I Knew a Man from California that Served the Lord in Italy
This man did a lot of other things besides serve the Lord in Italy. I also know many other people, men and women, who served their God and Church in Italy. And elsewhere.
This is a special tribute dedicated to this one person, and to those that knew him, and for those who are yet to know him.
I don't know that many details about his mission to Italy, but I know he went to Provo, Utah, to take classes morning, noon, and night to learn the Italian language, to be immersed in the culture and lives of the Italians that he would come to know and love for the next two years.
I don't know what year this man entered the Missionary Training Center, but I know that he was observed by those that were learning and teaching with him and to him. In two months of training he would pray with them continually. They would pray on their knees both in their classrooms and their shared dormitories. They would pray in English, especially in the Large Group Meetings that were convened for those that were learning other languages. Some of these meetings would have 2,000 or more young missionaries, like him, going to a land by plane to a place that they had perhaps never heard of, or at least had never contemplated inhabiting.
They would pray in smaller groups in their nascent Italian, which is a humbling experience, which is like you are three or four years old again, or it makes you feel like a parent teaching your children, if you happen to know the right words or phrases better than your fellow companions. Slightly older teachers were there at most hours to help guide you and teach you. These teachers were either native Italian (sometimes Swiss), or had lived in Italy themselves. I don't know for sure, but I am pretty sure this man headed to Italy to serve the Lord would observe these teachers astutely. At least one of them would impress him enough to see himself succeeding and prospering in Italy, like those who had gone on before. More importantly, the Spirit of God with which they shared the scriptures and doctrine of God would light a fire in this man and his fellow elders and sisters. As a former MTC president used to say, "I want you to go to bed at the end of the day tired. And: make it a celestial day!" I am confident that this man had many of those days and nights in the MTC. And there were many more to come a few seas away...
I don't know all the things this man was going through when he went on his mission, but I am reasonably sure that he missed some of his family, and would think of them fondly in spare moments. I am sure there were a few times where this man was touched by the Spirit enough to cry, maybe thinking about his loved ones that he knew all his life, or Jesus, the Beloved, or at least feel that amazing tug in the heart that made him know he was alive and in love with life, in love with the Gospel of Jesus Christ and His Kingdom on Earth. Grandiose feelings occur in such a place, and that is a feeling that is hard to describe. It can be overwhelming. I am not a hundred percent sure that this California guy felt these amazing feelings of joy, release, cleanliness, repentance, purity, love... But I bet he did.
And this was just in Provo! So like most of us who went to the Missionary Training Center, he was ready to go and be with the people. Teach people, learn to know and love the people of Italy.
Again, I don't know all the the places that this man as a young priesthood holder went to in Italy. He may have told me a time or two, or he may have recounted a bit of it in a talk or discussion. Suffice it to say, the language and the culture was amazing and different. Like a lot of us speaking and thinking in a second tongue, even a Romance language, it was an incredible way to develop the brain and the heart. Latin, that ancient language of the Romans and even Jesus Himself. The Bible had new significance and tenor. Some verses and stories made more sense. Together with the Book of Mormon and other scriptures witnessing the power and majesty of the creation of the world, the stories of the covenant tribes, the lives and achievements of the prophets, the coming of the Savior and His life and legacy, His death and Resurrection. The foretellings of the future, the eventual history played out of the Earth. Spoken in this masterful, historic, artistic, colorful language. What a way to ingest all of these topics! They sunk deeper into his soul.
Singing and chanting in this artistic tongue. The medium of operas and sonatas. A beautiful way to live.
I don't know the details of this and that, like many others will recall, but I am sure there were cities and panoramas that this California elder grew to cherish, that inspired him and caused him to dream. Dream of heaven and earth, dream of life and beauty, dream even of loss and pain. Italy has a Mediterranean climate, as does California, so there were familiar sunny days of dry heat and longer days and nights of rain and chill. Like many of us, Americans with creature comforts and luxuries to others, he would observe people with much less wealth, but happy and generous all the same.
Italians were expressive and romantic, how not to be?
Then there was the art! And the churches, cathedrals! What a country!
"Magnificent" might be the right word when it came to the cultural heritage of these ancient Christian people. They were proud and humbled by their legacy, the capital of Christendom and the keeper of the ancient vaults. The history of the Holy Sees and the Universal church, the noble priesthood and mantle of Christ Jesus. The signs of the faith were everywhere, even in the way people used their hands and arms, and heads and souls.
As a bearer of the Good News of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, in a traditionally Catholic country, well, the Catholic country, the message of the Restored Gospel was not an easy sell. No matter, in small gains testimonies and the faith grew. This young man was part of a rich tradition of its own, that by prophecy would grow and "confound the wise".
God had a plan and its order, and this man was part of it. Even his mission companions and others that he grew to know were part of it. It all fit, even though there were times of frustration and impatience for certain partners. It was bound to happen to have a few assigned companions that you did not see eye to eye with. Stay strong and prepare for the future, the Lord was in charge. Balanced with the elders that were like brothers from childhood, so tight were the bonds of trust and faith with some. And some members burned into his heart and his own.
It takes all kinds, that we confirm throughout the full time mission and later in life.
I cannot say for certain, but I am quite sure there were times in Italy when this young man would go to sleep hopeful and content, and assuredly the next day plans and commitments did not live up to those supposed expectations from the night before. Safe to say this was normal, and what some people say and swear to one day does not always live up to those levels of fulfillment the next. Life and people can be fickle, capricious. However, the Lord is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He knew this, He trusted in the Lord.
We learn day by day, week by week, transfer by transfer, that the Lord does not change, and we need to change for Him. The Gospel of Jesus can be difficult and challenging, but it is simple and constant.
It, He--does not change. Put your faith in Him, not man. "Be still, and know that I am God."
Like those of us blessed at such a tender age, this young man learned through trial and test, momentary decision and willing life course, that one who follows God and implements His program is happiest, is most fulfilled. He saw it, he felt it, he knew it.
He testified to those who would hear: Repent of your sins, posit faith in the Lord, worship Him, take His yoke upon you, take His body and blood into your mind and spirit. Be alive in Him and through Him. He lived this, and saw it in others.
He testified of an all-loving Father in Heaven, a Son sent by Him to save mankind, to save us from ourselves, the Holy Ghost that confirms their undying love, that comforts and guides. He taught and preached of a young man who questioned them directly, and lo! he received an answer! And much more.. Golden plates, angelic visits, seer stones, temple constructions, Saints migrating, missionaries sent across the oceans, God's pattern continues.
Yes, a tough sell. But worth it.
Thinking across the centuries, and maybe further, this young man with a royal surname was tracting in, traipsing across, and tracing the steps of perhaps the greatest Christian missionary ever, Paul of Tarsus. The earth and lands where Christianity took root and flourished, this is where the message and mission of Christ came to the fore. And it would again. Years later in marriage and buttressed with his own children this older young man would learn of the Prophet's declaration for a temple in none other than Rome. The land of the labyrinths and Colosseum, of St. Peter's and the centuries of rule, it was meant to have its own restored temple of God, with the true and everlasting altars to seal himself with all others, the royal heavenly family.
He had done this, he had seen this, he had felt this. He had served the Lord, in a mission of two years, in steps and choices that would pave the way for himself, his future, his eternity. It led to so much more later in his life, touching the lives of others.
How many Italians knew him, noticed him, spoke to him, waved to him? We don't know, hard to tell.
It flashed by in a blink of an eye.
I don't know if there were times for this returned missionary, like me, where he might wake up on a random day and wonder: did that really happen? Did I really live there? Did I really speak and sing in that language? Did I walk where the saints and martyrs walked? Did I breathe the airs of the ancient seas?
Sometimes we need photos or letters to reassure us.
Did I really feel with no uncertain overpowering impression that life is forever, that love is eternal, that God in Heaven is my absolute sovereign and commander, and that His Son Jesus has redeemed me from the blight of eternal torment?
Yes, this happened.
This happened to a man from California who went to Italy, a badge placed on his chest.
A badge proclaiming his sacred title, his honorable family name, and the organization of which he represented, as a true emissary of the Kings of Kings. And His Bride, the Church in His name.
During my mission in South America, my dear mother sent me an article of a missionary that entered a humble, yea, a poor and rundown house in far off Italy (In the Church News circa 1990-91). That elder came to the sublime realization that even in the poorest of lairs, where dirt is the floor and water is difficult to procure, that the King is present in His castle, settled upon His thrown. Having lived in a relatively wealthier part of Latin America and having visited Spain, it had not fully occurred to me that Italy had pobreza so late in the twentieth century. Poverty and want.
Alas, we are all beggars, we all need the succor and aid of our Big Brother, our Messiah, our Anointed One. We are all destitute without him. We need Him. We owe Him, and he pays our debt.
I cannot tell anyone for certain, and I cannot presume that I know for myself what another knows and feels, but I am compelled to declare: this Californian in Italy knew all these things.
And yes, while I did not know him as well as I might, I know that he knew these things.
And, our friendship went by too fast here on this planet, in this century, but it was like the times of Lehi, or the short years of Joseph Smith, and my mission, our missions to the spiritually poor. We had a chance and small lifetime to preach redemption and freedom.
To assure others that the family of God is eternal and we will live to see it all again. Nothing is lost, all the good is gained.
Thanks for going to Italy. Thanks for doing so much more. Thanks for reminding me of who I am, of who we are. Thank you for representing Christ there, and here, and beyond.
I look forward to exploring the caves and works of that great land one day.
Thanks for doing your part to establish a temple of God there.
Thank you for sealing yourself to your immediate family, and inheriting the privileges and blessings of your greater lineage, the eternal greater family of our Father, and Mother, and brothers and sisters.
Thank you for that, and for all the other things I cannot recount nor know.
I can however, have these inklings of what you did, how you did it, why you did it, and who you are.
And we are better, even in untold ways, for having been that close to you.
We serve the Lord and live. In every time, in every place.
My brother, again: I thank you so much. We are so blessed.
As a bearer of the Good News of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, in a traditionally Catholic country, well, the Catholic country, the message of the Restored Gospel was not an easy sell. No matter, in small gains testimonies and the faith grew. This young man was part of a rich tradition of its own, that by prophecy would grow and "confound the wise".
God had a plan and its order, and this man was part of it. Even his mission companions and others that he grew to know were part of it. It all fit, even though there were times of frustration and impatience for certain partners. It was bound to happen to have a few assigned companions that you did not see eye to eye with. Stay strong and prepare for the future, the Lord was in charge. Balanced with the elders that were like brothers from childhood, so tight were the bonds of trust and faith with some. And some members burned into his heart and his own.
It takes all kinds, that we confirm throughout the full time mission and later in life.
I cannot say for certain, but I am quite sure there were times in Italy when this young man would go to sleep hopeful and content, and assuredly the next day plans and commitments did not live up to those supposed expectations from the night before. Safe to say this was normal, and what some people say and swear to one day does not always live up to those levels of fulfillment the next. Life and people can be fickle, capricious. However, the Lord is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He knew this, He trusted in the Lord.
We learn day by day, week by week, transfer by transfer, that the Lord does not change, and we need to change for Him. The Gospel of Jesus can be difficult and challenging, but it is simple and constant.
It, He--does not change. Put your faith in Him, not man. "Be still, and know that I am God."
Like those of us blessed at such a tender age, this young man learned through trial and test, momentary decision and willing life course, that one who follows God and implements His program is happiest, is most fulfilled. He saw it, he felt it, he knew it.
He testified to those who would hear: Repent of your sins, posit faith in the Lord, worship Him, take His yoke upon you, take His body and blood into your mind and spirit. Be alive in Him and through Him. He lived this, and saw it in others.
He testified of an all-loving Father in Heaven, a Son sent by Him to save mankind, to save us from ourselves, the Holy Ghost that confirms their undying love, that comforts and guides. He taught and preached of a young man who questioned them directly, and lo! he received an answer! And much more.. Golden plates, angelic visits, seer stones, temple constructions, Saints migrating, missionaries sent across the oceans, God's pattern continues.
Yes, a tough sell. But worth it.
Thinking across the centuries, and maybe further, this young man with a royal surname was tracting in, traipsing across, and tracing the steps of perhaps the greatest Christian missionary ever, Paul of Tarsus. The earth and lands where Christianity took root and flourished, this is where the message and mission of Christ came to the fore. And it would again. Years later in marriage and buttressed with his own children this older young man would learn of the Prophet's declaration for a temple in none other than Rome. The land of the labyrinths and Colosseum, of St. Peter's and the centuries of rule, it was meant to have its own restored temple of God, with the true and everlasting altars to seal himself with all others, the royal heavenly family.
He had done this, he had seen this, he had felt this. He had served the Lord, in a mission of two years, in steps and choices that would pave the way for himself, his future, his eternity. It led to so much more later in his life, touching the lives of others.
How many Italians knew him, noticed him, spoke to him, waved to him? We don't know, hard to tell.
It flashed by in a blink of an eye.
I don't know if there were times for this returned missionary, like me, where he might wake up on a random day and wonder: did that really happen? Did I really live there? Did I really speak and sing in that language? Did I walk where the saints and martyrs walked? Did I breathe the airs of the ancient seas?
Sometimes we need photos or letters to reassure us.
Did I really feel with no uncertain overpowering impression that life is forever, that love is eternal, that God in Heaven is my absolute sovereign and commander, and that His Son Jesus has redeemed me from the blight of eternal torment?
Yes, this happened.
This happened to a man from California who went to Italy, a badge placed on his chest.
A badge proclaiming his sacred title, his honorable family name, and the organization of which he represented, as a true emissary of the Kings of Kings. And His Bride, the Church in His name.
During my mission in South America, my dear mother sent me an article of a missionary that entered a humble, yea, a poor and rundown house in far off Italy (In the Church News circa 1990-91). That elder came to the sublime realization that even in the poorest of lairs, where dirt is the floor and water is difficult to procure, that the King is present in His castle, settled upon His thrown. Having lived in a relatively wealthier part of Latin America and having visited Spain, it had not fully occurred to me that Italy had pobreza so late in the twentieth century. Poverty and want.
Alas, we are all beggars, we all need the succor and aid of our Big Brother, our Messiah, our Anointed One. We are all destitute without him. We need Him. We owe Him, and he pays our debt.
I cannot tell anyone for certain, and I cannot presume that I know for myself what another knows and feels, but I am compelled to declare: this Californian in Italy knew all these things.
And yes, while I did not know him as well as I might, I know that he knew these things.
And, our friendship went by too fast here on this planet, in this century, but it was like the times of Lehi, or the short years of Joseph Smith, and my mission, our missions to the spiritually poor. We had a chance and small lifetime to preach redemption and freedom.
To assure others that the family of God is eternal and we will live to see it all again. Nothing is lost, all the good is gained.
Thanks for going to Italy. Thanks for doing so much more. Thanks for reminding me of who I am, of who we are. Thank you for representing Christ there, and here, and beyond.
I look forward to exploring the caves and works of that great land one day.
Thanks for doing your part to establish a temple of God there.
Thank you for sealing yourself to your immediate family, and inheriting the privileges and blessings of your greater lineage, the eternal greater family of our Father, and Mother, and brothers and sisters.
Thank you for that, and for all the other things I cannot recount nor know.
I can however, have these inklings of what you did, how you did it, why you did it, and who you are.
And we are better, even in untold ways, for having been that close to you.
We serve the Lord and live. In every time, in every place.
My brother, again: I thank you so much. We are so blessed.
No comments:
Post a Comment