Ziology

My wife's birthday was yesterday, and today marks 6 years since the night we fell in love and starting dating. So, to celebrate, we decided to take a little mini-vacation. She and Jaren have had some health concerns this past week, so we didn't want to overdo it. Shauni found a great deal on a creek-side cabin, complete with hot-tub and personal balcony, in a little town outside of Prescott, called Mayer, about an hour away. We were looking on a map of Arizona for other things we could go do or see in the area, and Shauni noticed something on the map, and asked me, " Have you ever heard of Arcosanti?" All of a sudden, I remembered that a few months ago, when I first got interested in Utopias, I was doing a search on google for some contemporary Utopian experiments, and I remembered coming across one here in the Arizona desert called Arcosanti. I remember being impressed that there was one still in operation, here in Arizona of all places, and I remembered that instead of being a religious organization, this was more of an experiment in "green" living, and architecture. I never thought I would get to see it, though. That is, until Shauni showed me on the map that it was only a few miles from where we were staying!
It was established by an Italian-born architect named Paolo Soleri, back in the 1970's, as an "urban laboratory," to test his ideas and his theory of "Arcology," a blend of architecture and ecology. Soleri had grand ambitions with his theory, and his plans for the site would house 5,000 people, and provide working and recreation space for them as well. The mega-structure would rely on solar heating in the winter, and giant quarter-spherical domes for shade in the summer, and would be a totally self-sufficient community and structure. Actually, the current site is quite small, run-down, uses the city's electrical grid, and only houses about 70 permanent residents. But, I was still impressed with the potential I saw in the application of his ideas.

One of the most interesting points of his, was that the American way of life, on a global scale, is totally unsustainable. The earth, and all its resources, could only support about 300 million people living in such a way, indefinitely, and there are already that many people living in America. To raise the standard of living for all of earth's inhabitants to that of the average American would require 20 earths! So, obviously, if we want to continue living the way we do, and we want to raise the standard of living for all people, which we do, we need to find a better way to use energy, and waste less. I couldn't agree more. In fact, if I wasn't tied down with a job and school, I would like to try it out!

We had a great time on our vacation, and touring Arcosanti has given me some great ideas for the practical application of the principles of Zion. I have no doubt that in Zion, people will once again be a boon to nature, and not a burden. We will learn to live in a more stable, harmonious, and sustainable way with the elements, and with each other. That was one of the only things we didn't like about Arcosanti and Arcology: the life-style of its inhabitants wasn't very conducive to the nuclear family that we cherish so much in America, and in the Church. Living in such close quarters with other people would certainly infringe on one's sense of privacy, independence, and individualism. In a lot of ways, that might not be so bad, but as for raising a family in a successful, monogamous marriage, that might not be so easy.

I think it would be interesting to learn the history of our current "suburban sprawl" culture, and see why we live this way, and what effect it has on our society and culture, and how we could change that culture in a way that preserves the nuclear family, but makes better use of real estate and energy. I think I would call such a study "Ziology." All jokes aside, I really do think it would be interesting to see more urban experiments like this one.

More mission memories

This post is about my mission. I just had a couple more things I wanted to say about Guaratuba before I move on.

My second companion in Guaratuba was named Elder Gomes, from the city of Campina Grande of Pernambuco, in the nordeste. The nordestinos have a bad reputation in Brazil for being backwards and ignorant, because the nordeste is the poorest of the five regions of Brazil; however, I found Elder Gomes to be very smart in a way besides what we typically call smart. He was extremely intuitive to people and their thoughts, which made him a great friend, and, sometimes, a real pain. He had been a rebel in his teens, and had come to the church later through the influence of his sister. He talked frequently about his rebel days, almost with pride, which bothered me a little bit. But we made a good pair and worked hard together. I only saw him a couple of times after I left Guaratuba, and I wish I knew how he was doing. I learned from him that it is possible to change your life, but it's not easy. And if you're trying to lick old habits you will never be 'done,' you have to keep up your guard for as long as it takes, which might be the rest of your life.


I was very sad to leave Guaratuba. I still remember sitting in the rodoviaria (bus station) regretting that I had not had the chance to say goodbye to some of the people I came to love. One person in particular I hadn't had the chance to say goodbye to was irma Miriam, a less-active woman who I had made such a friendship with that I called her 'mae,' or mom. That's the only thing I didn't like about my mission: you serve people so much that you grow to love them, and then you say goodbye, and you never see them again. I mean, I plan on going back, but there's no way of knowing if I'll see them again. It's hard, but I guess things move on, and you can't go back, but the memories are yours to keep.


Around the same time that I left Guaratuba for my second area, Biguaco (pronounced bee-gua-soo) in Santa Catarina right outside of Floripa (that's a local nickname for Florianopolis), my mission had a change of leadership: Presidente Peixoto and his wife had finished their 3-year mission and were going back home to Sao Paulo, then taking up residence in Curitiba. Our new mission president was to be Lamont Dansie from American Fork, Utah. With that change in leadership came a dramatic change in our mission. Presidente Dansie had served as a missionary in Brazil over 30 years earlier, when the whole country was divided into only 2 missions (there are now about 27!). He still spoke very decent Portuguese, and he hit the ground running. His wife, Nancy, didn't speak so well, but was one of the happiest, most encouraging people I have ever met. She reminded me of my first companion, Elder Carr.


President Dansie was one of those men in my life who made a lasting impression. At first, I didn't like him so much. He has a burly frame, and is, by admission, a "bottom line" sort of guy. He pressed us for results, which anyone who has served a mission, or held an office of authority in the church can tell you, opens up a can of worms. There is this continual debate in the church about numbers. You see, we use numbers because they're easy to record, and to communicate, but behind every number in the church is a face, a person, a soul. So, when someone tells you that your key indicators (numbers that represent people you teach ,and their commitments or measure able steps toward membership and activity in the church) need improvement, it is easy to misunderstand them as being indifferent to your personal difficulties or of the people you serve. It is easy to feel that your superiors do not care about changing peoples' lives or doing a good job, only growth and numbers. I struggled with this argument for months.


What finally helped me to resolve the issue for myself, was that President Dansie enacted a program with us aimed at increasing our faith to succeed, a concept not entirely new to me. On my high school football team, my coach, Paul Morro, had often told us that in order to achieve something, we have to see ourselves doing it in our minds first. If we can see it, and believe it can happen and will happen, then we can make it happen. We have to have a type of faith that we will reach it. Once I applied this principle to my work as a missionary, I acted differently, and with more confidence. I think that is a very important principle for achieving anything worthwhile.

Once I took personal responsibility for my work and the results I achieved, regardless of whether or not I deserved all the blame or credit, I noticed I had a lot more desire to improve, instead of simply leaving it up to "God's will." I came to understand that "God's will" is not necessarily what happens all the time, irrespective of our actions: it is His desire for what we should do with our effort and the time He has given to us. His will is to bring about the Zion that He knows is possible, but dependent on our acceptance of and obedience to its principles.

Back to topic. Right about the time I was transferred to Biguaco, we had a mission conference that only happens once every three years at the least. Our entire mission, about 130 missionaries from all over the state, met together in Floripa to despedir (say goodbe) to President and Sister Peixoto. It was a great experience. I got to see all my buddies form the CTM for the first time in 4 1/2 months, and we all caught up on each others' lives. My next companion was Elder Devin Anderson, from Utah. Elder Anderson was very quiet, but he loved being on a mission, and he loved Brazil, like me, so we got along great. Biguaco at the time was a difficult area: it had seen better days as far as the church was concerned. There had recently been some trouble (what we would call "apostasia" in Portuguese) in the ramo, and a new branch presidency and leadership had been called to try and heal the struggling congregation. On top of that, there hadn't been a single convert baptism in the branch for over a year. So, we had our work cut out for us.

We decided right out the outset, that we wouldn't get involved in the drama and we wouldn't listen to gossip: we would just do our best to sustain the local leaders and their vision, and search for people to teach and bring to church. I was only there for 6 weeks. During that time, we worked with a part-member family where the father, Alex, was not a member, his wife Eusebia was, but he came to church every week, and wanted to join. We also worked with a lady named Lucia who loved the church and wanted to join, but her husband wouldn't let her. I never saw them get baptized but I heard about it when they were, and it was wonderful to know that I might have helped them along the way, even if I didn't personally get to reap the rewards of the work we did with them.

I thought I would be staying in Biguaco for a while, but, to my surprise, when transfers came around I found out, indirectly, that I was being sent to the 2nd farthest area of the mission to be the senior companion of a Brazilian Elder who was 4 years older than me, in Pato Branco, Parana! I had heard stories about Pato Branco (literally "White Duck"): that it was a city full of hills (we had no car or bicycle, so we walked everywhere), miserably hot in the summer, and freezing cold in the winter. I got to experience both extremes, since I stayed there for 7.5 months! It sounded like I was being sent into exile, but I soon realized I was being given the chance of a lifetime.

"I hope they call me on a mission..."

For those unfamiliar with LDS primary songs, that's the first line of one of my old favorites. When I was little, my family didn't go to church very often until I was about 8 years old, but I always wanted to serve a mission when I got old enough. It was a real help to me growing up, knowing that whatever I did, I needed to make sure I didn't jeopardize my opportunity to serve a mission.

I was called to the Brazil Florianopolis Mission, that included the whole southern Brazilian state of Santa Catarina, and a portion of its neighboring state, Parana. I was told to report to the missionary training center in Sao Paulo on Dec 29, 2004, where I would spend 9 weeks learning Portuguese and preparing for service by learning the missionary lessons I would teach to people investigating the church, and preparing mentally and spiritually for the arduous life style of a full-time missionary.

From the start, I had lots of support. My parents and grandparents were very happy for me and pledged to help me in any way they could (I was the first grandson to serve), and my then girlfriend, Shauni, assured me she was very happy and proud of me, that she would miss me, but would write me often (she wrote every week, and sent me tons of care packages!). I had to wait about 3 months from the time I received my call to the time I was to report.

About a month before I left, I had the opportunity to go to the temple for the first time. I received my endowments at the Portland Oregon temple, and that was an incredible experience! When we had gone through the session, my Dad turned to me on the couch in the Celestial Room, and asked jokingly "Well son, do you feel like you just joined a cult?" and I said "No, that was like the gospel on steroids!" I think my study of the old testament temple, and my other study really prepared me well for that special occasion. Maybe some other time I can write about the similarities between the old testament temple and the modern day temples.

I took a flight from Portland to Chicago O'Hara where I met up with a big group of missionaries all headed to Sao Paulo Brazil. The first one I met, incidentally, was named Elder Isaac Carr, from Portsmouth New Hampshire. He gave me a huge hug and talked my ear off. I didn't know it then, but we would be companions in the MTC. In fact, all of us who met that night in Chicago got to spend the next 9 weeks together in the MTC in Sao Paulo, and we became good friends: there was Casey Boyer from Springfield Utah, Kyle Reynolds from Vernal Utah, Derek Rigby from Layon UT, JT Holland from San Diego CA, Elli Roberts from Mesa AZ, Matt Spreng from Denver CO, Thomas Hebdon from Washington state, me, and later Casey Rawlinson from Utah, as well.

From Chicago, we took a 16 hour flight straight to Sao Paulo. We were met by a bus driver and translator who helped us exchange our money, and took us accross that enormous city to a small bairro (neighborhood) called Casa Verde, where the MTC, or CTM in Portuguese, is located. It was a very special place. I can only describe it like living in a temple for 9 weeks. We studied the scriptures and Portuguese for 15 hours every day, except Monday, our P-day (preparation day), when we washed our clothes or left the CTM to go out and send mail or check email and buy things. That was our first exposure to real Brazilian culture and language. Of course there were lots of Brazilian elders in the CTM with us, about 50%, and they were lots of fun. My companion, Elder Carr, was a few years older than me and he is the most optimistic person I have ever met. He taught me a lot, and helped me overcome my homesickness and feelings of inadequacy with his contagious smile and clownish sense of humor. He could not speak Portuguese to save his life, but he never let that keep him from trying to speak with everyone he met, however bad it was. He was an inspiration.

When the time came for us to go to our mission, I was nervous but I felt I had learned as much as I was able to learn in the CTM, and I was ready to leave. We took another plane to the beautiful island city of Florianopolis, the capital of the state of Santa Catarina. We were met by our Brazilian mission President, Guilherme Tell Peixoto, and his assistants, also missionaries, Elders Murdock and Ruff. We spent that first day learning mission norms and lingo in the office, and taking notes from our mission president about how we should adjust to being "in the field," and giving us advice on what things to learn, and not to learn, from our trainers. In my mission, when one elder trained another, we said that the trainer was the trainee's father, or "pai," and the trainee was the son, or "filho." I was sent to the northernmost area of the mission, and probably the poorest area, which is in the state of Parana. The city is called Guaratuba, and my trainer was to be a gaucho from the city of Porto Alegre, named Elder Saucedo. Presidente Peixoto informed me that Elder Saucedo had a reputation for being a hard worker (he had been in the Brazilian military for three years before serving a mission), and also for being something of a prankster. He also told me that Elder Saucedo was not blessed with a lot of patience, and didn't speak one word of English, except for "shut up!" (pronounced: shhud uppy!) Needless to say, I was a little intimidated.

While in the CTM, we were fed three very delicious meals a day, buffet style, and I put on a little weight. OK, I weighed 300 lbs when I left that place! So, when I saw Elder Saucedo for the first time the only thing he could manage to say was "Que corpinho!" (what a little body!). The nickname stuck for the rest of my mission. I think he was dedicated to helping me lose some weight during our short time together, and so he marched through the sandy streets of Guaratuba with me always running behind, for the next 6 weeks, and I managed to lose 50 lbs. When I complained about the blisters on my feet (at one time I had at least one blister on every toe!), he would say "Para de chorar, homem nao chora!" (stop crying, men don't cry!) In gaucho culture, the men are very macho, and they have a saying "O Gaucho nao come mel, come as abelhas" (Gauchos don't eat honey, they eat the bees) . So that was my 'pai.' We butted heads, and played pranks on each other, and even though I was glad when he got transferred, I learned to love him and appreciate the things he taught me about working with passion, and the funny things we experienced together.

Guaratuba was a wonderful place to begin my mission. We were isolated from other missionaries by 1.5 hours by bus, and no-one in the whole city that we met spoke any English, and so I was forced to immerse myself in Portuguese. It took about 2 weeks before I started to understand what people were saying, and then about 4 months before I could speak comfortably, but everyone in our little branch, or 'ramo,' always commented on how fast I had learned to speak. We had a good branch of about 80 people who met in a large rented house that we used as a church, until we could raise the necessary money and membership to build a formal chapel. I still don't know if they have one there or not. The nearest big city was Joinville (where James E. Faust began his mission), about 50 kilometers away to the south, and Curitiba, Parana, about 2 hours north, but outside of our mission (my first week in Guaratuba, Elder Russell M. Nelson came to Curitiba to break ground for the temple there, but I didn't get to go). Guaratuba is a beautiful, seasonal tourist city on the beach with lots of ritzy high-rise apartment towers and hotels on the shore, and lots of slums and poor people living farther inland. There's a big statue of Christ on a hill on the beach, 'morro de Cristo,' which looks over the city with an outstretched hand, that's lit up at night. I fell in love with the place and its people, and I was proud to tell my mission buddies that I was "born" in Guaratuba. Someday I would love to go back there with my wife.

It's hard to summarize 2 years worth of incredible experiences in one post, so I'll have to come back and pick up again later.

The Apparent Conflict Between Science and Religion (Part 1)

I mentioned earlier that I've been reading a book entitled Finding Darwin's God: A Scientist's Search for Common Ground Between God and Evolution, by Ken Miller. Well, I'm almost finished, and I'm really happy I found this book. I first heard about Ken Miller in a story from the New York Times, about a debate sponsored by the Templeton Foundation, that asked, "Does science make belief in God obsolete?" Lots of intellectual heavyweights responded, including Miller and a notable atheist named Christopher Hitchens. The two of them went head-to-head in a debate that I followed closely. It was around this time I was in my second semester of Human anatomy and physiology, and microbiology as well, and the internal conflict I had put off since high school, about evolution, could no longer be ignored.


I remember being in my high school biology class, when I was first exposed to the real theory, not the popularized (or demonized) version from movies and television, and I just went with it. I didn't feel any urgent need to reconcile the theory with my understanding of scripture, or my worldview, which wasn't very developed by that point. But I do remember an unsettling feeling as the shear amount of evidence supporting it began to dawn on me. In fact, I began to see things I hadn't yet read about that were obvious proofs to me that animals were related to one-another. But I relented, rightly, that I did not have sufficient reason to believe one way or the other at that time.


After reading the debate between Miller and Hitchens I took it upon myself to study evolution on my own, to become informed enough to make a reasonable decision. I read everything I could find, and put all my knowledge of science to work in order to understand what I read. It took all my limited understanding of chemistry, physics, geology and biology to make sense of it all, but in the end, it did make sense. I came to the conclusion that evolution did happen, is happening, and will continue to happen as long as there is life on earth, and that we are no exception.


Today, we take many scientific discoveries that were very controversial when announced, for granted. For example: the fact that the earth is not flat (thanks to Columbus), or the center of the universe (thanks to Copernicus), that everything we interact with is made of matter (including us), that germs are responsible for disease (Pasteur), that matter obeys certain laws when a lot of it is present (Newton), but that at the smallest level, matter is still quite unpredictable (Plank, Einstein, Heisenberg), and that the elements are not constant and inert, but dynamic and changeable (Curie). No one in their right mind would dispute these great achievements of science given their utility to mankind and the vast amount of evidence that supports these facts. But for some reason, people see Darwin and his 'dangerous idea,' as being different, because it concerns a subject much closer to home, one that was thought the sole domain of the divine: the origin and diversity of life.


I admit, I thought Darwin, being an atheist, had an agenda with his theory: that his intentions were to deal a death blow to religion with a theory that would leave no need for God, because life as we know it arose via natural processes. I was aware of the philosophical movements of Darwin's time, and the enlightenment, and the attitude of many great thinkers (including Hume, Spinoza, Marx, Nietzche, Freud, and later Einstein) that the human race would "grow out of" our belief in God as we progress scientifically, and as our understanding of natural law erases the myths and superstitions of the past. But once I examined his writings, and the story of how he came upon his great discovery, any suspicion of his intentions left me. Darwin was not an anti-theist, and he certainly did not intend to upset religion and the social order. However, there are some real, undeniable obstacles to the peaceful coexistence and acceptance of evolution and belief in God, in the western sense.

I say "in the western sense," because the eastern concept of God and the divine is quite different than the personal, involved Father and Creator that the three great western faiths embrace. The gods of Hinduism, for example, are embodiments of one great god called Brahman, that can only be understood in the most mystical sense, as are the gods of Mahayana Buddhism. Also, there are a myriad of pantheistic religions that see God as nothing more than the sum of all natural processes, or nature. These do not believe that anything exists outside of nature; therefore, if there is a "God," God must be synonymous with nature. And, of course, there are the primitive animistic religions, and those of ancestor worship found in some remaining societies. As I said before, I reject such diluted forms of the divine as to make it an incomprehensible, impersonal, impotent, indifferent, and mystical force.

The biggest objection to evolution from a religious standpoint, is that if evolution produced us, which it certainly did, and according to the laws of nature this was a purely indeterminate event, meaning that evolution did not "mean" to make us, or try to make us, then what is the purpose of our existence? Religion gives us the purpose of our existence, and in that purpose is outlined our relationship with the divine. On the one hand we have science telling us that, as far as it can see, there is no purpose to life: and on the other, we have religion telling us that we are the children of God, special and preordained, and that science must be wrong. But science is not concerned with purpose, science is concerned with material and mechanism. Religion is not concerned with material, it is concerned with the spiritual, which includes purpose. The premise of the whole argument is wrong. Science and religion do not overlap, at least they shouldn't, and so there cannot, even in principle, be a conflict between them.

On the contrary, instead of being opponents, science and religion ought to work side-by-side in helping human beings complete their understanding the world: science to teach them how it works, and religion to teach them their purpose and place in it. As a Christian, I feel more empowered to give glory to God because I understand evolution. I understand and appreciate His genius a little bit better. This remarkable, epic tale of the emergence of life is far more gripping and inspiring than to think that life appeared in a creative burst of arbitrary magic. If natural laws govern the world now (and no one doubts that they do), why are they not good enough to have created it? Dr. Miller explains the relationship in this way:

By any reasonable analysis, evolution does nothing to distance or
to weaken the power of God. We already know that we live in a world of natural
causes, explicable by the workings of natural law. All that evolution does is to
extend the workings of these natural laws to the novelty of life and to its
change over time. A God who presides over an evolutionary process is not an
impotent, passive observer. Rather, He is one whose genius fashioned a fruitful
world in which the process of continuing creation is woven into the fabric of
matter itself. He retains the freedom to act, to reveal Himself to His
creatures, to inspire, and to teach. He is the master of chance and time, whose
actions, both powerful and subtle, respect the independence of His creation and
give human beings the genuine freedom to accept or to reject His love.
(Finding Darwin's God, chap 8, pg 243)

By accepting this, we can avoid one of the great '7 Blunders that cause Violence,' given by Gandhi: "Science without Humanity." I think in Zion, a man can be a scientist and believer without living a double life.

To live like you were dying.

I know this sounds gloomy, but death is something that's been on my mind lately. As my wife can attest, I frequently talk about death, and issues surrounding death. Maybe that's because I work in hospice, or because I just recently lost my Grandpa and my Great-Grandma. It's probably a combination of those and other things that almost constantly remind me of my own mortality.

Tonight, at work, I was having a conversation with a co-worker of mine whose husband recently got diagnosed with cancer of the head and neck. Because she is a hospice nurse, the doctor left the job of "breaking the bad news " to her. She was telling me that she and her husband are both so shocked and not yet sure what to do, because this type of cancer does not typically respond well to even the most aggressive radiation or chemotherapy.

I have run through a similar scenario in my own mind many times. This is another reason why I want to be a doctor: I think that doctors today are not trained well when it comes to dealing with death. We live in a society where the most basic events in life, birth and death, often take place in a sterile, hospital environment, and family are either absent, or, if present, very uncomfortable. Our society denies death, treats getting old just like getting sick, and thinks of common killers (such as cancer) like silent enemies, or even as punishment. And our doctors don't do much to fix this incorrect notion of ours, in fact, they are somewhat to blame.

I have heard of oncologists who fill their patients with false hope, or don't really help their patients to understand their situation in such a way that they can make their own decisions when it comes to death. For example, a man with a difficult type of cancer may go to see an oncologist and be told that treatment can only offer him a 25% chance of cure. But what he doesn't hear is that the stats are against him: he has a 75% chance that the therapy will not help, and will most likely make his last months of life more painful, and miserable. And rarely, if ever, will an oncologist include in a patients list of options, doing nothing. People tend to view this as "giving up," but the truth is, sometimes going that route will give you a better chance of having a good quality of life as long as possible. I've heard of studies that showed people with terminal illness who chose the palliative approach, like hospice, versus the curative approach actually lived longer, and better, no doubt. That is to say, by focusing on symptom relief at the end of life, rather than treating the cause and trying to prolong the coming of death, one can embrace their condition and try to live the rest of their life the way they always wanted to.

My wife really likes that country song "Live like you were dying," you know it: "I went sky diving, I went Rocky Mountain climbing, I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named 'blue man's shoes,'..." At the end the singer says: "I loved deeper, and I spoke sweeter, and I gave forgiveness I'd been denying. Someday I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying!" Well, what if we lived like that all the time?! What if our mortality was something we talked about more often? I bet it would change our priorities, and I bet we would be a lot happier. I hope that if something similar to what happened to my co-worker's husband ever happens to me, that I'll be level-headed, and I'll have the courage to embrace my mortality and make the choice to live the rest of my life the best I can.

After all, death is part of life. It comes to us all, and sooner than we think. But if you believe, as I do, that death is not the end, it does not have to be a tragedy, or shake you to your core. Even the humanistic view that doesn't necessarily accept the possibility of an afterlife, provides some meaning and comfort in death. My anecdotal experience with people of my own faith around the time of death has disappointed me, somewhat. We have the most comforting doctrine I have ever heard when it comes to the afterlife, yet I have seen many LDS people nearing death who are scared, and anxious. I don't know why that is, but it doesn't need to be so.

I learned a catchy little saying while I was on my mission in Brazil about the subject: "When I came into the world, everybody laughed, and I cried. When I leave the world, everybody will cry, but I, will be laughing!" Why shouldn't we be excited about what awaits us? Why shouldn't we celebrate death? After all, if Zion does exist in heaven, as Plato suggested, we will find it. And that is something to be happy about.