When swapping MTC experiences with other former missionaries, a common theme inevitably emerges. It is best described by the opening phrase to Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...” Truly, the MTC was one of the most meaningful experiences in my life. Conversely, it was also one of the most personally and spiritually challenging experiences.
After a somewhat awkward and tearful goodbye from my family, where we new missionaries were herded from auditorium as our parents were left alone (my mother later described the cruelty of the moment), I found myself a full-fledged citizen of a world I knew very little about. Though I had my fundamental understanding of the Gospel, not to mention an upbringing in Utah and exposure to Mormon culture, I still felt like a tourist.
Me saying my goodbyes to Mom and Dad in "the weaning room"
Somewhat dazed, I stood in a line, waiting to receive logistical instructions. One new missionary stood in front of me, his new suit perfectly pressed, his hair freshly trimmed. He wore a wide smile across his face, and looked like he was having the greatest experience that he had ever known. I, perhaps, appeared a bit more shocked, or at least wary, of this strange situation. He held out his hand to me forcefully and said “Hi! What's your name?”
“I'm Nils,” I said, instinctively.
At that, a strange look crossed his face, a mixture between pity and relief that he wasn't me. “Oh...” he said, eagerly withdrawing his hand. “I'm Elder So-and-so.” Missionaries are supposed to use the title “Elder.” For me, it took some getting used to.
And so it began. The MTC compound is almost completely sealed off from the rest of the world. At any given time it houses up to a few thousand young men and women from age 19 to their mid-twenties. Each day, rising early, missionaries find themselves all day long in language classes, gospel lessons, or other training meetings in preparation for their inevitable deployment to all corners of the earth. From dawn until dusk they are at work, with few breaks for meals, exercise, and sleep.
In addition to the rigorous schedule (compared by some to a type of “missionary boot camp”), a strange cultural phenomenon understandably occurs. Nearly ever single missionary is trying desperately to prove their seriousness about their missionary service. This results in a clash of immaturity and diligent effort, which in turn yielded to an over-abundance of self-righteousness among peers.
At first, this was particularly difficult. Like my peers, I too desired to be a successful missionary. I had no desire to rebel or make myself an exception to the rules. But, perhaps because of my disinterest in scrutinizing the behaviors of my colleagues, or perhaps because of my reluctance to pronounce my “righteousness” publicly, I found myself “marked” for critique.
If was too loud, or cracked a joke, somebody would inevitably scold, “quiet dignity Elder!” If I wore sunglasses (it was summer) or tried a new knot on my tie (yeah, I know, blame it on necessity-induced nerdiness) I was taken aside and urged to remember “the reason I was there.” Worst of all, if I showed any sort of friendliness to the sister missionaries, I was tagged as a troublemaker for sure.
Truth to be told, within a few weeks this started to wear on different aspects of my efforts. While I brushed most of it off and went on my way, it began to seep into my spirituality as well, bringing forward some heavy questions about my belief system in general.
Fortunately, among the gray there was pure silver as well. In addition to being the worst of times, the best of times were not far behind. Stay tuned, as next week I'll talk about what made the MTC glorious as it was. For now, feel free to share your own MTC stories or thoughts.
5 comments:
Nils, I can't think of the MTC without thinking of you. I also remember the sudden fixation Elders had on the superficial aspects of "righteousness." I was almost one of them and I was very glad you were my comp to remind me about reality. I'm looking forward to your next post!
French Toast sticks. Every Thursday morning.
And cereal, all you want any time.
Sad that all I can think about is food right now. Will post something more meaningful when food isn't on the brain.
Quiet dignity, Nils. Does this post have it? Think about it....and why you're here.
I think I had a different experience but I was only there for four weeks. Now that I think about though, I look back and can see some of the self righteousness, maybe it was more prominent then I remember but I have a knack of overlooking things like that.
When I think of the MTC for some reason all I think about is that we ate, went to class, ate, passed gassed, class, ate, class, passed more gas. This was the daily routine.
Geoffsn-
My MTC companion! True, a discussion of my MTC experience wouldn't be the same without you. We can throw in our two dorm-mates as well for good measure.
For the record, you weren't one of those who came across as self-righteous in any respect. You were a great companion and defintely fit in the "best of times" category.
Steven-
I am sorry that we missed each other in the MTC, but I like to think you warmed it up for us (I suspect you probably left a day or two before my group arrived). I remember somebody asking President Lawrence if we would have to continue with the "quiet dignity" concept in Russia the way we did in the MTC. He said he preferred shortening it to simply "dignity" in order not to stifle the enthusiasm of particularly outgoing or energetic missionaries.
Brad-
There was certainly plenty of food and passing gas in my experience as well. Still not sure of whether those would be qualified as good or bad aspects of the MTC experience though...
I think the oddest thing for me in the MTC was realizing that if I weren't a sister, I would probably have been dating the teachers.
Kind of a weird dynamic.
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