Young Mormons explain why they are called to the Omagh area

Scrupulously dressed, with manners to match, Moroni Roberts and Callum Hannan possess the air of confidence and self-assured step you might mistake as the trappings of two young traveling salesmen.

But don’t let the snappy suits or exotic accents fool you, this American-Australian pairing are not in Omagh to make money.

In fact, rather than being brought here by greed, gain or any other kind avaricious ambition, like Jake and Elwood Blues, Moroni and Callum are on a mission from God.

Yes, you heard me. Their presence in Omagh is part of an apostolic assignment.

See, as well as being approachable, intelligent and handsome young men, the two lads came into this world as children of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Or, as members of their faith are probably more popularly known, Mormons.

Anyway, each year, without fail, thousands of young church members – aged between their late teens and early 20s – sign up to be part one of the largest missionary programmes run by any religious institution in the world, volunteering to be shipped – more or less at random – to one of 400 locations across the globe.

For some, service will summon them to one of the world’s great capitals.

For others, destiny will deposit them among the ancient deserts of their spiritual ancestors.

But, for many, divinity has a different idea.

And I bet the two boys were never more of the opinion that ‘God works in mysterious ways’ than when they found out He had called them to Omagh.

Anyway, last week, armed with just enough information about the church to make impartiality an impossibility, I drove to their holy headquarters on the Beltany Road, and met with Moroni and Callum.

Or, to give them the titles bestowed on them by the church, Elder Roberts and Elder Hannan.

To get to Omagh’s Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you swing a right just past Watson Park and climb the gentle hill that sweeps around to the right.

When I rolled up, there was one other vehicle in the car park.

“Either that belongs to the two boys, or the Lord himself drives a reasonably priced hatchback,” I said, pulling my own leg.

Arriving at the door, the two lads were there to greet me; the renowned mirth so often associated with church members immediately recognisable.

Shaking my hand and introducing themselves, they offered me a tour of the immaculately-kept one-storey facility.

“This is one of our meeting rooms,” said Elder Hannan as we popped our head through a door, his Australian accent immediately revealing his roots.

Passing through a series of rooms, unremarkable but for all the religious iconography, we settled in one that stood out from the rest.

“If somebody decides that they want to become a member of the church, this is where they are baptised,” explained Elder Hannan, a painting of a semi-submerged Jesus looking over him, approvingly.

Behind a glass pane was a set of steps that led down to what looked like a sort of leisure centre-esque shower space.

However, instead of a shower head, there were taps to fill the chamber.

“Both Elder Roberts and myself have been given the authority to perform baptisms,” explained the young, officious Ozzie.

Where a Catholic christening purports to wash a person of their original sin, a Mormon baptism does not; the church not placing any credence in the idea that anybody is born already in the bad books, so to speak.

Also, Mormons do not endorse infant baptism, with the sacrament available only to those who reach that universally accepted age of autonomy and maturity: Eight.

“We’ll take you to the church now, if that is all right with you?,” smiled Elder Roberts, a friendly, laid-back, easy-going basketball player from Arizona.

Taking three seats in their modest, but functional, place of worship, the two fellas gave me a crash course on the scripture that makes Mormonism a distinctly-American adaptation of the conventional Christian tale.

“How much do you know about the Book of Mormon?,” enquired Elder Hannan, picking up a copy, one of which sat on every chair in the chapel.

As I gave a punch-drunk account of the origins of their most sacred text, they nodded along supportively.

I told them how I heard it was published in the 1800s by a young man called Joseph Smith, who, at the age of 24, claimed to have translated the word of God from a set of golden plates, after having being guided to their whereabouts by an Angel named Moroni.

“Not bad,” remarked Elder Hannan, before expanding.

“The book is a record of the inhabitants of the Ancient Americas and their dealings with God between 600BC and 400AD.

“These people kept a record, and not only is it a record of their prophets, but it is also their testimony of Jesus Christ.

“It speaks of how we can find peace in this life, and in the eternal life to come. It speaks of Jesus Christ and his atonement. It teaches us about faith in Jesus Christ, the miracles that can come through faith and how repentance can bring us peace.” Apparently, The Book of Mormon is sort of like the third testament of The Bible: If the first two didn’t convince you of the existence and goodness of God, then maybe part three will do the trick.

The conversation turned more personal when I asked the two boys where they came from, and where they are going.

“Well, in the short-term, we will keep following Jesus Christ and serving God across the south west of Ireland in whatever ways we can,” said Elder Roberts

“That means helping people do odd jobs, charity work, making connections and talking with locals, and, for those who want to listen, discussing our faith.”

Both the boys will be residing in their Tamalaght Road lodgings for another few weeks, before Elder Robets heads to Scotland and Elder Hannan goes east toward the north coast, at which stage two other missionaries will take their place.

“The two years we are on our mission is an intensely-spiritual time in our life, but that is not to say we have always been so close to God, or that we always will be,” acknowledged Elder Hannan.

“I grew up in a tourist town in south-west Australia, spent most my days surfing and playing sports, and then sort-of moved away from the church when I went to university in Perth, which ended up with me going broke.

“After spending time working a string of random jobs, from butchering to labouring, I realised that there was an unhappiness settling inside me, and it had partly- grown from a neglect of my spiritual health.”

Where St Paul saw the light and took the road to Damascus, Elder Hannan was led to Omagh.

“I am grateful for where I am now, but I cannot guess where I will end up in years to come.”

And, as for Elder Roberts, he is looking forward to going back to Arizona, studying to become a gym teacher, and spending a few years playing basketball again.

“I love what we are doing here, but I am looking forward to the rest of my life as well.

“I left my girlfriend at home when I decided to come on the mission (during which time all romantic contact is forbidden), and I miss a lot of things about home,” he reflected.

“But, hey, I have grown really close to God during my time on the mission, and I am going to try to keep that connection with God alive when I get home.

“I know that sometimes life has a habit of getting in the way of God, but I want to keep the Heavenly Father to the forefront for the rest of mine.”