by Tim Wirkus
Sitting in their metal folding chairs in the foyer, Marco Aurélio and the two missionaries commented quietly on the contrasts between Parque Laranjeira and Vila Barbosa.
“I mean, it boggles my mind that there are more people here on some random weeknight than have attended any one Sunday meeting in our ward for years,” said Elder Toronto. “I’ve been in Vila Barbosa so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like anywhere else.”
“How long have you been here?” said Marco Aurélio.
“Seven months and counting,” said Elder Toronto.
“Is that a long time?” said Marco Aurélio.
“Yeah,” said Elder Toronto. “Most missionaries don’t spend more than four months in an area before they’re transferred. I feel like I’m spinning my wheels here.”
“This is not a very encouraging conversation for a prospective member, by the way,” said Marco Aurélio. “Or your new partner.” He nodded at Elder Schwartz.
“No, I mean, I hope the ward grows,” said Elder Toronto, “but things have just been so stagnant for so long that it’s hard to imagine things changing. But they are—you’re getting baptized, for one, and I think that will really revitalize things. It’s a great opportunity for you, because you’ll definitely get a chance to be really involved. They need you over there. In a lot of ways, it’s a great place for you to be.”
“I agree,” said Marco Aurélio. “Assuming I pass my interview.”
“You’ll pass your interview,” said Elder Toronto. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks,” said Marco Aurélio.
He turned to Elder Schwartz.
“Has Elder Toronto told you the story of how I decided to be baptized?” he said.
“No,” said Elder Schwartz.
Marco Aurélio cleared his throat and scooted forward in his chair. One afternoon, he said, he was walking home from visiting a friend. On a whim, he decided to take a different route than he usually did. He had just diverged from his usual route when he saw two young men standing on the sidewalk consulting a map. He would later know them as Elder Toronto and Elder de Assis—Elder Schwartz’s predecessor, a pudgy, bespectacled elder with dreams of becoming a dentist after the mission. But at the time, they were just two outsiders in graying white shirts and frayed ties. Marco Aurélio had heard of the Mormons, had probably even seen other missionaries before, but he had never given them much thought. Today, however, he felt an inexplicable urge to talk to the two young men, to find out what they were all about. Although Marco Aurélio generally kept to himself, the urge was so strong that he approached the two young men.
“Excuse me,” he said, “are you the Mormons?”
Elder de Assis looked up from the map, adjusted his glasses, and said that they represented the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, also known as the Mormon church.
“You come to people’s houses to teach them, right?” said Marco Aurélio.
“That’s right,” said Elder de Assis.
Unsure of what compelled him to do so, Marco Aurélio asked if they could come over to his house and teach him what they had to teach. The elders looked at each other and said they’d be happy to. They folded up their map and accompanied Marco Aurélio the rest of the way home.
Back at his house, the elders taught him the message of the restoration—the sweeping saga of God’s true church coming and going from the earth, with Joseph Smith acting as God’s agent in restoring the church in modern times, receiving visions, fighting mobs, translating golden plates. The elders explained that through this church, all people could come to know Jesus Christ, could receive the saving ordinances necessary to return to live with God the Father and His Son. As they spoke, Marco Aurélio felt that what they said was true. When the elders finished their lesson, they asked Marco Aurélio if he had any questions.
“How can I become a member of your church?” he said.
Elder Toronto explained that they would leave a copy of the Book of Mormon with him, that he could read the passages they had marked, and pray to know if the things he read and the things the elders had taught him were true.
“But I already know,” he said.
The elders told him that joining the church was a big commitment, not something to be taken lightly. They said he should think it over, pray about it, and they could discuss it further when they came back. They made an appointment to return in a few days, shook his hand, thanked him for his time, and left.
They didn’t come back for nearly a month. When they did, they were full of excuses—crises with other investigators, mission conferences, his address somehow misplaced. They asked him if he had read the passages they had marked and prayed about the things they had told him.
“I read the whole book,” he said. “And I prayed about it all, and I would like to be baptized in your church.”
Marco Aurélio explained his situation to the missionaries: He was unemployed, middle-aged, alone. He had done some reasonably fulfilling things in his younger days, but certainly nothing remarkable. Without realizing it, he had been looking for some kind of larger meaning to his life for years, and when he saw the missionaries that afternoon a month ago, something told him that they might have the answer.
So Elder Toronto laid out the process for becoming a member of the church—Marco Aurélio would need to continue praying and reading the Book of Mormon and other scriptures on a regular basis. He would need to attend the Sunday meetings for at least three consecutive weeks. He would need to receive the rest of the missionary lessons and uphold the various commitments: to pay tithing; to give up cigarettes, alcohol, coffee, and any drugs, if applicable; to abstain from sex outside of marriage; and so on. He would need to repent of past sins and transgressions. And finally, he would be interviewed to determine if he was ready for baptism.
So he continued praying and reading the Book of Mormon. He attended Sunday meetings, received the rest of the missionary lessons, and upheld the various commitments. Throughout all of this, he felt those same warm, fulfilling feelings that he had felt on the missionaries’ first visit.
“And now here I am,” said Marco Aurélio to Elder Schwartz, “getting baptized on Sunday. At least I hope so.”
“That’s great,” said Elder Schwartz.
Elder Toronto said nothing, his face a round, studied blank.
Just then, Elder Christiansen and Elder J. da Silva arrived with apologies for being late, and whisked Marco Aurélio off to be interviewed.
He passed, and in a jubilant mood, the three of them rode the bus together back to Vila Barbosa. They parted ways at the bus stop, the missionaries congratulating Marco Aurélio once again as he headed off in the direction of his house.
“He has a great conversion story,” said Elder Schwartz as the two elders waited to cross the street.
For a moment, Elder Toronto didn’t respond.
“I mean, it’s a nice story, and I’m glad he remembers it that way,” he said finally, his round forehead creased. “But that’s not how things happened.”
He said that it happened like this:
He and Elder de Assis stood at an intersection one afternoon, map open, arguing over which street they should knock doors on next. Rua Jacaré was more densely packed with houses, Elder Toronto pointed out; Elder de Assis countered that they had worked sections of Rua Jacaré several times already in the past months; Rua Lorena, on the other hand, hadn’t been touched in ages. Elder Toronto was about to contend that they had avoided Rua Lorena for good reason—the street contained three rival churches, a love motel, and a guy who bred Rottweilers that he wasn’t too diligent about keeping chained up—when a voice from behind them said, “This is a pretty rough part of town for a couple of young foreigners, don’t you think?”
The elders turned around to see a slight man with dark, thinning hair, the man they would later know as Marco Aurélio.
“He’s a foreigner,” said Elder de Assis, pointing to Elder Toronto. “I’m not.”
/> “But you’re not from Vila Barbosa,” said Marco Aurélio.
Elder de Assis conceded the point with a shrug.
“So are you guys lost?” said Marco Aurélio.
“No,” said Elder Toronto, “we work here all the time.”
“Really?” said Marco Aurélio.
“Yeah,” said Elder Toronto.
“You just walk around this part of town?”
“Yeah,” said Elder Toronto.
“And you’re not concerned you’ll be kidnapped?” said Marco Aurélio.
“It doesn’t worry me,” said Elder Toronto.
Marco Aurélio looked around, and then leaned in closer to the two missionaries.
“I mean, everyone assumes you’re foreign,” he said, “and around here, foreign means rich, with rich relatives willing to pay a lot of money to see you safely returned should anything ever happen to you.”
Elder de Assis pointed out for the second time that he was not a foreigner. Marco Aurélio ignored him. Elder Toronto acknowledged that he was an American, but not a wealthy one—far from it, in fact.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Marco Aurélio. “People around here assume all Americans have loads of money.”
“You seem to have thought about this a lot,” said Elder Toronto. “Are you going to kidnap us?”
Marco Aurélio smiled.
“In this neighborhood, I wouldn’t joke about that if I were you,” he said. “But I’m sorry if I alarmed you. I’m a worrier by nature. All I’m saying is that you should be careful. I had a friend—actually more of an associate—who was kidnapped once when he was a young man.”
This associate, he said, because of his line of work, always appeared to be much wealthier than he actually was—he dressed well, ate at the best restaurants, the works. This guy was in another big city on business, staying there for a couple of months, putting on a show, and one morning on his way out of the padaria, coffee and pãozinho in hand, he was jumped by three armed men in ski masks who handcuffed him, blindfolded him, and loaded him into the trunk of their little Volkswagen. This was in broad daylight on a crowded street. They took him to a tiny, mildewed closet of a house, tied him to some pipes, and beat him up a little. Then they left.
Two of them came back a while later, still masked, one of them holding a knife. The one with the knife cut off the ear of this acquaintance of Marco Aurélio. The knife was not particularly sharp, and some amount of sawing was involved in the process. In fact, they didn’t even get the whole ear. During the process, Marco Aurélio’s acquaintance passed out. When he came to, the third ski-masked assailant had returned and was scolding the other two. He said that first they were supposed to contact the family, and then cut off the ear. If they gave a shriveled, old ear to this guy’s family, they might get suspicious. It had to be fresh. He sent one of them off to find some ice and told the other one to stop the guy’s head from bleeding—they didn’t want to kill him yet.
To make a long story short, the kidnappers, who later admitted to Marco Aurélio’s acquaintance that this was their first time, that they were still getting the hang of it, discovered that the man they had kidnapped had no family to speak of and that the man himself had only a few hundred reaís to his name. The kidnappers figured that a few hundred reaís was better than nothing, so they got his bank information, withdrew all his money from an ATM, beat him up a little more, and then sent him on his way.
Elder de Assis asked if they ever found the kidnappers.
“This acquaintance of mine,” said Marco Aurélio, “has a longstanding distrust of the police. So he counted himself lucky to be alive, and went about his business.”
“Wow,” said Elder Toronto.
“But I interrupted you two earlier, looking over your map,” said Marco Aurélio. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
He turned to go.
“Wait,” said Elder Toronto. He introduced himself and explained that he and Elder de Assis were representatives of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and asked Marco Aurélio if they could come by his house to share an important message.
“I’m on my way to another appointment right now,” said Marco Aurélio, “but if you two came by my house later today and wanted to talk, I wouldn’t stop you.”
He gave the elders his address and went on his way.
In response to such a halfhearted invitation, the missionaries would not normally have followed up with a visit, but all of their other plans fell through that afternoon. And so they found themselves at the address Marco Aurélio had given them, clapping at the old, rusted gate. Marco Aurélio came out the door of the narrow cinderblock house and let them in.
“You’re welcome to stay and talk as long as you want,” said Marco Aurélio as the two elders sat down on his dusty couch, “but my one condition is that you don’t give me some canned spiel about your church. In fact, I’d prefer it if we could avoid the subject of religion completely.”
“You do know that we’re missionaries, right?” said Elder de Assis. “By definition, what we do is talk about religion.”
“That’s fine,” said Marco Aurélio. “But my house, my rules.”
Elder de Assis stood up.
“Then we can’t stay,” he said.
“Are you sure about that?” said Marco Aurélio, addressing Elder Toronto.
“I have to say, my companion’s correct,” said Elder Toronto.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Marco Aurélio.
“Let’s go,” said Elder de Assis, and Elder Toronto held up a hand to silence him.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a copy of the Book of Mormon.
“If I give this to you, will you read it?” he asked Marco Aurélio.
“Sure,” said Marco Aurélio, and Elder Toronto handed him the book and stood up.
Marco Aurélio saw the elders to the door.
“Come back any time,” he said to the missionaries as they left.
Any time turned out to be a month later. Neither elder had thought much of their visit with Marco Aurélio, and had no real intentions of returning. Then, one afternoon, their primary, secondary, and tertiary plans all fell through, and they found themselves at a dead end just a couple of blocks from Marco Aurélio’s house. Elder Toronto suggested that they stop by and follow up on their last visit. Elder de Assis reluctantly agreed. When they clapped their hands at his gate, he emerged from his home with a smirk, opening the door and inviting them in.
Seated once again on Marco Aurélio’s dusty couch, Elder Toronto asked him if he had had a chance to read the book that they had left with him.
“Yeah,” said Marco Aurélio.
“Really?” said Elder de Assis, straightening his glasses. “Which parts did you read?”
“I read the whole thing,” said Marco Aurélio.
“Really?” said Elder de Assis.
“Really,” said Marco Aurélio.
“So what did you think of it?” said Elder Toronto.
“It’s not exactly a page turner, but there’s some interesting stuff in there,” said Marco Aurélio.
“Tell us about one specific interesting part,” said Elder de Assis, obviously still unconvinced.
Marco Aurélio ignored him.
“I do have some questions,” he said to Elder Toronto.
“Great,” said Elder Toronto. “We have a brief lesson we can share with you that explains where the Book of Mormon came from, and then we can go from there.”
“No,” said Marco Aurélio. “I’d like to just ask you my questions.”
“We’d prefer to teach the lesson first,” said Elder de Assis.
“I’ll be right back,” said Marco Aurélio, still ignoring Elder de Assis. He got up from his chair and left the room.
“I told you this was a mistake,” said Elder de Assis. “He’s just wasting our time.”
Marco Aurélio came back into the room with the copy of the Book of Mormon that the elders had left with him.
The spine was creased with wear and he had dog-eared several of the pages.
“Okay,” he said, sitting down. He opened the front cover of the book, where he had apparently written a list of questions. “First off—what are the mysteries of God? Not, what are they specifically, but what does that mean?”
Elder Toronto nodded.
“The way I understand it,” he said, “is that the mysteries of God are ideas that we can only understand through personal revelation from God. Does that make sense?”
“Sure,” said Marco Aurélio. “And how do you get these revelations?”
“Study, prayer, meditation. Also God has to decide that you’re ready.”
“I see,” said Marco Aurélio. “So only God can reveal these mysteries, and if one of them was given to you, you wouldn’t be able to just explain it to me? I’d also have to be given it from God?”
“Right,” said Elder Toronto.
“Then if I understand right, you could claim that God had revealed a mystery to you, but there’s no way you could ever prove it,” said Marco Aurélio.
Elder Toronto thought about this for a minute.
“Yeah, I think that’s fair,” he said.
“That’s very convenient,” said Marco Aurélio.
“It’s just how it works,” said Elder Toronto.
“I see,” said Marco Aurélio.
Elder de Assis, silent through the whole exchange, finally jumped in.
“Listen,” he said, “if we don’t teach you about Joseph Smith and the restoration of the church, we have to go.”
He stood up and swung his bag over his shoulder. Marco Aurélio looked to Elder Toronto.
“Is that true?” he said.
“Technically, yes,” said Elder Toronto. “Although, personally, I’m happy to sit here and answer whatever questions you have.”
“I see,” said Marco Aurélio, a slight smirk on his lips. “Well, I wouldn’t want you breaking rules on my account. Why don’t we call it a day.”
