Religion

February 21, 2007
By Dick Morris
A revolution is underway among America’s Latino population that will have profound implications for the future of American politics. Of the 41.3 million Hispanics in the United States today, 37 percent identify themselves as “born-again” or “evangelical.

” Just 10 years ago, the proportion that did so was about 15 percent. All told, there are now about 11 million Evangelical Protestant and 3 million Evangelical or Charismatic Catholic Latinos in the United States. In 1996, there were only 4 million.

This explosive growth in Evangelical religious affiliation among Latinos — about 1 million converts annually — portends huge changes for American politics. With the Latino population swelling from 22 million in 1990 to 41 million in 2004, any change of these proportions in the beliefs of Hispanic-Americans will have a momentous impact on politics.
Evangelicals, of any race or ethnicity, are fertile ground for Republicans and may provide a huge opening to swing the formerly Democratic Hispanic vote toward a more even-handed stance or even make it a core element of an emerging Republican majority.

I recently met with Rev. Sam Rodriquez, the leader of the national association of Evangelical Latino churches. He’s a Republican dream: pro-life, anti-gay marriage, and a Bush voter.

He notes that the growing religious faith and the increase in Evangelical enrollment — particularly in the Pentecostal Church — may presage a sea change in Hispanic political affiliations.
Unfortunately, the hostile reception immigration reform has received from the GOP side of the aisle in Washington is turning off the very voters the Republicans can now, for the first time, hope to attract to their side. Based on a fear of Democratic domination of the Hispanic vote, Republican insistence on barring the way to citizenship and voting rights for undocumented or illegal immigrants may drive these very potential Republican supporters back into Democratic arms.

The Latino population is clearly the jump ball in American politics. While now only 8 percent of the registered voters — but 14 percent of the population — the Hispanic vote is going to swell in the coming decade and tip the 50-50 balance now prevailing between the two parties. Red states like Texas, Arizona and Florida may become sharply and suddenly blue when Hispanic voting reaches its full potential among those currently here, not to count those who will come in the future.

Texas, for example, is now a majority-minority state in population. Its GOP affiliation is an artifact of the past if the Hispanic vote goes Democratic.
But the fervent religiosity and increasing support for Evangelical positions and thinking among Hispanics may be the saving grace for the GOP if they let it happen.

According to the Rev. Rodriquez, half of Evangelical conversions among American Latinos occur in their home country; half take place after they enter the United States. The handwriting is clearly on the wall — traditional Catholicism is on the wane among America’s Hispanics.

Can Democratic affiliation be similarly in danger?
In 2000, Gore carried America’s Hispanics by 30 points. But Bush’s ardent cultivation of the Latino vote paid off in 2004 and Kerry carried them by only 10 points.

However, the best efforts of Republican congressmen like Tom Tancredo (R-Colo.) succeeded only in driving Latinos back into the arms of Democrats: They voted Democratic in 2006 by 47 points.
It’s time for the Republican Party to start thinking of its future and embrace the basic tenets of immigration reform to win the inevitably increasing proportion of the U.

S. vote cast by Hispanics.
It is pure folly to say that we will force 11 million people back across the border in order to obtain legal entry.

Such a forced population movement would be unparalleled in American history and would be reminiscent of German-Polish-Russian forced migrations during the years right before, during, and after World War II.
Immigration reform calls for an earned path to citizenship that most Americans can and should support. If Latinos work, pay taxes, do not commit crimes, and learn English for several years, they should be able to become citizens.

These requirements are not applied to any other immigrants and are due penance for illegal entry into the United States.
It’s time Republicans awakened to the political opportunities of Evangelical Hispanic conversions and got with the program.
February 20, 2007
Source:
Sprinkled among the black faces at New Birth Missionary Baptist Church, Hispanic worshippers listen intently to the congregation's leader, Bishop Eddie Long.

It's an unusual scene for a predominantly African-American church, but the area's Hispanic population has grown from just 1 percent in 2000, to nearly 9 percent today. And New Birth is acknowledging its new neighbors in a way most historically black churches haven't.
Long is trying to attract Latino members by hiring a Hispanic band, adding Spanish-language Sunday services, hiring a Hispanic pastor _ even by learning Spanish.

My message has been geared to challenging African-Americans, but I have to be culturally sensitive, said Long, whose congregation draws more than 25,000 worshippers. Now, I focus on using biblical principles that are relevant to everyone.
Long's services are already translated into Spanish, among other languages, but Long wanted to do more for Hispanics at home.

It's a challenging plan. Most Latinos in the United States attend churches that started in their own neighborhoods, or they worship at predominantly white churches with large missions to Spanish-speaking immigrants.
But Long says black churches have a special lesson for Hispanics.

Like African-Americans before them, new Latino arrivals are struggling with poverty, finding work, getting a good education and getting a say in public policy.
We were there, Long said. Because we're beginning to turn the corner, we can reach back to our brother.

This is about people working together and using faith to improve themselves.
New Birth's message of personal growth and prosperity can also appeal to Hispanic immigrants who came here to improve the lives of their families. The Atlanta suburb where New Birth is located _ Lithonia _ has one of the country's highest affluency rates for blacks.

The idea of attending a black church seemed strange at first to Julio Alberto Rodriguez, who had watched Long's services on television from Florida. Still, when Rodriguez moved to the Atlanta area a few years ago, he visited New Birth.
Initially, you feel kind of out of place because you're a Hispanic among so many black folk.

I was like, 'What am I doing here?' Rodriguez said. He joined anyway, and now works as a personal trainer with the church's fitness ministry.

The Rev. Eddie Velez, a 13-year member of New Birth who was recently appointed pastor to lead Spanish-language worship, has been courting the new Hispanic residents, spreading the church's new motto: Nuestra casa es su casa, or Our house is your house.
We're all the same.

We're all family, said Bernardo Reyes, who plays guitar in New Birth's Latino band and has attended the church for about six months. It makes me feel important that they're thinking about me.
Reaching out to the Hispanic community makes sense for black churches, said Michael A.

Battle, president of the Interdenominational Theological Center in Atlanta.
Though historically, the black church has existed primarily for the social uplift of black Americans, it has never excluded others, Battle explained. And the black church's message of hope and of how to survive _ which carried a race through slavery, segregation and the civil rights movement _ is equally attractive to Hispanics.

It's not just the black church saying, 'Listen to us and follow our example.' It is saying, 'Allow us to work with you for your empowerment so that you can then move forward, empowered by the example of the black church's experience,' Battle said.
While many churches across the country boast diverse congregations, black churches large and small typically have not attracted large numbers outside of their demographic, said C.

Kirk Hadaway, director of research at Episcopal Church Center in New York.
That's changing as the nation's Hispanic population is rapidly growing, and many churches work to reach more people.
In most cases, Latino churches in the U.

S. have begun in the Latino community or as missions or departments within existing Anglo congregations in areas where there are large populations of both, Hadaway said, pointing to areas like southern California or south Florida.
Bishop T.

D. Jakes, who leads the 30,000-member Potter's House in Houston, said he does not think the church should deliberately recruit a diverse congregation, but neither should it deliberately avoid one.
The good news is that the walls are coming down, and in 2007 more and more often blacks, whites, Hispanics, and others are showing a willingness to worship together, Jakes said.

Hadaway led a national survey of hundreds of congregations of various faiths last year and his recently published study found that most places of worship in the U.S. cater to a single racial or ethnic group and those that are multi-racial are most likely to see significant growth in worship attendance.

Having a variety of racial groups in a congregation tends to give it a bit more life and spark, Hadaway said.
Posted by Juan G. Tornoe on February 20, 2007 at 22:03 in | February 15, 2007
Dennis Logie
MOST Hispanics are Roman Catholic in their faith.

Think of Spain, Central America, South America, even the Philippines, and you will see large populations of Roman Catholics. It isn't surprising then, that when Hispanics immigrate to California, they would be drawn to Roman Catholic Churches here.
What is surprising is that so many of these immigrants are part of Protestant churches in this area, particularly evangelical/charismatic/Pentecostal Protestants, otherwise known as born- again Christians or Bible-believing Christians or just theologically conservative Protestants.

A quick perusal of the Yellow Pages under Churches will show how many Hispanic churches (most congregants are Hispanic and/or services are in Spanish) there are in the county. And this listing is incomplete because many such churches are too small, too impoverished to advertise or believe that Yellow Page advertising is not very effective in their case.
There are certainly active Roman Catholic Hispanics.

St. Anthony's church in neighboring North Fair Oaks has a majority, vibrant Hispanic congregation. But they are not the only nearby churches that are large and growing.

Three of the six largest Protestant churches in Redwood City are Hispanic. A Hispanic congregation has the only television ministry in town. A Hispanic congregation is one of the most involved in community service.

In Redwood City, where I primarily minister, there are 66 congregations of various faiths.
Fifty-six (85 percent) of those are Christian, and 15 (27 percent) of the 56 Christian congregations are Hispanic. Of those 15, 13 are evangelical/charismatic/Pentecostal Protestants.

Why?
In my three decades as a leader in my local clergy association, I have some conclusions from the dialogues I have had with dozens of Hispanic leaders, that might give some insight to this dramatic increase in Hispanic Protestant churches.
First, many of these churches distinguish themselves in their teaching about why they are NOT Roman Catholic.

It's too much emphasis for my taste, but seems to resonate with many Hispanics who are in a new culture and looking for fresh perspectives.
Second, whenever people dramatically relocate, freed from surrounding cultural and family influences, they are often open to different options, even in religion.
Third, these conservative Hispanic congregations often offer rapid advancement to leadership positions, meaningful involvement in church life and an encouragement to be Christ's emissary in personally reaching others.

Whatever the motivating factors, we have many healthy, wonderful Hispanic congregations contributing to the richness of our spiritual life here in San Mateo County.
Dennis Logie is a retired pastor at Sequoia Christian Church in Redwood City.
February 11, 2007
BY ESTHER J.

CEPEDA
When most people think Jewish culture, the word Hispanic probably doesn't spring to mind.
But Judaism is the faith of nearly a million worshippers across Mexico and the rest of Latin America. And more references are cropping up in American pop culture.

Hispanic Jews' stories are being told in movies such as My Mexican Shiva, a film in Spanish, Yiddish and Hebrew, and in plays such as Steppenwolf Theater's Sonia Flew, about a Cuban immigrant raising two children with her Jewish husband in Minneapolis.
Now, DePaul University is offering a class in Jewish Latin American culture.
Tracing the roots
Led by Achy Obejas, DePaul's new Sor Juana De La Cruz writer-in-residence, students are tracing the roots of Judaism in Hispanic culture, starting with the Spanish Jews who sailed to the Americas with Christopher Columbus in 1492 and covering Jews who settled in the Caribbean and South America and Hispanic Jews living biculturally today.

They are studying historical tracts and a rich body of works by Jewish Latin American writers and filmmakers.
Obejas, who was born in Cuba, has written books on the Cuban-Jewish experience.
The notion of the Jew in Latin America works really well as a metaphor for the public and private tensions of immigration and assimilation that play themselves out in the U.

S. today, Obejas said.
Of her own experience, Obejas said, The congregation where I go, there are Guatemalan Jews, Argentinian Jews.

They're Latino, but, in the end, they're Jews.
5,000 in Chicago area
Rabbi Michael Azose of the Sephardic congregation in Evanston, where Obejas worships, estimates there are perhaps 5,000 Hispanic Jews in the Chicago area, but I believe there is no Hispanic or Latino that doesn't have some Jewish blood in them because [in Spain] so many intermarried with Christians.
Tonie Jo-Na Poole, 27, an undergraduate anthropology major at DePaul, said she's taking Obejas' class in part because she has African-American, Hispanic and Jewish roots and, beyond that, sees cultural awareness as a key need in a global society.

We're all becoming TransAmerican, Poole said. Look deep down, and you'll see we all have similar foundations.
February 9, 2007
By Jessica Ravitz
Opportunities were limited where she came from, but Isabel Gonzalez never stopped dreaming.

Even as a child, working beside her father in the fields of central Mexico, she saw herself serving God in big ways.
Raised in the Catholic tradition, however, the young girl never imagined what is happening to her today. This evening, Gonzalez will be ordained a priest - the first Latina priest in the Episcopal Diocese of Utah.

I waited for this moment for so long, Gonzalez, 43, said earlier this week. It means a lot, and I'm very excited.
She grew up in Tlaltenango, a small village in the state of Zacatecas, where Gonzalez said she was unable to attend high school.

The closest high school back then, she said, was a five-hour commute, one way, from where she lived. She was one of 10 children, and despite the limitations in her sheltered life, she maintained her curiosity.
I always wanted to learn more and more, she said.

My parents, they always encouraged us to do the best we can.
At 20, with her 6-month-old daughter in tow, Gonzalez moved to Salinas, Calif., to join a sister who had moved there.

For five years, she spent her days surrounded by green onions - first in the field, later in a packaging plant - while attending evening classes to earn her General Educational Development diploma. One day, at the suggestion of a friend, she walked into an Episcopal church. Just looking at the female priest who led the service, her childhood dream morphed into something new, something bigger.

She married and had more children, eventually coming to Salt Lake City in 1994. She immediately began attending St. Mark's Cathedral.

Within a couple years, after jobs that included one at a Midvale tortilla factory, she began to work full time for the Episcopal Diocese of Utah. Slowly, patiently, between running errands and doing maintenance jobs, she worked her way toward something higher.
But it wasn't until the Rev.

Pablo Ramos arrived from Mexico in 1998 to expand the church's Latino ministry that Gonzalez got her break. For years she pursued independent studies with Ramos. They'd meet on Saturdays, and during the week she'd tackle her homework assignments.

And while she was taking on greater responsibilities in the diocese, there still was something standing in her spiritual way. As a Spanish-speaking woman living in Utah, her options for seminary training were nil.
There existed no way for Isabel to move ahead with her theological studies, Ramos explained.

The church wasn't sure how to deal with a Latino and make the ordination process work.
So they got creative. With help from the Episcopal seminary in Mexico City, Ramos devised a curriculum for Gonzalez.

On top of that, two or three times a year, she'd leave her family for intensive coursework in Mexico. Her writings and competency were evaluated by long-distance instructors. Meantime, she began taking English classes at the University of Utah to ramp up her language skills.

The first big payoff, after eight years of study, came in June when she was ordained a deacon and began serving West Valley City's St. Stephen's Church and its Latino congregation, San Esteban. And now, her opportunity to serve God is even greater.

Gonzalez, a mother of four, will split her time between working with the church's growing Latino ministry - which will include hospital chaplaincy - and serving in the diocese. Her new responsibilities will be a welcome addition, Ramos said.
She brings a female perspective and a voice for the Latino community that's very important, he said.

And she sets an example for other Latinas . . .

to try to accomplish what they want to be.
By Steve Mort
February 10, 2007
The number of Hispanic Americans converting to Islam is growing rapidly --particularly in New York, California, Texas and Florida, which have the greatest concentration of Hispanic residents.
Muslim leaders say interest in Islam has increased in the past few years, and they also note that Muslims and Hispanics, many of whom are immigrants, share a number of common concerns.

Steve Mort reports from a mosque in Florida that has seen a steady increase in Latino worshippers.
The al-Rahman mosque in Orlando opened in 1975 and is the oldest Muslim place of worship in the city.
But over the years its membership has changed, and now increasing numbers of Hispanics, like Jesus Marti, are joining the congregation.

It's the right way to be worshipping God, and I love the Islamic religion. It really has given me a lot of knowledge, and I have learned so many things from Islam.
Jesus Marti
Jesus, a Puerto Rican living in Florida, converted to Islam only a year ago.

He is one of tens of thousands of Hispanic Muslims in the United States: estimates range from around 70,000 to 200,000.
He says that while he has faced criticism for converting to Islam, he has found broad acceptance as a Muslim in America. Islam is not a country.

Islam is a religion. Islam is definitely a way of life, for discipline where you follow and you try to enhance yourself to get the most positive things out of yourself for the benefit of your own self and for the benefit of your own family and the society as a whole.
Muslim leaders say Jesus Marti and other Hispanics choose Islam for a variety of reasons.

They say Muslims and Hispanics face common issues and concerns, like finding their way in a new, unfamiliar country. The media focus on Islam since September 11th has also been factor.
Imam Muhammad Musri
Imam Muhammad Musri is president of the Islamic Society of Central Florida.

The society has about 40,000 members. Iman Musri says Latinos and Muslims find they have a lot in common. There are so many common denominators between immigrant Muslims and immigrant Hispanics who see the issues common to both of them -- immigration issues, as it is a big discussion in the United States, and there are other issues of trying to find a job, keep a job, buy a home -- all the same struggles two groups of people happen to be going through creates this bond between them .

Hundreds of worshippers attend Imam Musri's mosque, and there is an increasing demand for religious literature in Spanish.
He points to Spain's historical ties with Islam. And that many Hispanics find Muslim culture and values similar to their own.

Iman Musri says, Many who come from Central and South America come with conservative values and, as well, Muslims come with conservative values. And here in the States they find that those values are put in question or are being challenged. So it is common to see Hispanics and Muslims working on similar projects in terms of family and education and reforms to protect their values, their conservative values they have.

For Jesus Marti and his fellow Hispanic worshippers, the decision to convert to Islam is personal, but also part of a broader trend.
He hopes greater diversity among America's Muslims will help strengthen understanding of Islam within the wider U.S.

population.
January 27, 2007
By ANNA VARELA
Over the past few years, the leaders at New Birth Missionary Baptist Church have noticed Spanish speakers coming to worship at the megachurch in Lithonia.
New Birth decided to provide headphones to beam a Spanish-language version of its high-energy services and upbeat message to their eager ears.

Now the biggest church in metro Atlanta has decided it must do more to reach out to Hispanics.
On Sunday, the largely African-American church will launch New Birth Latino, built around a Sunday afternoon service in Spanish, complete with Christian music performed by the church's new Latino band.
We realized that in our community the Hispanic and Spanish-speaking population is growing tremendously, said the church's leader, Bishop Eddie L.

Long.
We have to, as a mandate, minister to them.
The number of Hispanics in metro Atlanta grew by more than 50 percent from 2000 to 2005, to a total of 420,000, according to the Census Bureau.

New Birth appears to be the first of the area's black megachurches to court Latinos, said Nancy L. Eiesland, a professor at Emory University's Candler School of Theology. It's a match that has potential to work because both groups tend to be very pro-family, very theologically conservative, she said.

Long will serve as minister for the 3:30 p.m. service Sunday, with an interpreter to help him.

Eddie Velez will take over as pastor to the Hispanic members at subsequent services.
Velez, whose parents are from Puerto Rico, has been with New Birth for 14 years, most recently as its youth minister. The first service will be in the main sanctuary, but, after that, Velez will preach in Spanish in a chapel at New Birth that can seat 500 people.

He isn't sure whether he will use an interpreter for English speakers or attempt to preach in both languages. He notes that his own children wouldn't understand everything if he preached only in Spanish, so he wants to make sure English is provided so all Hispanics will feel welcome. We're just going to do what New Birth has always done — extend love, compassion, kindness, Velez said.

Plans for New Birth Latino include marital and financial counseling and a youth ministry for Hispanics.
The church, which has about 25,000 members, also plans to offer classes in English as a second language, as well as Spanish classes for the larger congregation.
And Long, whose latest book has been translated into Spanish, will preach for the first time in Latin America this spring when he visits a megachurch in Honduras.

For now, New Birth's leaders say they hope to draw 200-300 people for the first Latino service. It's too soon to say whether Hispanic membership will grow enough to move on a regular basis into the main sanctuary, which holds 10,000 people. Long said the emphasis is not on big numbers.

We want to be able to serve everyone, and we're excited about it.
January 16, 2007
By Allan Wall
More and more Hispanics in the U.S.

are converting to Evangelical Protestantism. Ron Unz has interpreted the growth of Protestant Evangelicalism among Hispanics as a sign they are assimilating. In his article “California and the End of White America” (Commentary, November 1999) , Unz presented an upbeat picture of Hispanic assimilation: “Latin American immigrants have demonstrated much the same social conservatism and working-class values as Italians or Slavs.

(One remarkable sign of their assimilationism is the high rate of conversion to evangelical Protestantism among Latin American immigrants.)” That sounds great, but there are several problems with Unz’ thesis that Hispanic Evangelicalism = American Assimilation.
In the first place, Evangelical Protestantism is now firmly rooted in Latin America, and growing.

(And in Latin America, most Protestants are Evangelical Protestants). In Mexico, 7% of the population is Protestant, and in some Latin American countries it’s even higher.
I attend a Protestant church in Mexico.

I can assure you that the people in my congregation are Protestants, but they are Mexican Protestants, not American Protestants.
And Protestantism does not necessarily go hand in hand with pro-Americanism. The most anti-American Mexican I’ve ever personally met personally was a Protestant (not from my congregation, I hasten to add).

Furthermore, in Latin America, Protestants, though conservative on moral issues, tend to be more liberal on economic issues.
In the United States, there are also many Hispanic Evangelicals, and the movement is growing. Does that mean they are assimilating?

Sometimes, but not necessarily. Remember the big pro-illegal marches last spring ? Well, some of those marchers were Evangelicals.

Obviously, they don’t agree with those of us who want immigration reduced and our borders controlled.
Indeed, some Evangelical Hispanic pastors are quite outspoken on the matter. For example, Alejandro Camacho is a Baptist pastor in Texas who provides legal help to illegal aliens.

Camacho complains that “It is just ridiculous how the laws have separated our families and our congregations…. . Immigration [law] as it is, it destroys, it destroys.

It's very inhuman. Probably the most high-profile Evangelical Hispanic activist working this issue is Samuel Rodriguez, founder and leader of the National Hispanic Christian Leadership Conference (NHCLC) who states bluntly that “Immigration puts us at odds with our white evangelical brothers” Rodriguez, despite the fact that he is of Puerto Rican extraction and thus unaffected by immigration law, sees this as a pan-Hispanic issue. And he’s ready to play hardball.

In April of 2006, 50 Evangelical leaders and groups, both white and Hispanic, signed a joint letter calling for an amnesty. However, the biggest and most influential Evangelical organizations didn’t participate. And that really bothered Rodriguez, who told the Washington Post that “This is the watershed movement – it’s the moment where either we really forge relationships with the white evangelical church that will last for decades, or there is a possibility of a definitive schism here.

There will be church ramifications to this, and there will be political ramifications. ”
Rodriguez was very insistent in questioning evangelicals who didn’t sign onto the amnesty plan: “We need to know from white evangelical leaders why they did not support comprehensive immigration reform, why they came down in favor exclusively of enforcement, without any mention of the compassionate side, without any mention of Christian moral imperatives.” Notice how Rodriguez dogmatically presents his promotion of amnesty as a “Christian moral imperative”.

And though he speaks of compassion, he fails to mention both Americans and Mexicans who are harmed by mass immigration. What follows sounds like a threat : “So down the road, when the white evangelical community calls us and says ‘We want to partner with you on marriage, we want to partner with you on family issues,’my first question will be: ‘Where were you when 12 million of our brothers and sisters were about to be deported and 12 million families disenfranchised?’ ”(Apparently when Rodriguez speaks here of “brothers and sisters” he’s not speaking of Evangelical brothers and sisters but illegal alien Hispanic brothers and sisters.

)
Oh, but Rodriguez doesn’t like calling them “illegals”. In an interview with Christianity Today, he explained that What they do is illegal, but to call them 'illegals' is against the Bible.
How can a human being be illegal?

That's the very way abortion is justified. Not only that, but Rodriguez says that “I’m very disappointed. We need dialogue on why white evangelicals are so threatened by people who are fundamentally in accord with their values.

”
But what if Rodriguez and white evangelicals can’t square the circle of the value we call The National Question?
Despite his stridency, Rodriguez is criticized by some other Hispanic Evangelical leaders as being too soft on the Anglos. NHCLC colleague Angel Nunez says There are people who are saying, 'Why should you sit at the table to eat with somebody who is a racist?

' Some groups in the Latino community feel betrayed, and they say, 'We don't need them.' Rodriguez celebrates the pro illegal alien demonstrations earlier this year as the harbinger of a new movement: Hispanic Americans have never had a viable civil-rights movement. This is it—the catalyst for the mobilization of the Hispanic community in America.

Just as secular Hispanic activists rejoice over Hispanic growth in the U.S.A.

, likewise Rodriguez exults over the growth and influence of Hispanics within the Evangelical movement: Yes, yes, yes! We're the fastest growing! Does he say that for religious reasons, or sociopolitical reasons?

Rodriguez seems to imply that Hispanic Evangelicals are, well, maybe just better Christians than white ones: In the culture wars, Hispanics are on the values side. But social justice is more a part of our ethos [than for other evangelicals]. We're attuned to poverty, homelessness, AIDS.

We have a more complete vision of the gospel.
And there you have it. It seems that on the immigration issue, Secular Hispanic Activists, Catholic Hispanic Activists, and Evangelical Hispanic Activists are on the same sheet of music.

On the other hand, white evangelicals (who comprise a quarter of the electorate, are more keen on controlling immigration. But their leaders aren’t too vocal about it. Mirroring the elite-grassroots divide in the rest of American society, white Evangelical leaders tend to be more pro-open borders than their parishioners.

According to the article “Evangelicals Tightlipped on Immigration”, “ Pew Research Center polling this year showed nearly two-thirds of white evangelicals thought immigrants threaten traditional American customs and values and are a burden on our jobs, housing and health care, well above the percentages for white Catholics, mainline Protestants and the U.S. population in general.

So where have prominent white evangelical leaders been the past six years ? Most of them hitched their wagons to George W. Bush and the Republican National Committee.

And look where that got ‘em.
Isn’t it high time evangelical leaders speak out forthrightly about the damage illegal immigration is doing to our nation and its people? If they don’t, Samuel Rodriguez and others will fill the void with their brand of Hispanic triumphalist identity politics.

January 6, 2007
By J. Michael Parker
John Nolan has experienced life on his own in the secular world, tasting both success and failure. Now he wants to serve others as a Catholic priest.

But first, he'll have to learn enough Spanish and become comfortable enough in Latino culture to minister to the Latinos who will make up the majority of his future parishioners.
Last fall, at age 42, he enrolled at San Antonio's Assumption Seminary, the nation's premier Catholic training center for bilingual, bicultural ministry with a Mexican-American flavor.
Nolan is one of 26 men who came to Assumption for the first time this year — its largest entering class in 36 years.

While nationwide graduate-level seminary enrollment statistics are basically flat, the San Antonio school has a bumper crop of seminarians. Enrollment jumped from 51 in 2005-06 to 76 this academic year, also a 36-year high. Seminary officials say eight more young men are arriving this month, and others are expected next fall.

Those statistics have Archbishop José Gomez brimming with excitement and full of optimism about the school's future.
The Catholic community simply cannot do without priests. That would be like a major corporation trying to survive without managers.

We need seminarians so we can have priests to keep the Catholic faith alive, Gomez said.
And many of the people tomorrow's priests will serve are Latinos, both native-born and immigrants from all over Latin America — but especially Mexico.
Assumption is considered the nation's premier Catholic seminary for training bilingual, bicultural priests for ministry in a predominantly Mexican-American environment, said Father Larry Christian, its rector.

For decades, most bishops in other parts of the country have ignored Assumption as a niche seminary for Latino ministry, since their flocks included few Hispanics.
But today, they urgently need priests trained in Latino ministry, and some are realizing that Assumption is well-equipped to help them face that challenge.
Assumption has accepted eight more seminarians for this spring semester — bringing enrollment to 84 — and more dioceses want to enroll men here next year.

Six dioceses are asking about Assumption for the first time ever, Christian said.
That's not all. For the second year in a row, 11 Assumption men will be ordained for service in various dioceses.

Few of its past ordination classes have had 10 or more.
The seminarians come from 16 dioceses — nine in Texas, three in California and one each in Louisiana, Mississippi, Tennessee and North Carolina.
There's nothing like this going on at any other U.

S. seminary, said Catholic University of America sociologist Dean Hoge, a national expert on Catholic clergy data.
He said seminary enrollment typically fluctuates slightly from year to year.

Assumption's did for a long time, averaging 44 from 1973 until 2006. It passed 55 a few times but dipped to 20 in 1982. Only five years ago, it was just 36.

Everything Assumption does — celebrating Mass, praying the Rosary, reciting daily prayers and conducting Eucharistic adoration, celebrating religious holidays and even meeting with formation advisors and academic counselors — reflects a thoroughly bilingual, Mexican-American culture.
Its Masses, prayers and devotions are conducted in Spanish each Wednesday and Thursday. There's almost constant practice for Spanish speakers to learn English and English speakers to learn Spanish.

When the liturgy is in English, some of the guys from Latin America don't understand it, Nolan said. When it's in Spanish, I get put in the same position.
The first few weeks, I was flipping pages back and forth trying to find the right place in the prayer book, he recalled.

Fellow newcomer Clay Hunt, a veteran of seven years in a religious order, helped him find his place in the Spanish prayer book in those early weeks.
His only frustration has been in not understanding Spanish homilies at Mass, particularly when fellow seminarians laugh at something the homilist says.
I want to grasp everything that's going on.

But at dinner, I can ask, 'What did he say?' and the guys are all wonderful. We help each other.

Because Assumption is near the heart of San Antonio, it offers numerous opportunities for hands-on bilingual ministry in nearby parishes that non-urban seminaries can't match.
Deacon Ray McDaniel, whois to be ordained a priest in May for the Fort Worth diocese, said the total immersion in a bilingual, bicultural environment has prepared him to move comfortably into ministry among Latinos.
I can pray in Spanish on my own, and I've learned to live and work with people from many cultures.

We've had people here from Mexico, Costa Rica, Colombia, Ecuador, Vietnam and the Philippines.
Former San Antonio Bishop John W. Shaw decreed Spanish fluency a non-negotiable requirement for all graduates in 1915 when he founded Assumption's forerunner, St.

John's Seminary.
That was while Latinos were the exception rather than the rule in most U.S.

Catholic dioceses.
Today, they comprise nearly 40 percent of the nearly 70 million U.S.

Catholics, and are expected to surpass 50 percent by 2020.
The dioceses of Charlotte and Raleigh, N.C.

; Atlanta; Reno-Las Vegas, Nev.; and Portland, Ore., have the fastest-growing Latino immigrant populations in the country, a 2000 study by the U.

S. Catholic bishops' conference found.
They have few priests prepared to minister to these immigrants in their own language and cultures.

With only one Latino priest available for every 9,925 Hispanic Catholics, bishops must find non-Latinos and train them with the skills to minister among Latinos.
Archbishop Gomez said most U.S.

seminaries aren't geared for Latino ministry. He hopes to persuade more bishops to recognize Assumption as a ready resource for precisely the kind of culturally conditioned ministry they must provide in the years ahead.
Thanks to its cooperative relationships with Oblate School of Theology and the Mexican-American Cultural Center, it's well suited to serve those needs.

The fact that dioceses are already contacting Assumption about new candidates for the 2007-08 academic year is a hopeful sign for the future, Christian said.
We'd like to see our enrollment reach 100. Five years ago, that would have looked like a mountain too high for us to climb.

But now we're nearly there, and it appears well within reach.
Other seminaries have bilingual components, but none with a Mexican-American flavor to match Assumption's.
St.

John's Seminary in Camarillo, Calif., which serves the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, has a bilingual, bicultural ambience, too — but its focus is English and Vietnamese, geared toward serving southern California's immigrants from the Pacific Rim.
St.

Vincent de Paul Seminary in Boynton Beach, Fla., also prepares students to celebrate Mass and sacraments in Spanish and English. But its cultural orientation is Caribbean.

The vast majority of Latino immigrants are still coming from Mexico, Christian said. No other Catholic seminary in the country has the experience in training men for that segment of the Latino population that we have.
But Assumption's biggest contribution to the national effort to train men for Latino ministry might be to show other seminaries how to duplicate what it does.

The San Antonio seminary is nearly at full capacity now. Even with the new 80-unit residence hall — named for Archbishop Patrick Flores — being completed on schedule this August, new housing must be found if enrollment passes 100.
We don't have to worry about having to close.

Our biggest question is, how big do we want to be? Christian said.
But what is driving the current enrollment surge?

Christian cited several factors that have developed over several years.
The sending dioceses know us better. They know our theology and how we work.

We've built up a great deal of trust with them, and we work with their vocational directors who recruit candidates.
With Gomez's backing, Assumption has reconfirmed its longstanding cooperative relationship with Oblate School of Theology, where would-be priests receive their graduate-level theological training.
And while major seminaries in Los Angeles, San Diego and Boston closed their college-level formation programs over the past three years because of declining enrollment, Assumption reopened its college program this year after nearly 30 years, accounting for nine of the 26 newcomers.

Meanwhile, Father Arturo Cepeda,vocation director for the San Antonio archdiocese, and other seminary faculty members have spoken about vocations in parishes all over the archdiocese. Cepeda conducts discernment retreats for young men and leads a monthly discernment group that helps the men determine — without pressuring them — whether seminary life is for them.
Gomez himself has missed few opportunities to promote priestly vocations.

We always end (San Fernando Cathedral's) Sunday evening Youth Mass by singing 'Salve Regina' (a hymn to the Blessed Virgin Mary) and reciting a prayer for vocations. I often ask young people if they've thought about a vocation. Some look at me like 'Are you crazy?

' and others express interest.
Cepeda has received 13 inquiries as a result of Gomez's youth Mass talks.
The San Antonio archdiocese has 22 seminarians this year, up from 14 last year.

Of this year's 26 newcomers, 10 are from San Antonio.
Gomez believes the enrollment surge reflects a larger trend of curiosity among young Catholics about their faith.
I have no statistics showing this, but I've seen it in different parts of the country.

More high school-age men are interested in vocations, and more college-age men are entering seminaries, he said.
Last year, Gomez visited a seminary in Minneapolis that had more than 100 college-level men in its formation program. He also watched 2,000 enthusiastic young Catholics at the Encuentro for Hispanic Youth and Young Adult Ministry at the University of Notre Dame in June.

They were very excited about their Catholic faith. You don't often think of young people happily getting up for Mass at 7 a.m.

and praying the Rosary, but they did. They were asking how to pray, how to recite the Rosary, and some asked how to prepare for the priesthood, he said.
Also, pastors often pass along names of young men who seem like good candidates and invite seminary faculty members to preach at Sunday Masses.

Some encourage single male parishioners to think about priestly ministry.
I love what I do, and I think it would be good for others, said Father Mike Horan, pastor of St. Luke's Parish.

Seeing Nolan's increasing involvement in a variety of ministries at St. Luke's, Horan arranged for him to attend a discernment retreat.
I also began inviting John to accompany me on home visits to the elderly and to help me plan funerals — and he loved it, the priest said.

December 10, 2006
BY MATT CRENSON
Weeks after becoming New Mexico state historian, Stanley Hordes started receiving odd visitors. They would enter his Santa Fe office, close the door -- and gossip about their neighbors.
''So-and-so lights candles on Friday nights,'' they would say.

Hordes was intrigued. Though the people he spoke with were clearly Catholic, they reported following an array of Jewish customs. They talked about leaving pebbles on cemetery headstones, lighting candles on Friday nights, abstaining from pork and circumcising male infants.

When Hordes asked why they did such things, some said they were following family tradition. Others gave a more straightforward explanation.
''Somos judios,'' they said.

We are Jews.
A quarter century later, Hordes has a stirring explanation of how Judaism got to New Mexico. Like so many Jewish stories -- the Exodus, David and Goliath, the Hanukkah story -- it is an ancient and epic tale of triumph against overwhelming adversity.

And like so many of those stories, it requires a certain suspension of disbelief.
In spring 1492, Jews in Spain were given two choices: convert to Catholicism or leave the country. Many left.

Many others abandoned their religion for Catholicism.
But a few who converted did so only publicly, continuing to practice Judaism in secret.
Modern scholars have found a few communities of so-called ''crypto-Jews'' that survived in Iberia and the New World for centuries, hiding their true religious identity from their neighbors and the Catholic Church.

'They were invisible'
In his 2005 book To the End of the Earth: A History of the Crypto-Jews of New Mexico, Hordes suggests that many crypto-Jews found their way to the northern frontier of the Spanish colonial empire.
There they continued to observe their religion behind locked doors, blending publicly into the Catholic culture and teaching their children that revealing their true identities could mean death by the Inquisition.
''They were invisible,'' Hordes said.

But the secrecy that protected Judaism in the Spanish Southwest eventually doomed it. The people had no synagogue, no Torah, no connection to global Jewish culture. By the 20th century, Hordes concludes, all that was left were a few suggestive customs and a vague sense that somehow they were Jewish.

For Sonya Loya, there's nothing vague about it. Growing up Catholic in Ruidoso, Loya was intensely spiritual. But she never identified with Jesus or Christianity.

''I never felt whatever I was supposed to feel when I was Catholic,'' Loya said.
Loya began observing the Jewish sabbath six years ago, about the same time she learned about the secret Jewish past being uncovered by Hordes and other scholars. She was thrilled that she might actually have Jewish heritage, that a faith her ancestors lost over centuries was inexplicably welling up inside her.

''I believe that what drew me back home to who I am is my Jewish soul,'' Loya said.
In 2004, she went to her parents, asking them to bless her conversion to Judaism but expecting the worst. Perplexed by her rejection of Catholicism, they had often reacted badly to such pronouncements.

Priest embraces heritage
But this time, it was her turn to be perplexed. Not only did her father give his blessing, Loya said, but he revealed that he had known since childhood that he had Jewish ancestry. An uncle, returning from World War II, had seen the family name among a list of concentration camp inmates.

Bill Sanchez always felt Jewish, too. But not that Jewish; he's a Catholic priest.
Sanchez discovered his Jewish roots after having his genes tested by a Houston-based company.

The company determined that he has a set of genetic markers found in about 30 percent of Jewish men. The tests even indicated that Sanchez has a genetic signature associated with the Cohanim, a priesthood said to go back to Moses' brother Aaron.
Since then, Sanchez has embraced his Jewish heritage.

He wears a Star of David around his neck on the chain that holds his crucifix, and keeps a menorah in his office at St. Edwin parish in Albuquerque.
Like Hordes, folklorist Judith Neulander was fascinated by stories like Sanchez's and Loya's when she first went to New Mexico in summer 1992.

And Neulander, too, heard accounts of grandfathers donning shawls before they prayed and grandmothers carefully draining every drop of blood from chickens after slaughtering them. But hearing the stories for herself, she grew increasingly uneasy.
People told her about how their parents or grandparents prayed to ''Yahweh'' -- Hebrew for God.

But Judaism forbids saying God's name out loud.
They talked about playing as children with a four-sided top that resembled a dreidel. But dreidels first appeared among Central and Eastern European Jews well after 1492.

How would the descendants of Spanish Jews who fled Europe during the Inquisition have known anything about them?
''All of it just doesn't really hold up when you examine it carefully,'' said Neulander, who is now co-director of the Jewish Studies Program at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland.
'You'll never have proof'
She concluded that the notion of a Jewish heritage must have been brought to the Southwest by evangelical Protestant missionaries from one of several small sects who considered themselves descendants of a lost tribe of Israel.

Though rare today, such Christian groups follow many Jewish traditions while believing in Jesus.
''There were probably many more sects like this in the early part of the 20th century,'' Neulander said.
The debate isn't just academic.

People like Loya and Sanchez are constructing their religious lives around the assumption that their ancestors were Jewish: ''You'll never have proof,'' Loya said. ''You have these bits of evidence ..

. like bread crumbs.''
December 13, 2006
By ELOÍSA RUANO GONZÁLEZ
As the Yakima Valley slumbered and its icy streets twinkled, some people glided to churches Tuesday to wake up with invigorating mariachi music and menudo, a spicy Mexican stew made with tripe.

Although many of them had to head off to work after special Catholic services that started as early as 3:30 a.m., they froze their schedules for a few moments to celebrate the apparition nearly five centuries ago of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

Gatherings worldwide Tuesday honored the Virgin's appearance to the Aztec Indian Juan Diego from Dec. 9-12 in 1531 in the Mexican hills of Tepayac.
However, the Dec.

12 memorial marks the time Guadalupe's vibrant, sun-like image appeared on Juan Diego's cloak for the Tenochtitlan bishop to see.
The Rev. Virgilio Zea of St.

Joseph Parish in Yakima said Monday the apparition is particularly important to Mexicans, who were struggling to evangelize during the Spanish conquest. He said Guadalupe's brown skin and revelation to a mestizo, Juan Diego, allowed Mexicans to relate to and accept Catholicism.
According to Catholic Online, about six years after the apparition, 6 million Aztecs joined the church.

It's really, let's say, a cornerstone for the Mexican Catholic faith, Zea said.
And the memorial allowed members of the Hispanic congregation to come out and embrace their faith together.
Several hundred residents, bundled in coats, colorful panchos and traditional embroidered clothing made from manta -- coarse cotton -- visited Yakima's Holy Redeemer Church at 5 a.

m., before going to work and school. They prayed.

They ate menudo and sweet bread. They placed dozens of roses at the foot of the Virgin's altar. And they sang Las Mañanitas -- a Mexican birthday song.

Candelaria Mendoza was among those singing, demonstrating her love.
My heart jumps and jumps of happiness, the Yakima woman said.
For me, she's everything, she added.

She's my life.
The event took the 53-year-old back to her childhood in Mexico, where streets were covered with ribbons and fireworks were shot in the air. As a child without a mother, Mendoza said she depended on the Virgin of Guadalupe as a mother figure.

And most Mexicans, she said, see the saint the same way.
Eight-year-old Miguel Cuevas of Yakima agreed.
(She's) kind of like my mom, he said.

Cuevas and his 2-year-old brother, Ramero, attended the celebration dressed like Juan Diego in the cream-colored embroidered pants and shirts their grandmother made, topped off with painted mustaches and sombreros.
Cuevas said he came to visit the Virgin on her birthday because he believes in her -- after his parents taught him about her.
I was raised Catholic.

They should have faith in the Virgin, said the boys' mother, Francisca. It's important they know who we need to believe (in).
Francisca said her parents taught her about La Virgen de Guadalupe, and they had been taught by their parents.

She hopes her kids will pass on the teachings to their children.
At least that's what Miguel Cuevas plans to do when grows up and has children.
December 12, 2006
By Yvonne Wingett
It may not be a famine, but today's Feast of the Virgin of Guadalupe has lost some weight.

Thousands of Hispanic Catholics in the Valley will celebrate the Virgin's appearance five centuries ago in Mexico with processions and prayers, Masses and mariachis.
But thousands of Latino former Catholics will skip the celebrations. To these Protestant converts who once prayed to the Virgin of Guadalupe for protection, prosperity and love, she is now just a commercialized image used to market everything from religion to bus companies and mouse pads.

Evangelicals regard any icon or symbol other than Jesus himself . . .

to be simply not allowable, said Tony Zavaleta, a professor of anthropology and border culture at the University of Texas-Brownsville. The Virgin of Guadalupe, as the mother of God, is the person whom (Latino Catholics) turn to.
The Virgin of Guadalupe is the central symbol of faith for Hispanic Catholicism and is the cultural icon of Mexico.

For millions of Latinos worldwide, today's feast for their beloved Mexican mother is as big as Christmas and Easter.
Twice a day, Jose Gonzalez used to pray to the Virgin of Guadalupe. But when he turned away from Catholicism, he let her go.

Now, the Phoenix pastor speaks directly to Jesus.
Traditionally, Mexican people believe that the Virgin of Guadalupe is a mediator between God and the people, said Gonzalez, 55, of Nuevo Nacimiento Church on 27th Avenue near Van Buren Street.
We pray only to God, through Jesus Christ, he said.

The Virgin of Guadalupe plays no role. Not at all.
An icon is born
The story of Mexico's mother began in 1531.

She is said to have appeared before dawn to Juan Diego, an Indian peasant. Speaking in his native Nahuatl language, she told him to build a church on a hill in what today is Mexico City.
As the story is told, Diego delivered her message to the bishop of Mexico City, who demanded proof of the apparition.

Guadalupe caused roses to grow out of season and instructed Diego to gather them in his cloak and return to the bishop.
When Diego unrolled the cloak before the bishop, the roses spilled out, and the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, surrounded by glowing light and a turquoise wrap, remained. Today, her cloak is on display in the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City, to which millions of believers make pilgrimages.

In 1999, Pope John Paul II crowned her the patron saint and evangelizer of the entire continent.
Hispanic Catholics believe the Virgin of Guadalupe guides them to God, one priest said. Through her, we believe in Christ, said Father Carlos A.

Gómez of Saint Augustine's in west Phoenix. When we see Our Lady, what we see is Mexico, our roots, our grounds, our earth, our essence as humans.
For most of his life, Arturo López, 38, was one of Guadalupe's faithful.

Growing up in Hermosillo, Sonora, he prayed to her for his family, his health and his sins. But six years ago, the Phoenix man found Jesus. He joined a Baptist church and prays only to Jesus and God.

I believed in the Virgin of Guadalupe, it was my culture, López said. Now, I don't believe in her. She does not exist.

She cannot take my sins away.
Evangelical surge
Evangelicalism is on the rise with Latinos in the U.S.

and throughout Latin America, though Catholicism remains strong.
About 23 percent, or 9.5 million of 41 million Latinos in the U.

S. in 2004, identified themselves as Protestants or other Christians, according to statistics compiled in Latino Religions and Civic Activism in the United States, co-edited by Gastón Espinosa, an assistant professor of religious studies at Claremont McKenna College.
About 29 million Latinos identified themselves as Catholic, according to the book, an all-time high.

Each year, as many as 600,000 U.S. Latinos leave the Catholic Church for other Christian denominations, Espinosa said.

8 percent in Mexico
In Mexico, meanwhile, Protestants accounted for 8 percent of the country's believers in the 2000 census, up from 2.3 percent in 1970. Their numbers are growing at 3.

7 percent each year, twice as fast as the Catholic population, according to Mexico's National Institute of Statistics, Geography and Information Processing.
As a child, Esmeralda Madrigal prayed to the Virgin to cure her mom's kidney failure. Madrigal said that when she learned that Guadalupe isn't in the Bible, she gave her up.

La Virgin of Guadalupe, she is not the mother of Jesus, said Madrigal, 33, who is now a hemodialysis technician. She's just an image made of man. She's just an idol.

The mother of Jesus is Mary.
November 15, 2006
By ROXANA HEGEMAN
Before assuming duties at his Wichita parish, Father Eric Weldon spent three months in an intensive Spanish-language school in Mexico. He lived with a Mexican family, and immersed himself in the culture and religious customs of Mexican Catholics.

All seminarians receive training in Spanish - it is just a given anymore, Weldon said.
An estimated 60 percent of the Catholic church worldwide speaks Spanish, and as more overwhelmingly Catholic Mexicans migrate into the United States the numbers of Spanish-language Masses have boomed across the country.
This is not about making Spanish the language of the church.

This is about meeting the spiritual needs of the people as fast as we can, he said. All the children are learning English, but the parents, some of them, speak Spanish only.
The influx of these mostly young Catholic families who have migrated to the United States from Mexico and other Latin American countries have raised the number of parishioners attending U.

S. Catholic churches and their parish schools - redefining the ministry of the church in this country.
About 70 percent of the Hispanic Latino population is Catholic, said Mark Gray, a research associate for the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate in Washington, D.

C. Nearly a third of the U.S.

Catholic church is Hispanic - and those numbers are growing with the wave of Hispanic immigrants, he said.
Within the past century, the population center of the U.S.

Catholic church has shifted from the Midwest and Northeast to the nation's Sun Belt states due to the Hispanic migration, Gray said.
They bring goodness to the Catholic church in America. They bring new life, he said.

Among his parishioners at St. Patrick's Catholic Church in Wichita is Alma Rocha, who grew up in Mexico and now lives in Wichita with her family. She prefers to attend the Spanish Mass, saying she can understand more of it than its English counterpart.

Like many Catholic Mexican immigrants, she also feels more comfortable with the livelier Spanish-language Masses in classic Jalisco style - replete with three mandolins, a standup bass, and four guitars - which are more reminiscent of the church services she attended as a child in Mexico.
More sedate English Masses feature an organ and choir for music.
The English Mass is so quiet, Rocha said as she waited in a car to pick up her children as classes at their Catholic school let out.

I love my people. I love my culture.
In Wichita, Catholic churches conduct nine Spanish Masses in the city, and another five outside the city.

About 60 percent of Weldon's parish is Hispanic. But since his Hispanic parishioners are mostly young families - compared to the aging Anglo parishioners - all but about 10 of the 155 baptisms Weldon conducted in 2005 were for Hispanic children, he said.
The Mexican immigrants go to the priest as soon as they can about problems, Weldon said.

Americanized Catholics go to a therapist, to a psychologist or ignore it and at the last minute - when it is too late - they talk to me. ..

. Because Hispanics go to the priest with their problems first, they rely more on the priest. They need me a lot.

The Catholic church in the U.S. is preparing its priests and seminarians for a more multicultural ministry, said Bishop Michael Jackels of the Catholic Diocese of Wichita.

While that may address a reality for American churches, it may eventually strain priests who find themselves having to double all the things to meet the needs of English and Hispanic parishioners, Jackels said.
Jackels said he expected demand for Spanish-language Masses to diminish as migrant families become more established in the U.S.

That's what happened with the diocese's Vietnamese Mass, where attendance has fallen as the children of Vietnamese families born here either speak little Vietnamese or prefer attending English Masses with their friends.
It is part of the goal not to set up parallel parishes ..

. but to work toward integration, Jackels said.
The outreach then will be more on a cultural level - much like the church now has with its Italian-American and German-American parishioners, the bishop said.

It's no longer necessary to have a separate Italian parish or a German parish.
But Gray said that because the use of the Spanish language is so widespread in the U.S.

, he said its prevalence in the church may not change from one generation to another as with waves of other nationalities.
Latino evangelicals have been voting Republican, but may be shifting.
November 2, 2006
by Kim Lawton
In the packed sanctuary of a Hispanic megachurch, Latino evangelicals are praying for comprehensive immigration reform — and for the political clout to make it happen.

Related articles and links
If we just pray only and leave this place just doing that, it's not going to make the greatest difference, because in this country that God has given us, the United States of America, the way to make our voice heard is at the ballot box, the Rev. Mark Gonzalez of the Hispanic Coalition for Comprehensive Immigration Reform tells the worshippers.
Thousands of miles away, in Chicago, Latino Catholics are also praying for immigration reform — and registering new voters after Mass.

They want to be part of that process that somehow will determine their lives and their future, said the Rev. Claudio Diaz of the Archdiocese of Chicago. So it's been like a jolt of energy to really have a group of people be updated, get informed, be organized.

Across the nation, Hispanic Catholic and Protestant churches have become centers of an unprecedented new political activism, fueled in large part by the contentious debate over immigration reform.
Latinos are a sleeping giant that has been awakened as a result of these discussions, no doubt about that, Edwin Hernandez, research fellow at Notre Dame's Center for the Study of Latino Religion, told the PBS program Religion and Ethics NewsWeekly.
There are more than 42 million Hispanics in America, but most have not been politically active.

In 2004, less than half of all eligible Latino voters actually went to the polls. But experts say an energized — and still rapidly growing — Hispanic voting bloc could have a huge national impact.
Both political parties are understanding that, are hearing and listening carefully because their political futures, to a large extent, will depend upon how these alignments ultimately are figured out, Hernandez said.