perché dovrei leggere il Libro di Mormon?

In Italy, my religion has been a mere curiousity to those I meet. Professoressa Muzzi offers me coffee every morning before laughing at her own forgetfulness; Luigia was shocked and then pleased to find her host daughters spend so many hours a Sunday at church. In general, they know I'm Mormon and that's that. But yesterday, I had all sorts of religion running at me.

Two stories:

1::: I took the bus to Firenze yesterday, where I paid a visit to David and then spent the afternoon pretending to be Lucy Honeychurch before heading home. I had just settled into a seat for the ride home when I noticed a man hop on at the last minute, standing in the open aisle instead of taking a seat on the crowded coach. He looked curiously at the busload of teenage girls, and then at me with Stephenie Meyer's La Luna Nuova in one hand* and my Italian dictionary in the other. His stare was unabashed and slightly unnerving; I chose to ignore it and keep to my book.

I read for an hour before taking a break again, at which point I could avoid him no longer as he took a step toward me, and spoke.

(Keep in mind that the following conversation happened entirely in Italian.)

"You are learning Italian?" he asked, pointing at my books and pens.

I nodded. "Yes, at school."

"You speak it well?"

I laughed, shaking my head sadly. "I am trying to, at least."

"Where are you from? America?"

"Salt Lake City, in Utah. . ." I answered, suddenly unsure. Most don't know my hometown, but he had jumped at the name.

"Salt Lake City?!" he repeated, his eyes wide. "But . . . but . . . Mormons!" He threw his hands up, then stumbled as the bus took a sharp curve.

"Yes, there are lots of Mormons," I agreed. He shook his head, holding up a finger as if I didn't quite comprehend what he had said.

"But they are spies!" he exclaimed.

I looked at him for a long minute, my brain trying to understand that, yes, I had heard the Italian correctly. "Spies?" I laughed. "Non è vero. That's not true at all." He was nodding his head vigorously. "Si, si, è vero," he assured me.

"Uh-huh," I said. "And who told you that?"

"I have hundreds and hundreds of articles--from newspapers, magazines, books! I keep them in a box at home!" He was shouting now, but in a terrified whisper.

I took a deep breath, considering this could go two ways. One: it becomes a phenomenal missionary experience. I explain my church's fundamental principles and beliefs, suggest a Book of Mormon, maybe recommend the man to our missionaries here in Siena. Two: he's actually completely totally crazy. And judging by the way he now stood shrinking into his trenchcoat and shaking like mad, I guessed it was probably the latter.

"Listen," I said, gently, quietly. "I am Mormon." He took a step back, away from me. I decided against adding that, not only was I Mormon, but half the bus was, too. "I am a Mormon," I repeated, emphasis on the noun. "But I am not a spy. I promise you."

He shook his head, muttering. He never said another word but for the next twenty minutes worked on moving as far from me as possible, until the doors opened at the city stop and he was gone.

And I? I went back to my book, telling Erin I'd explain later and feeling just a little bit incredulous. Serving a mission is going to be all kinds of insane.

2::: But it could be equal parts glorious. Back in Siena, I had just enough time to retell the day's adventures to my roommates before we were called down to dinner. It was the usual Italian fare and we had a good (if broken) conversation about my day in Firenze and Italy's artistic history. Luigia had just begun to clear out places when Franco spoke up from the head of the table.

"Ragazze," he said, slightly timid. "Not this Sunday, but another, maybe the next, is it possible for me to come to church with you? I would like to understand how you worship, and how you pray."

As Lauren said afterward, "How do you say 'very much YES'?"

_______________________
*This is an entirely other story and a post for another day. I know I told you I'd sworn off the vampires, but I never said anything about i vampiri. . .