Eli McCann: Gift of Tongues Eludes LDS General Conference Interpreter

A former missionary recounts his experience as an interpreter for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Ukraine.

In 2005, shortly after returning from my mission in western Ukraine, I was recruited to volunteer as an interpreter for General Conference sessions of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Salt Lake City. At the time, the church was in desperate need of interpreters proficient in Ukrainian, as there were plenty for languages like Spanish and French but not for Ukrainian.

As a 21-year-old with minimal qualifications and barely any knowledge of Ukraine, I found myself in a fancy booth at the Conference Center, struggling to keep up with the translation of hours' worth of sermons. I quickly realized that I wasn't the only missionary thrown into the deep end when it came to interpretation services.

My sister once attended a sacrament meeting in Italy where she was given headphones to listen to an American missionary offering interpretation from another room. During the meeting, the missionary went silent for a few minutes while an Italian speaker continued to speak rapidly. When the missionary finally spoke up, he could only offer a vague interpretation about a boat.

Growing up in a Latter-day Saint community, I had heard stories of missionaries miraculously mastering new languages in just a few weeks of intense study. However, when I found myself in Ukraine, I couldn't understand a single word of a conversation between a toddler and her mother. It was a humbling experience.

During my first Sunday talk in Ukraine, I introduced myself to the congregation and unknowingly made a major mistake. Instead of saying "new," I accidentally used a word that meant "horny." The congregation burst into laughter, and my mission companion had to explain my error. It turns out, my friend had his own embarrassing moment when he announced in a Sunday school class that he believed God murdered Joseph Smith.

A few weeks later, I was assigned as the choir director for our branch in Lviv. After a practice, I tearfully expressed how much I enjoyed "sleeping" with each member of the choir every week, meaning to say "singing." The choir erupted in laughter, and it took a while for anyone to explain my mistake. A choir member kindly suggested that I study more to improve my language skills.

As I sat in the Ukrainian interpretation booth at the Conference Center, I couldn't help but feel anxious. Although we had received copies of the talks in advance, it was not uncommon for speakers to go off-script. I struggled to keep up, frequently losing my place. The fatigue set in, and I imagined my Ukrainian friends listening to my imperfect translations, recalling the times I unintentionally propositioned them while wearing my missionary nametag.

Eventually, I was let go from my interpretation job, as the church had found enough native Ukrainian speakers to take over. Looking back, I wonder if that was just a polite way of letting me go. I have since distanced myself from the church, and my time as a General Conference interpreter feels like a distant, surreal memory.

Nevertheless, I am grateful for the experience. It was a humbling and eye-opening journey. It was both fun and daunting, and it taught me valuable lessons. I can't help but smile, knowing that somewhere in the world, there is a video of an old man speaking at a pulpit, interrupted by my flustered voice apologizing in sloppy Ukrainian and expressing how much I miss everyone.

Eli McCann, a humor columnist, attorney, writer, and podcaster, resides in Salt Lake City with his husband and their mischievous dogs. You can find him on Twitter at @EliMcCann or visit his website, www.itjustgetsstranger.com, where he tries to keep the language clean to avoid upsetting his mother.