PHOENIX – In the church of God of Prophecy, hundreds come every Sunday for two hours of worship in Spanish. They share scriptures, sing, and hug tightly. The evangelical congregation, which has been led by Pastor Jose Rivera for almost 25 years, consists almost entirely of Latinos, the vast majority with roots in Mexico.
They are not dissimilar to the people President Trump tried to demonize from the start of his first campaign, or those he seeks to keep away with his border wall and tough immigration policies.
But they disagree on Mr. Trump – some see him as a savior, others as a predator. Mr Rivera estimates that between a quarter and a third of his parishioners support Mr Trump, a rate confirmed in national polls.
When Pastor Rivera looks at his church with 200 families, he sees a microcosm of Latino Voting in the United States: How Complex it is, and How any Party’s attempt to cement crucial support can fail. There are no clear ideological boundaries between liberals and conservatives here. People care about immigration but are equally concerned about religious freedom and abortion.
“Sometimes Christians in politics want the perfect leader in power so that the word of God runs free, but the word of God is already running free,” Rivera said, considering Trump’s support in his after church. “He tries to sell oxygen when we have it, but some people are dancing his dance.”
To explain his own partisan affiliation, Mr. Rivera says he is “politically homeless”. He is uncomfortable with many of the positions held by Democrats, but feels betrayed by Republicans, his party of choice for much of his life.
For decades, Hispanics have been viewed by both parties as a potentially crucial constituency. Following the loss of Mitt Romney in 2012, Republican strategists warned the party needed to do more to woo the group. Then came Mr Trump, who received less support from Hispanic voters than any other presidential candidate in recent history – but has since managed to maintain some and even increase support from those voters.
Conversations with dozens of members of the Rivera community and with other Hispanic evangelicals across the country throughout the year reveal that religious identity is often a more fundamental part of their political affiliation than ethnic identity. And Pastor Rivera’s sense of political homelessness is omnipresent – and no party seems to understand how to go about it.
Latinos are expected to be the largest minority elected in this year’s presidential election, and the 32 million eligible voters could play a crucial role in who wins the White House. Both parties have poured millions into Spanish-language ads targeting moderate and conservative Latinos in particular. Although Hispanic evangelicals make up a small fraction of the electorate, they are a key to Mr. Trump’s consistent support from about a third of Hispanic voters, particularly in battlefield states like Florida and Arizona. And its political impact is likely to increase with the upcoming battle for Judge Amy Coney Barrett’s nomination to the Supreme Court.
There is some assumption in democratic circles that Latino voters should be rejected by the way Mr Trump has demonized immigrants since the day he announced his presidential campaign in 2015. But Mr. Rivera understands that this is not that easy.
Among the Hispanic evangelicals who cheer Mr. Trump, Christianity is almost a kind of nationality that replaces everything else. In the president they see a leader who protects their religious freedom and appoints judges who are against abortion.
“He’s tough and takes on those issues that everyone else is afraid of,” said Carlos Ruiz Esparza, a staunch 52-year-old supporter of the president who regularly prays with Mr. Rivera. Mr. Ruiz Esparza cited Mr. Trump’s policy towards Israel as another source of his excitement. “I believe that he is only doing the brave things based on Scripture and making our country what it is meant to be and bringing us all of our blessings.”
When Mr. Rivera hears this, he generally just nods. He does not see fluctuating political views as part of his job. His wife can still vote for Mr Trump.
“Nobody in the Democratic Party is getting my attention in a good way,” said Ruth Rivera, who said she could change her mind. “I worry that they are too radical to speak of” free this “and” free that “and want to convey values that we do not share.”
There was a moment when Mr. Rivera felt the same way. In conversations over the past few months, his own views have changed over the course of the pandemic. In January, when it appeared that Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders could secure the Democratic nomination, Mr. Rivera couldn’t imagine voting for someone who advocates something that approaches socialism. However, he was equally uncomfortable watching the people he had demonized by the most powerful person in the land.
Mr. Rivera grew up in Puerto Rico, enlisted in the Army in the 1970s, and served for several years before moving to Phoenix in the 1990s.
“I love the flag that he’s hugging like he’s the only one who loves the flag,” said Mr. Rivera of Mr. Trump, whose voice rose in anger.
Hispanic Evangelicals are one of the fastest growing religious groups in the country, booming in states that could make presidential elections, including Arizona, North Carolina, and Colorado. Republicans have long tried to attract them Dating from the Reagan era and most aggressively of George W. Bush, who was supported by more than 40 percent of Latino voters, the highest level was recorded.
This is not a question of assimilation – on the contrary, many Hispanic evangelicals speak mostly Spanish and see themselves outside of any mainstream that is characterized by their religious beliefs as well as their ethnicity. In conversations about politics, they believe that economic success is essentially isolated from racism, and that failure to achieve such success should be blamed on an individual rather than a systemic problem.
The Trump campaign has taken a particularly aggressive approach to reaching these voters. She selected a large Hispanic church in Miami to announce an evangelical coalition. In Florida, conversations with dozens of Hispanic evangelicals about the president showed unwavering commitment to Republicans, including those whose families have fled communist-ruled countries and those who turn to Church leaders for political advice. They often spoke of feeling besieged, not because of their ethnic background, but because they see themselves as a minority in a largely secular country.
Updated
Oct. 10, 2020, 6:09 p.m. ET
As a bishop for the past three decades, Mr. Rivera oversees nearly 50 churches in Arizona, Nevada, and New Mexico, serving nearly 5,000 total believers.
Throughout 2016, he hesitated over who would get his vote for months. But in the end, despite his reservations, he chose Hillary Clinton. For Mr Rivera, who lived in Panama during the Manuel Noriega dictatorship in the early 1980s, it seemed impossible to hold an election.
He calls the Hispanic Evangelicals’ dilemma a “bitter and sour situation”. When he sees prominent evangelical leaders like Paula White and Ralph Reed generously praising Mr. Trump, he winces.
“They’re trying to portray him as the Messiah, but if he’s the Messiah he isn’t doing what we’re supposed to,” Rivera said.
When warnings of the coronavirus came in February, Mr Rivera became aware of it. He urged his parishioners to stop hugging and poke their elbows instead. They installed hand sanitizer dispensers on the door.
But even in mid-March, just days before many states issued mandatory home stay instructions, few heeded his warnings. They gathered in front of the church, kneeling against each other and squeezing each other’s shoulders. When Mr. Rivera was delivering his sermon, dozens came to the front lines to give their own testimony.
Many parishioners dismissed the warnings as exaggerated, while others were barely aware of it. It would be the last personal service in more than two months.
In some ways, it was a miracle the Church stopped suffering – Arizona was one of the hardest hit states, and Latinos were the most infected. But only two of the members contracted the virus while working, and one woman who lived in a nursing home died.
Some community members have been fired or not called to work as house cleaners or gardeners. Some had found jobs cleaning local hospitals. The church was there even before the pandemic Handing out donated clothing and stocking fridges for families with difficulties.
After weeks of services streamed online and then moved to the church parking lot, Mr. Rivera was determined to open the church doors again. He kept attendance limited to 100, less than half the capacity of the church.
“It’s still a little scary,” he said in mid-May, before Arizona hit its peak infection rate. He saw other pastors boasting of their own reopening. “I see them say that people who take more precautions are people who have no faith. I’m angry about it. I don’t want to go to the funeral for any of my people because it’s stupid. “
“Our people are very used to hugging and I understand that hugging is a must, but this is a new time,” he said.
Being a leader, Mr. Rivera said, was telling people things they would rather ignore.
To him, it looked like President Trump was taking the virus seriously and was relying on medical experts to speak to the public. Like so many other evangelical leaders, he appreciated the way the government pushed for the churches to be opened up. Maybe Mr. Trump would turn a corner after all and deserve his vote, he said.
At the end of June he changed his mind again.
“Every time he opens his mouth there is controversy,” he said. “That’s the only thing he’s mastered. He simply cannot make a statement that will unite the nation. “
His anger at other evangelical leaders grew. Too many, he said, were “blind supporters” of the president.
By late summer, Mr. Rivera had lost the excitement he once had. For him, evangelicals rely on an impossible notion of dominance. and “talk about things we have no control over,” he said.
When he thinks about why so many of his parishioners support the president, he worries about what hopefully he can do – he believes that no matter who wins in November, some things will not change. “We will never have a Christian state that imposes all the rules of the Bible,” he added. “We don’t have a theocratic state, we have a republic, we have a nation that comes with these freedoms.”
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