Chapter Five
Lead Kindly Light: My Mission in Southern Italy
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Volume Two: Rising Sun and a Psychiatric Eclipse: My Mission, BYU, and My International Experiences (ca. age 19-32) (ca. 254 pages)
Chapter 5. Lead Kindly Light: My Mission in Southern Italy
The Missionary Training Center
I can’t adequately articulate in writing and with mortal language my experience in the Missionary Training Center (MTC) in Provo, but I will do my best to convey the essence of it. My companion in the MTC was Elder (Anziano) Adam Corey from Delta, Utah. We stayed in a room with two other missionaries who had been called to serve in Greece, one of whom was Elder Payet, a nephew of my father’s friend Christian Euvrard. Elder Payet’s twin brother was called to serve in the Italy, Catania mission as well.
A very large group of missionaries entered the MTC, and we learned that, tragically, one of the prospective missionaries was killed in a car accident just a short time before we began our training. We immediately dove into the Italian language and into a deeper study of the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon. I arose early each morning so that I would have more time to study the Book of Mormon. I arose at 5:30 am each morning, showered and dressed, and studied the Book of Mormon from 6:00 to 6:30 am.
I already had faith in, and a testimony of this great book, another testament of Jesus Christ. But while I studied the Book of Mormon in the MTC, with a sincere heart, with real intent to know the truth, with real intent to share the truth, and with faith in Christ, the power of the words of Christ in the Book of Mormon burned like fire, like a guided laser, inscribing the words of Christ upon the fleshy tables of my heart. Each morning, I was eager to arise and study the Book of Mormon because the Spirit of God spoke to me so powerfully from every verse. Although I didn’t fully understand everything, particularly in the words of Isaiah, I knew that they were true.
I knew? Yes. Critics of the Church and critics of the Book of Mormon will scoff or doubt at the word “knew,” but my testimony of the Book of Mormon is as real, or more real, than anything. Doubters and scoffers like to imagine that those who share their faith in and testimony of the Book of Mormon base their understanding merely in feelings, emotions, or their own ideas. But nothing could be further from the truth. The things of God can only be discerned by the Spirit of God, and the truth of the Book of Mormon which testifies of Jesus Christ can only be known and understood in this way, by pure revelation.
Pure revelation is not something that Mormons (members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) invented. Joseph Smith didn’t invent it either (although he was very good at receiving pure revelation from God). God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and He has always been eager and willing to reveal truth, and particularly truth about Himself and His Beloved Son Jesus Christ, to His children, to all those who have ears to hear and eyes to see.
What I experienced in the MTC as I poured over the Book of Mormon reminds me somewhat of the experience and the truth that the medieval Muslim philosopher, theologian, and mystic Al-Ghazali described in his delightful little book Path to Sufism:
“I reflected on my intention in my public teaching, and I saw that it was not directed purely to God, but rather was instigated and motivated by the quest for fame and widespread prestige. So I became certain that I was on the brink of a crumbling bank....Mundane desires began tugging me with their chains to remain as I was, while the herald of faith was crying out: 'Away! Up and away! Only a little is left of your life, and a long journey lies before you! All the theory and practice in which you are engrossed is eye service and fakery! If you do not prepare now for the afterlife, when will you do so? And if you do not sever these attachments now, then when will you sever them? … (pp. 9-10)
At length God Most High cured me of that sickness. My soul regained its health and equilibrium and once again I accepted the self-evident data of reason and relied on them with safety and certainty. But that was not achieved by constructing a proof or putting together an argument. On the contrary, it was the effect of a light which God Most High cast into my breast. And that light is the key to most knowledge.” (p. 23)
God Most High had indeed also cast a light into my breast, the Light of His pure Word, through the miraculous vehicle and instrument called the Book of Mormon, and I was positively on fire with the truth, with the Spirit of God, and with the desire to share the Good News, the Gospel of Jesus Christ with everyone.
I saw many people in the MTC whom I had met previously at BYU and in other places. I felt happy, and excited, with a clear conscience and eager to serve the Lord. I became good friends with everyone in our group, missionaries such as Anziani (Elders) Corey, Little, Maggiora, Neslen, Payet, Hansen, Howell, and Sorelle (sisters) Livingston and King. Our teachers were Fratelli (brothers) DeMartin, Stoddard, Hayward, and Musaalo. There were other teachers as well.
We often went to the Temple, the House of the Lord, at least once per week. We played soccer and basketball during our preparation days. I was eager for my friends to enter the MTC. The Payet brothers told us many stories about France, about the Army, and about their many challenges before the mission. I was impressed with their attitude, their experience, and their incredible strength. I noted in my journal that one of them could bench 315 lbs. Not bad.
We studied Italian together, we studied the scriptures together, and we practiced sharing the Gospel with each other. I was seeking for greater light and knowledge, a stronger faith and testimony of Jesus Christ and of the Book of Mormon, faith like the brother of Jared, a major character, and one of my favorites in the Book of Mormon (especially because I have a brother named Jared).
I was learning how to be vulnerable and to talk to new people. I was often too hard on myself. Once in a large group meeting, I met a young man and a fellow missionary who had been called to serve in the Paris, France mission. His name was elder Costa. When we were practicing our missionary skills, I felt very inadequate. Elder Costa showed great love towards me and encouraged me to be patient and confident. Then he opened the Book of Mormon and shared a verse of scripture with me wherein the Lord encourages His servant Moroni, from Ether 12:27:
“And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
The Spirit of the Lord swept over me. I knew that the Lord was answering my prayers, and I felt an even greater desire to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ with others. I was learning to gain emotional strength to share my faith. I noted in my journal:
“I know that God answers prayers, and I know that there is so much for me to do to improve as a missionary and as a man, but my progress is only possible through the love of God and the Sacrifice of His Son Jesus Christ… I must never forget the truths I have learned this day. The only way to show that I am grateful and to humble myself before the Lord is to bear my testimony.”
I remember those experiences very well. I was earnestly stretching and yearning to do the best that I could as a missionary and to teach and learn by the Spirit of God. I wanted to have great faith in Christ, faith like the brother of Jared, and not just because I too had a brother named Jared.
Soon thereafter, my friend Samuel Johnston entered the MTC and began to study Korean. It must have been a very difficult language to learn. With my background in French, I picked up on Italian very quickly. I loved studying and practicing Italian. The funniest parts of my journal pertain to my attempts to focus on the Lord’s work without being distracted by girls. Sometimes I broke out into psalms and poetry in my journal, praising the Lord and almost composing scripture. In a way, the things that I wrote in my journal are like scripture for me, even now.
Troy Maetani entered the MTC soon after that. It was great to see him. When Benjamin Lonsdale arrived, all four of us were in the MTC at the same time. I began to write and to receive copious amounts of letters. I have preserved hundreds, perhaps thousands of letters from friends and family members over the course of my mission. I enjoyed the MTC experience very much, but there were hard days as well. I wrote about my worst day in the MTC up to that point, and it is interesting, and funny to see the kinds of things that bothered me at the time. I wrote about my relationships with specific missionaries and how I learned to love and serve them. I sometimes felt frustrated because there was no one else who could push me and challenge me in my study of Italian. But soon after that we had a lesson on charity that helped to change the tone of everything in our small group.
One of the best and most spiritually edifying experiences in the MTC was the Italian culture night. We ate Italian food, spoke with Italian people, and learned all about Italian culture. It was such a beautiful experience that created a lot of excitement in my heart to travel to Italy and to be a missionary. I wrote a poem about this experience entitled “The People,” and I shared it with my fellow missionaries:
“Lord, fill me with Thy love once more,
Another night inside my foreign dreams,
Take me to the people that I love,
And I do love them, Father.
When I looked into the sky tonight,
I did not see the void I saw before,
It was full of prayers gone out to Thee,
Full of love that Thou hast shown for me,
And I do thank Thee, Father.
I stood among my teachers and my friends,
I listened to the difference of their voice,
A voice that speaks to me and speaks to them,
When I’m not too proud to listen.
There seemed to be a sadness in their eye,
A sadness that I’ve noticed now and then,
Not so much a sorrow, but a joy,
In knowing that they’ll go there once again.
How else can I prove the way I feel?
Words will not convince men that it’s real,
You love with love that cannot be concealed,
Because it comes from God, I’ll spread it far abroad.
I follow in the paths that have been forged,
I search inside my soul by searching yours,
Lead me through this preparation day,
Until Thy children call. I am a leader if I follow Christ.
Two years have passed as if they were a dream,
I listen to the fiery engines scream,
Can I look back upon my dream,
And know that I am facing straight ahead?
The future is a light that draws me near,
Annihilating that which men call fear,
I am sad to leave, and in my eyes, some see a trace of pain,
Others try to dry a solemn tear.
But my joy is full forever now,
I wish there were a way to show you how,
I have lived the future then come back,
Recognizing truth along the track.
And when I take my body through my dream,
I know it’s real that I will be redeemed.”
I finished reading the entire Book of Mormon again while I was in the MTC. I knew that it was true every day as I read and studied, but when I reached the end of the Book of Mormon, I knew that I could ask the Lord to confirm to me that it is true. I already had great faith in and a testimony of Jesus Christ and of the Book of Mormon, but when I prayed one night in the MTC, for the witness that I needed to be able to share my testimony far and wide with everyone, I knew again in a higher and more powerful way that the Book of Mormon is unequivocally the word of God. Equipped with these experiences, this spiritual knowledge and understanding, an endowment of power from the Lord in His Temple, and a solid foundation in Italian and Italian culture, I felt ready, confident, and prepared to hit the ground running in Italy.
I recorded many other interesting, funny, and strange experiences in my journal while I was in the MTC. One night I had a terrible nightmare, and my companion and the other missionaries also awoke because they knew that something was wrong. My companion gave me a blessing, and we prayed together. Then we were all able to sleep again.
On August 26, 1996, only two months after I entered the MTC, we set out for Italy. I met my brother Nathaniel and some friends and family members at the Salt Lake City Airport, and then I met the rest of my family (except for Jared) in St. Louis because they were on their way to Washington D.C. My dad was chosen to direct the Washington Seminar for Brigham Young University, and most of my family (except for Nathaniel who was studying at Utah State University), relocated to Alexandria, Virginia for the semester.
It was great to see my family for a short time before boarding another flight. We were young and valiant, full of faith in Jesus Christ, and eager to serve Him. I promised to do the Lord’s will with the many blessings that He had bestowed upon me. In my journal I frequently expressed my love for God, for Jesus Christ, for my family members, for my friends, and for everyone. I recorded in my journal:
“I just saw my family for a while. I saw my mom and dad waiting, with Abby and Annie. Abby was crying, but when she saw me, she stopped, and smiled, and said ‘Johnny’ in the cutest, sweetest voice I have heard in a long time. She hugged me. I hugged Abby and Annie, my mom, and my dad. It was like a homecoming. We talked, ate some food from Taco Bell, and talked some more. Then they left. I was so happy to see them again… 22 months won’t be that long. There was some problem with our plane, or some delays, so now I am on a different plane going to D.C., then N.Y., then Rome. Jared is flying from Seattle to Baltimore, so my family had to go get him.”
On the way to New York, I noted that there was a real Sicilian man sitting behind me, and that I tried to talk with him, but the other Italian missionaries swarmed him. We were on our way to Italy.
My Mission in Southern Italy
If I could write volumes about my childhood, youth, and adolescent experiences, then I could certainly write many more volumes about my experiences in southern Italy as a young missionary. Perhaps I will write such volumes someday, but in the meantime, to capture the essence of my experiences, I will record highlights, thoughts, feelings, journal entries, pictures, and commentary.
Although my mission experience was not always easy, I enjoyed every minute of it. Of all my adventures in life up to this point – my childhood adventures in Boston, New Hampshire, Michigan and Idaho, my scouting adventures in Escalante and in the High Uintas, my cross-country motorhome adventure with my aunt and uncle, our family trips to and from Washington state, North Carolina, and other place, and my travels around Utah for high school sporting events – my mission to southern Italy was undoubtedly the greatest adventure.
This was my first voyage to a foreign country. Furthermore, it was the first time that I was separated from my family for a long period of time. But I had prepared my whole life for this experience, and I embraced the opportunity with gusto. I remember the palpable excitement when the plane first landed. We soon arrived at the mission home in Catania. We had an exquisite meal and took care of some paperwork. The next day I boarded a train to Bari, my first city, to meet Anziano Stewart Smith, my trainer and first companion.
Bari
As a new missionary - a greeny or a “verdino” - I was very impressed with the maturity, dedication, and Italian skills of the older and more experienced missionaries. After settling into the apartment and reading the Book of Mormon, my companion and I went grocery shopping. I bought a Sprite, some milk, and a bag of cookies. I’m almost certain that the brand of cookies I bought were the Gocciole cookies that soon became one of my favorite breakfast snacks. One of the first things that my trainer, Anziano Smith, told me was not to look directly at the Italian girls because they like missionaries. The girls hissed at us like snakes (instead of whistling) to show their interest. That was very strange.
Just outside of the missionary apartment there was a giant billboard with a picture of a young woman’s bare breasts. Europe was different from the United States in that way. We were greeted by that billboard every morning as we made our way toward the bus. But my companion and I were very focused on doing the Lord’s work, no matter how much hissing or how many billboards tried to distract us.
There was a “panificio,” a bakery on the corner of the same street that served the most delicious focaccia with olives and tomatoes. Even as I write about this focaccia, it makes my mouth water. I immediately gained an appreciation for the delicious food in Bari, including orecchiette, panzerotti, and granita. It’s difficult to describe how delicious authentic Italian food is. Just think of the best Italian food that you’ve ever eaten at popular Italian restaurants in the United States, and then consider that as horse manure in comparison to the pasta, panzerotti, and focaccia that my companion and I ate with gratitude every day in Bari.
At first, I couldn’t understand everything that the Italians said, but my companion and I spoke to each other almost exclusively in Italian, and my Italian skills improved rapidly. With the Lord’s help and the spiritual gift of tongues, within a few months I was very conversant in Italian. After a year I felt comfortably fluent. After two years, I could speak Italian very well.
I continued to study Italian thereafter, and it is a life-long quest to master the beautiful Italian language. I am grateful for the opportunity that the Lord gave me to study and practice Italian because it not only enabled me to converse with so many wonderful Italian people, but also because it enabled me to read some of the greatest works of literature, poetry, music, history, and political philosophy in the original Italian.
Each region in Italy has its own peculiar dialect. I quickly learned a few phrases in the Barese dialect, mostly to get a laugh or to break the ice for a deeper conversation. I loved Bari and the people of Bari. I noted, however, that many of the people with whom we spoke believed that all religions were the same, or that all roads lead to Rome - “Tutte le vie portano a Roma.” I wanted to tell them, and I often did, that such was simply not true. There is one road, a strait and narrow way, that leads to eternal life. Jesus Christ is the way, the truth, and the life. There are many broad roads, however, that lead to a place much worse than Rome.
Once on a train, Anziano Maggiora and I met a young man about our age named Giovanni who was headed into the military. He told us that he was going to serve the devil in the military, and he envied us for being able to serve the Lord. Maggiora conversed freely with him because he had a background in Spanish, and we gave him a Book of Mormon with our testimonies written in it. I loved sharing the Gospel, and I was excited to do more.
I was eager and energetic, but I also soon realized that I got tired very easily. It was a common symptom for greenies – “i verdini.” I was suffering from pasta-shock. The copious amounts of pasta that we ate each afternoon initially hit me with a carbohydrate overload, but I got used to it soon enough.
Our schedules in Italy were different from American schedules because everything closed in the early afternoon until about 3:30 p.m. Thus, we missionaries usually left the house around 9:30 am, returned at about 1:30 pm, had lunch, studied some more, and then left the house again at approximately 3:30 pm. The rule was to return home again by 9:30 pm and to be asleep by 10:30 pm. For the most part, this was my schedule for two years.
We met a young man named Corrado, a university student, who played the guitar for us. We shared the Gospel of Jesus Christ with him, and we gave him a Book of Mormon. Sometimes it was discouraging when people rejected us or refused to talk with us, but the Spirit of the Lord buoyed us up. I enjoyed missionary work, and I was learning a lot. I recorded in my journal:
“I just want to be as humble and as teachable and as kind and as loveable as a little child, one that could walk up to Jesus Christ with shining eyes and a smile, and hug him like a son hugs his father at a young age, and then cry tears of love and of wisdom to know that I have done what is right and am no longer a child, but still as pure as a child.”
Often my companion and I contacted people in the street, but we also knocked on doors – “casa in casa.” Early in my missionary journal I described an encounter with a woman who was a Jehovah’s Witness. I was puzzled by her beliefs, but before we left her doorstep, I shared my faith in Christ and my testimony of the Book of Mormon. I felt genuine love for her, even though she had previously been a stranger, and I felt genuine pain that she rejected our invitations. This was something that I would get used to, and that every missionary must get used to: rejection. There was plenty of it.
I spoke with everyone. I shared my testimony with everyone. I gave copies of the Book of Mormon to everyone who would read it. In my journal I recorded:
“I have been thinking about how very logical ‘Mormonism’ is. Ask God. It’s that simple. We know that God loves all of us, that He wants all of us to progress. Why would he not answer us in ways of truth. If we ask Him sincerely and honestly, then He will help us. We need to humble ourselves before Him, then we can be prepared to feel the affirming and comforting voice of the Holy Ghost.”
We made a new friend in our English class, a student named Rino Simone. As missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we were commissioned to serve, and one service we rendered was to help our Italian friends learn English. We also served frequently in a hospital not too far from our apartment. We were striving to do what Jesus Christ would do and to teach what Jesus Christ would teach.
One thing that impressed and surprised me a bit when we were invited to dine with Italian families is that sometimes they would yell and shout and wave their hands about. They were very animated and passionate. I learned that they weren’t mad at each other at all. That was just how they spoke with each other at the dinner table.
While I was in the MTC I began to make audio recordings to send to my family with my letters. I have preserved and digitized each of these audio recordings, and I made more audio recordings throughout my mission. In addition to my detailed journals, these audio recordings are a treasure from which I can draw to add to this autobiography.
We visited a family named Bellomo. Sorella (Sister) Bellomo made delicious orecchiette pasta for us. The most effective missionary work was and is done together with members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The Bellomos invited friends and family members to join us as we prayed, read the Book of Mormon together, and watched Church videos together. The purpose of it all was to show God’s love for the people and to invite the Spirit of the Lord to touch their hearts.
Very soon I met Enzo Borgia. Enzo Borgia became a life-long friend. He was like a father for us:
“Enzo is so awesome. A middle-age computer dude, tall, relaxed, and funny. I love him already. He loves the missionaries and wants them to work hard. I love to practice my Italian with him and to joke around.”
Enzo joined us for many discussions with many different people, and he often accompanied us to the “mostra” – a display that we set up in Piazza Umberto to invite pedestrians to talk with us. He gave us rides to appointments, he bought us focaccia and panzerotti. He was the missionary leader in the ward or congregation where we gathered each Sunday, and he was and is an extraordinary friend and missionary. There was one branch of the Church on Via Jatta, 11/C and another branch on Via Cancello Rotto. I remember meeting in both branches.
We went to a nearby hospital from time to time to visit elderly and afflicted people and to do service projects. It may have been a “manicomio,” a psychiatric hospital.
Once while we were knocking doors, my companion Anziano Smith and I met another man named Giovanni who looked very disheveled. He invited us to come to his house because he needed our help. He fell onto the floor and began to writhe around, arching his back and moaning and screaming. It was a frightening experience, but my companion and I knew that he was under the influence of the devil and some evil spirit. My companion and I raised our right arms to the square and rebuked the devil and commanded the evil spirit or spirits to depart. Giovanni began to calm down, and my companion commanded him in the name of Jesus Christ to arise. He arose and with astonishment exclaimed “I don’t believe it” – “Non ci credo.” We each gave him a hug and he invited us to come with him to meet with one of his friends upstairs. We gave him a Book of Mormon and told him to read it every day.
I became bolder in my approaches toward people. Once at a park, I stopped an entire group of Italian friends and struck up a conversation with them. I then gathered my companion and my fellow missionaries together to sing for them. We sang “I Am a Child of God” - “Sono un Figlio di Dio.” One of the men in the group continually tried to interrupt me, but a girl in the group, a beautiful girl, encouraged him and the group to listen to me and to listen to our message. We spoke about the Book of Mormon, and about why we were on a mission. We shared our testimonies of Jesus Christ and His Church. The Spirit of the Lord was strong as we stood in a circle and shared our faith with them. I could tell that many were touched, but some showed it more than others. We invited them to Church and to read the Book of Mormon. We shook hands – making sure not to cross over arms because it is bad manners.
On another occasion, Anziano Smith and I met with a man named Alessandro Disha and his wife. Alessandro informed us that his cousin’s daughter was sick, and he wanted to know if there were any good doctors around. We told him that we could find a good doctor through the members of the Church, and we also offered to give the child a Priesthood blessing. We explained Priesthood blessings and how much depended upon the faith of the child and of the family. The child was brought to us, and she sat down in a chair. She was crying. Her mother helped to calm her down a little bit. When we put our hands on her little head, she was calm. My companion proceeded to bless her. He was directed by the Spirit to say many wonderful things to this small girl – that she would be healed and become a member of the Church, with a family. The Spirit of the Lord was strong, and the little girl was calm and still throughout the entire blessing, and after the blessing. “I know that the Spirit directed my companion to say those things, and those great blessings will come to pass according to the faith of the family,” I wrote in my journal.
I loved Bari, but I also considered that it was a filthy and sinful city. I sorrowed over the city of Bari, but we met many wonderful people there. I noticed the cigarettes, the syringes, the scantily clad girls, and the pornographic billboards. On a discouraging day, I thought that a tidal wave would be a good way to cleanse the city before the Second Coming. We were working with one friend and investigator to try to help him to stop cheating on his wife. There were many people who mocked us. It was popular at the time for people to yell at us: “Hey Mormon.” Then they would sing the song “Siamo noi, la luce dell’amore! Porta via il buio dal tuo cuore!” – “It’s us, the light of love! To take away the darkness from your heart!” There was a popular TV show and comedian who made up this song to make fun of the LDS missionaries, and almost everyone in the city knew it. In retrospect, it is quite funny. But it was annoying to many of the missionaries.
The other missionaries in Bari at the time included Anziani Winters, Garces, Locksmith, and Lomax. They were great. I was continually impressed by their character and fortitude in the face of much opposition. At other times, however, I was frustrated when I felt that other missionaries were not as serious or committed to the work as I was. Anziano Ben Lonsdale soon arrived in Italy, and he too was called to serve in Bari. I came to pick him up at the train station. His first companion was Italian, Anziano Vesco. Anziano Lonsdale and I soon had the opportunity to do missionary work together, even as greenies.
I turned twenty years old in Bari, and I rejoiced when someone finally allowed my companion and I to enter their home while we were knocking doors or doing casa in casa. We helped a young man named Bruno who had recently broken up with his girlfriend. We gave out many copies of the Book of Mormon. I felt good, and I felt that the Lord was blessing us with success. It was especially great fun to see Elder Lonsdale in action as a missionary who was even greener than I was. It was a great time.
However, on September 30, 1996, or shortly before then, I received terrible news that I recorded in my journal:
“My brother Jared is (or was) in the hospital in Washington, D.C. He should be out by now, hopefully. He had a break down. He said something about evil spirits. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that he will be ok, and that he is recuperating. He wrote me an awesome 3-line letter that said stuff like: ‘I can’t wait to go on a mission… I love you. We all miss you.’ The handwriting was a little shaky… more shaky than normal (if that is possible). I love my brother Jared and miss him.”
This terrible event would prove to be more difficult for him, and for me, in ways that I could never have imagined during this early stage of my mission in southern Italy.
My fellow missionaries and I often played soccer, or mini-soccer – “calcetto” – together and with friends and investigators – “simpatizzanti.” Ben’s older brother Jacob finished his mission in northern Italy, and he came down with his parents to visit Ben for a short time. We all played calcetto together one day. All my years of soccer practice, especially at Waterford with Ben Lonsdale, had prepared me to play soccer with Italians… and Italians know how to play soccer. Meanwhile, Sam was in Korea and Troy was in Japan. We each wrote to each other throughout our missions.
I learned from my family that Jared was doing better, but I waited for a long time to receive a letter from Nathaniel. I missed my family, but I was not homesick because I knew that I was doing the Lord’s will in Italy. I was tired but happy. I was also happy to be able to go on splits, or to leave my official companion for a while to do missionary work with Anziano Lonsdale.
In Bari I went to a Catholic Mass. I was impressed by the paintings, the statues, and the grandeur of the cathedral, but it also felt strange to be there.
Sometimes people wanted to fight with us, or to Bible-bash. On one occasion, Anziano Smith and I met a couple of Americans who were very well versed in the Bible, and they only wanted to Bible-bash. After some of their Bible-bashing, I finally asked them: “How do you feel about Jesus Christ?” When they looked puzzled, I repeated the question with emphasis: “How do YOU feel about Christ?” One of them, Josh, replied that He is our Savior. Then I simply shared my testimony of Jesus Christ. The Spirit of the Lord swept over us. I expressed my gratitude for the Savior, and that through Him, I can repent and one day I will live with my Father in Heaven again. I continued to share my testimony and I testified to them that the Book of Mormon is true.
We continued to teach Rino Simone the Gospel. He knew that the Church is true, and that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is true, but he was hesitant to get baptized. There was constant change and movement during the mission, especially during transfer time – “trasferimenti.” Anziano Lomax transferred to Cosenza, a city where I also later served. Anziano Garces took his place in our apartment. We met a young lady named Helena from Yugoslavia. She was a golden contact. She asked great questions, and she wanted to get baptized. It was not uncommon for us to meet immigrants from many different countries, especially from Africa and Albania.
Anziano Lonsdale and his new companion moved to a nearby city called Monopoly. Before he left, however, he found a family named Barrato – Gerardo, Davide, and Roberto Barrato. My companion and I went to their house and became good friends with them. During our conversation, the Spirit was so strong that Gerardo, the father, said: “You know, you just might convince me.” Of course, we knew that only the Spirit of God has the power to convince, but we were happy, nonetheless.
We visited nearby cities such as Gravina and Bitonto. Everywhere we went we testified of Jesus Christ and gifted Books of Mormon to our Italian friends. Anziano Lonsdale and I had many opportunities to work together and to teach together. I admired Anziano Lonsdale because he had a sincere love for God and for the people. Even as a greeny he was a miracle worker. I recorded in my journal how much joy I felt to serve God together with Anziano Lonsdale in Italy. Once when we were riding the bus together, Anziano Lonsdale turned to me, face beaming with light and said: “John, that’s it. Our friendship is so strong now. Our friendship is written in stone.” I like that. In retrospect I understand that the Lord was blessing us with the gift of charity: love for Him, love for each other, and love for the Italian people to whom we were sent.
I was happy, but I also struggled mightily from time to time with bouts of depression and discouragement. These bouts of depression had begun in a small degree during my senior year of high school, and they cropped up from time to time early on in my mission. But I continued to square my shoulders and do my best to be anxiously engaged in the Lord’s work. Sometimes I may have pushed myself a little too hard early on. But most of the time I was happy, and we also experienced many powerful outpourings of the Spirit of God.
By the end of November, my first companion and trainer, Anziano Smith, had returned home, and my next companion was a young man named Lex Drollinger. Anziano Drollinger spoke Italian very well, with a unique accent. He was from Idaho. He was also a snowboarder and a skateboarder like Anziano Lonsdale and Anziano Locksmith.
Anziano Drollinger and I continued to work with all the families that I had met with Anziano Smith, and we also began to work with the Calabrese family, Mario and Anna, Angela, and Valentina – “la famiglia Calabrese.” I enjoyed working with Anziano Drollinger. I learned a lot from him about diligence and charity, and about effective time management. He knew how to plan very well and to find the most effective ways of serving and inviting others to come unto Christ.
I have many more beautiful memories of Bari. When I think of Bari, I think of Enzo Borgia, focaccia, panzerotti, Piazza Umberto, Parmalat milk, a cute little girl at Church named Silvia, service at the hospital, buses, the Curci family, the Palladino family, the ocean, and much, much more.
Barletta
In mid-December, I learned that I would be transferred to a city not too far from Bari, a city called Barletta. Enzo Borgia and Giuseppe Mono saw me off at the Bari train station, and I took the train, about a 45-minute trip, to Barletta where I met my new companion Anziano Eric Leis.
It was a big change from Bari, in part because there were little to no active LDS members in Barletta, and the city just seemed dreary and rundown. Fortunately, we had a Christmas conference with almost all the missionaries in Puglia and Calabria. We also had the opportunity to call our families during Christmas.
It was the first time that I had spoken with my family since I left for Italy. My sister Anne Marie answered the phone, and when I told her who I was, she could hardly believe it. “Are you serious?” she asked. It was fun to talk with them and rejuvenating to be able to share my love for each one of them. We kept in contact by letters, of course, but it was nice to be able to talk on the phone. We had a good conversation, and I learned that my friend Matt Brown, Elder Brown, was already serving as a missionary in Paraguay.
Anziano Leis and I were different in almost every way. He was very tall and hefty, and I considered that his attitude toward missionary work was rather too casual and relaxed. I felt an intense desire to work and to be obedient. I had a lot of youthful and useful energy. My companion enjoyed a slower pace. Sometimes it was difficult, but we were both growing and learning. I was growing more confident in the knowledge that I am a child of God, created in His image, and blessed with great potential.
Missionary work in Barletta was very difficult. The assistants to the mission president came to visit us in Barletta and to go on splits with us. They challenged us to speak with everyone. Sometimes we went to the nearby town of Corato to find new contacts. I felt frustrated whenever people thought that we were Jehovah’s Witnesses. I was being tested and tried during my early days in Barletta. The other missionaries in the house besides Anziano Leis and me were Anziano Thunnel, and Anziano Gargiulo, a native Italian.
Despite the momentary difficulties in missionary work, the Lord blessed us abundantly. Despite what I considered the dreary conditions in Bari and Barletta, la Puglia is a beautiful region of Italy filled with beautiful people and beautiful places. In Bari, I enjoyed walking along the ocean, lungo mare. Our trip to Gravina was also memorable, like being transported to another world. The old city – “vecchia citta” was fascinating, as were the old Catholic churches and cathedrals.
For the most part, the Italian people we met were very open and friendly, warm, and welcoming. If our conversations were about food, soccer, the weather, or anything other than religion, we made friends easily. Many were also willing to talk about religion, but Catholic traditions were and are engrained deeply in the hearts and minds of the Italian people.
A few of my missionary friends and I liked to joke about some of the responses that we received to our attempts to engage with the people in a conversation about God, Jesus Christ, and the Plan of Salvation. Some of the most common responses were: “Vado di fretta” – “I’m in a hurry,” or “Non c’è tempo” – “There’s not time,” or “Non m’interessa,” – “I’m not interested.” More than once my companion and I knocked on a door, and someone inside shouted: “Non c’è nessuno” – “There’s no one here.” We laughed about that one especially. If there was no one inside the apartment, then who was speaking to us?
If our conversations broke through the initial barriers, our Italian friends would often tell us something like: “Ragazzi, vi stimo molto, ma sono Cattolico Apostolico Romano. Sono nato Cattolico e morirò Cattolico” – “Boys, I admire you a lot, but I’m a Catholic. I was born a Catholic and I’ll die a Catholic.” With a little more creativity, sometimes our Italian friends would reject our invitations with a brief reflection about how all religions are the same, and that it doesn’t really matter which religion we choose: “Sono tutti uguali. È tutto uno. Non importa se si chiama Geova, o Buddha, o Padre Pio. È lo stesso.”
But we were blessed to be among people who believed in God and in Jesus Christ, people with strong cultural and family traditions. There was much to appreciate about the people and their customs. In fact, Italy is an inexhaustible treasure trove of great things. Recently, when a friend asked for recommendations to help her prepare for a trip to Italy, I wrote a response that could have been the first chapter in a book. I composed a list of ten things that I love about Italy: the people, the food, the language, the history, the literature, the music, the art, the soccer, the landscapes, the culture, and so forth. The list of great things about Italy is infinite, and we were blessed to be immersed in the greatness.
Anziano Leis got an ingrown toenail, and he went to the hospital for his treatment. Without any anesthetic, the doctor shoved a strange, scissor-like instrument into his toe and yanked out the ingrown toenail – “l’unghia incarnita.” There was blood everywhere. I wasn’t present during this event, but I was told that Anziano Gargiulo held down Anziano Leis’ arms while a doctor held down his legs. It must have been very painful.
Gargiulo transferred to Catanzaro, and Anziano Greene took his place. While Anziano Leis was in Catania for further operations on his toe, I worked with Anziano Thunnel. We met the Gianfrancesco family – Luigi, Pia, and their young daughter Katerina. We read the Book of Mormon together and had great conversations with them. Luigi struggled, however, because his wife was reluctant to believe in God and to have the same kind of hope and faith that Luigi had. This was strange, because often it was the woman in the family who was the most spiritually attuned to our message.
There were many inactive members in Barletta. There had been a congregation there at one time, but it seems to have disintegrated before I arrived there. Therefore, we spent much of our time as missionaries trying to find lost sheep and heal old wounds. We visited Sorella Scia Scia and Sorella Paparella. We visited many other inactive members.
Eventually, our young mission president, Presidente Giovanni Ascione, requested that Anziano Leis remove the names of unresponsive members from the Church records. Anziano Leis was distraught that he would have to cancel more names than he added to the Church, more cancellations than baptisms. I had many conversations with other missionaries who felt similarly about their supposed lack of success during the mission. Baptisms seemed very rare, but as a mission we did find and baptize many people.
Anziano Thunnel and I visited the Grisolia family, a friend named Gianluca, and a friend named Debora. Once I tried to stop and talk with a Moroccan man to share the Gospel with him. He wasn’t interested in our message, and Anziano Thunnel asked me about the policy for baptizing Muslims. I thought that we should be able to share the Gospel with everyone, but at the time I believe that there were some restrictions about our interactions with Muslims.
Soon after that we missionaries travelled to Catania to renew our permits – “Permesso di Soggiorno.” I saw Anziano Lonsdale and many of my other friends from the Missionary Training Center. It was refreshing to be with and be strengthened by my missionary friends before returning to Barletta.
Our circumstances in Barletta slowly improved. There was at least one active member of the Church in Barletta, our friend Paola Guaglione. She helped us with our English class and with other things. She was also a returned missionary who was planning to go to BYU. In English class we met Massimo Quagliano, and he became a great friend for the missionaries. We also began to teach the d’Ambra family, Cosimo and his mother, and her friend Isabella. My relationship with Anziano Leis improved as well.
We had a zone conference in Foggia. The assistants to the president spoke to us about the effectiveness of our first discussions, and Presidente Giovanni Ascione spoke to us about recognizing our talents, removing stumbling blocks, and seeking for spiritual gifts. I kept separate journals, booklets for recording the things that we learned during Zone conferences.
Anziano Peterson organized a zone conference game of football and a barbecue to take place in Barletta. Anziano Leis and I also travelled back to Bari for a priesthood meeting, and I was happy to see so many of my friends, including Enzo Borgia, Fratello Carlucci, Vito Santoro, and my other fellow missionaries again. I gave out many copies of the Book of Mormon along the way.
Back in Barletta I spoke with everyone about the Gospel and tried to motivate my fellow missionaries. In retrospect I can see how the Spirit of the Lord guided me on so many different occasions. Once when my companion and I were on our way home from the butcher shop - “la macelleria” – I felt prompted to enter another store. We met the couple that worked there, and I felt that I needed to look for something in the store. On the wall of the store, high above the counter, there was a picture of a young man with his shirt off, flexing his muscles, a very strong young man. I asked the owners of the store who it was, and they replied that it was their son who had died seven years earlier. His name was Antonio, and he had met with the missionaries before, and he had also read the Book of Mormon. I felt to tell his parents that Antonio was happy and well in the spirit world where he was. I even felt that Antonio was there with us, and that he wanted me to speak with his parents. I told them that they will be an eternal family.
Our Zone football game on the beach in Barletta was great fun. I enjoyed every opportunity to play sports of any kind during the mission. It was a rare event to play football, because most of the time we played soccer (calcetto). During this same time, I met Anziano Paul Rosenvall in Trani. We became friends, but unlike many of the other missionaries who went their separate ways after the mission, I kept in contact with him during my time at BYU and even up to the present time.
Anziano Leis was soon transferred to Ragusa to be companions with Anziano Hemmert, and my new companion was Anziano James Thane Stallings. I loved all my companions, but James became one of my best friends and favorite companions. Anziano Dowdle also joined us in our apartment with Anziano Thunnel. Meanwhile I received great news from Bari that Mario Calabrese was baptized.
Anziano Stallings was from Twin Falls, Idaho where my aunt Jacque Sue Brown and her family lived. We had a lot in common. He knew the Browns, he worked at McDonalds before his mission, he studied at BYU, and he played some tennis and soccer. Anziano Stallings and I continued to teach many of the same people and the same families that I had known before he arrived in Barletta. Stallings was part of the same group in the MTC with Lonsdale, and thus he was still fresh in the mission and eager to work. We worked very hard together, and we enjoyed working together.
One of the most memorable and powerful spiritual experiences of my life to that point took place in Bari during the conference when a stake (a large congregation of Saints) was formed in Puglia. Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf came, and he spoke at the conference. There were many of us gathered and the Spirit of God was so potent that none of us who were present can ever forget it. It was a truly Pentecostal outpouring of the Spirit of God. I am glad that I preserved my notes from that conference.
I recorded my thoughts and feelings about the event in my journal:
“The conference was like heaven. Peace and joy filled every soul. The Holy Ghost burned inside my heart and helped me to remember who I am, and why I am here. I am here to find and teach and baptize my brothers and sisters. I have a testimony of my Savior Jesus Christ, something I will never deny. And I will be faithful and endure to the end.”
I learned from my friend Ben, Anziano Lonsdale, that my brother Nathaniel received his mission call to serve in the Paris, France mission. He was called to serve where my dad had served more than two decades earlier. I was grateful to be able to serve in the same city, and then in neighboring cities with Ben. Later, we had even more opportunities to serve together.
Anziano Stallings and I had many interesting experiences together in Barletta. We participated in Barletta Bowl II, our second beach football game for missionaries. Once we witnessed a robbery right in the middle of the street but were unable to apprehend the thief. We played tennis at the house of the brother-in-law of our friend named Roberto.
We began to meet often with the Giannini family – Michele and Pina, and their children Francesca and Raffaele (Lello). We read the Book of Mormon with them and had many beautiful experiences together. When I learned that Lello sometimes had trouble sleeping, I made a small poster of a verse of scripture for him to keep by his bed:
“aCounsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for bgood; yea, when thou liest down at night lie down unto the Lord, that he may watch over you in your sleep; and when thou risest in the cmorning let thy heart be full of thanks unto God; and if ye do these things, ye shall be lifted up at the last day.” (Alma 37:37)
Anziano Stallings and I met a man, a hospital worker named Franco Maffei who expressed interest in the Gospel, but he stood us up (“bidoni”) five different times before we stopped meeting with him. But he also gave me a book about Barletta, for which I am grateful.
Often, I thought of my little sisters, wishing that I could see them again:
“I saw two little girls, the same ages as my little sisters, and I showed them some pictures of my two beautiful sisters Annie and Abby. Sometimes I wish that my parents could just deliver an extra-special air-mail package, and I would take it carefully into my room, open it, and dig through the foam peanuts to find my sisters, feed them a little revitalizing pasta, and then take them on a tour of Barletta, to see the statue of Hercules, or to help with some reactivation work.”
One funny story from Barletta was the time when I asked an elderly Italian man for a new recipe because I wanted to cook something new. Missionaries became decent cooks because we had to take turns cooking for each other, but I was tired of making the same dishes. The man gave me a recipe for a pasta with beets. When I tried to make it, it turned out so poorly that the other missionaries wouldn’t eat it. They were mad at me for my experiment, and they ate other food. At least I tried something new, and beets are good for the heart.
When I think of Barletta, I think of Pasquale, an elderly friend who wanted help to quit smoking. I think of the delicious rotisserie chicken and our friend who worked at the rotisserie shop. I remember the colorful graffiti, delicious pizza at the pizzerias, and wonderful excursions into the countryside for a picnic and volleyball with friends.
I especially remember the first time that I heard Laura Pausini’s music. We were getting our haircuts, and the song “Ascolta il tuo cuore” played in the background. I was enchanted, and I’ve loved the song ever since then. It haunts me even now as I listen to it.
I remember that out of curiosity my companion and I once entered a Scientology building in Barletta. Both of us immediately felt that we should leave, and so we left. This experience was significant for reasons that I will share later in my autobiography, reasons that pertain to my study of the cult of Scientology. I remember the old Castello Svevo, the hospital, and stray dogs. I have many other fond memories of Barletta, too many to record in this autobiography.
Anziano Stallings and I taught English classes. We found opportunities to play sports with newfound Italian friends, and to enjoy time in the countryside with them.
When I think about Barletta, I think of Massimo Quagliano, Paula Guaglione, the Giannini Family, and many others. I think about watching Church films with a projector on the wall of the neighboring apartments. I think about the colorful graffiti on the walls by the train tracks. I think about a man whom we met named Felice, and visiting an elderly woman who cried incessantly. I think about the invitation to feed the missionaries that Anziano Stallings and I wrote.
Monreale
In May of 1997, I transferred from Barletta in Puglia to Monreale in Sicilia. It was a very long train ride, and I was exhausted after the trip. I believe that Anziano Rosenvall was on the same train with me. It took me a while to recover fully.
Puglia (the region in which Bari and Barletta are located) is a beautiful region of Italy, but la Sicilia (Sicily) is beautiful in different ways. Monreale is a small city just above Palermo. John Henry Newman wrote his Christian hymn, one of my favorites, “Lead, Kindly Light”, soon after he set sail from the Palermo in Sicily.
From the heights of Monreale, there is a spectacular view of the ocean and the cities round about. There is a famous Cathedral in Monreale with beautiful gold designs and paintings. I quickly grew to love the members of the Church and the people in the city of Monreale.
My first missionary companion in Monreale was Anziano Jay Wood. He played waterpolo before his mission. We hiked up a mountain above Monreale to an old castle called Castellaccio. The view of the valley from Castellaccio is breathtaking. I’m grateful that I have photographs, even though no photograph can do justice to the experience of the view.
I began a new journal on June 26, 1997, exactly one year after I had entered the MTC. It felt like a new beginning for me and my mission, especially because I was in a new region, in a new city, and with a new companion. Even though everything was new, it was good to see old, familiar faces and friends – I met with Ben, (Anziano Lonsdale) and many others in Palermo.
This is probably a good place to mention that before I left for my mission, my mom was concerned about the Mafia. As a young man living in a quiet LDS community in Provo, Utah, the Mafia was only a legend from the movies. I certainly wasn’t worried about meeting the Godfather.
In retrospect, maybe my mom had some good reasons for concern about the Cosa Nostra. I had just descended into Sicily and into a community near one of the main Mafia cities, namely Palermo. My next city, Cosenza, was also in one of the main regions for the 'Ndrangheta, the most powerful group for organized crime in Italy.
To my knowledge, I never met with any Mafia members. However, it was my job, and the job of my fellow servants, to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ that has the power to do away with such secret combinations of organized crime. Hopefully a Mafia member or two was brought to Jesus Christ and repentance through our preaching and example.
In Monreale I became friends with the Piampiano family, the Vaglica family, the Boscia family, the LoCocco family, and many others. There was a small but well-organized branch of the Church in Monreale. In Barletta the missionaries did almost everything for the Church, including organizing and conducting meetings and preparing, blessing, and passing the sacrament. In Monreale, we had many duties, but the members of the Church were more active and prepared. However, the pianist could only play one hymn on the piano, so we sang “Who’s on the Lord’s Side?” (“Chi Sta con Il Signor?”) every Sunday for a while.
After Anziano Wood left, my new missionary companion was Anziano Craig Tovey. Anziano Tovey was a great artist, from the Bay Area in California. We had differences of opinion, and a different outlook on life and missionary work. But when we worked together in unison, we experienced miracles and great blessings.
I particularly remember when we first met the Ceraulo family. We entered Marcello Ceraulo’s small store that was not too distant from the missionary apartment. After a brief conversation, Anziano Tovey and I sang the hymn “Sono un Figlio di Dio” (“I Am a Child of God.”) The Spirit of God flowed from the music and touched Marcello’s heart.
We began to meet with Marcello and his beautiful family to teach them the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ. When we first shared the story of Joseph Smith and his First Vision with them, Marcello told us that he felt goose bumps all over. We informed him that the Spirit of God was testifying to him of the truth of Joseph Smith’s experience. I can still recite from memory Joseph Smith’s experience in his own words translated into Italian:
“Vidi esattamente sopra la mia testa una colonna di bluce più brillante del csole, che discese gradualmente fino a che cadde su di me. Era appena apparsa, che mi trovai liberato dal nemico che mi teneva legato. Quando la luce stette su di me, io avidi bdue Personaggi il cui splendore e la cui cgloria sfidano ogni descrizione, ritti sopra di me nell’aria. Uno di essi mi parlò, chiamandomi per nome, e disse indicando l’altro: Questo è il mio dFiglio ediletto. Ascoltalo!”
Anziano Tovey and I visited Marcello and the Ceraulo family (Sylvana, Francesco, and Marco) in their home and we invited them to be baptized. Progress was slow. Even after a year into my mission, I had not personally baptized a single person. But we planted seeds and did our best. We were happy that there was a baptism in our branch, however, because Michele-Nefi, the young son of Fratello (Brother) Boscia, was ready to get baptized.
Anziano Tovey and I frequently traveled down the hill from Monreale to the house of our friend Fratello Ienna to help him in his garden and with other tasks. He was an elderly man with many pains and infirmities - “acciacchi” – but he enjoyed our visits. Our friend Gregory also lived down the hill.
By this time, I had begun to write in my journal in Italian. I loved to study and practice the Italian language, and I always kept a small notebook – a “taccuino” – with me to write new words and phrases. I didn’t draw as much as I had before the mission, but there are a couple of sketches in my journals. Meals with our Italian friends were always wonderful and memorable experiences, and I’m grateful that I made at least one sketch of one meal-time experience.
I especially remember one meal that Sorella (Sister) Piampiano cooked for us. She made a pasta al forno that was so delicious that I can hardly imagine how it was possible to cook like that. Her meal was to my tastebuds what the music of Vivaldi is to my ears or what the sculptures of Michelangelo are to behold. Many Italian mammas have great skills and much practice in the kitchen, but Sorella Piampiano’s pasta al forno lingers in my memory as one of the best meals I have ever eaten. Thank you Sorella Piampiano.
After a year into the mission, I had learned the value of inviting members of the Church to join us in our missionary discussions. Fratello (Brother) LoCocco, Fratello Boscia, and others were often helpful to us, just as Enzo had been in Bari, and Paola Guaglione in Barletta. These members were strong in their faith and courageous to share their faith with everyone. We also taught English courses in Monreale, as we had done in Bari and Barletta. I translated the Italian national hymn into English for one class.
I worked very hard to be the best missionary that I could be, but I learned very early on and through repeated experiences with missionary companions and friends that I was far from perfect. Nevertheless, notwithstanding my weakness, I did my best to share my testimony of Jesus Christ and His Gospel with everyone, and to share my testimony of the Book of Mormon, the Prophet Joseph Smith, and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I did my best to represent the Lord who called me to His work.
I was constantly focused on doing the best that I could each day, but in retrospect I also savor the more mundane and human moments of my mission. I have a particular memory of the day in Monreale when Anziano Tovey and I were in a small shop and the most beautiful Italian girl I had ever seen entered the store. There were and are many beautiful people in Italy, but I remember that both my companion and I looked at each other awestruck, and in disbelief at the beauty before us. I don’t recall much else about the experience, only that she was exceedingly fair to look upon.
Anziano Tovey and I also traveled into the countryside to find people outside of the city. I remember a family that we visited there. We prayed together and ate together. They had an almond tree. It was also the first time that I ate a snail. They had small snails - “lumachine” - and they taught us how to poke a small hole in the shell and suck the snail through it into our mouths. When one of the family members lost her watch, we prayed together, and she found it. We rode the bus back and forth from the countryside. The landscapes were very beautiful. Sometimes we saw flocks of sheep grazing in the grass.
I remember every inch of that small city because my companion and I traversed it many times. We also travelled to Palermo on occasion for conferences and other gatherings. Once in Palermo we organized a mini-Missionary Training Center to help prospective missionaries prepare for their missions. Anziano Payet was there, and many others. I remember Anziano Coletti, Anziano Tyner, and many others. On another occasion in Palermo, we played basketball near the beach, went to McDonalds to eat, and went shopping. I bought a pair of North Carolina Tarheels shorts and a Casio electronic planner.
When I think of Monreale, I think of the golden cathedral, beautiful sunsets, calcetto on a turf field, breaking down the door to our apartment because we accidentally locked the keys inside, and of singing the hymn “Families Can Be Together Forever” beneath the balcony of a couple who were engaged in a heated argument. I remember the cannoli, the open market with fresh fruits and vegetables, and trips to Palermo. I remember helping a family lower a refrigerator from their apartment balcony. I have many other wonderful memories of Monreale, too many to record.
Cosenza
In September of 1997, I was transferred back to the mainland, this time to Cosenza. I turned 21 years old in Cosenza, and the sister missionaries decorated my door with hearts and kind notes for my birthday. (Sister missionaries are amazing.)
Cosenza is a beautiful city in a beautiful region of Italy called la Calabria. Each region in Italy has a distinct dialect, distinct regional dishes, and a distinct culture. During our preparation days, we sometimes went to a nearby forest and mountainous region called “la Sila.” We hiked and hunted for mushrooms with friends. I remember that the sausage – “la salsiccia” – and the salami picante and cheese were especially good In Calabria.
Among other things, Cosenza is also famous for its cornetti, a delicious chocolate pastry shaped like a croissant. I haven’t written much about gelato, but by the end of my mission, I made sure to enjoy a good gelato almost every day. When I went to Sicily, I also made sure to enjoy the arancini, among other delicious Sicilian foods.
Anziani Greene, Wilcox, and Maggiora were in Cosenza, and Anziano Beck was my first companion there. One of the best friends of the missionaries was Fratello Gardi. Fratello Gardi had a flower shop near the bus station, and he was one of the main leaders in a strong and thriving congregation of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Cosenza. Fratello Gardi passed away not too long ago. I remember that once he stopped his car and gifted us with some fresh groceries. He was a great leader, a powerful speaker, and a charismatic friend.
The Malara family and the Lopez family were also very helpful. Francesco Amendola was also a great friend of the missionaries. We made pizza together and delivered it to friends. We spent much time with these friends, and they supported us in the work. Anziano Kinnersley came to Cosenza too. He was an expert on the doctrines of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. He collected all their pamphlets and materials, and he knew how best to argue with them.
This was significant because there were many Jehovah’s Witnesses in Cosenza, more than I remember in any other city. It was doubly significant because my next companion, Anziano DiGiovanni, was a Jehovah’s Witness before converting to Christ and His Church. When we were together, DiGiovanni and I, he seemed to attract every Jehovah’s Witness in the city, and he knew their tricks inside and out. I preferred not to Bible bash or to argue with Jehovah’s Witnesses, but I believe that DiGiovanni and Kinnersley were uniquely prepared to teach in Cosenza.
Anziano Summers came to Cosenza, and he was our district leader for a time. I went to Castrovillari for a few days to work with Anziano Grua. In Cosenza I began to experience minor health problems, and I visited a doctor. The doctor did some tests, including an electrocardiogram and an allergy test. At the end of October, I traveled back to Catania for more medical check-ups. I spent a short time in the mission office while I was in Catania. That was the closest that I got to the heart of the headquarters action during my mission because most of the time I was in cities and villages far away from Catania.
These medical check-ups were significant for reasons that I didn’t understand until almost thirty years later. I may have had allergies, or asthma, but it was nothing serious. Nevertheless, after the medical check-ups, I was diagnosed with a heart murmur.
For no good reason, the doctor in Cosenza prescribed Xanax. I had no idea at the time what Xanax was. I thought it was just medication. I still had a naïve trust in the medical system in Italy (even after hearing of the barbarous removal of my companion’s ingrown toenail).
After closer inspection of this bizarre and harmful prescription, I noticed that the doctor that prescribed Xanax was the psychiatrist Luigi Arturo Ambrosio. The reasons why these details are significant will become clearer later in my narrative.
Shockingly, this same psychiatrist, I discovered, was sentenced to six years and six months in prison for collaborating with and assisting members of the ‘Ndrangheta Mafia, the powerful underground criminal organization that deals in drug trafficking, arms trafficking, money laundering, racketeering, extortion, and loan sharking. It appears as though he was recently absolved of any wrongdoing. Whatever the case, no one, and especially not missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, should ever be sent to these kinds of doctors or poisoned with these kinds of drugs.
One of our friends in Cosenza was Antonio Chiarello. We visited him frequently to bring him hope and encouragement. In Cosenza I was called to be a district leader, which meant more responsibility, more interaction with leaders, and more interaction with the sister missionaries (Sorella Ovard and Sorella Hollingsworth).
I learned during one of my interviews with the sister missionaries that for safety reasons they were not allowed to go into the old city. For a short time, I was also the senior companion of a newly arrived missionary Anziano Hardy. One morning with Anziano Hardy, I accidentally set off the alarm at the Gardi’s flower store. I was very embarrassed by the ordeal, but when we prayed together later, Anziano Hardy gave thanks to God for the experience.
In December of 1997 my Great-grandmother Margarette Hancock died in an automobile accident. When I first received the news, I thought that my Grandmother Jacque had died. I was devastated. I was somewhat relieved to know that my grandma Jacque was still alive, but I was still sad that my great-grandma Margarette had died because I had many fond memories of her as well.
During this same time, my father wrote to me and informed me that my brother Nathaniel was serving in Caen, France, which was the last city where my father served during his mission. My father also informed during this time of an opportunity to study abroad in Paris, France after my mission because he had been selected to direct the study abroad program for Brigham Young University.
Some of our investigators in Cosenza included Umile Polizzo, Vincenzo Magarò, Giuseppe de Rose, and the Massiello family. We had many other friends and investigators in Cosenza. Cosenza was one of my favorite cities.
When I think of Cosenza, I think of the Gardi’s flower shop, the Lopez’s collection of Kinder toys, a snowy day, wearing my overcoat, eating Pandoro and Panettone, learning Italian proverbs, and visiting a disabled friend at a care center. I have too many wonderful memories of Cosenza to be able to write even a fraction of them.
Siracusa
In January of 1998, I was called to serve in the city of Siracusa in Sicily. Anziano Lonsdale was serving in Siracusa with Anziano Greg Thompson, and my new companion was Anziano Kevin Pursel. When I arrived in Siracusa, I met a young boy who became a life-long friend, the great Graziano Bandiera. I soon met another life-long friend who was a great help to the missionaries, Rosario Bevilacqua.
I missed my friends in Cosenza, as well as my friends in Monreale, Barletta, and Bari, but I quickly learned to love Siracusa and the people of Siracusa. It is a beautiful and historic city (think of Plato, and the Apostle Paul), and there was a thriving congregation of members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints there.
Anziano Rosenvall left Siracusa just before I arrived. It was a miracle, and an interesting experience to be reunited with Ben, Anziano Lonsdale, as missionaries under the same roof. It was an experience that we probably never would have imagined during our high school days at Waterford. But the Lord put us together there for a reason, and we were both fully committed to doing our best as missionaries for the Lord’s Church, seeking to build up His kingdom upon the earth in one of the most beautiful parts of the Lord’s vineyard.
Perhaps it was not a coincidence that Ben was sent to Italy. His father, Gordon Lonsdale, is a well-known cinematographer who helped to produce many films for the Church, including How Rare a Possession. How Rare a Possession – Un Bene Prezioso – is a film about the Book of Mormon, Parley P. Pratt, and an early convert to the Church in Italy named Vincenzo di Francesca. Vincenzo di Francesca was born in Gratteri, in northern Sicily, and he later discovered the Book of Mormon and the Church of Jesus Christ in a miraculous way. Ben’s brother Jacob, who served as a missionary in northern Italy, is an extra in the film.
In Siracusa we had a friend named Fratello Genovese. Whenever he invited us to eat at his house, we came prepared because he loved to cook and to serve an enormous feast. We also worked closely with Fratello Gibilisco, Fratello Bellomia, i Fratelli Rosano, Giuseppe dell’Aquila, la famiglia Nudo, Antonio Nitto, and many others. I enjoyed working with Anziano Pursel, a very kind and gentle soul, and a great basketball player too. Of all my companions, he was one of the best athletes. We played basketball during one preparation day, one of the few times that I played basketball during my mission. I still remember his prayers, asking Heavenly Father to help us to become the missionaries that He wanted us to be.
We had much success as missionaries in Siracusa. There were several baptisms, at least two of which were immigrants (one from Germany and one from Africa). The grandparents of the Nudo family also got baptized. Michael Kayode Ayeni Emmanuel was baptized in the ocean. Anziano Lonsdale baptized him, and after he arose from the water, he threw his hands into the air, splashing us with the salty water in an act of rejoicing and gratitude.
The incredible thing is that we were just four young missionaries in a mission with hundreds of other missionaries, each of which was engaged in the same work, with the same common goal: to bring souls unto Jesus Christ and salvation. And we were just one small mission in an army of many more missionaries in missions all over the world, helping to gather scattered Israel.
Furthermore, our service as missionaries represents but a small fraction of the many thousands of missionaries who had already been sent forth, and an even smaller fraction of the many thousands of missionaries who have been sent forth from the beginning of the Restoration of the Gospel of Jesus Christ under the direction of the Prophet Joseph Smith up to the present time. It was our small part in the gathering of Israel in preparation for the Second Coming of Jesus Christ.
In Siracusa we met Giuseppe Scala, and he became good friends with Graziano and others who were involved with the Church and with English Class – “Corso d’Inglese.” When I returned to Italy a couple of years after my mission, I spent time with Giuseppe, Graziano, and other Italian friends that I had met during the mission.
Anziano Pursel and I got along very well, and Rosario Bevilacqua, the mission leader in the branch, helped us a lot. At this point in my mission, I spoke Italian quite fluently, and I had grown accustomed to the things that were challenging for me earlier in my mission. This was also a challenging time in my mission, however. It may be that my experiences in Cosenza, including the prescription for Xanax, had begun to take their toll on my health. I don’t think that I took the Xanax for an extended period, but what I understand now about the drug helps me to understand why I may have struggled for a time in Siracusa.
In February 1998, we had another missionary conference in nearby Catania. Elder F. Burton Howard visited our mission and spoke to us. Among other things, he taught parables, and he taught us that if we could learn to study the scriptures, that would be one of the greatest blessings in our lives. This is true. We also traveled to Ragusa on occasion. Sorella Honn and Sorella Baker served with us in Siracusa. Sorella Bressan, an Italian young lady from Udine, and Sorella Spendlove came later. Anziano Goss arrived soon after that.
Anziano Pursel got transferred to Trani, and I was called to train Anziano Goss who had just arrived in Italy. Goss had a foot injury, and we had a difficult time together in the beginning, in part because I didn’t understand the extent of his injury. He returned to Catania for a while, and he almost returned to America. Thankfully, he decided to stay in Italy and to continue his mission.
Anziano Goss became companions with Anziano Lonsdale, and Anziano Thompson became my companion. During this time, we helped to paint the sisters’ apartment. Anziano Thompson and I visited our friend Roberto Messina. We visited our friend Corrado Rosano, the brother of Ivan and Christian Rosano. When we taught him about the Atonement of Jesus Christ, he wanted to know if people like Mafia bosses could be forgiven for their sins and their murders. It’s a good question. Who am I to judge mafia bosses?
Anziano Thompson and I met a man named Giuseppe Fichera who was a Rubix Cube expert. We visited him from time to time to share the Gospel with him, and he shared his Rubik’s Cube skills with us. We helped him to collect loquats or medlar fruits – “nespole” – from his tree. I wrote a poem about it:
“By the splintery shack,
With rolled-up shirt sleeves,
My companion smiles.
By the splintery hut,
I climb up the nespola tree,
And drop fruit in a bag.
By the splintery hovel,
We rest and think of Jesus:
What would He have done?”
At the marina one day, Anziano Thompson, Rosario Bevilacqua, and I met a couple, Phil, and Liz Hughes, who had a boat called the “Rollon.” They invited us on board, and we conversed about many different things. We took a tour of their boat, and we shared our faith and our testimonies with them. We invited them to pray, and then we showed them the way to a good pizzeria nearby. We continued to meet with Giuseppe Scala, Giovanni Magnano, and Davide Palestra.
When I think of Siracusa, I think of Graziano and Rosario, and many others, and I think of the strange architecture of the LDS chapel, of several people riding on the same Vespa, of the Ear of Dionysius site, and of listening to Vivaldi in our apartment. My memories of Siracusa go on and on, but let these suffice for now.
Sciacca
I had many other wonderful experiences with wonderful people in Siracusa, but in May of 1998 I was called to serve in my last city in Italy, a small city on the southwestern coast of Sicily called Sciacca. My companion was Anziano David Chalk from Pocatello, Idaho. Anziano William Armillei, from Livorno, was also in the house with us. Anziano Turner came later. It was great to have a native Italian in the house with us once again.
Once I read the Book of Mormon in Italian out loud on the balcony, and the Spirit of God testified to me (and hopefully to any who may have heard me) in a powerful way that the Book of Mormon is true.
We had a Zone conference in Agrigento where I got to see Anziano Stallings again. I enjoyed working with Anziano Chalk and Anziano Armillei. In Sciacca I met Fratello Antonio Venezia, and we became great friends. He was a great friend to the missionaries, and an extraordinary missionary himself. He had been a branch president and he had worked for the postal service for thirty years. He accompanied us to many appointments, and he even invited us to help teach his family members. Fratello Venezia was like Enzo Borgia (and Rosario Bevilacqua, Maurizio Gardi, and many others) in the way that he cared for the missionaries. I was blessed to begin the mission and to end the mission with such great friends. Fratello Venezia was older than Enzo, but he was vigorous and anxiously engaged in missionary work. He was a great poet too.
Once Fratello Venezia took us to a very strange place where a man had created a giant garden of rock sculptures. It is called “Il Castello Incantato” – “The Enchanted Castle.” As the story goes, the artist and sculptor, Filippo Bentivegna, may have sustained brain damage during a trip to the United States. Others claimed that he went mad after a woman broke his heart. (That, I can understand) When he returned to his hometown of Sciacca, he began to carve sculptures of faces into the rock. The villagers considered him to be a madman. He carved more than a thousand different heads over thirty-five years, with faces that resembled people whom he had met in America and in Italy.
Sciacca is also famous for its sulfurous springs and healing thermal baths. Another Anziano Summers, a former high school quarterback, came to Sciacca too. The town square was called Piazza Scandagliata. We strolled through Piazza Scandagliata almost every day. We met a young man named Marcello Tornetta. He responded well to our discussions, and he enjoyed reading the Book of Mormon with us. We visited with him often to teach and to share the Gospel with him.
I was in Sciacca during the last two months of my mission, and by then I had decided to join my family in France to participate in the BYU study abroad program. I remained focused on missionary work, but I also felt excited to see my family again after two years of absence. I noted in my journal:
“I didn’t even realize how traumatic it was for my family, my brother’s accident while he was walking on the streets of D.C. He just collapsed. I guess it was hard for my dad. I miss Jared with all my heart. I know he will be a great missionary.”
The branch in Sciacca was strong, and we visited with many of the good members there. I remember Sorella Montalto, Sorella Maniscalcho, Signora Cologera, and la famiglia Sabella. In May we had another Zone council. We learned how to teach investigators to pray and what to pray for. We learned how to teach investigators to gain a testimony of the Book of Mormon. We learned how to secure a return appointment after a first discussion. We learned how to help investigators commit to baptism. We learned how to work with members and obtain referrals from them. Sometimes it seems that just as I was learning how to be a great missionary, it was almost time for me to leave Italy.
I continued to focus on the Lord’s work, but I also began to look forward to France. A few times in my missionary journals I mentioned my interest in the medical profession. I believe that my interest in medicine was piqued by several things, such as the book that I read before my mission, Christ Stopped at Eboli, as well as my experiences with hospitals and doctors while I was in Italy. My patriarchal blessing also influenced these ideas.
The 1998 Fifa World Cup in France began on June 10. Almost everyone seemed to disappear during this time because they were all at home watching soccer. Of course we rooted for Italy, but the host country, with the prodigiously talented Zinedine Zidane, won the world cup that year.
In my journal, I recorded an experience near the very end of my mission:
“We just did a first discussion with Pietro Mistretta whom we met on the street not long ago (a few days ago). We started off rough with the prayer and getting started, but we got into the groove. We shared our testimonies of Jesus Christ, Heavenly Father, and prophets. Then we arrived at the point in the discussion when we talk about Joseph Smith. This time we read from the pamphlet about Joseph Smith’s feelings and James 1:5. We bore testimony of Joseph Smith.
Pietro listened and participated actively. The Spirit brought to his mind a painting he had seen of a man who was reaching upward towards God, and God with arms open, as if to say ‘Come unto me.’ We shared John 14:26. Brother Venezia bore testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith and the First Vision.
To tell the truth, many of my experiences ran through my mind and I searched to know which experience would most help Pietro to understand the importance of the Book of Mormon. He asked: ‘Why is this book so important?’ In my excitement I asked permission to respond, thinking I had the answer. ‘Can I respond?’ ‘Yes.’ Then the words left me, and I told him once again that I knew that the book was true. I could tell that although my heart was sincere, it wasn’t the testimony that he needed.
I felt much more strongly that Pietro needed Brother Venezia’s word. Finally, we asked Brother Venezia: ‘How has the Book of Mormon helped you?’ Simple. Before he said anything, I could tell that his testimony would touch the heart of Pietro. Brother Venezia, with eyes beginning to water, began to share his experience. I love this man, his dreams, his poems, his family, his testimony of Christ. He told of a dream he had that he was on a boat with a row of women and two children (he has two children). The two children tried to jump into the ocean. This dream recurred and haunted him. Right in the middle of Brother Venezia’s testimony, Pietro’s wife Anna burst in all upset because of a dentist. Pietro said that he was attending to more important things, things of his heart. He said, ‘These people have shared very interesting things with me.’”
I don’t know what happened after that because I didn’t write about it in my journal. It seemed to be a common experience that whenever we started to testify of Christ, of Joseph Smith, and the Book of Mormon, something or someone would try to interfere and interrupt. I recorded a few days later, however, that Pietro was reading the Book of Mormon, and that he loved our friendship and considered us like his sons.
When I think of Sciacca, I think of fishermen, delicious gelato, Anziano Armillei’s laugh, Fratello Venezia’s poetry, and my worn-out suit and shoes. Sciacca was a beautiful place to conclude my full-time missionary service, and I have many more memories of Sciacca, and of the other cities in my mission, that are recorded in my journals.
I gave my all and I did my very best to serve the Lord with all my heart, might, mind, and strength, and with an eye single to His glory. I am grateful for my mission experience, and for all the wonderful people that I met. When my district gathered in the mission home with Presidente and Sorella Ascione at the close of our missions, we stood in a circle and shared brief testimonies with each other. I shared a verse of scripture from the Book of Mormon:
“Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever.” (Alma 26:12)
My father and my sister Anne Marie came to Catania to pick me up. Even though two years had passed, when I saw them, it seemed as though no time had elapsed at all. It was time for my family to gather again in Paris, France.
It is impossible to encapsulate in words the joy of sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ and laboring to lead souls unto Him. But the Lord put it best:
“Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God;
For, behold, the Lord your Redeemer suffered death in the flesh; wherefore he suffered the pain of all men, that all men might repent and come unto him.
And he hath risen again from the dead, that he might bring all men unto him, on conditions of repentance.
And how great is his joy in the soul that repenteth!
Wherefore, you are called to cry repentance unto this people.
And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!
And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me!” (D&C 18:10-16)
This brought back so many great memories. Thank you!