I served in the Switzerland Geneva Mission {mumblety-mumblety multiple decades} ago, which took in the French-speaking corner of Switzerland and maybe a third of France. Geographically, culturally, historically, linguistically, France was the ideal place for me. I had begun teaching myself the language as a sixth grader, memorizing words from a dictionary, and I took as much French in high school as was offered – even after a three-year gap between high school and college, I tested well enough in French to start in upper-division literature classes as a first semester freshman. I read – and chattered – so much about French history and culture that at one point my parents banned me from mentioning France at the dinner table.
When I finally got to the mission, I wanted to spend every P[reparation]-day visiting museums and monasteries and libraries – with one exception (a visit to the Chateau d’If in the Mediterranean off Marseille, which was the setting for much of “The Count of Monte Cristo”), that kind tourism was something I was able to do only after I became a senior companion (none of my seniors were the slightest bit interested), and even then very, very rarely because of the aversion of companions to that sort of thing. I left both Marseille and Lyons without having been anywhere near the great cathedrals that both cities are known for. Despite having served twice in Marseille, I have no souvenirs from that city, no cultural knowledge beyond its obvious roots as a seaport. Lyons? Even less. There was a silk industry there for hundreds of years, but beyond that? I know more about Lyons now from picking up pieces of Mormon history (we had a Lyonnaise sister in World War I who served at the front with the Red Cross!) than I knew as a missionary.
When I transferred to Grenoble, I arrived mid-afternoon, with a couple of hours before P-day ended and we went to work at 5:00. My new companion – my first junior – met me at the train station with a definite plan for those two hours. We dropped my luggage off at the apartment, then Sr. Sharp took me to the tourist information office. There I picked up an armload of brochures with wonderful color photographs of various sites in the city, and bought a slew of postcards (we all learned early that it was better to buy postcards of local sights and use our cameras – in that far-off era we still had to purchase film and pay to have it developed – for personal shots of branch members and missionary activities). Then we went back to the apartment and I started devouring those brochures. 
I learned a little bit about everything from Saint Bruno and the monastery of La Grande Chartreuse (still my favorite place of anywhere I visited in France) to the Olympic Village which had housed athletes in 1968 and had since become a vast low-income housing project painted in fantastic colors, where many of our members and investigators lived. I learned the history of the building that housed our apartment – Grenoble was home base to World War II Resistance fighters, and one of them had been tracked to our building and shot in our cellar – there was a marble plaque honoring him on the wall just outside our bedroom window. Even when I wasn’t actively playing tourist, as we rode around town on our bicycles I learned to recognize cultural and historical sites from the pictures in my brochures.
From then on, whenever I was transferred, my first stop was the tourist bureau of the new city. This practice helped me fall in love with Toulouse – there was an 1814 obelisk recalling the Battle of Toulouse only a few steps from our apartment door. 
The Basilica Saint Sernin, the most stunning building I had ever seen – the canals and red tile roofs and the Occitan dialect which I wanted so much to learn – the perfect jewel of l’Eglise des Jacobins with its palmier pillars and vaults and the tomb of St. Thomas Aquinas … I hope to see Paris before I die, but it’s Toulouse where I want to spend the bulk of any trip I may someday be able to make.
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Well. This wasn’t supposed to be merely a reminiscent mission account. The point was that during the latter part of my mission, at least, I learned an easy way to find out something about the city where I was serving. That knowledge enriched my time there, and came at very little expense in either time or money. City tourist bureaux want visitors to learn and see as much as possible in as short a time as possible, and their free materials are geared to helping you do exactly that. Pro tip for missionaries: If there is one, use the tourist bureau!
This came to mind, though, while I was reading some notes on a meeting John A. Widtsoe held with the European mission presidents in 1950. In the midst of a discussion on improving missionary performance, he asked:
An elder goes into new town, say in England, which is 1000 years old and with a very fine, interesting historical background in which the people of that town take great pride. What should the missionary do? Should he proceed at once to preach the gospel, or should he try to acquaint himself with the city by taking a little time off and becoming familiar with the historical background of the city?
He offered another example:
You send an elder to Odense, for example. They are particularly proud in Odense of the fact that Hans Christian Andersen was born there. They take a tremendous pride in that. Should an elder pay any attention at all to what Andersen did or who he was so that he can carry on a conversation about it?
This stirred up a long-buried memory of my time in Toulouse. We actually had the vanishingly rare opportunity to teach several discussions to a married woman. Her husband sat in, not to participate in the discussion but to make dismissive remarks about religion in general. One evening he started in on the subject of naive missionaries who came to Toulouse expecting to change the world, but who knew absolutely nothing about the world or Toulouse or anything else but their narrow-minded religion. I responded that that would be a shame if that were so – such a missionary would not understand how lucky she was to visit places like l’Eglise des Jacobins (which was literally no more than 50 feet from this couple’s apartment). He perked up. “You know that church?” “Only a little. I’ve been inside several times because that beautiful ceiling is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. And when I realized Thomas Aquinas was buried there – well, I felt like a pilgrim.” “You know Thomas Aquinas?” “Not as well as I’d like to. Enough to know …” and I rattled off what little I remembered of Aquinas and the Summa Theologica from some humanities class. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. He softened and stopped picking at us. Neither of them was baptized, but our visits were more pleasant and we became temporary but real friends.
In 1950, President Edward H. Sorensen of the Danish Mission spoke up.
would just like to say what happened last night when someone interviewed President Widtsoe. The reporter last night said that he didn’t have much time, and I’m sure that he didn’t intend to take much time for the interview, but when they got started he kept going on and on. He was astonished at President Widtsoe’s knowledge of Denmark and Scandinavia as a whole. I am anxious to see the article the journalist wrote, because the paper he represents isn’t exactly friendly toward us.
That prompted other comments. From Golden L. Woolf, president of the French Mission:
I remember at the time you visited the French Mission that you asked the missionaries about a place which was very well known and very famous. They didn’t know a thing about it. I also remember that following your departure they were some of the busiest elders in France trying to find out something about it.
Elder Widtsoe remembered that occasion.
We visited Orleans where Jeanne d’Arc was born. Some of the missionaries didn’t know who she was or what she did, and the town was just alive with it.
The presidents didn’t reach any specific conclusions about just how to get missionaries to care about local culture and to learn anything about it, but they did agree that it was important, not only for the sake of the missionary but for the sake of the missionary work: Even a little awareness – just the absence of total ignorance – could go a long way to breaking the ice and meeting the people more effectively.
So I recommend a P-day visit to the local tourist bureau, and a little active observation of the town once you’ve read the brochures.
What related experiences have you had?
Great article! I’m in the Vicksburg Mississippi ward, and the Siege of Vicksburg was one of the key battles of the Civil War. Once Vicksburg fell, the Union controlled the entire Mississippi River and cut off supply routes from the west. It took a six week summer siege for the city to fall because our defenses were too strong for the Union to overcome. The elder missionaries’ apartment backs up to the battlefield. We’ve encouraged previous sets to explore the battlefield, but I don’t think we’ve had that pep talk with this set yet.
My son is currently a missionary in Toulouse! I shared this post with him. He’s carried on the family tradition of visiting local museums and other significant historic or cultural sites during his time in France, whenever he has a companion who shares similar interests.
As always, thank you so much for sharing your insights.
Fabulous recommendation. I remember some limited cultural literacy information stuff I received prior to serving in Asia, but this should be taught at the MTC and to mission presidents and wives. As you noted, it not only would help educate the missionaries but make them much better ambassadors for the church.
Wow, did this bring back memories. Ardis, we must’ve served in southern France about the same time. I was in the Swiss-Geneva Mission for a year and then in the newly created Toulouse Mission for a year. For me, Marseilles, Beziers, Montauban, Angouleme, and finally Bordeaux. I always looked forward to P-Day and a chance to explore each city and its environs. At the time, I believe we were encouraged to take full advantage of an area’s cultural, historical, etc., offerings. I remember going to a couple of movies, a musical or two, museums, even a vineyard (St. Emilion). So obviously, I agree wholeheartedly with your recommendations.
I served in Arkansas, Tennessee, and Mississippi, and our mission president issued an “Introduction to Southern Culture” to the missionaries that covered everything from Southern rules of courtesy to cuisine to lingering attitudes about the Recent Unpleasantness and the significance of Confederate war memorials.
This was soon enough after 1978 that the guide was focused almost entirely on white Southern culture. I hope is still in use but has been updated. A young woman from our ward just left for the same mission; I may have the opportunity to find out.
Oh, that’s a great example, HokieKate — the missionaries in your area are lucky to have local members who can give them a few pointers to fill in for what they didn’t learn in school, and an enthusiastic boost toward a first-hand experience of the history there.
AJ, the MTC gave us a few cultural pointers, too, but we’d probably agree that there isn’t enough time in the MTC, especially given its primary mission of language and gospel teaching, to provide enough background for missionaries who are going to so many different places, even within the same mission. Maybe it’s even more important in Asia, with a history and culture so different from the western background of many missionaries, that mission presidents and senior companions and ward and branch members encourage the missionaries to put in the effort.
Gary, you were there, and returned, just before me, because you were working at the MTC when I was there — you and the other teachers did a little language assessment of our district the evening we came in, then the next morning when we had our first formal lesson and the teacher told us all to turn to page whatever in our books, you walked behind me and knuckled me (it hurt!) on the top of my head and said, “Pas vous, Soeur Parshall,” and you took me to another room and set me to work memorizing the discussions. It was one of my favorite moments in the MTC, a little quiet acknowledgment that I had prepared for years for that mission. 🙂
Beautiful, beautiful region, wasn’t it? When people ask if it was a hard mission, I like to say, “Oh, yeah, it was a real hardship being in the Alps and on the Riviera.” I only got to serve in Toulouse because the Toulouse Mission had just been closed and the territory divided between the Geneva and Paris missions.
Heather, Kent, comments are clearing in an odd order this morning and I just saw your comments.
Heather, I sure wish I could drop in on your son and spend a week or two in Toulouse! Really, if I could go back to France and could only go to one place, it would be La Ville Rose.
Kent, if you have occasion to find out from your ward member what they’re doing now in your old mission, I’d love to hear about it. As you and HokieKate both make clear, even missions nearer one’s own home, with seemingly (seemingly!) fewer barriers in language and culture, have differences worth learning to recognize and appreciate. Even someone serving a mission at the far end of his home state would find it worthwhile to learn what the local people like best about their towns.
This is great advice! Why didn’t you send this to me 42 years ago when I really needed it?
(In defense of my near-total cultural illiteracy, I’ll plead that Japan really is a foreign place, that Asian history and culture were not taught much in American schools back then, that we were not just cultural illiterates but also regular old illiterates, mostly, and a few other handy excuses.)
On the other hand, the Vicksburg Campaign lasted for several months, during which the Union army was hampered by swamps, floods, mosquitoes, and the Yazoo River, to say nothing of pesky things like Confederate artillery on Vicksburg’s bluffs overlooking the Mississippi. That the Union Army arrived at a point where it could lay siege to Vicksburg was a testament to its commander’s sheer doggedness and Yankee ingenuity, and the decision to besiege the town rather than to “move immediately upon [its] works”–to borrow one of Grant’s most famous lines–was a wise decision that saved lives and unnecessary suffering.
In my mission (Spain) many moons ago, it was expected to get to know the local history, sites and people. I just don’t know how you can be people friendly if you don’t know about them and their history. Most people are very proud of their culture and history. We took excursions very PDay and even when PDay was modified to about a 3 quarter day. Your post brings make long forgotten memories, thanks. Besides PDay was a day to get out of your uniform and act like a tourist. That also led to some very interesting conversations with the locals.
Not too long ago I was at a little Civil War artifact/memorabilia shop immediately adjacent to the Fredericksburg battlefield. In chatting with the shop proprietor I mentioned that I resided in Utah, and the proprietor said “Oh, yeah; your Jehovah’s Witnesses always come in here. They buy a lot of confederate battle flags–I guess they want ’em as souvenirs.”
For some reason, I didn’t feel inclined to let the guy know that he was confusing the JWs with the Mormons.
I served in Italy Catania 1980 – 1982. We didn’t have bicycles, and though we were able to visit some historic places, it was a bit difficult to line up bus routes and P-Day things (letters/shopping/laundry) and still be ready to be out working by 5:00 pm. A bicycle/car would have really come in handy for P-Day excursions.
My daughter Rosa is, even now, at JFK airport in transit between the MTC and Russia. We have spoken to her briefly, but the call was cut off. If she calls back, I will recommend she keep her eyes open for a tourist bureau in Samara. During her time in the MTC she had her sister look up and send copious amounts of information on Russian composers and their works (she’s a flautist) and some Russian painters. She’s not supposed to bring those books, but she’s allowed to read letters from family, right. I think she only got half way through Anna Karenina before she left, but she tried. Anyway, she is trying to get up to speed.
I have a recollection of hearing from a friend, now a law professor, who served in Germany. His mission president required the missionaries to read the daily newspaper, both to improve their language skills and to keep them current on events. Apparently the people in his corner of Germany took pride in being up on current events, and a missionary who struck up a conversation but couldn’t discuss current events was dismissed as an ignoramus.
I hope she got to walk outside during her stopover at JFK, LauraN. It’s a beautiful summer day in New York! (All right, Ardis, I know it’s a total threadjack, but how else . . . ?)
I also served in France. I felt that the more I knew about the area, the better I could serve the people. Not just to break the ice, but to know ‘what makes them tick’ and to try to understand things from their perspective. Usually, the better you understand somebody, the easier it is to love them.
Last month I was going through some of my mom’s stuff. In the stuff was a picture of her uncle and aunt. He was president of the Swiss Mission shortly after WWII and I surmise the picture was taken during their mission. I also guess that they were taking advantage of the singular opportunity to see and enjoy their mission and all it had to offer; they were a long, long way from Northern Wyoming.
It’s nice some later missionaries, such as you, took up the torch.
I served a mission long time ago in Cumorah (Rochester New York) Mission filled Church history sites, Kodak and IBM (in their heyday). Our mission president highly encouraged us to visit these areas and to use our P days wisely. Thus I have taken a tour of Kodak (it’s a city within a city), a furniture factory, and Corning glassware and walked through many a cemetery, even visited Niagara Falls. Some of those experiences are those that I remember oftenest. We would always go to the local chamber of commerce and newspaper office and have a press release and photo placed in the local paper with nearly every transfer. Because of the uniqueness of the mission, the mission president continually encouraged us to visit the church history sites to fill our spiritual wells and to have those that we taught take us. It helped to have an all-day P day and a car!!!
Hmmm… I suspect this depends on the mission president. My first MP encouraged the missionaries to spend some time getting to know and appreciate the culture and history of their town/area. My second MP considered this a waste of time and betrayal of a missionary’s covenant to give Every. Single. Minute. to the Lord.
I suspect it’s a lack of cultural sensetivity that leads to missionaries vandalizing a Catholic shrine or being banned from the nation of Thailand for climbing on a statue of the Buddha.
@Mark B. Rosa was born in upstate NY and graduated from high school in Virginia, so it probably felt pretty familiar to be on the east coast. Russia, on the other hand . . . .
@The Other Clark: I think you may have missed the part where I mentioned visiting the tourist bureau *on P-Day.* You should assume that my visits to cultural sites were made *on P-Day.* And while I didn’t wear blinders as I rode along on my bicycle, and did not deliberately block out the sight of historical and cultural vistas, my noticing of such passing scenes did not take One. Single. Minute. from the purpose of my mission.
Not wanting to take this too far off topic, but the mission presidents I’ve known have generally been outstanding, or at least competent.
I’ve known one exception. He was a former CES director who nearly wrecked our mission. And gross cultural insensitivity was a big part of it.
The next mission president was the most outstanding our mission has had. Apparently someone recognized the need for damage control, and made a superb job of it.
Thanks for sharing your experiences. I find mission experiences are very strange because they can be dramatically influenced by the mission president and his views. In Chile during my mission we were strongly discouraged from learning anything about the history or culture or current events or anything about the country (besides enough language to teach the discussions). We also were strongly discouraged or forbidden (depending on the area) from visiting any historical sites and our P-days were shrunk to Monday mornings, during which we had to do all the laundry, shopping, and letter writing. (I don’t think mission presidents are allowed to change rules like that now.) However, I really tried hard to overcome the cultural deficit since I saw it as a hinderance to my ability to talk with and understand Chileans. I even managed to get to the largest archeology museum once (I don’t know how I got permission for that!) and peeked inside the door of the main cathedral while my Chilean companion threw a fit outside and refused to go in a Catholic church. I made up for it later, though, by returning to the country a few times and doing my dissertation research there.
I had studied music and was an organist, so I was interested in churches and the organs they contained on my mission to Belgium (Flanders) in the late 1970s. In one small town my companion and I attended a series of concerts held in the local parish church. At one of the concerts, the choir did a fine job, except that the American spiritual it performed was done in perfectly articulated English (of the type heard across the Channel).
The zone leader was somewhat skeptical of this concert-going, but when he learned that our ratio of teaching as a result of the concerts to the time spent at the concerts was about one to one, he acknowledged that this was far more productive than tracting. It was certainly more enjoyable for me to attend a concert than tract.
(I am a long-time reader of Keepa, but this is my first comment. Keep up the good work, Ardis!)
I was lucky. I already knew and loved the country of my mission. Brilliant advice, Ardis.
Thanks for piping up, Jim. 😉
I was a missionary in the old Germany Munich Mission mumblety-decades ago, myself, and one of the great services my mission president gave to all of us was to gently but frequently remind everyone exactly the lesson of this post—that we couldn’t expect to preach to a people we didn’t at least try to understand. (He’d had a career in the church’s missionary department, which I figure was part of why he intuitively understood such things, but his humanities PhD work—history, if I recall correctly—couldn’t have hurt.) Yes, there were plenty of missionaries in the mission who arrived convinced that all the Catholics around us were going to hell by virtue of being baptized into the whore of all the earth or other such nonsense, but fortunately they seemed to at least mellow out about that over the course of their 16 to 22 months in the field, and I submit that both the work of preaching and the missionaries themselves were better for that.
During my father’s service as a mission president, many zone conferences included a cultural element — for instance, a visit to a local museum or historic site, or a tour of a glass or candy factory. As part of their orientation, new missionaries watched a slide show of the country’s scenery and notable sites (along with photos of LDS meetinghouses and baptisms). The slide show was accompanied by a musical recording from the country’s most beloved composer. They were also provided with a few points of etiquette, specific to the country, to avoid offending those they were trying to serve. Helping their missionary sons and daughters develop a love for the land where they were serving — its culture, language and people — was a priority for my parents. My mother supervised the remodeling of the mission home. Local textiles and other products were featured in the design. When completed, open houses were held, including one for the women’s group of the U.S. Embassy.