etc., all tied to the KJV, make the idea of lingual modernization all the more remote.

Since then the repeated admonitions to continue to use the KJV and apply the formal style of prayer confirm the Mormon position taken in the 1950s.

The point here is not to debate the choice of the KJV or of modern translations, only to draw attention to the growing distance between us and other Christian churches in terms of religious language.

( Note, however, that in other languages Mormons habitually use more modern Bible translations, depending on local decisions and availability. Moreover, to my knowledge at least in Dutch and in French, the new translations of the Book of Mormon, made in the 1990s, deliberately modernized the language compared to the old translations which contained more outdated words. True, a major reason for the retranslations was to guarantee closeness to the original English, and therefore transpose it as literally and as coherently as possible. Even so, the translators replaced archaic words and expressions, found in previous translations of the Book of Mormon, by modern ones, for more fluency and readability. The principle that keeps the English Scriptures intact and its charm unspoiled has not been followed in other languages. Converts from decades ago still regret that the new Book of Mormon lost the charm of the religious language in which they were led into Mormonism and which for so many years nourished their scriptural reading. I admit that I share those feelings. In church classes I still use my old Dutch Book of Mormon. But I wonder: Am I just driven by selfish nostalgia that trumps concern for incoming generations? How mature is my religiosity if it needs the impulse of peculiar prose?)

***

Final thoughts

Thou-thee-thy is becoming one of the elements that affirms Mormon peculiarity. However, it only applies to the English-speaking part of the Church. It does not work in most other languages, where no thou-thee-thy equivalent exist, and where, moreover, the Church uses more modern Bible translations and also modernized language in the other standard works. Could this difference contribute to some cultural discrepancy between Anglophone Mormonism and the rest of the world? Probably not yet now, but it’s worthy of a reflection in the broader perspective of further archaicization of scriptural English and of further internationalization of the Church.

An interesting phenomenon in this international Mormon context, which I observed in church lessons in the Netherlands, Belgium, and France, is the use of different Bible versions (and of old and recent versions of our other standard works) among the audience. It triggers attention-grabbing discussions, as members point to differences when Scriptures are read aloud, often leading to fascinating lingual comparisons and sometimes to helpful doctrinal clarifications, because of the choices the different versions offer. This textual diversity seems, overall, to deepen insights in scriptural translations and to make it easier to interpret God’s word in the framework of restored doctrines. Indeed, detachment from literalism allows for adjustments. Joseph Smith’s approach to the KJV, which led to the Inspired Version, was not different.

As to English, if the Millennium is still centuries away and if the Church continues to protect the lingual invariability of the standard works, the same is likely to happen as in other religions with untouchable scriptures. As English will further evolve, the time will come that KJV-language will have to be studied painstakingly, just like biblical Hebrew or classical Sanskrit, in order to be able to read the sacred writings. Will all members, whatever their mother tongue, be encouraged to do the same, in order to belong to the circle of believers competent to read God’s word in its original format? The scenario is utopian, but history is there to show what has happened in other world religions. Whether this development is desirable or not is a debatable question. Venerable religions like Judaism and Hinduism draw a major part of their uniqueness and generational continuity from their sacred language and, educationally, from the prolonged initiation to its understanding. But would such a sphere harmonize with a lively religion actively reaching out to the rest of the world in so many other languages than English?

As Mormons we will probably react in disbelief: what would it harm present-day Catholics if Mormons seek out their Catholic ancestors? Millions of Mormons indeed have Catholic ancestors. So do I. The temple work performed is viewed as an act of love and respect, feeding a holy bond with spirits beyond the grave. Besides, in our faith those ordinances have no value unless the deceased accepts them. Catholics who believe in the continuation of personal life beyond the grave and who have confidence in the religious steadfastness of their ancestors, what would they have to worry?

Other reactions from our side will point at the value of this immense informative work, with the vast network of freely accessible Genealogy centers around the world, for the tens of thousands of non-Mormon genealogists who can profit from this unique endeavor. Our efforts, which the Church heavily finances, also guarantee the preservation of masses of documents that are vulnerable to decay, fire, floods. Others may point at the cooperation our Church has established with Catholic organizations like Caritas Catholica and the substantial help Mormons are giving to Catholics in humanitarian work. Is this the way to work together in mutual respect?

It is unclear what prompted the Vatican to give its order. Complaints from Catholics that some of their ancestors were being baptized “Mormon” on the basis of information belonging to the Catholic Church? A calculated offensive to force to some kind of negotiations? Or just some narrow-mindedness from one or the other Vatican official? We can of course easily answer with arguments why our work should not worry them. The fact is that it does bother some. If they view Mormonism as a dreadful sect, or if they feel the religious identity of their ancestors is being tampered with, I think we must try to understand their concerns if they are genuine. We should also concede that the free extraction program goes beyond temple work only for known ancestors of living Mormons. We have already restricted this for people in Jewish ancestry.

From a Catholic doctrinal point of view, the matter seems somewhat ironical. On June 5, 2001, the Vatican Offices of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith declared that baptism conferred by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is not valid. Signed by the prefect, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger — now the present pope. For the Catholic Church, a Mormon baptism is invalid, for the living or the dead. Why should they bother?

But for Mormons, the matter has deep value. Parish records, at some point the only traces to distant forebears, belong to humanity, to each of us, not only to a diocese.

The following is part of a larger study on the concept of “gospel culture” In previous posts I presented How American is the Church? and Mormon identity and culture. To win space I have not included references, but please ask if you want one.

1. Various approaches

It is only in the 1970s that the term “gospel culture” enters into Mormon parlance as an identity marker. The worldwide expansion of the church seemed to ask for a new rhetoric in identifying Mormonism in the broader context of intercultural encounters. The term has been used with different perspectives.

1.1. Antagonistic isolation from the other

In this paradigm the gospel culture is seen as a hallowed, protective enclave versus the “culture of the world”. Noel B. Reynolds (1978) claims that “the world view of the gospel is essentially subversive of the world views perpetuated by the cultures of man.” Even if cultures have “some notion of the good life and of human salvation”, each of them is “false to the extent that it does not correctly identify the Savior as the only source of salvation and his priesthood as the human agency through which access to salvation is available.”

As to other religions, their apostate creeds are considered with some repugnance, even if diplomatic rhetoric tries to avoid such direct condemnation. In one of the first uses of the term “gospel culture”, in the context of internationalization, we read that a Latter-day Saint convert “cannot simply acquire a testimony of the gospel without almost entirely reevaluating and reorganizing his own personal value system so it can fit without major conflict within the gospel culture” (Dehoyos & Dehoyos 1971).

Defining gospel culture in such contrastive and separative terms is thus found in many texts (mainly sermons) that proceed from the helpful clarity of this polarizing approach to oppose good and evil. It is part of an oratory of repentance that calls us to reject the “culture of the world”.

1.2. Exemplary impact on the other

Hugh Nibley (1978) reacts to Reynolds’ view by taking a less dichotomous stand. He defines “a gospel culture” (note the indefinite article), starting from the idea of a gospel community or society, which is Zion, “described as a city, an organized society, set apart from the world.” However, Nibley does not define this gospel culture as an enclave closed to external input, but as a society composed of “everything good”, which we can also actively “seek” to bring in from the outside, with reference to the 13th Article of Faith.

In contrast to an antagonistic view that excludes the rest of the world from anything valuable, Nibley also stresses that this central celestial culture has served “as a model for the greatest peaks of human civilization as a whole.” Religions and philosophies sprang forth from the model and as long as they continue to point to heaven — in particular with a temple tradition — they share in the original heritage, “convinced that they were imitating the heavenly model and doing the best they could.”

1.3. Selective appreciation in the other

The paradigm laid out by Nibley is known in church doctrine as the historical pace of divinely sanctioned dispensations, each followed by a period of apostasy that corrupted the full truth, but that also maintained parts of it. It is a diachronic view in subsequent phases. However, with the Restoration the comprehension of this phenomenon had to be related to a more synchronic view. Indeed, even restored to its “fullness”, the church had to accept coexistence with other religions.

Especially after 1890 overture to the world and a spirit of conciliation with other churches became themes in Mormon texts. This selective appreciation became widely accepted in Mormon thought, all through the 20th century. In 1978 the First Presidency issued a statement echoing many similar acknowledgments in the past: “The great religious leaders of the world such as Mohammed, Confucius, and the Reformers, as well as philosophers including Socrates, Plato, and others, received a portion of God’s light. Moral truths were given to them by God to enlighten whole nations and to bring a higher level of understanding to individuals.”

How to view the dynamic relation between a Mormon “gospel culture” and other religious cultures, in particular from the angle of missionary work? The Mormon position is presented as per definition superior, as it claims to possess the fullness, while others only have parts. One approach is: since a foundation of truth is already present in the other religion, people can retain it as their basis. The dynamics of conversion can then be expressed as an addition, as Marion D. Hanks (1965) stated: “Keep every good thing you have, and then listen to the additional word of the Lord in our time.” That same invitation has been repeated many times by church leaders. In a rhetorical address to members from Christian churches Hartman Rector jr. (1972) exclaimed: “We won’t take anything from you that you have that’s true; we will just add to what you have, and we will do it in love, with no compulsion, no force.”

1.4. Selective exclusion in the other

A seemingly reverse movement is first to define what a gospel culture is in the Mormon perspective, invite converts to adopt it in full and ask them to erase from their original backgrounds what is incompatible with this gospel culture. That approach is present in two General Conference talks by Elder Dallin H. Oaks in 2003 (April & October). He defines gospel culture as “a set of values and expectations and practices common to all members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Converts thus “become part of the worldwide gospel culture of commandments and covenants and ordinances and blessings.”

It is an encompassing definition, with a strong globalizing undertone and emphasis on religious living. As to the relation with the original cultures of converts, Elder Oaks states: “We have learned the importance of challenging members to abandon cultural traditions that are contrary to gospel commandments and covenants and to live so that they and their posterity ‘are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God’.” The examples cited mention changes to be made in the realms of chastity, of weekly attendance at church, of abstention from alcohol, tobacco, tea, and coffee, and of honesty.

The difference with the preceding approach – selective appreciation –, is that the focus is placed on negative items in other cultures. It entails a double shift in perspective. First, the term “cultural traditions”, which conventionally has a positive connotation, is associated with behavior such as sexual transgressions and dishonesty. Normally no “culture”, in its primordial meaning of carrier of values, would condone the inclusion of evil as part of its time-honored customs. By tying the possibility of rejection to certain “cultural traditions”, any local habit can thus be made suspect. The message is clear: members cannot justify transgressions on the basis of a cultural tradition. Second, no mention is made of positive elements that people could retain from their cultures, although this is obviously possible since only “contrary” traditions have to be discarded. Still, the approach could be interpreted as coming close to antagonistic isolation, as Elder Oaks concludes: “In these examples I am not contrasting the culture or traditions of one part of the world with another. I am contrasting the Lord’s way with the world’s way—the culture of the gospel of Jesus Christ with the culture or traditions of every nation or people.”

1.5. Broad inclusion of the other

In a 1971 talk about missionary work in Korea Elder Bruce R. McConkie stated (cited in Palmer 1978:147): “… whatever is appropriate and good we want to preserve. It ought to be one of the aims of the Korean people to preserve their culture, to keep their own dances and their own dress and their own mores and ways of life alive, as long as they are not inharmonious with gospel principles.” Also anthropologist John Sorenson (1973) refers to this talk to defend a view where the “core of Mormonism in its most basic expression” is found in the higher levels of ideology, values and knowledge – a common “world view” –, but should be allowed to diversify into local cultural forms on the lower levels of physical realization, thus adapting “living the gospel” to other patterns and customs than those in America’s West.

In 1976, Belgium-born Elder Charles Didier responds in the Ensign to a “I have a question”, dealing with the place of national feelings among church members. He answers: “When we speak of nationalism, or culture, there is in reality only one nation or one culture: the nation of God and the gospel culture, a vast amalgam of all the positive aspects of our cultures, histories, customs, and languages. The building of the kingdom of God is such an amalgam, and is the only place where these different values may and can coexist.”

Both Elder McConkie’s and Elder Didier’s views on gospel culture are broad and much-inclusive, with the perspective of a good deal of diversity in the kingdom of God.

Another “foreign” church member, Chieko N. Okazaki (1993), of Japanese ancestry, stresses that same understanding of broad inclusion. She talks about building bridges between cultures: “The greatest bridge of all is the culture of the gospel.” She defines it as “a culture based on the atonement of Christ and the restoration of his pure gospel through the Prophet Joseph Smith. Faith, repentance, baptism, the gift of the Holy Ghost, living together in a righteous community, and serving each other with love are all principles of that culture. These principles are true in any culture and among all peoples.”

1.6. Sublimating globalism of it all

Again in 1976, Elder Gordon B. Hinckley, then a member of the Twelve, gave a devotional address at BYU that throws another light on the issue (text in Hinckley 1997). With his usual wit and realism he starts as follows: “The subject assigned me comes out of a symposium held on this campus with people from many parts of the world concerning the expanding church and the problems it must meet as it moves against various cultures across the world. My assigned subject is ‘The Expanding Church among the Nations and Cultures of Man.’ I have simplified that to read: ‘Things Are Getting Better’.”

The thrust of his message is twofold: cultural differences hardly matter in missionary work and cultural differences are disappearing. For the first aspect, Elder Hinckley remarks that he is aware that missionaries meet “marked differences between our culture and the cultures of the people of those lands. But I feel these differences are of minor importance in comparison with the great burden of our responsibility to teach the gospel of the Master and that alone.”

For the second aspect, Elder Hinckley notes the “shrinking cultural barriers” and the reasons for it. There is the ease of modern travel which has “sublimating effects of such intercourse among nations insofar as cultural differences are concerned.” Next, the rising educational levels in the world are “a concomitant factor of greater understanding of the ways and customs of other people.” The “increasing knowledge of languages” it also a facilitating better mutual comprehension. Finally, Elder Hinckley mentions “the tremendous erosion of strong cultural patterns in many parts of the earth.” For him, “people are essentially the same everywhere, all over the earth.” This approach connects with recurrent themes in President Hinckley’s talks: reaching out to others, being good neighbors, simply acknowledging diversity without interpreting it as barrier, recognizing the good in all people, setting aside parochialism.

Of course, this globalizing approach does not entail giving up the identity of the church and the distinctiveness of the gospel. But other cultures are not viewed as obstacles, not even as realities, as the outlook only perceives the common core of mankind.

2. How to view relations between ‘us’ and ‘them’?

In spite of the antonymic scale which I drew from the one extreme of “antagonistic isolation” to the other of “sublimating globalism”, it would be erroneous to view these paradigms of “gospel culture” as mutually exclusive or irreconcilable. All proceed indeed from the same underlying principle, i.e. that the gospel shapes a desirable identity. That identity can be broadly defined as a Christ-centered, virtuous life, with all the synonyms and paraphrases available in these rich semantic subfields of goodness and faith.

The differentiating criterion is the way that desirable identity is perceived in relation to its surroundings. Each approach senses the “outside” from a different angle, and therefore as a distinct variety, either intrinsically inimical (1.1), or deviant from the model (1.2), or ambiguously dualistic (1.3 & 1.4), or rather trustworthy (1.5), or intrinsically good (1.6). It means that in their adherence to one of these constructs, church members oscillate on a scale between the extremes of insularity and open collective acceptance.

Antagonistic isolation (1.1) fosters distrust towards the world. The accompanying rhetoric is always two-tone. The positive tone stresses exceptionalism (a chosen generation, a select people, a kingdom of Priests) and exemplarism (a beacon on a hill, a light unto the world). The negative one paints the rest of the world as evil and threatening, with plenty of dreadful paraphrases. Missionary work is seen as saving souls from Babylon and bring them to the fold. This position is in essence very Scriptural, both in ancient and modern holy writ, and many of the citations used in the rhetoric draw directly from there. It is also a recurring theme in hymns. For investigators the conversion process, as monitored by the missionaries in various steps, puts much emphasis on distancing oneself from the norms of the world, thus sometimes placing on potential converts a burden of self-exclusion from their original culture – and perhaps more than needed.

The downside is that such a virtue, carried to excess, leads to undesirable results. At first, isolation, clannishness, parochialism. Chieko N. Okazaki (1998:150) warns: it is not wrong to build a loving community,

“but it can become wrong if our ability to see another as a brother or sister stops at the door of the ward meetinghouse, and if we save our love and our friendship and our acceptance only for other Mormons. I want to warn us all against this new tribalism, a way of seeing the world that still divides people into ‘us’ and ‘them’.”

She calls it “the tribalism of religious exclusivity based on our membership in the church.” Another, perhaps worse result, is that the demonization of “the other” can spill over in political and social realms, leading to the rejection of ideological diversity and thus to plain intolerance. The history of some local Mormon communities in Utah, up to the present time, is not devoid of examples of such developments. This paradox in religious practice, brotherhood and bigotry combined, is a known phenomenon in sociological research – “the trap that turns religious conviction into prejudice and in-group fellowship into out-group hostilities” (Fallding 1974:78).

At the other end of the spectrum stand broad inclusion (1.5) and sublimating globalism (1.6), with a positive attitude towards the world. In many of his Conference talks over the years President Gordon B. Hinckley has heralded that view:

“We must be better Latter-day Saints. We must be more neighborly. We cannot live a cloistered existence in this world. We are a part of the whole of humanity. (…) Let us banish from our lives any elements of self-righteousness. Many regard us with suspicion, as having only one interest and that is to convert them. Conversion is more likely to come as a consequence of love. Let us be friendly. Let us be helpful. Let us live the Golden Rule. Let us be neighbors of whom it might be said, ‘He or she was the best neighbor I ever had’.” (October Conference 1997).

The two median approaches towards the world, selective appreciation (1.3) and selective exclusion (1.4), contain the message that there is both good and bad in other cultures. In “selective appreciation” the acknowledgment of external good is the most explicit, with reference to major religious figures and philosophers: “Moral truths were given to them by God to enlighten whole nations and to bring a higher level of understanding to individuals.” In “selective exclusion” the focus is on what other cultures contain as negative elements, which need to be discarded.

Considering these various views, Mormonism projects ambivalent relations with the rest of the world. The recognition of good in other religions defines it as “moral truths” and as “higher level of understanding”, but does not extend to doctrinal or sacramental realms – for, in original Mormon parlance, their creeds are an abomination and their rituals of no value without the restored priesthood. The Mormon Church is willing, if not eager, to cooperate with other churches in relief projects and in the defense of ethical and family values, but refuses ecumenical blending and does only permit cautious involvement with interdenominational religious initiatives. Missionary work and PR-initiatives incite people to get to know Mormonism, without restrictions, but the temple and its ceremonies are off-limits to non-members. Retrenchment rhetoric implores church members to assemble on a symbolic mountain top away from the world’s dangers, but other talks encourage simultaneously an immense openness to the outside.

The dual message reflects, to a certain extent, the perpetual paradox of being in the world, but not of the world.

1 – In search of identity

Most religions display exterior features that are uniquely recognizable: style of buildings, particular rituals, sacred locations, sometimes for the adherents a specific piece of clothing or a full dress, or even a bodily marking. This affirmation of identity fulfills an important social role as an expression of community selfhood and of belonging to that community. Wittingly or unwittingly it also stresses a demarcation line excluding others: identity alienates.

Predominantly in older religions that have permeated whole populations on regional or national levels, religious identity often seems to match with ethnicity in its genetic sense, such as Japanese Shintoism, Greek-Orthodoxy, Indian Hinduism, Arabic Islam. History documents the clashes, and numerous wars, between such groups claiming their authenticity from ethno-religious roots. But even more recent religious groups, without such an ethnic identity, are sometimes viewed as peculiar and thus threatening, as the history of Mormonism in the 19th century illustrates. In various countries Adventists, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Pentecostals, Krishnas, Baha’is, and many others without any ethnic relations between the members, continue to endure such prejudice and sometimes persecution. Religious intolerance along these identity perceptions remains of great concern in many parts of the world. Actively proselytizing religions moreover test the boundaries of tolerance as they seek, in the eyes of vested religions, to steal away souls and incorporate them under a new communal identity. This creates special strains when converts are drawn from ethnic or national religions. To answer such concerns the Mormon Church has pledged not to proselytize in Israel and is extremely careful regarding Muslims in certain countries.

In another part of this larger study I analyze various approaches to the so-called Mormon “gospel culture”, a term that emerged in the 1970s and that can be found in texts of church authorities and Mormon sociologists. The analysis shows a wide variety of ways in which a conversion, as a form of alteration in identity towards participation in a gospel culture, can be described. The descriptions range from a total overhaul to keeping the original identity with just some additions. These different views reflect the underlying religious rhetoric of the period or of the individual’s perspective, from a resolute rupture with one’s past to the most diplomatic and reassuring embrace. For outsiders, as well as for converts, it may be somewhat confusing as to what brand of identity change is expected. What does it mean, identity-wise, to become a Mormon, to become part of the “gospel culture”?

Mormons have no ethnic roots to base an identity on. The theme of adoption in the House of Israel is not in the doctrinal foreground anymore. There is no visibly recognizable “Mormon identity”, required by the Church, that an individual can display to the outside. Except for the missionaries, Mormons do not wear exterior signs which show off their faith. In that regard it is perhaps significant that temple garments are worn discreetly. Abstinence from alcohol, tobacco, coffee and tea is what outsiders often note as one of our main characteristics, but it is not “genuinely” Mormon and can hardly be called an identity trait. All in all, on the street, in public life, Mormons do not wear on their sleeves who they are religiously. Interesting to note: more than once, abroad, a (sloppy) article on Mormons uses photos picturing Amish. The press needs a visual identity for the adherents and the confusion between the two groups — as Christians who in America have separated themselves from the world to preserve an own serene life-style on idyllic land – comes naturally.

Only on Sunday could one discern some semblance of vestimentary sameness, when the Mormon life-style extends to dress and grooming standards, especially for men wearing white shirts and ties. It seems that converts in foreign lands actually like to adopt this uniformity, as the outward manifestation of their newly found identity. Then there is of course, but hidden from the eyes of the world and only occasionally experienced by most Mormons, the homogeny in the temple, where members wear uniquely Mormon vestments. Though this does create some form of common identity, it is not comparable to the daily, public effect of a Jewish kippah or an Islamic head scarf.

In contrast to the lack of an exterior Mormon identity-look, as it pertains to individuals, it is readily asserted that the real Mormon identity is internal, namely the shared testimony of the Restored gospel, the shared spiritual experiences, the participation in the social network, in the “great worldwide family” to which we belong, etc. These elements are indeed of primordial value, but do not help to affirm and feel a physical identity as in many other religions. Moreover, this view may underestimate the importance of unique material symbols in the creation and maintenance of a religious identity for Mormons themselves. For Utah such is Pioneer Day – “one of the most important public expressions of Mormon identity” (Olsen 1996). Many Mormons of pre-correlation days, even members abroad, remember with some nostalgia other material tokens of identity – dance festivals, roadshows, Primary and MIA-symbols, medallions, bandlos, etc. The yearning for such objects probably explains the continued success of Mormon gadgets such as figurines, temple statuettes, pins, CTR-rings, necklaces, etc., but which are “non-official” and only reach a small part of the Mormon membership (and, ironically, especially those who are already part of long-standing and well-developed Mormon communities.)

To what extent do the various forms of “gospel culture” contribute to making a “Mormon identity”? Only forms that stress a significant measure of isolation and fear of the world? Can one of the broader concepts of gospel culture, which would include some, many or most good features from other cultures, still lead to a “sufficient” Mormon identity? Do we want a gospel culture that develops in converts a Mormon identity which alienates them from the host culture (and often also their non-member family), or do we prefer, at least outwardly, that they continue to blend in? Has the present correlation-era of the Church, by taking out of church life some of its substantial content as well as colorful Mormon tokens of earlier years, undermined Mormon identity or, rather, brought it to a higher level?

I have no clear answers to these questions. But I believe it is important that new converts, in particular for their retention, adopt as quickly as possible a proud, joyful, viable Mormon identity, which they also recognize as such for themselves, but which does not put them on a collision course with their non-Mormon environment.

2 – In defense of uniformity

I have always disagreed with the suggestion to somehow pluriculturalize Mormonism by determining a common, essential core and then allowing regional or national Mormonisms – Pacific, Japanese, Dutch, Siberian … – to develop around that core. There are serious drawbacks to such a proposition.

a – What would be the common, essential core? It should be more than broad generalities, but less than anything too specific. The discussion would be endless.

b – Those who propose such makeover to local cultures, are identifying them out of stereotypes. What would be “typical” Pacific, or Brazilian or Dutch? Take Dutch: the Netherlands are already a small country. But just as much divided into different zones, from Northern Friesland to Southern Brabant, with their own respective characteristics. Then, spread all over the country, the ideological puzzle: from staunch Calvinists, a dozen Protestant tendencies, over traditional and independent Catholics, to more liberal tendencies. Can we imagine what kinds of discussions the creation of a “national Dutch Mormonism” would involve? If we move to larger entities like Pacific or Brazilian, the divisions are as complex and diverse. And would it then be possible to even have a single “American Mormonism” with its own cultural identity? Mormons from California or New-York may not completely identify with Mormon culture in parts of Happy Valley… And is Happy Valley not dividable in various areas? There is just too much diversity to arrive at a “national Mormonism” once we would loosen the grip of worldwide correlation in favor of any of these.

c – Assorted forms of Mormonism would open a box of Pandora as to who is more or less orthodox, who has remained the purest to the core, who deserves not to be called Mormon anymore. Suffice it to point at such discussions within the factions in Islam or the sects in Christendom. We do not want Tutsi versus Hutu Mormons, nor Kosovar versus Serb Mormons.

d – This ties in with the preceding, one central aim of the gospel should precisely be to make nationalities and their threatening nationalisms fade away.

e – Through conversions among immigrants, the Church in many countries is already a melting pot. A relatively small ward like Antwerp (Belgium) has members from more than 30 nationalities. The membership in each of many church units across the world does not belong to one nationality or culture anymore. In fact it is in those units that a non-nationalistic, worldwide Mormon culture may be emerging. “The Church is the same all over the world” is a potent reassurance of our unity and our strength. With increasing travel for many people in the world, the assurance of finding a Mormon meetinghouse where things are familiar, where the same hymns are sung, where one feels at home, is heartening.

Correlation, control, conformity seem therefore vital as principles. As a European with long experience in the mission field, also in Africa, I recognize the value of worldwide correlation as it ensures unity. We are too young and too fragile an international Church, to take risks of fragmentation or even schisms. It is interesting to note that the Church has been extremely careful, even reluctant to enter some African countries where the probability of independent diversifications is high in view of the ease with which break-away preachers can start their own versions of a church. The Church is moving very slowly in such areas. In that respect it seems the Church is pursuing a worldwide movement of consolidating shattered pieces into centers of strength which are easier to control. Indeed, in previous years progress has sometimes been too fast and has splintered forces, horizontally in the founding of weak units, vertically in the multiplication of callings on stake and area levels with a heightened risk that such leaders micromanage people and units under them with pet-schemes. With fewer mid-level leaders and with strength concentrated in wards uniformity can be better implemented.

In relation to the preceding section (1), one should remark that identity needs uniformity, but uniformity alone does not guarantee identity. Uniformity, indeed, is an externally imposed framework, while identity is the individual response to it, in terms of acceptance and conformity. But identity is more complex than simply matching the general framework. Individuals have divergent needs and expectations, characters and backgrounds. To what extent can the Church respond to these in ways that are helpful to create balanced identities? That leads us to the next section.

3 – In search of inclusion of local culture

My preceding reflections should have convinced all that I am strongly in favor of an identical, worldwide Church. This does not, however, imply antagonistic isolation. Except for some Utah pockets, church members live among people with other worldviews. Outside the Mormon corridor in the American West, they constitute tiny minorities and belong both to a Mormon (or call it gospel) culture and a local culture, defined here in the broader sense as a totality of traits that make a distinct society – way of life, manners, traditions, art, history, language, symbols, interests – including folklore, but vastly surpassing it.

Such a local culture should not be approached by default with the rhetoric that turns it into the despicable “culture of the world”. Normally a local culture, if considered as a complex whole, contains many more good elements than bad, if we could quantify them some way or another. Moreover, the most distinctive elements will mostly be good, i.e. the ones that provide the most cohesion and identity, safety and trust, while negative ones are probably disruptive to the society itself and found all over the world in various degrees – dishonesty, adultery, alcoholism, drug addiction, etc. Only certain cultures harbor distinctive customs which are patently evil, such as domestic violence or genital mutilation. Such customs need to be eradicated.

In considering the encounter between the two so-called cultures – gospel and local –, we must first of all recognize that many features of the local culture will simply be part of members’ lives without creating any conflict. Converts can continue in all aspects of their “normal life”, except the very few elements that fall under explicit commandments like the Word of Wisdom.

But at one point we enter the gray zone. Problematic items deal with “good” customs that somehow penetrate the realm reserved for religious assessment from a Mormon perspective. Can Mormon children in Finland, dressed up as witches and wizards, participate in the beloved yearly event to trek through their neighborhood (at least as momentous as Halloween to American children), passing out willow twigs in exchange of candy or a few coins? – but this is always happening on Palm Sunday, raising a question as to Sabbath observance. Even inoffensive folklore, for the joy of the children, can thus present a challenge. There are meaningful traditions that, depending on the criteria chosen, cannot be called “contrary to” gospel principles, but would raise eyebrows if followed by Mormons. Can a Mormon Japanese family keep ancestral shrines in their home and observe Buddhist and Shinto holidays? Can converts from Judaism keep a mezuzah on their front door and at Passover continue to have the Seder ceremonial evening meal? These are questions for the privacy of their home and we may not want to interfere. Things become more sensitive when we move to church grounds. Can Latino members celebrate quinceañera – a girl’s exceptionally festive 15th birthday – with an appropriate fireside-type service in the chapel (to approximate the special Catholic Mass at this occasion)? Can Congolese members conduct a funeral service with jazzy accompaniment and dancing – so vital for their sense of community in the face of death? Can Spanish members, many of whom are converts from Catholicism who may long after the delight of the Midnight Mass, organize a Mormon variant on Christmas’ eve in the chapel? Such items are representative for what can come up in the gray zone.

I presume that in most cases the tendency will be to refuse any such cultural incursions into Mormon territory, simply because they do not match predetermined standards of acceptability. Or, in case of hesitation, better to err on the safe side and turn down requests.

But there may be reasons to be more lenient and to establish helping criteria.

a – For the individual and the family, a number of traditions belong to a cultural heritage that shapes fundamental identity within the local community. When such traditions are uplifting, joyful, reassuring, and have nothing detrimental in relation to the gospel, proscribing them could create voids that the Church cannot fill – especially since correlation has reduced the chances for socializing among members. Among these traditions are festive events celebrated all over the country (or in a certain locality), special historical remembrance dates, peculiar recipe days (when each family eats the same distinctive, delicious food), etc. Especially forms of yearly “childrens’ day”, which are celebrated in many countries in various forms and on divergent dates, connect the community through their activities and excitement. Sometimes such festivities are non-denominational (e.g. childrens’ parade on the Norwegian Constitution Day), sometimes they have a certain religious origin (e.g. Sinterklaas in Holland, la Befana in Italy). Prohibiting Mormon children to participate in such events not only can be socially upsetting to them, but may develop early on in them a rejecting, fundamentalist outlook on society as the only justification for the distance created. In contrast, being both a “good Mormon” and an integrated member of the local culture, without transgressing any norm of the Church, will most probably contribute to the construct of a balanced personality.

b – Having church members openly and naturally participate in local traditions can, certainly in critical cases, signal an important socio-political message to the host society and its leaders. The Church adheres to a strong policy of good relations with each government. But, from Mormon historical writings, not even so long ago, there is the possible negative impact that particular affirmations can have in the politico-religious realm – like promising to supplant all governments by the Kingdom of God. A religion like Islam carries, in some of its strands, the same rhetoric of future world domination and firmly rejects traditions of the “infidels”. Latent and emergent religious conflicts are sensed as potentially disastrous to many nations which have witnessed them in their history. National and regional governments look at “foreign” religions with suspicion, or outright aggressivity, in particular when these religions demand rights and facilities for their members, stressing their distinctiveness and therefore their apparent refusal to assimilate. A group like the Jehovah’s Witnesses is, in many West- and East-European countries, viewed as a sinister cult, partially because of its disturbing disengagement from the surrounding culture, refusing to celebrate days like Easter or Christmas, even banning birthday parties. Such societal disconnection is interpreted as treacherous cultic behavior. Participation in the local culture, on the other hand, is viewed as commitment to the common cause. It can happen on a neighborhood level, in the school context, through membership in cultural organizations, etc. It can also be highly visible as a public statement. I remember how, years ago, a Belgian missionwide Mormon choir participated as one of the three central choirs in a national singing festival covered by the media. The positive impact on the perception of such public involvement is incalculable.

c – Taking into account the often high internal cultural diversity of a Mormon unit abroad, with its immigrant converts from various foreign cultures, introducing these people to major traditions of the host society, can help them better integrate. Indeed, quite often these people have only the Mormon unit as their social connection point with the host society. Integration of immigrants is high on the agenda of governments. Even within its limited scope, a Mormon unit can contribute to that integration, but then it needs to include components of the local culture into its activities.

d – A fourth argument, in some cases the most important, concerns non-Mormon family members. The conversion of a family member to a “foreign” religion is, in many countries, sensed by the rest of the family as a betrayal of the deepest cultural heritage. The larger the breach in beliefs and practices between that heritage and the other religion, the more painful it often becomes. Some religions, like Jehovah’s witnesses, are accused of willfully harming those inter-familial relations by their rejection of the so-called “pagan” traditions that bind families together. In cult-investigations one of the criteria looked at concerns the severance with family and society traditions: isolation from those is considered unacceptable. So there is particular value in keeping certain local traditions alive in Mormon units abroad, where also non-Mormon family members can feel at ease when invited.

e – Dynamic connectedness of church members with the local culture allows Mormon missionaries from other countries to experience, through these members, traditions which bring them closer to the people and which can only be enriching for their own cultural horizon. This experience should, of course, transcend stereotyped folklore – an all too obvious problem when one notices the kind of memories and souvenirs some returned missionaries cherish. Understanding and appreciating a local culture requires a practical pedagogy to develop cultural sensitivity and responsiveness in its multiple facets. That way missionaries, in a guided interaction with local traditions that church members maintain, can discover and internalize more essential traits of the culture and improve their own communication with people.

If these arguments are convincing, namely to be more lenient in allowing cultural manifestations, proper to the host society, as part of local church life, some guidelines would probably be in order. The general statement sometimes made that everything can be kept that is “not incompatible with the gospel” leaves much room for interpretation and hence for inconsistent decisions and disagreements, with a high risk that nothing at all will be allowed. A first step in such guidelines could be the positioning of protective principles such as 1) the strict maintenance of our worldwide standard meetings (e.g. no local liturgical additions); 2) the clear distinction between the official church realm and the sphere of items of local culture, which are seen as temporarily and locally permitted practices. Next I can only suggest questions. Should each proposal for such practice be assessed on a one by one basis, to be approved on a multi-stake, national or regional level for the sake of coherence? Should proposals best pertain only to major cultural items that apply to large geographical entities, like Christmas’ eve services, quinceañera firesides, Childrens’ day festivities – in order to avoid fragmentation over little issues? Or should the whole matter be kept very local and casuistic, only sustained by an acknowledged greater tolerance at the top? Some will probably fear that guidelines may tend to overregulation. Others that too much freedom will lead to incongruent decisions and disarray. Whatever the viewpoint, the present lack of any parameter is not helpful either.

Finally, perhaps we need to be as concerned about local church leaders who, in order to fashion an extremely standardized and thus safe “gospel culture”, impose restrictions well into the realm of the acceptable. In some places, certainly where the Church is still young, the tendency of local leaders to enforce strict uniformity, and to micromanage their flock, can lead to the prohibition of small ancestral traditions that should be perfectly acceptable in the daily lives of members. Also here some guidelines would be welcome to counter extremes. A Church News article (03/14/98) on Nigeria mentions that a challenge for leaders “is that of helping new converts shed their tribal customs and traditions and bring their lives to conform with the culture of the gospel.” Note the contrastive approach. The article tells of members who, by giving up some (unidentified) traditions, create such a rift with their non-Mormon parents that these do not consider them their children anymore. The local church leader is quoted with the conclusion: “That creates a lot of pain, but some members have decided to do that. It is really very hard. But the members are definitely blessed for this sacrifice, because they are free from bondage.” The problem with such information is that the reader has no idea which traditions were at stake here. Were they of such a nature that a dramatic rupture with the parents was inevitable? If not, perhaps we should, like Chieko N. Okazaki suggests in Disciples (1998), pursue wisdom by looking at principles in the host society’s culture and by continuing to accept some traditions for the sake of family unity and peace. As examples she mentions how the principle of prayer allows her to pray with her mother at the Buddhist household shrine, or how the principle of family unity allows her and her husband to participate in fun Sunday afternoon activities with her extended non-Mormon family. Her conclusion: “Before you dismiss any cultural practice, think about the principle behind it, decide if this principle is one you also believe, and see if you can find a way to participate in it in a way that honors that principle.”

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Your thoughtful criticism and reflections on some of the questions raised in this post will be greatly appreciated. I am particularly interested in examples of possible inclusion of local culture into “Mormon gospel culture”.

For the past few decades, in their efforts at internationalization, church leaders have stressed that this is “not an American Church”, but an international, universal Church. It seems J. Reuben Clark jr. was the first to stress it in such terms, in the 1937 October Conference:

“This is not an American Church. This is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and its destiny as well as its mission is to fill the earth and to bring home to every man, woman and child in the world the truths of this Gospel of which I have spoken.”

In the following decades, with the reversal of the gathering principle and the establishment of the Church in many nations, came the concern to de-americanize the Church’s image and to cater to cultural differences. The correlation movement since the 1960s has put major efforts into making the Church “less American” by removing or diminishing in church publications typical American items (e.g. those referring to the political system, affluent living style, dating patterns, sports, food, etc.) and by stressing the core message of the gospel and its principles as valid for all human beings.

“This is not an American Church.” But the nationality of the Church, whether American or universal, does not exclude, nor can it avoid, a transnational “gospel culture” with infusion of American components. I would indicate three areas of such infusion: historical-geographical, ideological, and behavioral.

1 – The historical-geographical component

First, the historical-geographical component. It does not seem possible to define our gospel culture as a simple “religious way of life” without considering the impact of Mormon history and location. Indeed, there would be no Mormonism without its past, this chronology of astonishing events starting with Joseph Smith’s personal search, the First Vision, the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, the founding of the Church, and all the subsequent dramatic stages of a people trying to establish a physical Kingdom of God, each time persecuted and chased, and finally reaching their Promised land, a desert they made blossom like a rose. That history and one of its resulting main symbolic images, Zion’s banner high on the mountain top, are located in America.

The preservation and the retelling of that history are an intrinsic part of the message of the Restoration. Mormon converts, anywhere in the world, step into that history as they learn about Joseph Smith and the founding events of the Church. Locations like Palmyra, the Sacred Grove, Cumorah, Kirtland, Jackson County, Haun’s Mill, Nauvoo, Carthage, Winter Quarters, Martin’s Cove, This is the Place, become part of their spatial religious consciousness. It also becomes their “Legacy”. Converts abroad, facing forms of incomprehension and persecution in their own environments, may sense themselves as living partakers of that heritage of the early pioneers.

Even the physical experience of that history in the form of “Mormon historical tours” is starting to be offered to members abroad who can afford it. Mormon travel tourism to America, with a sense of pilgrimage, is expanding. By restoring historic places as tributes to its past and as locales for commemoration and inspiration, the Church itself is encouraging this tendency. It contributes to the formation and strengthening of a cultural identity in which members worldwide are invited to partake. In a press conference in conjunction with the Grand Encampment Celebration, Council Bluffs, Iowa, President Hinckley answered a question about the significance of historical places and events in the U.S. to e.g. members in the Philippines:

“I have just been among those people. They are proud of their church and they are proud of the roots of that church. They are proud of the foundation on which it is established. They want to know about it. They do come to know about it. They study about it, and it gives them the strength that comes of knowing that what they have has a tremendous background of courage and fortitude and sacrifice and faith. That to me is of tremendous significance to our people all across the world” (cited in Dew 1996:592).

Even as the Church is internationalizing with the concept of multiple Zions, by the organization of stakes abroad with full church programs, by the multiplication of temples, a fundamental America-oriented awareness remains part of our faith. This is perhaps even more true for members abroad, as they take the counter-cultural step of converting to a unique “home-grown American religion”. It ties in with their acceptance of the historical reality of the Book of Mormon, and its explicit hailing of America as “a land choice above all other lands.” It ties in with the patent reality of Salt Lake City as Mormonism’s brilliant, self-affirming capital, home of the First Presidency and the Twelve, base of the General Conferences. It ties in with the 10th Article of Faith: “the building of Zion on the American continent.”

However, how “America” is understood in this awareness, i.e. to what extent it is tied or not to a certain perception of the United States, is mainly determined by how the topic is profiled in discussions with missionaries, lesson material, conference talks, and church magazines, and by how individual members understand “America”. For converts abroad, the perception of Mormonism in its American perspective is obviously more at ease with stressing the 19th century tension between the Church and the U.S., rather than with the confirmation of present-day American patriotism and right-wing political allegiance among Mormon U.S. citizens. As anti-Americanism (here understood as focused on the U.S.) is rampant in the world, there are no doubt church members abroad troubled by U.S. policy. For them the historical perspective of Mormons as a separate, persecuted people on the American soil probably better squares with their appreciation of the gospel.

2 – The ideological realm

There is also an American ideological realm, less manifest perhaps than historical events and places, but clearly tied to a political and socio-economic realm of the United States, i.e. the relation between Mormonism and the “American way of life”, understood here as the free opportunities given to each individual, regardless of social background, for personal development and the pursuit of happiness. It is part of the concept of the American Dream, to which a few dozen texts by church authorities explicitly and proudly refer, especially in the 1960s and 70s, but also up to the 90s. The rhetoric spills over in a sense of superiority and election, against the backdrop of America’s messianic role in the world. For years it was often interwoven with an abhorrence of socialism and communism, or at least of the perception of these -isms. This American ideology, which hails liberty, believes in the power of individual talent and hard work, and acclaims economic success and prosperity as a result, permeates the Mormon message (as well as other churches in America). This ideology is evident in the numerous exhortations and examples of self-actualization, often in an American socio-economic context of entrepreneurial values, emanating from church leaders in their presentation of “gospel living”. Members in the international church, called to leadership positions, tend to naturally adopt the same view and rhetoric.

To what extent this American emphasis on personal development ties in with original Mormon doctrine is a difficult question. One could refer to the belief that man’s earthly mission is one of learning and growth, a time of probation, within a perspective of eternal progression, which is a recurrent theme in Mormon sermons, already in the 19th century. However, the encouragement to reach material goals already during mortal existence sounds definitely more “American” than Scriptural. Also, it has frequently been remarked that the highlighting of individual ideals, including the pursuit of personal wealth, was a 20th-century development in Mormon ethics, when the Church adopted American values in the assimilation mode. Compared to 19th-century ideals, the thrust was then more to develop an egalitarian Mormon society in which individuals served for the common good.

Whether this emphasis on self-realization is appropriate or not is outside the discussion here. But we should at least note that in many countries it runs counter to religious ideologies that, in their very core, revere abnegation, self-denial, submissiveness. For Mormon converts from such realms the adoption of the Restored gospel will thus require, at least mentally, a realignment to notions of self-actualization and glorification of the individual. The rhetoric thrives, directly or indirectly, on rhetoric from the American Dream, with even in the background the spirit of “true-blooded Americans of Pilgrim stock”. The expression was used by Elder Charles W. Nibley, Presiding Bishop of the Church. Though his remarks date back to 1924 — but others of the same alloy can be found in following decades –, the core message may still run deep in present-day Mormon thought, more than anyone would probably be willing to admit nowadays:

“I rejoice this morning with all my heart that I am a member of the Church — this American Church that owes no allegiance to any foreign power or potentate, the only real American Church worthy of the name. It is American through and through. It was established by true-blooded Americans of Pilgrim stock, the best Americans from Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and the surrounding New England states. Such men were the founders of our Church. It is American in ideals, American in thought, American in every activity connected with it, American in its desire to bless and benefit the people. There is not any other church that can claim anything like that” (Conference report, October 1924).

3 – The behavioral realm

A third area seems more intricate to distinguish as it pertains to elements in the behavioral realm — I point in particular to physical, affective and pragmatic conduct in interpersonal relations. I bring it up as a tentative topic, for I don’t think it has been paid much attention to.

Is there a certain “American” behavior, and I should perhaps narrow it down to a subjectively defined sphere of “white, middle-class, easy-going, efficient American”, which is therefore also found in the U.S. outside Mormonism, but (much) less in other cultures, and which transfers to Mormon units abroad? Depending on the distance between American culture and the foreign culture, such transfer of behavior will be more or less noticeable (but, by default, inconspicuous to Americans themselves). Again, the point here is not to discuss appropriateness or desirability, but the identification of behaviors as idiosyncratic.

One should indeed consider that wherever in the world the Church has been established, white middle-class Americans were (and often still are) the originators, organizers, and first leaders of church units. Historically this came about through thousands of missionaries, mainly from America’s West. It has been remarked that converts are often those most amenable to America and American culture, thus facilitating the transmission of behavior from the missionaries to them. Next thousands of Mormon American families living abroad, as well as scores of older missionary couples, also infuse local units with their behavioral patterns. Present-day missionaries, called from foreign lands, are immersed in a mission organization where the rules and interactions are shaped by Americans and to which they are expected to conform. After their mission (sometimes even fulfilled in the U.S.) and their return home, there is a fair chance that newly acquired habits will remain. Mission presidents, most still from the U.S. or Americanized, and visiting authorities, American or Americanized, disseminate through their function as role models particular behavioral patterns in their contact with local leaders and members. Church-produced media contribute to the same. The channels through which these patterns flow to members abroad are numerous.

What kind of conduct does this all pertain to? The informality and equality of social contact between genders and between ages — often a major dissimilarity with patterns in other cultures. The way to approach strangers and start a conversation. The open signs of friendship as tokens of belonging to the network. The distance between standing persons when talking to each other. The facial demonstration of assertiveness and commitment. The firm and somewhat longer handshake, with a smile and a direct gaze in each other’s eyes. The way to hug. Eye contact during interviews and meetings. A certain jovial looseness in conducting meetings. The humor. The casual speaking style from the pulpit. The presence and conduct of children during meetings. The effect of homogenizing dress and grooming standards on behavior. The use of superlatives, extolling others as “wonderful” and “great”, praising each child or youngster as “special”. And more.

These examples of behavior, which of course represent averages and which are in stages of progress in parts where the Church is new, may seem trivial to Americans because they have them ingrained as natural. But, in most foreign countries, it would suffice to go to the worship meeting of any other local, vested religion, or to any other kind of meeting for that matter, to understand the distance from behavioral patterns which have been adopted in a Mormon unit and which come, basically, from American models. I underline that my approach to this topic is tentative. Still, in view of the importance of behavioral patterns to form a community, this aspect might be significant in the subliminal layers of a worldwide gospel culture.

Note that I have not included, as an American component, the corporate, managerial style of doing things, first because that style is not typically American (any more), second because it does not necessarily affect all the members. But, indirectly, the tendency to call as ward, stake and regional leaders, and hire as Church employees, members who seem most fit, by personality and profession, to blend in the corporate, managerial style, reinforces such leaders to other members as role models.

Conclusion

Considering the three areas touched upon — historical-geographical, ideological, and behavioral — I believe these components can be called “American” because, considered in worldwide perspective, they could not have been infused from another cultural realm. Mormonism, in its expansion to other parts of the world, can thus aptly be called “an American world religion”, as in the subtitle of Eliason’s anthology of landmark essays on Mormonism (2001).

Evidently, we understand the rhetoric that tries to defuse the idea that Mormonism is an American religion, on the one hand to avoid the political halo or the derogatory connotation tied to the term “American”, and on the other hand to stress the universality of the gospel message. But is Mormonism not American in a similar sense as Hinduism is an “Indian” world religion, Islam “Arabic”, or Catholicism “Roman” — with all of the nuances and caveats such characterizations entail? Moreover, with this main difference that Mormonism is, in comparison, extremely young and therefore still intensely tied to its birth place. It took many centuries to start perceiving Islam or Catholicism as geographically universal religions. Still, the etymological meaning of “Roman Catholic” is “from Rome, universal”.

And so, while we know that the message of the Restored Gospel is universal, how American is the Church? What do we lose, what do we gain by affirming that we are, or that we are not, an American Church?

I called the sister missionaries. Yes, this investigator might have had a problem that needed to be cleared. No, not married. But she surely was a golden contact, result of member involvement. In fact, she always came to that member’s home to be taught.

Three days later, in our chapel, the sister missionaries introduced me to Iza, a rather petite woman in her early twenties. She was from Romania, spoke Romanian, but, the missionaries said, also some Russian. Iza smiled shyly as she gave me a weak handshake.

– And this is Nadzia, she is from Poland. She was baptized a year ago and translates for us. She has been so helpful in teaching Iza. You will need her for translation. She speaks English and Russian. The President told us it is OK. You can trust her.

I worried about difficult communication and privacy issues.

A tiny classroom in the chapel, both women seated in front of me, both tense. After a few sentences to Nadzia, it was clear her English was limited. She stared at my lips, frowned thoughtfully, then articulated with some embarrassment say-again-please. No doubt my own faltering English pronunciation – Dutch is my mother tongue – did not help her either. She then turned to Iza and formed hesitant clauses in Russian. My limited knowledge of Russian should have been sufficient to control the general accuracy of Nadzia’s translation, but I was quickly lost. I presumed she russified Polish words. Iza from her side nodded, seemingly more out of politeness than out of comprehension.

I tried to put them at ease, searched for common words and simple sentences. Introduced myself. Thanked them for coming. Said a prayer. Expressed gratitude for Iza’s willingness to be baptized. Explained I had to ask a few questions. Faith in Jesus Christ? Acceptance of the Restoration? Willingness to abstain from alcohol, tobacco… ?

Each of my questions only obtained an approving nod at the other end of the go-between. I needed more response to be sure Iza understood. And how was I going to talk about chastity and possible sexual transgressions? Provided Nadzia translated my words correctly, how was I to judge from Iza’s answers how well she recognized the gravity of her sins and how fully she had repented?

Inwardly I had to fight off the irritation that the missionaries had again been unable to find local people. It was easy to convert marginal strangers, but did these people fully understand the Gospel and its commitments?

– How long ago did you leave Romania?
The shift to this different kind of question, though gently asked, seemed to unsettle both women. The answer came back as a vague a few years.
– Do you have family here? Where do you live?
Reluctantly it seemed, Nadzia passed the question to Iza. The two women stared at each other, in an unmistakable moment of connivance. Nadzia nodded in encouragement, signaling I could be trusted.

Iza turned to me and whispered:
– Payoke.

No more was needed to grasp her background. A victim of human trafficking. A standard case in all its horror. A Romanian girl, probably from a rural area, lured to a fake job in France or Germany, abducted en route, her identity papers destroyed, made to believe family members back home would be harassed if not killed if she disobeyed, detained in back alley brothels. A non-life of pain and abhorrence. Coerced to play roles for photos and films. A few years already. Add to it the torment of her family without news. Cases like this, and the fight against the networks that committed these crimes, had been in the papers recently, with grisly details.

But she had managed to escape to Payoke.

The Payoke initiative was started, end of the eighties, in the inner-city home of a compassionate lady, Patsy Sorensen, who offered shelter to battered prostitutes trying to flee their environment. She arranged for medical, psychological, legal assistance, struggled with social services, immigration, menacing pimps. In the nineties, after the collapse of the soviet bloc, her attention focused entirely on the most abject form of exploitation: human trafficking. Her work reached the media. Volunteers stepped in. Lawyers, doctors, translators. Royal endorsement. Coordination with police. A network of safe houses formed. On the international level Patsy became a driving force to help combat an evil that affects thousands of women.

In our city, the single word Payoke summarized it all. It revealed Iza’s past. It also meant refuge during this first, critical period, as mafiosi were known to seek retribution or the elimination of witnesses.

– Vii imeetje voprosi, she helped me, breaking the silence.
– She says you have questions, Nadzia echoed.

I tried to recall the thread of the interview. What more was there to be asked?

Iza seemed alarmed at my indecision. From her purse she took a Book of Mormon in Romanian. The bookmarker opened the text at Alma 39. Verses were underlined. She turned page after page, her fingers caressing each leaf from top to bottom. At the end of chapter 42 she tapped lightly on the text, as her eyes became moist.
– She wants to say: she thinks that she is ready for baptism, Nadzia said cautiously, pleadingly.

There are moments when the inadequacy of being a priesthood leader can only be redeemed by those whom we are supposed to serve. Iza guided the steps. Justice and mercy. Expiation and redemption. She longed for an acceptance blended with the fear of not being acceptable.

I could only hope that, in the turmoil of her past and present, she could distinguish her place and that of her tormenters in Alma’s words to Corianton. For this was a context of whoredom. I felt guilty that she would feel guilt. Alma’s rebukes were an answer, agonizingly stark, to Corianton’s sin. These words were addressed to a man, to all men who up to this day … Still Alma called Isabel a harlot, stealing away the hearts of many. But what if Isabel had been another Iza? How could Alma have known? How did Gadianton robbers exploit women?

I found nothing else to do than gently close the Book, press her hand on it, and say that all would be well.
– Vsjo budjet chorosho, Nadzia echoed, with the warmth of a soothing mother.

She added:
– I also was in Payoke. Now I have an apartment. It is safe. Men are in prison. The missionaries must not know all this. It’s too difficult for them. And better that very few people know. I have a job. I will help Iza.

All was said and all had still to be done. Her journey would be arduous, her past ineffaceable in her nightmares, her past forever present in internet sites men visit. In their lust looking at Izas.

In the hall I told the beaming missionaries that Iza was going to be baptized next Saturday.

The pulpit is a small mobile plastic rostrum. From the ceiling the beam of a lonely spot touches the speaker’s hair, nose tip and hands, the rest disappearing in splotchy shadows. Speaker and pulpit shrink into insignificance at the bottom of the mammoth paleness behind them.

We sing the opening hymn, our voices emerging from the cozy depth of the seats, the resonance going astray in the muffled walls. After the thanking and sustaining sequence, the three members of the stake presidency speak, lengthily.

From the balcony my disobedient eyes glance over the audience in search of familiar faces. Faces tell stories prone to screenplays.

Lisette! Thirty years ago she was a Catholic nun and school principal. From age 18 on, it had taken her a decade of studies and preparation, stage after stage, in an immense test of endurance, to the solemn point where she pronounced the Ursuline vows. As an educator she served another twelve years in total abnegation. Then in her school office entered, unannounced, two Mormon missionary sisters. A physical God? A great apostasy? Pre-existence? Eternal marriage? Disturbingly fascinating. Lisette enters months of soul-searching doubts and discoveries. How does one undo a past tied to the very core of one’s existence? She meets John Staley, Catholic monk for 25 years, Mormon convert, who sketches his former life, respectfully, gratefully, and which parallels hers. Then, he explains, came his illuminating recognition of the Restoration. Lisette soaks up his words. I was a privileged witness to that meeting. Her fears turn into hope. Next, in slow and sanctioned steps, comes the excruciating process of renouncing her convent’s life and returning to a civilian status without a job. Still in turmoil, uncertain. Attending Mormon church services in a small branch at the outskirts of the mission field. Meeting Daniel, a man her age, convert of a few years, still single, soft-spoken, who helps her. A growing, deepening friendship. Finally, in prayer, the irrevocable testimony. Daniel baptizes her. Their friendship grows into love. Marriage, eternal marriage. Could motherhood still be hers? Lisette is 42. A year later a baby girl is born. Twenty-two years later I see that girl working as a bright, multi-lingual sister missionary on Temple Square, welcoming visitors from around the world… Lisette and Daniel, both in their sixties now. Still active, dedicated, in spite of decades in that same little struggling branch, surviving dramas that rocked it. They have not been overcome by the slowly creeping jungle that could finally make the sturdiest temple crumble in the forests of Angkor.

Hernan! Our Chilean brother, around seventy now, adjusts his hearing aid, reminder of one of his impairments inflicted in the torture chambers of Pinochet. Torn tympanic membranes. He arrived here in the mid-seventies as political refugee with his wife and four small children. A Mormon supporter of Allende, detained and tortured, he had accepted exile thousands of miles across the ocean, to a city and region unknown—Antwerp, Flanders. Our small branch took them in, provided housing, language lessons, cultural integration, employment. I relive the scenes of their resettlement in a small apartment which our MIA youth painted and decorated. Years went by, preparing his children to go on missions. An agonizing divorce. The growing, painful understanding that also former missionaries to Chile served the CIA in the mess that led to Allende’s death and the horrors of the Junta. Learn to bow your head and accept the paradoxes of an international Church in conflicting maturation. In the nineties Hernan could have returned to Chile, but by then he had new roots, remarried to a local sister. Two model saints in their humility. In his broken Dutch he has served for years in unassuming callings, and as assiduous translator for scores of Spanish-speaking visitors and investigators.

Denise! I remember her return from Utah on that murky morning at the Brussels airport, more than two decades ago. She was still in her early twenties then, emerging from customs with a single bag, a two-year old and a baby. The marriage with that returned missionary had not worked out. We had been worried when he had her come to the U.S.—his mission in Flanders had been one of ups and downs, collecting ecstasies and depressions with the swing of his emotive pendulum, a fault-finder on his personal quest for perfection—but he was stubborn as to the inspiration he claimed to have received, and she was in love, or at least she thought she was in her desire to marry in the temple, persuaded by the injunctions to strive for that sealing, and besides who else would she find in the mission field—certainly back then? Three years later I drove her from the airport to the home of one of our widows willing to give her temporary shelter, thus avoiding the immediate clash with her own non-member parents’ incomprehension and blame. She apologized for the trouble she was causing. Reluctant to let me in on details, she could not hide that he had managed their marriage like his mission. She had signed what he wanted, lost in the English legal jargon, guilelessly reassured that he did not want the children, but deliberately, defiantly she eschewed alimony, from a deep maternal instinct, thus weakening any claims he could make later. Her life since then has come from day to day. She never heard from him, nor from his parents. She survived thanks to her testimony and the Belgian social system — family allocations, medical benefits, paid job training. A nurse now, specialized in palliative care, she can deal with challenges greater than hers ever were. In her church unit, always short of hands to fill callings, she teaches weekly Sunday school and serves as Relief Society president, juggling her way, with a wise smile and timely biting wit, through lessons about the ideals of family life. Her own parents, long torn between their despite for Mormonism and their yearning to see the grandchildren, still let the former prevail.

Julie! I know she worries about her mother. The news is horrific again. Additional fighting in North Kivu between government forces and renegade troops. Tens of thousands of previously uprooted Congolese, sheltered in UNHCR makeshift camps near Goma, are fleeing over muddy roads in torrential rain, also in Kalehe’s region, hers and her mother’s birthplace. Julie hasn’t had news from her old mother for long now. Women in Congo’s most-violent region are raped and killed by militias, fugitive Hutus and roving Mai Mai fighters. Doctors report that women’s reproductive organs are being assaulted with knives, bayonets, or chunks of wood. The dead are hideously mutilated. Close your eyes to those images, Julie, focus on your sons now on missions in other lands… Julie was born in the mid-fifties as the illegitimate child of a French plantation owner and one of his young black maids. In the bloody upheavals after Congo’s independence in 1960, fleeing the country himself, the man—in some desperate flash of blurred responsibility—had the girl torn from her mother, brought to Rwanda, and handed over to a Catholic congregation, before disappearing himself. After two years in an orphanage, Julie was sent to Belgium and adopted in a Flemish family. Once a young adult, scarred by her past, she stepped into a marriage which turned out to be abusive. Divorced, with two daughters ages 9 and 4 to care for, struggling to make ends meet—we’re in 1981 now—she hears a knock on the door. Mormon missionaries. Three weeks later she is baptized. In her small branch she learns to serve with joy, grows in her callings and meets this faithful brother. In her new marriage, sealed in the temple, she gives birth to four more children, all boys. Twice the search for her own mother brings her back to the depths of Africa—that account would make a documentary of rare poignancy on its own. She is able to find her mama, provides funds for her care, but then again contact is lost in the new horrors that engulf Eastern Congo. Julie continues to serve the Church in her ward here, profusely, and strengthens two of her sons on missions.

The X… A family from a central-European, former communist country with Islamic grounds. For their safety, no identification here. Parents with children, all under ten. Their last Sunday among us. Our clumsy efforts to help legalize their status failed. The expulsion order, received last Thursday, gives them eight days. I only know scant details of their plight, of their failed journey to our promised land. They are among tens of thousands of illegals seeking refuge in West-Europe. They were baptized shortly after their arrival. Who dares to judge their motives? They have been faithful in their attendance, paying tithing on the pittance they earned for doing cleaning jobs, living in a one-room apartment, innocently counting on the miracle of legalization. They still could go into hiding, like many try, sometimes with the help of Church members, against leaders’ warnings. But they decided to obey, resigned to fatality and still clinging to faith. A few more days, then deportation back to their home country. God knows what will become of them.

Jacques! His life seems void of any noteworthy event. Baptized in the mid-seventies, he typifies the Church leader able to be a stake or mission president, and more, and indeed did serve occasionally on higher levels, only to be quickly recalled, again and again, each time for years, to keep his faraway branch together as mavericks and zealots rock the boat. Amazing man, forever glowing with enthusiasm, undaunted missionary, even if after three decades his hundreds of fellowshipping visits with generations of elders have hardly yielded a result. But upon such rocks the Kingdom is built.

Nathalie, the sweet rebellious teenager, now a mother of two herself, one mentally handicapped.

Cyril, wearing his eternal tie.

Mamadou, dying of AIDS.

Others, many. Material for dozens of poignant movies.

From these quiet faces, patiently listening to the conference speakers—or to the whispering translators since some fifty nationalities are gathered here, many from Africa—emerges an innate wisdom, an infinite willingness to accept and to sustain. What a multicultural texture of devotion and modern drama they make. They blend in this texture. None of them feels special or would want to be special. Their cultural backgrounds have not conditioned them to think so.

Conference draws to an end. The visiting Seventy speaks, without a text, from the candor of his calling, translated by a local brother. The lonely beam from the ceiling touches his hair, nose tip and hands, the rest disappearing in splotchy shadows. He tells of his dear wife, sitting on the stand in the twilight. He would not be what he was without her. She gave him a full quiver of children, who all married in the temple, next came the exponential grandchildren. He speaks of blessings and pioneer ancestors, extols the stake presidency, tells the story of a sports hero who, against all odds, won gold. He promises growth, unseen growth, if the members would do better, lengthen their stride, be more dedicated, stand out, be examples to the outside world. All they need to develop is faith.

Seen from the audience he seems at an ample distance, against the backdrop of the giant, empty screen.

***

A few weeks ago, I returned to Kinshasa. An assignment at the Catholic University there. I had longed to be back in Central Africa where, as a teacher, I had shared part of my life with nuns, priests and prostitutes. That was thirty-five years ago. Friends warned me: things had continued to disintegrate. I would find more lewdness, filth, perils. The population had tripled. Kinshasa, they said, had become an immense garbage belt upon which eight million people tried to survive.

I also wondered about the pioneering Mormon presence in Congo’s capital. I looked forward to attending Church in one of the new wards.

The plane landed after dark. Sister Leonie, a black nun of the congregation of Sainte Marie de Matadi, drove me to the suburb of Limete, where I would stay in the compound of the Catholic Radio Station. The ten mile ride along the boulevard Lumumba, once a desolate road I had taken many times, now fiercely exhibited Kinshasa’s expansion. As our minivan sped with the intense traffic flow through the night, we passed thousands of people packing the broad and jagged sidewalks of the boulevard, walking, talking, selling, buying, begging, mile after mile. Shadows in colorful pagnes, crossing the four lane road amidst the six lane traffic, kept popping up in the headlights of the vehicles — at least of those that still had headlights — and managed to elude collisions like toreadors the bulls. Honking bulls spewing black clouds of fumes.
- Masina, Sister Leonie said. It’s grown a lot since you were here. Very much peopled.

The crowds, convening on the boulevard’s sidewalks from miles of dark slums beyond, were moving in the glow of erratic streetlamps and shimmering oil lanterns, against the backdrop of sheds, minuscule stores, crude cafe terraces with an occasional flickering neon, unfinished houses looking ruinous, teeny markets, junk shops, crumbling factory walls with barbed wire on top, ramshackle bars with blaring loudspeakers. As we passed those bars, wafts of cadenced music pierced through the minivan and left as quickly. The odor of scorched earth and smoldering trash. My eyes got moist. I did not have to wait for daylight to recapture Kinshasa’s spirit. It was still here, that unexplainable harmonious anarchy, relentlessly exorcising despair and reconstructing life. It was still there, that self-confident, sensual music which, in the midst of misery, testified of an impudent verve against fate. I felt home.

***

She is a little street vendor sitting next to the entrance of the church with the long name. Her miniature merchandise is displayed on a tattered board, two feet by one, precariously resting on a cardboard box. She organized it in tidy rows: a dozen suckers of dubious color, roasted nuts in teeny-weeny heaps, chewing gums sold a piece, and, as surprising feature of the day, a number of small, Swiss cheese-spread triangles in their silver wrapping. Who knows how long past expiration date, and in Kinshasa’s heat!

They call it the informal economy, an immense network of vendors and revendors, partitioning the goods over ever smaller sizes, down to the tiniest display in some rutted alley, down to a child or a decrepit oldie waiting, hour after hour, for a business deal of a few cents. Upon that partition, and the proportional gains on sales, millions depend for their survival. In this world of tens of thousands of street vendors, scattered along miles of decaying sidewalks, our girl at the church entrance is a particle, an infinitesimal cog trying to be indispensable in the machinery of subsistence.

She is around nine, perhaps ten. As I slow down walking towards the gate, her timid smile to the white mundele I am speaks of innocence. My years of experience teaching in a suburban girls’ school in Kinshasa allow me to deduce details of her life. Her dress is just a piece of cloth hanging over skinny shoulders. Worn out from beat washing on stones, worn out by the wear of sisters before her, the pattern and colors have wilted. But it is clean. The fraying edges have been sewn. She is no thrown out street child, not one of those thousands in rags and dirtiness, thugs and victims at the same time, abused by police and military, vulnerable to assault and rape as they hide at night in gutters and corners.

- Mbote. Ndenge nini? I greet her with hello and how are you.
From my Lingala, grey suit and age she must infer I am some missionary priest who has served for decades in Congo. The whiteness of her teeth spreads over her face.
- Malamu, mon père, melesi­.

Polite, well raised. Her frizzy hair, trimmed to keep it cleaner and facilitate the chase for lice, has been deftly tied in flat squares separated by clear hairlines. Checkerboard style. It testifies of the patient hands of a mother, or a big caring sister, and thus of a home. But her meagerness, her indigent dress, the insignificance of her shop point to a home deep in the slums, in a shag of dried mud under remnants of asbestos sheets. Her bare feet are grey from walking over ashes of burned garbage. Even so, an innate dignity in her posture eclipses dejection. Her trustfulness shows from her naive acceptance to sell that handful of little Swiss cheese triangles in silver wrappings, which, somewhere along the chain, a wholesaler has slipped in — from looted luxury merchandise.

What strikes me is the choice of her vending location. Why here? This street, ending in a cul-de-sac, is quiet. The ward meets here in a villa, surrounded by the high wall common to all superior houses. The wrought iron grille has been opened. A few families stroll in. The little vendor only earns disturbed glances from mamas who drag their children inside, away from the temptation of the treats.

- Can you sell anything here?
- I will later on, she beams. The mass is long in the church with the long name. Then the children deserve something. They know I’m here.

I am awed. She has it all figured out in consequential steps where even the three-hour block becomes useful. But her strategy is not only about the few cents more at the end of the day to help feed her family. She epitomizes a creativity that still gives meaning to life. Nothing in her countenance betrays the dismay that her future is beyond all hope of enhancement. In realms like Kinshasa, where for slum-dwellers degradation and impoverishment are on an irreversible course, inventiveness still nourishes anticipation.

- You’re going to school?
Her face clouds over briefly. I shouldn’t have asked. I remember the struggles we teachers faced to convince parents to let a girl continue at school. That was many years ago when the system still functioned. Now underpaid teachers in dilapidated schools expect from parents, who can afford it, to help supply salaries. Only a fraction can. If the budget is tight, boys get precedence. Girls are put to work to care for younger siblings, haul water, enlarge cesspits, cut stones to gravel, tan leather, walk endlessly head-carrying chock-full basins from rural sites to urban markets, vend along sidewalks.

- I went two years. I can read.
A sense of worth speaks from her lips. She cherishes the memory of those two years of elementary learning, in an overcrowded class on crumbling benches. The eager faces I taught in such circumstances indeed bore witness it was a privilege, paid by parental sacrifice. Since this girl’s countenance conveys that she is from a home where values have managed to outlive deprivation, I can imagine the pain when the decision fell to close her door to schooling, to the prospect of progress, to perhaps, at the end of the cycle, the emancipation to a better job than guarding two square feet of trivial foodstuff, which she is not allowed to taste herself, even if famished.

I can read. She says it with hushed pride. She knows of the treasures hidden in books she will never have. She knows of the power of documents, identity papers, certificates that others have. She can now read publicity boards advertising the goods of a world beyond her reach. The skill to convert letters into language gives her an aura of rehabilitation, even if it is only a voiceless adornment to her frailty — a frailty both tender and austere, as she chastely pulls her dress a little further over her bony knees.

For how long? Girls of shantytowns… As poverty strangles them further, as disease strikes their family, as vending opportunities are lost, many end up in prostitution. In Kinshasa, an eleven-year old can already make a dollar, twice as much without a condom, dicing with HIV.

Inside the villa, everything is oddly familiar. Pictures of temples and of President Hinckley. The bulletin board with announcements from the Relief Society and the Elders’ Quorum. A box with tithing slips and envelopes. Subscription forms for the Liahona. In the hallway people greet and chat. Two giggling boys chase each other. Meetings proceed as scheduled. We sing in French from the same hymnbook as used in Bordeaux, Geneva, Papeete and Quebec. The Priesthood, all black, blesses and passes the Sacrament. Talks about charity and sharing the Gospel with others. In Primary the children sing with African zest Je suis enfant de Dieu.

One must hear it from the street.

A returned missionary teaches Sunday school.

“… Now, brothers and sisters, we need to respect the Sabbath day. That means no shopping. But for the past few weeks we’ve had that vendor girl at the gate and it’s becoming a habit for some of you to buy from her as we leave the church. I know your children won’t like it if you don’t buy them treats any more after church. Some will cry and yell, but you need to teach them to honor the Lord’s day. We shouldn’t chase that vendor away, but if you don’t buy from her, she won’t come back.”