Door to door with the Mormons

Published in The Post-Star (D1)
7/31/06

The first door they knocked on looked promising.

A sign on the porch said, "Welcome, Friends," and a pretty orange cat rubbed its head against the screen door as it surveyed the visitors with friendly curiosity.

After a long minute, a woman came to the door. Her voice was rough, and mildly annoyed.

"Yeah? I just got out of the shower," she told the young men standing in front of her. Beads of sweat had already begun to form on their foreheads in the moist summer heat. They wore neatly pressed slacks, ties, and white dress shirts adorned with black nametags: "Elder Oliphant" and "Elder Anderson."

In reality, Tyler Anderson and Darian Oliphant are only 19 and 22, respectively. But they left their first names back home in Utah when they came to Glens Falls to serve a two-year stint as missionaries for the Mormon Church. Both refer to each other simply as "elder" -- Anderson didn't even know Oliphant's first name when asked.

"Hello, ma'am," Anderson said, smiling. "We're with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and we'd like to share a message of hope with you."

"No, thanks," the woman responded.

"Well, is there anything we can do to help you out? Is there anything you need?" he asked, still smiling.

"No," she said. "I belong to the Catholic Church. I think I'll stick with that."

Walking away from the house a moment later, Anderson said her response was typical.

"Most people here are very nice and polite," he said. "We've only had a few people who were really nasty, yelling and swearing."

The elders live on Notre Dame Street, in an apartment the Mormon church has been renting for at least a dozen years to house young missionaries. Their parents provide most of their financial support, which is administered through the church.

It's not a typical young adult experience, to be sure -- their faith holds them to a strict behavioral code which includes abstinence from alcohol, tobacco, caffeine, gambling, pornography and sex outside of marriage.

Missionary service is optional, but at least 50,000 Mormons are currently serving worldwide in their own version of Peace Corps. Men must serve two years, while women serve 18 months, and the sexes are kept separate. Their activities range from door-to-door proselytizing and one-on-one teaching sessions to running errands or doing yardwork for people who request help.

"So far, I've found that people in New York tend to be pretty independent. We haven't gotten to help out too much, which is too bad," Anderson said. "We love it when we get that chance."

They stepped onto the next porch. The sound of dogs barking from somewhere deep inside the darkened house was the only answer to their knocks.

Anderson rubbed his hands together and glanced at Oliphant, perhaps checking to see how he was handling his first day in the field. Oliphant was fresh out of a three-week training period in Provo, Utah, and excited about beginning his mission.

"I've waited about three years for this," he said, explaining that medical problems kept him from being able to leave home at 19, the youngest age at which Mormon men qualify for missionary service. In another few years, he would have been too old -- after 25, young people are encouraged to start families instead. Retired couples may serve as missionaries if they choose.

"I just want to lose myself in the work, and worry about other people for a change instead of myself," Oliphant declared, wiping sweat from his forehead. He said the humid climate has been the hardest thing to get used to so far.

Anderson has been here since March, and will probably move on soon to another town within the Albany region, or what the church calls a "stake." For him, the experience is a form of self-improvement.

"I want to become a better person, more outgoing, a harder worker," he said.

About five apartments down the street, another door opened to their knock. A middle-aged woman stood on the threshold with a bag of crackers in one hand. She was barefoot, and looked disoriented.

The elders introduced themselves and explained their purpose. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "I gotta move. I'm gettin' robbed here. I gotta move."

Anderson and Oliphant glanced at each other -- maybe it was time to go.

Oliphant made another attempt.

"Ma'am, I just want to say -- I just want you to know that your father God loves you," he said, his voice full of sincere warmth. "Jesus Christ loves you."

The woman's face changed to a deadpan expression.

"I know," she said. "He's my son."

Oliphant took a step back.

"Is he?" he said, his calm, congenial manner never breaking. "Well, you have a nice day, ma'am."

Back on the street, the elders looked like they were fighting back a chuckle.

"You get to meet all sorts of interesting people doing this," Anderson said.
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