A COLOURFUL painting next to the altar of the Dolores Mission Catholic church in Boyle Heights, a poor Latino neighbourhood in east Los Angeles, depicts Mary as a barefoot Mexican immigrant. Skyscrapers loom over her, her quiet pueblo left far behind. Bearing a baby in a sling, she must pick through stones littering the ground before her, an allegory for the hardships facing all new immigrants.
The image, says Ellie Hidalgo, the church’s pastoral associate, has more to say to the first-generation immigrants who make up around 70% of the congregation than to second- and third-generation Latinos, born and raised in Los Angeles. Dolores Mission is thriving; on Sundays hundreds pack its hall for mass before spilling into the adjoining plaza to eat enchiladas and taquitos de papa. But with the exception of Mother’s Day, when children attend church to please mama, it is not easy to keep younger Latinos within the flock.
Almost two-thirds of Latinos in America were born there, and the share is growing. Many have discovered, like their non-Latino compatriots, that religion need not be excluded from the menu of endless choice that makes up an American life. A new study from the Pew Research Centre finds that only 55% of Latinos call themselves Catholic, a drop of 12 points in three years. The decline is steeper among 18- to 29-year-olds; from 60% to 45% (see chart). Over-50s are leaving in much smaller numbers. Most youngsters who fall away no longer claim any religious affiliation.
Parents in Boyle Heights, a poor neighbourhood, often want their children to move away, ideally armed with a high-school diploma and perhaps a degree. But enjoying the fruits of the new land may also mean drifting away, spiritually, from parents who have only ever known Catholicism, says Timothy Matovina of the University of Notre Dame. Still, leaving the church need not mean abandoning the habits it instilled: 29% of “unaffiliated” Latinos say they pray daily; just 15% of unaffiliated whites do.
In total, Pew found that 24% of American Latinos are now ex-Catholics. A good number have joined Pentecostal or other evangelical churches, with their lively services and emphasis on the direct experience of God’s grace. Many Catholic churches try to meet this need: a study from Boston College found that half of America’s Latino Catholic parishes now offer “charismatic” services. Dolores Mission holds charismatic prayer meetings, which are like Pentecostal services, but Catholic. Some locals attend such services one day and an evangelical church the next, says Ms Hidalgo, placing religious experience before consistency of creed.
Demographic change means that even as Latinos become less Catholic, the Catholic church is becoming more Latino. Hispanics now account for two-fifths of its flock (and most of those under 30), up from a quarter in the early 1980s. The church has become a loud advocate of immigration reform, a political priority for many. Worshippers at Dolores Mission speak glowingly of the church’s social programmes, such as family retreats and legal help for non-citizens. Such efforts keep the church relevant. But against the pull of American pluralism, they may not be enough.
This article appeared in the United States section of the print edition under the headline "Select-a-faith"
