When I was living in Welland, Ontario, close to Niagara Falls, many years ago,
I was invited to the one St. Catharines church of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints,
because they had installed a big screen and were showing a "Mormon Tabernacle Choir" broadcast.
It was only attended by male members, all Priests, if you accept their definition.
Once they got going, and I was familiar with the songs, I started singing out loud, singing along.
A few faces turned to look, but no-one looked upset, and no-one said to stop,
so I just kept on singing along, having a really good time.
I feel sorry for Mormon missionaries who can't leave their "stake",
the area where they are sent to spread the word from Utah.
Right over the border here, at Fort Erie, south of Buffalo, is Palmyra,
not only the home of Joseph Smith Jr., but also where he found the plates,
that after his translation became the Book of Mormon.
Missionaries who never will get this close again, after returning to their country or American state,
will be able to witness the incredible pageantry and technology of this stage show,
and the attractions built around it.
The stage, built up the side of the Hill Gomorrah, sometimes has over 4,000 actors on it,
so it truly looks like a small city in front of you.
The high wires that lift Jesus of Nazareth up into the night sky, as He ascends,
really looks real, a huge effect, something you'll never see indoors.
The sensurround, quadraphonic sound system replicates the shaking of the earth.
People who aren't even church members can attend this event as a missionary tool,
or just a great show, on every night for a week.
Imagine sitting outside, in a valley, looking up a hill, daylight turning into a night sky,
and seeing history portrayed in a human scale.
When, as the show was winding down and people were starting to leave,
the voice of Moroni was heard, calling the people of the Americas, of our times,
hypocrites and polluters, with hypocrites being a reference to needing needles to be healthy.
I almost cried.
