O Patria Amada, Brasil!

This post is about my mission, to see the other similar posts, click on the mission tab under "labels."

Where was I? Oh yes, Pato Branco! Well, you see, the Brazil Florianopolis Mission is comprised of the whole southern state of Santa Catarina (which is much like the shape and size of North Carolina, and borders Argentina on the west side), and also includes two small pieces of its neighboring state to the north, Parana (not to be confused with the carnivorous fish). The capital city, also the city of the mission home, is situated on an island just off the coast, so close, in fact, that a suspension bridge, Ponte Hercilio Luz, spans the distance. The bridge, which is beautifully lit up at night, has become the symbol of the city.

All of the larger cities, and the stakes of the church, are on, or near, the coast, and within a few hours drive from Floripa: Joinville, Itajai, Sao Jose, Tubarao, and Lages, which is a good distance inland, up-and-over the sierra. There are also three districts in the mission, which are spread out over a much larger area, encompassing many small towns and cities, and are farther from Floripa: Ipomeia (where the church first began in Brazil), Uniao da Vitoria, and Chapeco (ranked in order from closest to farthest). With highway conditions as they are in Brazil, the city of Chapeco is about a 8-9 hour bus ride from Floripa, with the wind at your back.

The reason I'm saying all this, is to put things into perspective. Pato Branco is about 4 hours north of Chapeco (12 hours from the mission home), and is the 2nd farthest area from Floripa in the mission. After serving in one exceptional area, Guaratuba, only one of two small corners in the mission that were not in Santa Catarina, I was transferred to Biguacu, a small city north of Sao Jose and within sight of the island, where I stayed for a mere 6 weeks. After which, I was transferred to the other exceptional area, the other corner outside of Santa Catarina. All in all, I spent one whole year outside of the state of my mission home. My friends used to joke with me by saying, "you should have served in Missao Curitiba!" Which is the mission located in the capitol of Parana.

I was supposed to make the long trip with three other elders headed in the same direction. So, I packed my two suitcases, and got a ride from a member with a car to the main rodoviaria in floripa, arriving just before time to board. I met the others, quickly got my passage, and got on the bus, glad I hadn't missed it. I was surprised when I saw that the other three had not yet got on, and I got nervous as the time for departure came nearer, and nearer, and finally the driver closed the doors, and drove off! I was in a state of shock. Not knowing what to do, I looked out my window and spotted my bewildered companions, watching the bus leave with their hands raised to the tops of their heads. It was then I realized I would be making that 12 hour trip solo-- no companion. I felt terrified--like I was naked, or something.

I got off at the first stop, in the city of Blumenau, and called the mission office. One of my would-be companions answered, and apparently, they had been looking all over the station for me, not knowing I had already got on the bus, and so, had missed it. I asked what I should do, to which President Dansie replied, "just go alone, they will follow on another bus." Although I was honored at the sign of trust my president had just placed in me, I was still wary of making such a long trip with no moral support, and I had good reason: I sat behind a young man looking at pornographic magazines a good portion of the way, and they played not one, but two R-rated movies on the screens during the bus ride! For most of the trip, I rode with a thick blanket over my head.

My journal entry from Aug 11, 2005, reads: "It's 3 in the morning, I'm in Pato Branco, PR. I'll explain later." As I mentioned earlier, I barely had time to pack before leaving after finding out I was being transferred, not to mention time to journal. My companion, Elder Melo from Mato Grosso do Sul, came with my group from the CTM to the mission, so we had met before. I was assigned to be his senior companion, even though he was several years older than me, had been in the area longer, and spoke better than I, being Brasileiro and all. It was because he had not yet mastered the material we taught, so my goal was to help him do that. The city was unlike any I had yet seen in the mission: it was, squished, so to speak, in a small valley with steep hills climbing up three sides of it. Because we were on foot, with little allowance for bus fares, the sight of the hills made my feet and legs ache, but not since Guaratuba had I met people who were so nice and receptive.

The people of Santa Catarina are, for the most part, of more recent European descent: German, Italian, etc. They have fairer complexions, and much colder and curt manners than the people of Parana, who some Catarinenses refer to as "macacos," or monkeys. Their speech is also much more metropolitan and correct than those of the small towns in Parana where I served, but I would gladly have spent both years working among the Paranaenses, if I could have chosen. They had a much more agrarian, friendly, and hospitable attitude than most of the people I met in Santa Catarina, not to mention they were much happier.

Pato Branco began as an inn run by Italian immigrants near a pond with ducks, hence its name. The inn was at the bottom of a small valley surrounded by large farms and thick forest, or mato. As it grew, the city began climbing up the sides of the hills, and dozens of high-rise apartment buildings sprang up around the city center, which, as any self-respecting Brazilian city should, maintains an ornate Catholic cathedral, and central plaza, or praca. Around the city, stretching for countless miles, are still huge plantations of corn, beans, and soy, and occasionally a little thicket of forest. It's beautiful.
The branch in Pato Branco was small, and had been for the last 15 years. Virtually all of the men who had the priesthood in the branch had been, at one time, the branch president. There were about 50 active and semi-active members, and about 12-15 families. Their main goals were to get enough membership to someday become a ward, when the district became a stake, and also to build a real chapel to meet in. Those had been their goals for years, and they seemed no nearer then, than 10 years past. When I was there, they met in a small, rented, wooden house which they modified into a church.

Our baptismal font, was a caixa da agua, a blue fiberglass water tank, which we would set up on the back patio and fill with the hose when we had a baptism. It was there that I first baptized someone on my mission: an 8 year-old girl whose parents were members, but who lived too far outside the city to come to church regularly. She reminded me of myself in some ways, and I hope that her situation has changed, or will change, to enable her to be active in the church.

The current branch president, Joelsio de Rufato, was a young, ambitious, stern, and inspiring man. He told me his favourite book in church literature was Spencer W. Kimball's Miracle of Forgiveness, which I have never read, but I hear compels even the most righteous person to their knees in sore repentance. He led the congregation with an iron fist, covered in a velvet glove. One minute, his rebukes would make you want to crawl into a hole, the next, you would feel he were your loving parent, who prayed for you incessantly.

I had heard horror stories about how much he distrusted the missionaries, and how difficult he made their work, but for some reason, he opened up to me, and I could feel that he sensed a partner in me, and one who shared his vision and who he could trust. He was very helpful and supportive during my 7 1/2 months in Pato Branco. And because of our trust and cooperation with him and the other leaders, my last days in Pato Braco were very successfull, and the area continued to prosper long after I was replaced: I received letters and pictures of many who I had taught and found who were baptized and reactivated, and that was one of the greatest joys of my mission.

Orderville: My Communist Heritage

(Communism: a theory or system of social organization based on the holding of all property in common, actual ownership being ascribed to the community as a whole or to the state. )

Shauni and I just got back from a vacation to Utah, where we had a reunion and lots of fun. On the way up, we stopped in a little town in southern Utah, called Orderville, she and I both had some ancestors who lived there. I had never heard of Orderville, or known I had ancestors from there, until Shauni got me interested in family history. One of my ancestors that I didn't mention in the post about my roots , was Isaac Von Wagoner Carling. His father, John Witt Carling, had lived in Nauvoo and known the prophet Joseph Smith, and his successor, Brigham Young, personally. John was asked by Brigham Young, during the construction of the Salt Lake temple, to make a sketch and model for the oxen who would hold the temple's baptismal font on their shoulders. Isaac crossed the plains with his family as a young man, where he met his future wife, my grandmother, Asenath Elizabeth Browning, daughter of the famous gunsmith, travelling in a neighboring wagon with her family, who were friends of the Carlings.

From childhood, Isaac had been considered exceptional: bright (even considered a genius), talented, and possessing a deep sense of morality. He was a poet, musician, a craftsman and carpenter (like is father), and an inventor. After marrying his sweetheart, Sena, he called her, they lived for many years in Fillmore, Millard County Utah. He was a man of ideals, optimism, and a great desire to live righteously.

During the 1870's, Brigham Young, and other leaders of the Church, began a social campaign in earnest, to revive the "United Order of Enoch," also known as the Law of Consecration, or the Order of Stewardship, preached by Joseph Smith during the Ohio, Missouri, and Nauvoo periods of the church. This was a response to the dramatic economic and social changes brought to Utah during that time due to the construction of the transcontinental railroad, which passed through Salt Lake, and threatened to dilute the purity of the theocracy. For these, and other, reasons, Brigham Young began to travel throughout Utah, preaching the need to return to the United Order, and finally establish Zion.

Since no one in the church was coerced into living the Order, and no set of specific instructions was given on how to establish and run such a co-op, many different types of communities resulted, most of which, however, did not make it past electing officers. Orderville was begun as a break-away group from that at Mount Carmel, due to ideological differences on how to run the organization. It was around this time that my grandfather, Isaac, was invited to join the Saints in Orderville, and bring his family. There were 16 of them total, and they proved invaluable to the success of this memorable experiment.

Isaac quickly showed his adeptness and enthusiasm for living the order, and became a prominent leader in the community. His daughter, Catherine, says this about their move to Orderville:

Father turned all his property over to the United Order, except the
household and personal things. We experienced a great change in our lives,
making new friends and changing our way of life among new people who became dear
friends and a good people to live among.

The communal activities practiced in Orderville went far beyond what Brigham Young had counseled or what Joseph Smith had taught concerning the Law of Consecration. It was the only instance in which all members of the Order ate at a common meal in a dining hall, wore uniform clothing which was produced locally, lived in identical apartment style houses, and in which the elected board oversaw every viable industry: "The elected board supervised all activity, including entertainment, schooling, cooking, clothing manufacture, and farming. Private property did not exist, though personal possessions were assigned as a Stewardship to each individual."

Another remarkable aspect of Orderville, was its success, and duration:

Under this regimen the order prospered, both materially and
spiritually. Assets of the eighty families tripled from $21,551 to $69,562 in
the first four years of operation and reached nearly $80,000 by 1883. The
leaders made adjustments as time went on. In 1877 they replaced the earlier
loose dependence upon willingness to contribute with an accounting system that
placed uniform values on labor and commodities (the wages varying by age and
sex, but not type of work).

The order was practiced successfully in Orderville for nearly a decade, and, indeed, would have continued longer if not for the passage of the Edmund's Anti-Polygamy Act of Congress, by which many of the leaders and members of the community were either imprisoned, or forced into hiding. When the board finally was faced with the unavoidable need to disband, Isaac was one of only three members who voted not to discontinue the order. He and his wife continued to live there until their deaths, and are buried in the Orderville cemetery.

When I discovered this intriguing history of my grandfather's family, it was like long forgotten memory had suddenly surfaced again, bringing clarity to my thoughts and feelings. I have always been fascinated by recorded attempts to live a communal life: the Biosphere 2 project, Arcosanti, even Jamestown could qualify. It is exciting to know that I have a fairly recent ancestor who shared, and from whom I might have inherited, my enthusiasm for true communism, and the concept of Utopia. I also know, better than most, the blunders, dangers, and tragedies of the recent past associated with small-scale, and state-sanctioned/enforced communism-- including the crimes against humanity performed by Stalin and Chairman Mao. These are undoubtedly, some of the most heinous and unforgivable acts of all time, along with the Holocaust.

I hope my readers will not imagine that I support or endorse these regimes, or their actions. Nothing could be farther from the truth. These evil men are twice as guilty in my sight: once for their offenses, and twice for their manipulation, distortion, and perversion of something so potentially good-- human cooperation. It is a shame to me, that one cannot speak of communism without an apology for the monstrous mistakes of these men. But, even in their infamy, these men cannot corrupt this truth-- that man, as an individual and as a race, will reach his full potential only when we are all free and equal, and able to live industriously, and peacefully together. It can be done, it already has been.

The Apparent Conflict Between Science and Religion (Part 2)

This is a continuation of a previous post (Part 1), and I feel the desire to to take it up again because of some important things that I've experienced recently. The reason I haven't written anything in so long, is because after the spring semester was finished, I immediately began a summer class, general physics 1, and it has occupied all of my time since.

Speaking of physics, I remember that taking physics in high school was a real eye-opener for me. At the beginning of 3rd grade, I remember seeing, on the cover of our math books for that year, a picture of a frog, leaping through the air, and a dotted line tracing his trajectory. I thought, "Cool! We're going to learn how frogs jump!" Well, I waited, and waited, and we went through the whole book, and we never did learn about the frog, and I was really disappointed. The mystery went unsolved for me, until my high school physics class, where we learned about energy, work, gravity, and Newton's Laws. Then, finally, I understood how frogs jump!

You're probably thinking: "Jordan, you're such a nerd!" I won't argue with that, but I'm just trying to express what's been on my mind in a coherent way (not an easy task!). The point is, that even as a child, I knew that everything in the world, no matter how simple, or complex, must have an explanation, whether the explanation is known to us, or not. I didn't know how it worked, and I couldn't figure it out myself with the tools and knowledge available to me, but I didn't lose faith that, someday, I would learn how it worked, and I didn't just settle for the simple answer of childhood: "it's magic!"


That's why I feel science, in many ways, is a companion of religion: they both rely on faith as a starting point for discovery-- faith, that we shall find what we seek. Some would argue that science is based on doubt and skepticism, and is only concerned with what can be dis proven. I would argue that this distinction is only a matter of perspective. Einstein once said, "The only true miracle, is that there are no miracles." That statement, depending on your perspective, can be taken two ways: 1, that science explains everything; hence, no miracles, or 2, that the fact that science enables us to understand our universe, and ourselves, is a miracle-- that everything is a miracle!

As I mentioned, I recently finished reading Utopia. One of More's descriptions of the people from the philosophical city, impressed me: it reveals, "They [the Utopians] think that the careful investigation of nature, and the sense of reverence arising from it, are acts of worship to God" (pg 82, religion). This is in harmony with the medieval and early Renaissance sentiments toward science: that it is synonymous with religion, because it is concerned with truth.

And here, we have reached another apparent conflict. You see, the average scientist, nowadays, would not say that he or she is a student of truth, but of statistics: because physical "laws" are generalizations of the observable behaviour of matter, when lots of it is present. However, at the sub-atomic level, matter, and existence itself, is a totally random occurrence, explicable only be statistical means, not by laws, or "truth." I think that, in their "over-abundance of caution," scientists are unwilling to maintain any authoritative claim to the truth, because they need the flexibility and freedom to challenge the status quo, if they make a new discovery that turns conventional knowledge on its head. And while this stance makes perfect sense to them, it leaves a large intellectual and ethical gap between science and the rest of humanity, especially religion.

In his book Ethics for the New Millennium, the Dalai Lama candidly expounds on this growing disparity between the material and the spiritual schools of thought:

In the past, religion and ethics were closely intertwined. Now,
many people, believing that science has 'dis proven' religion, make the further
assumption that because there appears to be no final evidence for any spiritual
authority, morality itself must be a matter of individual preference. And
whereas in the past, scientists and philosophers felt a pressing need to find
solid foundations on which to establish immutable laws and absolute truths,
nowadays this kind of research is held to be futile. As a result, we see a
complete reversal, heading toward the opposite extreme, where ultimately nothing
exists any longer, where reality itself is called into question. This can only
lead to chaos.

As something of a "spiritual authority" himself, I think this complaint against the scientific community on behalf of religion, is justified. But I think there's more to it than that.

I see the rivalry between these schools of thought, as I see that between Republicans and Democrats: philosophically, they are not that different, it's just that they are so accustomed to taking opposing sides, that they do it out of a sense of duty, almost. These partisan allegiances encourage them to take opposite stances on almost every issue, and fuel a near-hatred for each other. It reminds me of a tribal blood-feud that now exists for its own sake, not for any memorable cause. They use the titles 'conservative' and 'liberal' not in their true meanings, but as a catch-all category for what the other side believes, when in fact, both sides embrace many classical liberal and conservative values.

(Yeah, that was a rant. Sorry. I meant for that to be an allegory, not a political diatribe. Hopefully you got the concept.)


The tendency is for people to choose one side or the other, and migrate to the extreme ends of the spectrum. The consequences of this migration are adverse for both parties: for the religious, it develops into a deep mistrust of science and the acquisition on knowledge, as secular, and even atheistic, activities. For the scientific, it excludes, or greatly hinders, the perception of meaning and purpose in life, as well as the feelings of joy that accompany an open heart to the existence of a benevolent God. As is often the case, a religious scientist, the type of individual once revered as the classic "Renaissance Man," is now both laughed at by his scientific peers, and considered a heretic by his brothers-in-faith. How curiously tragic!

Going back to Ken Miller's Finding Darwin's God, I found a quote that summarizes the fallacy of this ultra-religious bias: that science is out to disprove God's existence, and so we ought to shun it, or hope that it fails.

As a Christian, I find the flow of their logic particularly
depressing. Not only does it teach us to fear the acquisition of knowledge,
which might at any time disprove belief, but it suggests that God dwells only in
the shadows of our understanding. I suggest that if God is
real, we should be able to find Him somewhere else-- in the bright light of
human knowledge, spiritual and scientific (pg 267).

If we thought about it, drawing battle lines between science and religion, can only end badly for religion: we don't have a highly skilled army of enthusiasts working around the clock, and the globe, gathering indisputable evidence for the reality of our claims, like the Resurrection, or the existence of a spirit world. Why? Because a belief in these things follows from a spiritual and mental investigation of the plan of salvation, and from faith in revealed truth. These claims cannot be proved or disproved by a scientific investigation. So, why should we consider religious and scientific concepts as opponents on an equal field, if the same rules don't apply to them? The army of enthusiasts we do have, does a wonderful job at spreading these revealed truths throughout the world, and helping people overcome their obstacles to accepting it, but they don't do so with scientific equipment, or methods.

The biggest reason we shouldn't pursue such a course is, as Ken Miller puts it:

If a lack of scientific explanation is proof of God's existence,
the counter logic is unimpeachable: a successful scientific
explanation is an argument against God... That's why this reasoning,
ultimately, is much more dangerous to religion than it is to science (chap 9, pg
266).

By pinning our belief in God on something as unpredictable, and unlikely, as a future scientific vindication, we will almost certainly be disappointed, and kept waiting. I am not suggesting we regress to the magical world-view, on the contrary, I suggest we embrace the notion that God does His work through the medium of His creations, and respects their free agency.

I consider myself very fortunate that I was encouraged all growing up, in addition to "say my prayers," and "read the scriptures," to seek for knowledge and not be afraid that I might lose my faith. It is not easy to reconcile them, sometimes, but I cannot imagine how empty my life would be without either my spiritual beliefs, or my understanding of the natural world. I don't think that God would allow Himself, or His spiritual truths, to be put under a microscope. Faith in Him is, ultimately, a question of personal trust and optimism, not a consensus on a scientific theory. And that's how He wants it.