Guatemala's new evangelists

Natural History, May, 1998 by Rachel Cobb

Wandering along the shore of volcanic Lake Atitlan, in the Guatemalan highlands, I come across two women kneeling in the sand with their backs to the lake, quietly praying in the shelter of some low cliffs. Copal, an incense of pine resin, burns in front of them, and as the wind blows, they struggle to light and relight small orange candles in the sand. They wear Mayan clothing typical for the locale--embroidered blouses, hand-loomed skirts, and bead necklaces. Behind them, at the water's edge, a young man and two children observe the ceremony in silence. Suddenly the two women turn to face the lake and the children and, holding their palms up, pray loudly. As they do, a woman of mixed Indian and European descent--a ladino--approaches from above along the low cliff and stares down at them. Without looking back, the two Mayan women abruptly stop their ceremony, gather up their belongings, and leave with the man and children.

I'm still trying to make sense of the scene that has unfolded and dissolved so quickly, when the ladino woman smiles at me. "Brujeria [witchcraft]," she comments about them. "Evangelical," I conclude about her. A chubby woman of about forty-five, Jovita Cabrera de Caranca has driven more than three hours from Escuintla with fellow members of her Assembly of God church for the baptism of a dozen young men and women. Jovita leads me to where her group is setting out loudspeakers for a service. Soon the pastor is preaching, thrusting his fist into the air, while local vendors wander through the crowd selling souvenirs and roasted peanuts with chili and lime. When it comes time for the baptism, everyone rushes to the shore for a good view. The candidates, aged fifteen to seventeen, tremble and cling to one another in the final moments before they are plunged into the lake. Afterward, over a picnic lunch, jovita tells me she became an Evangelical Protestant in answer to God's call.

I have been coming to Guatemala for the past several years to learn more about people like jovita. The first time I traveled to this country, in 1991, I heard emotional preaching and twangy electric guitar music coming from a cinder-block church on a muddy back street in Guatemala City. I also noticed brightly painted Evangelical churches even in small, remote highland villages. I saw preachers dressed in tuxedos, dramatically pointing to heaven, mimicking the gestures of their counterparts in the United States. In a predominantly Catholic region, all this seemed out of place, a cultural export from home. I wanted to find out what was behind this phenomenon. At the time, I didn't know that Evangelical Protestantism had already swept almost a third of Guatemalans into its fold. Similar waves of conversion have taken place in many other Latin American countries.

In addition to Catholics, a wide range of Christian groups practice in Guatemala, including Baptists, Mennonites, Presbyterians, Methodists, Seventh Day Adventists, Jehovah's Witnesses, and a variety of Pentecostals. As David Stoll writes in Is Latin America Turning Protestant?, "While in the United States `evangelical' connotes a theological conservative who emphasizes the Bible, personal salvation, and evangelism, in Latin America evangelico can refer to any non-Catholic Christian. The term includes the Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses ... as well as Protestants whose exegesis is unsuitably liberal." In Guatemala, converts come from all walks of life, but a great number have come from the Mayan community, the largest indigenous population in Latin America after Bolivia's. Twenty-two linguistically distinct Mayan groups exist today, descendants of the post-Classic population encountered by the sixteenth-century conquistadores.

When I was searching for a translator at the beginning of this trip, I met Jose Sanchez, the director of a language school in Antigua Guatemala, the old colonial capital. Speaking slowly and distinctly, he told me the story of his conversion. It happened in 1991, when he was drinking so much that his students began to comment. One of them, an American, confronted Jose and invited him to his church. Jose arrived hungover and thinking, "I need a beer," but during the service he thought, "This is my last chance." He went up to the altar and, in front of the congregation, asked Jesus Christ to be his savior. "I began a new life," he declared. He married, started a family, got a job at the American embassy, and later became the director of his own school. He was active in the church and taught Bible study classes on Saturday nights in his home.

Evangelical Protestants emphasize personal salvation, a direct relationship with God, and a literal interpretation of the Bible. They forbid smoking and drinking, a significant proscription in a country where alcoholism is widespread. Many of the converts I've met have converted in an effort to overcome a problem with alcohol. Evangelical Protestants' condemnation of alcohol consumption, gambling, adultery, and wife beating has strong appeal for women, giving them a new means of gaining control in a macho culture. Much-needed health clinics, houses, and schools are also provided by Evangelical Protestant groups. And on a spiritual level, the fastest growing groups, the Pentecostals, with their speaking in tongues and other outward signs of being touched by God, offer a type of mysticism that many are drawn to.