March 7, 1996

Some of my friends have been pestering me to write about what the 
church is like in Brazil, so this is my humble attempt.  I've only 
been to two congregations, but here is what we found.

Neither of the places that we have attended in the last six weeks have 
had air conditioning, so they try to meet early in the morning.  In 
Jaguariuna, they met at 8 a.m.  Here in Rio Claro, our ward starts 
with Priesthood/Relief Society at 8:30 a.m., and the second ward comes 
at 9 a.m. for Sacrament Meeting.  So they are leaving the chapel just 
as we are coming in, and there is a major traffic jam, since there is 
just one foyer.

Jaguariuna had a small branch, but a lovely building they will 
eventually fill.  We had a 30-minute drive, and arrived kind of late.  
The nice paved parking lot was locked and empty, so we were a bit 
worried about whether we'd understood the starting time.  But we saw 
the door was open, so we went inside.  They were there; it's just that 
nobody else owns a car.  

The people went out of their way to ensure our comfort; they asked a 
woman to come out of Relief Society and translate for the girls in 
their Young Women class, and a sister missionary came to Primary with 
me.  There were only four or five children in Primary, so our kids 
made a big splash.  Fortunately they sang the only song we knew at the 
time: "Sou um Filho de Deus" (I Am a Child of God).

The chapel had no carpeting, and movable wooden benches.  There was no 
piano; we sang by a sister missionary singing a line as introduction 
and then counting to three for us all to begin.  Fortunately, we 
bought two Portuguese hymnbooks to bring with us; the hymnals were 
scarce and missing pages.

The sacrament meeting was conducted by a young man who cannot have 
been home from his mission for more than a year.  He was the only one 
up on the stand, and during the first part of the meeting, I noticed 
him using hand signals and mouthing questions to a missionary in the 
audience as they planned the rest of the program.  What kind of church 
is this, I thought, that is run by young people in their 20s?  A 
church with a wonderful future, of course.  There were two or three 
investigators there, and all of them were young men in their late 
teens or early 20s.  Later, though, Sanford explained that the bishop 
is a mature married man; he was just out of town that weekend, and his 
only counselor was conducting.  There were about 30 people attending 
the branch that day, other than us.

The next week, we came here to Rio Claro.  The stake center is in the 
middle of town, on a one-way street across from a veterinarian and 
car-repair shop.  The whole compound is fenced, and has a spacious 
parking lot with both basketball nets and soccer goals, and the 
appropriate markings on the pavement.  It is used as a parking lot 
during Sunday meetings, and for sports at other times.  Both of the 
buildings we've visited follow a similar pattern: you enter into a 
central hall, with the chapel on the left and ward offices on the 
right.  Because Rio Claro is a stake center and home to two active 
wards, we also have an upstairs and downstairs for classrooms.  Of 
course the stake offices are in the cooler basement, and Primaria 
also.

The chapel has wooden pews, and old, stained carpeting that has faded 
to an indeterminate brownish grey.  But there is a piano in the chapel 
and another in the Primary room.  There are ceiling fans, and a 
wooden-floored cultural hall behind the carpeting and pews.

There are perhaps 80-100 people in attendance at our ward most weeks, 
and more in the other ward.  

We had a long discussion the first or second week of Primary, because 
they thought we would want our children to be taught in English and 
they drafted a USAmerican missionary to do so.  We insisted that if 
they were taught in Portuguese with the other kids, they would pick it 
up.  Also that they need to make Brazilian friends.

My first reaction was to wonder what kind of USAmericans had been here 
before, but since then I've learned that no others had lived here.  
What may be at work is the much-noted Brazilian sense of inferiority.  
Why have your child learn Portuguese, since English is so much better?  
In the 1970s, when Brazilian industry was starting to get off the 
ground, they had a terrible time with consumer acceptance.  People 
couldn't believe that a refrigerator made in Brasil could be as good 
as one from Germany, and so they preferred the more expensive imported 
models. But I digress.  So either Sanford or I is always in Primary 
with the little ones, to help translate and encourage them.  We 
alternate weeks going to Priesthood and Sunday School.

The second week there, Elaine was asked to say the opening prayer.  
She was brave enough to stand up for the prayer song, but froze when 
it was time to pray.  Lorissa piped up, "I'll say it!"  So she came 
up, and repeated after me, and did fine.  But then people thought I 
could speak Portuguese and rattled off all this stuff to me, which I 
couldn't follow.  I'd been working on prayers for months, and even 
practiced on my congregation in Florida, but overall my Portuguese is 
not that good.  

The next week Elaine decided that she *could* say a prayer, but 
Sanford could not help her, because that wasn't something he knew 
(although generally his vocabulary is much better than mine, of 
course).  One of the teachers helped her, though, and she had a good 
experience.

One thing about Brazilian society which we noticed right away was that 
their sense of personal space is different; this is particularly true 
regarding children.  Even on the airplane here, the stewardesses would 
touch the children, pat their heads, stroke their face, kiss their 
arm, etc.  Many USAmerican parents would get very upset, and most 
USAmericans wouldn't dare.  This is characteristic of *all* Brazilians 
(and poor Lorissa gets tired of people stroking her hair--she has such 
an inviting thick mop).  But at church this goes on to such an extent 
that I haven't figured out who half of the children actually belong 
to.  During sacrament meeting, they wander happily around sitting on 
one lap and then another.  

Even among adults, there is much more physical contact.  Primary 
starts with all the adult leaders kissing each other on the cheek 
(which often means a lot of lipstick smears, but nobody minds).  Our 
teenagers had to get used to the idea that when a friend comes to sit 
by them and talk to them, they might hold their hand  And the 
teenagers often hold hands with a same-gender friend when they are 
walking.

The church has been criticized by some for being a form of American 
Imperialism.  I do not get that sense from the Brazilian saints at 
all.  They really seem to think this is a Brazilian church.  If asked 
where the headquarters of the church was, most would probably answer, 
"Sao Paulo."  And they are right.  A temple opened there in the late 
1970s, and that is where native missionaries are trained, and that is 
where the church distribution center is.  In fact, one of my problems 
in preparing for this trip is that I simply could not get some of the 
Portuguese materials from Salt Lake; they are produced here and not 
readily available in the states.  And they have had their own magazine 
for years, the Liahona, which uses some reprints from the Ensign but 
does many local stories as well.

When we started to sort out who was who, it became obvious that the 
story of church growth in Brazil is one of families.  The stake 
patriarch is still quite young and lively; his daughter is in the 
Young Women's presidency, his son has served a mission, his daughter-
in-law is in the Primary Presidency, his wife is the chorister for 
both Primary and Sacrament Meeting.  They joined the church almost 30 
years ago, and their family has made such an impact here.  Well, isn't 
that true all over?  In Gainesville, families like the Tillmans and 
Gulls and Thompsons have had the same effect.

This ended up being too long already, but I can't talk about church 
without describing our girls' experience at camp.

They timed the encampment to be during Carnaval, which is a four-day, 
rowdy and rather obscene pre-Lenten celebration. The camp was near a 
small town about half an hour away.  We were concerned about how our 
girls would do on their own for that long, and the adult leaders were 
hesitant as well.  But Julia and Becky wanted to go, and so we sent 
them.  

They rent busses to go to camp or regional conference or the temple or 
whatever, because so few people have cars.  Sanford went to pick them 
up, and waiting for the bus, his apprehension started grow.  But then 
the door opened, and our girls came out, linked arm in arm with the 
Brazilian girls, and before they left, everyone insisted on kissing 
them and saying, "A Julia! Rebecca!  As minhas melhores amigas!"  

It turned out very well.  

The girls said there were fewer structured activities than at our 
camps in Florida, so they had a fair amount of time to talk to people.  
Some of the other girls were shocked that they do not like Michael 
Jackson, since he is very popular here and was just filming a video in 
Rio de Janeiro.  Julia and Becky explained that they prefer the 
Beatles, and taught everyone to sing, "We All Live in a Yellow 
Submarine," which became the unofficial theme song of the encampment.  
That night at a campwide assembly, they were asked if they would like 
to get up and sing something.  Of course they were in Zion's choir, 
and know a lot of nice show tunes...but they decided to sing, "Captain 
Vegetable," the Sesame Street song, and did the hand motions and 
everything, like they do when entertaining our little ones.  It was a 
big hit; they had everyone singing along and applauding by the end.  
Julia also bore her testimony the last night of camp.

So we are now known as Julia and "Hebeka's" parents.

April 20, 1996

More news from Brazil...I didn't mean to write about the church again 
so soon, but there were some things that amazed me, and I wanted to 
share.  

First is the temple trips.  It took us a while to really understand 
what was happening, because at first it just didn't make sense.  We 
live about three hours from the Sao Paulo temple, so a trip there and 
back could easily be accomplished all in one day.  We expected that 
they would leave early in the morning, like we do in Florida, so we 
just couldn't comprehend when they said everyone should be at the 
church at 10.

It was 10 p.m.  What they do is leave at night, start the first 
session about 1 a.m., do two sessions straight through and return home 
about 8 a.m.  That way, nobody has to miss a day of work.  It is also 
a reflection of the culture, for Brazilians are notorious late-night 
partiers, and it makes sense that Brazilian Mormons would do temple 
work until all hours of the morning.  But mostly it is an indication 
that we need more temples here, we desperately need more temples here 
(and in fact, one is planned for the city of Recife, in the north.)  
So 2 a.m. is one of the few times that a previously-endowed member can 
have access to the temple without a long wait.  It sent shivers down 
my spine to hear of this, because I remember from my BYU classes that 
several church leaders have predicted that the time would come when 
the lights of our temples would always be on, as patrons work round 
the clock trying to get the work completed.  I always figured that 
they were talking about the millennium or something.  But I testify 
that in Brazil, that time has come.  

Here in South America, the way a ward functions is totally different.  
In Florida, the ward roster was an absolutely essential tool.  Most 
everyone had a telephone, and much of the work was carried out that 
way.  Our newsletter allowed us to track people moving out or moving 
around the city, because we sometimes sent it "address correction 
requested", which meant that the post office provided us with a 
correct mailing address for the person.

But in Brazil, few people have a telephone.  Because there are so few 
telephone numbers available, a line will cost around $3,000, but much 
more in some cities.  Or you can rent a number; we pay $90 per month.  
That is just for the phone number itself and the regular monthly 
telephone charges are in addition.  Making a local phone call from a 
pay phone is only 5 cents for a 3-minute token, and even less if you 
have a card and so are billed only for how much you use.  So by 
comparison it is VERY expensive to own a telephone.  And most people 
don't.     

And only about 25% of the ward has a car.  A few weeks ago, there was 
a bi-ward youth activity at the nearby state park, but meeting at 
church first.  The starting time was inconvenient, so I asked the 
girls to walk to church, a bit over a mile.  I had no idea that they 
would also be walking over three miles to the state park!  In Florida, 
they would have been driven there in mini-vans.  

We have seminary here.  Since the seasons are switched in the southern 
hemisphere, the kids went on summer vacation before Christmas and just 
started back in late February.  Most schools have split sessions; 
students either go in the morning or afternoon but not both.  Most 
church members, like most middle-class Brazilians, attend private 
schools.  At some of the schools here they have an evening session as 
well, and at least two of the youth in our ward attend then.  They go 
to school from 7-11 p.m., and then get up to go to seminary at 6 a.m.  
At least one of the YM who does this is the only church member in his 
family.

They wear school uniforms, but for most schools that is jeans and an 
oversized white t-shirt with a small logo about the size of a pocket 
(a far cry from the plaid jumpers, white shirts and ties we wore at 
parochial schools in my youth.)

Some wards have seminary before school and some wards meet after 
school.  Our ward meets at 6 a.m., just like at home.  The other ward 
meets at 6 p.m.  That's convenient because I know that if our girls 
are out visiting friends from the other ward, they will walk them to 
church by 6 and then be home.  They are also doing the Old Testament, 
and so are repeating what North Americans did last fall.  It is very 
helpful for our girls to have both manuals side by side.  A few weeks 
ago a boy made fun of our Becky because she read Portuguese so poorly.  
The teacher grabbed Becky's English Bible, thrust it in front of him, 
and demanded he read the same verse in English.  He tried, and it was 
sobering, and there has not been any trouble since.    

A few weeks ago our girls participated in a stake-wide forensics 
competition.  Each ward gave a prepared speech, an impromptu speech, 
and a dramatic presentationoeall on gospel themes.  Julia played the 
piano for our ward's play, and we were glad we brought the easy green 
book.  They actually had gold medals and trophies for the winners.  In 
the states, it seems like we have gotten away from any kind of serious 
competition in church activities, but we were impressed with the level 
of intensity and how seriously they took it. 

We had a lovely worldwide celebration of Relief Society.  They took 
the "worldwide" part literally, and the stake assigned each ward a 
country, to do a presentation on stage and a display and bring a food.  
Our ward was assigned Japan.  When the ladies in my ward asked me if I 
wanted to participate in the entertainment, it was too difficult to 
explain to them what a terrible singer I am, so I said sure I'd come 
to rehearsal and it turned out that there were plenty of people to 
sing the song, but when they started to teach the dances, only four of 
us could "get" it.  And I'm matched in height/build pretty well with 
one of the other women.  But I really felt ridiculous because I was 
the only dancer over 30.

The night of the performance, we messed up the fan dance.  It was 
funny because the person who made the mistake, the last thing she had 
said to me before the music started was, "Don't be nervous; just 
follow me."  Well, we did recover quickly, so well that people 
couldn't understand why she was upset afterward.  I was just so 
relieved; we were last of a long program, and the fan dance came after 
the folk dance and song, which made it hard to stay calm.  And it was 
a long time to be without my glasses.  
 
So I could actually do something for the ward, and when I'm dancing 
it's just movement; I don't have to mess with the language. (It is 
still harder, because I don't understand the explanation of what we 
are going to do, but have to pick it up when they start to *do* it.)  
A lot of people were shocked because I am usually such a shy thing at 
church, and actually thanked me for representing their ward.      

The girls had made arrangements last Sunday to have two friends from 
the other ward join them on Saturday, about 3 p.m. for cake and 
sorvete (ice cream) at our house to celebrate Becky's birthday.  But 
Tuesday at Seminary, our ward announced there would be a seminary 
activity at church on Saturday afternoon.  This is real typical; we've 
never had more than a week's warning of anything :(  Anyway, they 
couldn't rearrange the appointment with their friends because neither 
of them have phones.  So they just told the seminary people they 
couldn't make it.  The other kids begged them to come later, anyway, 
(there are only 10 kids in seminary, so losing ours was a big chunk) 
and our girls agreed to do that.  But Friday night, their friend 
called to cancel, so our girls went to church at the appointed time 
for the seminary activity to begin.  

We had tried to find out some details, but little was forthcoming.  
Julia just couldn't seem to get what they were saying.  When they 
arrived at church, people were blowing up balloons, and our girls 
helped.  It wasn't until after everything was ready and some 30 people 
(including those friends from second ward!) showed up that they 
explained this was a surprise birthday party for Becky.  There was a 
beautiful white chocolate cake, and some handmade presents.  And 
nobody broke an egg over Becky's head.  (One of the rapazes [YM] had 
been threatening to do that all week, claiming that it was a Brazilian 
tradition)   

Sanford and I have been attending an institute class for people over 
30.  It is very interesting, and a great chance to meet people.  It 
meets on Saturday nights at 6 p.m.  A lot of church activities start 
at 6 p.m. so that everyone can be home by 8:30 p.m. for dinner.  
Indeed, I found a de facto translation error in the Relief Society 
manual, in the third homemaking lesson.  It stresses the importance of 
household organization, and starts with a woman running around at 5:30 
p.m. trying to decide what to cook for dinner, and not finding the 
ingredients...except that nobody could see the problem; after all, she 
had *hours* to cook dinner, neh?  But I digress.

Our institute class is taught by a counselor in the stake presidency.  
He is in his early 30s, and wears blue jeans to class.  With a tie, 
though.  One day I came early, and was there when he arrived on his 
big black motorcycle.  We're not talking about a practical, modest 
little motor scooter.  It is a huge, powerful...I think the word is, 
"hog."

But the church is true here as elsewhere.  

May 20, 1996

Easter was really quiet.  Our stake center doesn't have a satellite 
dish so we didn't get General Conference.   We just had the usual fast 
and testimony meeting.  Well, it wasn't quite usual--the Spirit 
whispered to me that I should bear my testimony, and I was going 
through that denial thing some of us do when we don't want to listen 
to the Spirit, when my two teenaged daughters turned around and 
mouthed, "Mom!  You should bear your testimony."  I think it was kind 
of a dare, and they were shocked when I actually got up, but oh well.  
People said that it was perfectly clear, which is a reflection of the 
power of the Holy Ghost rather than my ability to speak Portuguese.

After the meeting, they invited all the Primary kids back to the 
Primary room and gave them "ovos de Pascoa."  These are chocolate eggs 
at least 6 inches tall, made in two pieces so that they can be filled 
with bon-bons, and then wrapped up in shiny paper.  I really think the 
ones from Primary were hand-made; they were much better than the 
store-bought ones, but what a major time effort!  They don't do 
baskets or egg hunts here, just the ovos de Pascoa.  

The conference report will be in the Liahona, the excellent church 
magazine for Brazilians and others who speak Portuguese.  I've also 
noticed that more Relief Society lessons are based on conference 
addresses than in the USA.

We've been to the temple.  I forgot my temple recommend and had to do 
the interview in Portuguese, but we made it.  Driving in Sao Paulo is 
a nightmare; the traffic is horrendous, the people are rude, there are 
sex shops and graffiti and billboards everywhere, but then you see the 
statue of Moroni peeking through the power lines. And when you turn 
into the church compound, it is like entering another world, a 
scrupulously clean place with manicured lawns, multi-colored flowers, 
and smiling people.  My husband calls it a "campus"; in the same 
fenced area they have the temple, the church offices, a stake center, 
and a dormitory that used to serve as the MTC.  They outgrew that for 
an MTC, and now people can stay there when they are visiting the 
temple.  It facilitates the round-the-clock schedule that I mentioned 
in my last note.  We were also told that the round-the-clock schedule 
is a pilot test, that the church is considering this strategy in other 
places as well.  I don't know if it will continue when they get the 
new temple in the North; they are building a new temple in Recife, a 
Brazilian coastal city.

A bit over half of the missionaries here seem to be native, with the 
rest USAmericans.  We don't seem to get them from anywhere else in the 
world.  People told us that they are building a new MTC to house 800 
local missionaries.  Yes, we asked about the numbers over and over 
because we didn't believe, either.  This is astonishing since right 
now they only get 100 per month, but it is a reflection of both the 
church's phenomenal growth in Brazil (and many converts are young 
single people) but also Brazilian demographics: there was a baby boom 
in the 70s and early 80s, and soon those children will be grown and 
ready to serve.  I predict it will be a time of unprecedented growth 
in the church.

Our Lorissa turned three on Saturday, May 4.  The night before, I was 
chatting to the Primary chorister and asked if they sang to the kids 
at Primary when they had their birthday, and she said yes and asked 
when it was.  Well, her birthday was a Saturday, and we'd gone to 
visit a friend in another town.  We got home a bit after 4:30, and I 
started to think about dinner, and then the phone rang.  It was one of 
the Primary presidency; she told me that they were planning a birthday 
party so could Lori be to church by 6?  Sanford was out doing field 
research, so we had to walk more than a mile to church, with the 
little ones and no stroller.  I got a bit nervous as we got closer. 
Had I really understood right?  Nobody throws a party together in less 
than 24 hours.  But as we entered the door we could hear kids singing, 
"Happy birthday to you,"  IN ENGLISH.  They were downstairs 
practicing!

It was really fun.  All the Primary kids were there, and they had 
wonderful sandwiches and puffy things that are the Brazilian 
equivalent of chips.  And a wonderful chocolate cake.  They sang to 
Lori in English, and they sang to another girl in Portuguese who is 
having a birthday later this week.  Everyone kissed Lori, and she 
didn't even flinch.  She seems to be losing her USAmerican sense of 
personal space.  She also said, "Obrigada," for the first time in 
public.

We had stake conference on May 19, and it was a Big Deal.  Back in 
February, we asked if our girls could join the stake choir, and were 
politely told no because they had been working so hard to get ready 
for conference.  Apparently they start getting ready for the next one, 
right after one is finished.  The choir filled a third of the chapel; 
they had them all on the right side, facing the other side, so that 
those of us in the cultural hall and hallway could also hear.  
Although lots of people still came in blue jeans (my bishop wore blue 
jeans and a t-shirt to the RS celebration), most people were dressed 
up more than I'd ever seen them before. That counselor in the stake 
presidency who drives the big black motorcycle actually wore a suitoea 
tan suit with a blue shirt.  A chartered bus brought in the people 
from some of the outlying areas, and a lot of non-members spouses came 
as well.  The chapel and cultural hall were filled to overflowing, but 
at that, only part of the stake could fitoethey would repeat the entire 
program in another town, Limeira, in the afternoon, so that the rest 
of the stake could participate.  

I cannot finish talking about the Church in Brazil without discussing 
the issue of race.  Actually, since 1978, it is not an issue:)  It is 
very clear to me that the revelation on the priesthood and the opening 
of the Sao Paulo temple were not a mere coincidence.    

Most Brazilians are some kind of mixture.  There has been history of 
miscegenation here going back to the 1600s.  The Jesuits protected the 
native Indians from slavery, so Africans were imported instead.  
Present-day Brazil is an amazing mixture of native Indian, African, 
European and Japanese influence.  And the people are literally a 
mixture as well. 

The big difference between slavery in the U.S. and slavery in Brazil 
is that here, the offspring of liaisons with slaves were often 
legitimized, and sometimes slave-owners would marry their mistresses.  
Partly this was because of the lack of white brides; many families 
from Portugal would put their daughters in the convent rather than 
allow them to marry "beneath them".  Even if the slave-owner was 
already married, he would often still legitimize his offspring and 
send them off to get an education, and in the 1800s many of the bright 
lights of art and literature were mulatto.

That's the social climate the church encountered when it came to 
Brazil in 1935.  Almost all the couples at church are mixed-race 
marriages, and the kids turn out it an array of colors and 
characteristics.

I don't want to overgeneralize and say that everyone in Brazil is 
totally equal.  For one thing, the lack of a viable public education 
system in the lower grades creates a self-perpetuating rift between 
rich and poor.

But there was one of those hospital baby-swapping cases where two 
children were accidentally given to the wrong people, and no one 
thought it was the least bit strange that the white couple went home 
with a dark-skinned child while an obviously-African-heritage couple 
went home with a white-skinned child.  In many other countries, that 
would have caused many questions, but here in Brazil, it is pretty 
typical.

My bishop is very white-skinned and European looking.  One counselor 
was a very large black man who fits the physical stereotype of a 
linebacker.  The other was a light-skinned mulatto, with curly hair 
and full lips.  Recently they reorganized the bishopric, and now the 
brother of the mulatto counselor is in his place, although the brother 
could pass for white on any USAmerican street.  BTW, their dad was the 
stake president in the late 1970s, but their mom is clearly of African 
heritage, so those guys wouldn't have the priesthood if things had not 
changed.

I asked people what it was like before 1978, and everyone agreed it 
was difficult.  Missionaries were counseled not to try to teach 
blacks--they could teach those who approached them, and some did, but 
they did not seek them out.  But so often you would talk to one spouse 
who was white, and then they would follow him home and find the wife 
or children were black.