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Evangelical Churches and Labor Migrants in a
Jewish State
Adriana Kemp
Dept. of Sociology and Anthropology
Tel Aviv University
akemp@post.tau.ac.il
Rebeca Raijman
Dept. of Sociology and Anthropology
University of Haifa
raijman@soc.haifa.ac.il
October 2002
* This research was supported by the Israeli Science Foundation found
by The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities. A preliminary version
of this paper was presented The authors wish to thank Tamara Barsky,
AlejandroPaz, and Valentin Nabel for their kind research assistance.
We are also grateful to Carl Schneider for his careful reading and helpful
comments.
"Zionism was and remains a national movement
with the goal of establishing the State of Israel. We are Zionists.
We love everything about the Jewish people. Our powerful desire for
a church visa stems precisely from the desire to help the Jews. Otherwise,
why should we be here? We are here to serve the Jewish people. Take
my life but do not kill them. That is a divine imperative... common
sense finds it hard to swallow this. Therefore, you have to be born
again." (Gloria, the pastor's wife, ER Baptist church, Tel, Aviv,
February 8, 2001)
Popular versions of Protestantism made their way to the
Holy Land at the end of the twentieth century . Indeed, evangelical
churches are relative "latecomers" to the Land of Jesus and
have arrived in Israel as a consequence of international labor migration
during the last decade. Gloria's explanation of her presence in Israel
- and her efforts to get a visa that will legalize her status - are
an illustration of the dynamics of the localization of global processes
through the creation of transnational religious spaces. She and her
church illustrate the well-known fact that migrants migrate with their
religions: beliefs, practices and institutions (Greeley 1972; Smith
1978; Warner 1993, 1998). These often provide the only alternative spaces
for the production of a "sense of belonging" within the experiential
context of uprooted-ness, displacement and marginality. However, a less
obvious implication of Gloria's plea is that religious spaces may operate
not only as an arena for the constitution of new identities in the face
of discrimination and exclusion. They may also become a channel for
advancing claims on inclusion and belonging within the host society.
Writing on the dislocations between place and culture that constitute
the essence of globalization, anthropologist Arjun Appadurai (1990)
argues for the creation of new "scapes" that challenge the
equation between national identity and national space. What are the
new "sacriscapes", to borrow from Appadurai's terminology,
that emerge from the flow of labor migrants and their religions into
the political space of an ethnonational state?
In this article we trace the creation of Evangelical churches created
by and for Latin-American migrant workers within the context of the
Jewish state. First, we relate to the social significance of religious
practices and beliefs for migrants' individual and collective identity
in the host society. Second, we focus on the translation of Christian
Zionist theology into a claim of belonging articulated by migrant believers.
In other words, we delve into the modes through which the theological
position of Christian Zionism is translated into a sociological position
of Christian migrants in a Jewish state.
The article consists of three main sections. The first
section describes the context of non-Jewish labor migration in Israel
in general, and of the migrant workers from Latin America in particular,
in order to understand the emergence of evangelical churches. The second
part focuses on the social significance of the evangelical churches
in relation to labor migrants living in conditions of extreme marginalization
and on the processes of identity formation they ensued. The third part
presents the ways through which non-Jewish observant migrants interpret
their structural position within the Jewish state rendering their religious
beliefs into a claim for social inclusion.
1. Labor Migration in Israel
Labor migration from overseas countries is a relatively new phenomenon
in Israel. It started in the early 1990s, when the government authorized
the recruitment of a large number of labor migrants to replace Palestinian
workers from the occupied territories (Bartram 1998). The deterioration
of the political and security situation generated by the first Palestinian
uprising -intifadah-- (which began at the end of 1987) brought about
a severe labor shortage in the construction and agriculture sectors,
in which Palestinian workers had been concentrated since the early 1970s
(Semyonov and Lewin-Esptein 1987).
However, it was not until the Israeli government decided to seal the
border with the occupied territories, at the beginning of 1993, that
the large-scale recruitment of overseas workers began, primarily from
Rumania (construction sector), Thailand (agriculture) and the Philippines
(geriatric care, nursing, and domestic services).
The recruitment of overseas workers was consistent with
the interests of both the state and the employers, as it was considered
a temporary, low-cost solution to a temporary problem. The result was
that in the 1990s the ground was prepared for the transformation of
overseas labor migration from a negligible phenomenon - as it had been
until then - into an institutionalized process. As in other countries,
the official recruitment of labor migrants brought about an influx of
undocumented migrants. Non-Jewish undocumented foreign workers arrive
in Israel from almost every corner of the world - though mainly from
East Europe, South Asia, Africa, and South America - and are employed
primarily in the services sector. According to estimates of the Central
Bureau of Statistics, by the end of the year 2000 there were some 169,000
overseas labor migrants in Israel, about forty per cent of whom had
work permits, and together with Palestinian daily commuters they made
up to 10.6 percent of the total labor force in Israel (Ministry of Labor
and Welfare 2001).
The pattern of formal labor recruitment in Israel has
placed these migrants in a peculiar situation. Because work permits
are granted to employers and not to employees, documented labor migrants
become a de facto "captive labor force," with all the flagrant
violations of individual and civil liberties this entails. The official
recruitment of workers is conducted through manpower agencies and employers,
to whom the permits are allocated. By this means the state is supposedly
not a party to the employment of the workers and therefore ostensibly
bears no responsibility for their living conditions and conditions of
employment (Raijman and Kemp 2002).
In contrast to their documented counterparts, undocumented
migrant workers arrive haphazardly. They enter the country on a tourist
visa valid for up to ninety days, which forbids them to work, and become
undocumented by overstaying it. This method is not the only path to
illegality. A very widespread way for a worker to become undocumented
is to leave the employer to whom he/she is indentured through what has
become to be known as the "binding system."
As in most Western European countries, migrant workers in Israel are
considered an import of temporary workers and not prospective citizens.
They are deemed outsiders in the cultural, social, and political spheres
(Baldwin-Edwards and Schain 1994; Schnapper 1994; Weiner 1996). The
exclusionary practices of the Israeli nation-state towards migrant workers
are salient in particular with regard to undocumented migrants. The
fact that they are undocumented makes them not only vulnerable to the
authorities' persecution, detention and deportation but also "invisible"
in the eyes of state apparatuses in regard to social, political, and
civil rights. The lack of legal status and work permits seems to be
one, albeit not the only, of the main catalysts for the development
of informal patterns of organization in an unfriendly environment. Paradoxically,
the lack of state regimentation of working and living conditions among
undocumented migrant workers leaves room for the emergence of new ethnic
communities as a strategy for survival in a new society. During the
last decade three ethnic communities have developed in Israel among
migrant workers: Black African, Latin American, and Filipino. The great
majority of African and Latino migrants are undocumented and the Filipino
community displays a mixed pattern. In the following section, we present
a brief overview of the Latino labor migrant community in Israel, the
focus of our paper.
The Emerging Latino Migrant Community in Israel
A socio-economic profile of migrant workers from Latin America and of
their emerging community will set the background for an understanding
of the role of evangelical churches in the everyday lives of Latin American
migrant workers (see Appendix 1).
The Latin American community of migrant workers in Israel originates
from all parts of the South American continent. Mostly young people
(average age: 34), they began arriving in Israel after 1993. Gender
groups display significant differences in the patterns of migration
by family situation. Particularly interesting is the fact that a high
percentage of women migrated alone leaving their children in the home
country at the care of family members (25 percent). Likewise, many of
the male workers left wives and children behind (15 percent); or both
migrated to Israel and left the children with relatives in their countries
of origin. The existence of a variety of family models, including families
with children, suggests the potential emergence of a community with
different needs from those of migrants who were recruited formally by
employers and arrived alone. The great majority of Latin American migrants
has neither residence nor work permits. Most of our respondents lived
in south Tel Aviv, in the vicinity of the central bus station, which
in recent years has become an immigrant enclave.
Migrants' educational level and the occupational cost they pay because
of migration is also essential for understanding the character and needs
of the Latino community in Israel. Latino migrant workers displayed
relatively high levels of human capital acquired in their countries
of origin (about 12 years of study on average, with some 17 percent
holding an academic degree). About half of the Latin American migrant
workers held white-collar positions before moving to Israel (15 percent
were employed in high-status occupations). Women worked mainly as secretaries
and clerks, with only a small percentage employed in cleaning jobs.
In Israel, nearly all of them work in personal services (the majority
of the women and about half the men work cleaning homes and are dubbed
"nikayoneros" - from the Hebrew word for cleaning).
The Latino migrants' willingness to pay the price of occupational
downward mobility is due to the large salary differentials that exist
between Israel and their home countries. Back home, the average monthly
salary earned by migrants was $326 (with women earning only about 60
percent of what the men made). These low wage levels - as compared to
an expected average wage of between $1,000 and $1,500 a month for cleaning
homes (based on payment of $7 an hour and in accordance with the number
of hours worked) - account for people's readiness to pay the cost, not
only in type of employment, but also the social and emotional price
entailed in migration, this including the cost of "being illegal"
and living at the margins of Israeli society .
However, economic inducements alone do not account for
the creation of this new migration track which did not even exist ten
years ago, connecting remote towns on the coffee-producer area in Colombia
or farming villages in the Andes with the Shapira neighborhood in south
Tel Aviv. As the "Holy Land," Israel is a magnet for adherents
of various religions who want to visit the places sacred to them, including
tens of thousands of Christians of all denominations who come on pilgrimage
every year (Shoval, 2000; Rinschede, 1992; Shachar and Shoval, 1999).
The advent of the new millennium and the concomitant expectation of
the Second Coming only heightened Israel's attractiveness for Christians
who were regarded by Israeli authorities also as potential migrants.
The religious factor played a large part in the choice of Israel as
a destination by Latin American migrants: a third of them cited religion
as their main reason for migrating, and many of them arrived in Israel
as part of a pilgrimage tour as a means of securing their entrance in
the country. As will be seen, religious activity and its institutional
venues, the churches, act as a major catalyst for the migrants to organize
themselves into communities. In fact, the migrants' churches shape an
open space, perhaps the only one, in which otherwise "invisible"
migrants acquire a public presence of their own.
2. Evangelical churches in Israel
It is difficult to estimate accurately the number of evangelical churches
that exist in Israel, since they are mostly the initiative of migrants
who are residing and working in the country without a permit and are
therefore outside the authorities' sphere of supervision.
Our field work within the Latino migrants' community in Israel shows
that there are currently nearly ten Latin American evangelical churches
operating in south Tel Aviv, all of them established by religious entrepreneurial
migrants upon arrival. The churches vary in size, activity, and denomination
- whether Pentecostal, Baptist, Assembly of God, Adventist or groups
organized by Messianic Jews - but all are evangelical. In fact, as Freston
(1998) points out , the shifting boundaries between religions and denominations
makes popular Protestantism in general, and Pentecostalism in particular,
a true typological challenge, which merits study in its own right. The
fluidity of the boundaries between churches and denominations is very
pronounced in the evangelical churches we are studying. They have more
than a thousand congregants, about half of them participate regularly,
the rest are occasional passersby. Arguably, then, about 7 percent of
the Latino migrant workers are active to one degree or another in evangelical
churches. This figure is comparable to the membership rate in evangelical
churches in Latin America , where a "genuine Protestant revolution"
has been under way since the 1960s (Freston 1998: 337; Martin 1990;
Corten and Marshall-Fratani, 2001).
The churches' existence is hardly a secret. Some of them
are registered as autonomous associations or as the "subsidiary"
of a recognized church in Israel. Although the churches do not go out
of their way to declare their presence, they are far from being underground
organizations. Anyone who happens to walk by during a service hears
the soulful chanting that emanates from their open windows. The churches'
public nature stands in blatant contrast to the desperate attempts by
undocumented migrants to disguise their presence in public arenas and
thus avoid attracting the attention of the authorities. The "extraterritorial"
status of the migrants' churches confirms the important, if somewhat
neglected, fact that the status quo between state and religious institutions
in Israel is not confined solely to Jews. It applies to Christian churches
too, including those of "illegal" migrants. It is precisely
due to the state-religion status quo that migrant churches can provide,
albeit for brief and fragmented moments, a safe haven, in both the physical
and the spiritual sense, for people who are excluded from every type
of public "visibility" in Israel.
Migrants' Churches: Individual and collective identity
The church profile that emerges from the fieldwork we carried out over
the past three years is not significantly different from that prevalent
in the anthropological and sociological literature (Leon 1998: 163-194;
Freston 1998; Martin B. 1995; Lehmann 1996; Mayrargue, 2001). These
are community-oriented churches. Acting as magnets for recently arrived
migrants, in most cases they effectively establish a congregation ex
nihilo from an amorphous and fairly heterogeneous mass of new arrivals.
The churches' congregational character is reflected in two ways: first,
in their involvement in diverse and comprehensive spheres of activity;
and, second, in their declared effort to deal with the day-to-day problems
of the migrants and be of relevance to them, while purporting to hold
the key to "solving" such problems.
Both the pastors and the congregation members refer to
the church as an "extended family." The family is not only
an organizational metaphor it is also a primary object for the churches'
activities. They hold seminars and workshops for young couples on subjects
related to "family life," such as living as a couple, the
family from the biblical perspective, introducing children into the
world of the ritual, and the like. Church-organized extracurricular
activity (welcoming the Sabbath twice each month on Friday evenings,
outings around the country, special seminar days, and more) also emphasize
the value of family life and communality.
The depiction of the world of the church as a "family" also
has a distinct instrumental aspect: it is meant to strengthen the participants'
commitment, particularly with respect to filling positions that are
required for the church's maintenance. The expectation that the church's
activity will be funded by the members of the congregation, and the
sanctions imposed on those who are laggards in this respect, further
reflect the "family spirit." The evangelical churches that
we surveyed are financed largely by means of the "tithe" -
a tenth of the donor's income - which is given to the church once a
month, and by other donations that are made weekly by the members of
the congregation. Once every two weeks, food items are collected for
a "family package" (canasta familiar) to assist the neediest
members of the "church family."
The meaning of the church as an alternative family is
of special significance in the case of labor migrants who are detached
from kin networks and family support in the host society. It provides
them with a new sense of belonging which helps them to cope with an
alien, exploitative, and often flagrantly hostile climate. In other
words, despite their extreme marginality and absolute exclusion, undocumented
labor migrants develop diverse modes of dealing with reality and confer
on it their own particular meaning. Religious practices are one example
of this.
How does the church address the migrants' day-to-day life
and seek to make itself relevant to them? Latino migrants in Israel
repeatedly refer to the church as a "shelter" from the vicissitudes
of everyday life. Anita, a migrant worker from Colombia who is a regular
worshipper at the CC church, explains that she was drawn to the church
as "compensation" for the threatening and alienating surroundings
of the area where she lives, near the old Central Bus Station: "There
are a lot of drunk migrants from Poland, Romania, Portugal, and Russia.
It's frightening," she says, adding, "The CC is like my family
in Israel." For Maria, who like many other migrant women left her
children back in her home country so that they could have a "better
future", the church constitutes "a form of self-help. It gives
me the strength to go on."
The church ritual acts as collective therapy and catharsis for the believers.
The liturgical practice is highly physical and sensual: the prayers
are accompanied by singing and dancing, the worshippers often enter
a state of ecstasy leading to physical collapse. Marta, who is an assistant
to the female pastor at CC, refers to the ritual in reflexive terms
of "theotherapy." However, the ritual practice also has a
saliently disciplinary aspect. Apart from its indirect didactic dimension
(to "see and be seen"), it makes a direct appeal to the believer
and commands him/her to accept God into his/her body and soul. The believer's
response to the church's interpellation takes the form of theosomatic
physical reactions, such as trance, glosolalia, and falling down. Carmen,
the charismatic pastor of KHZ, explains to her congregation that the
collapse of worshippers after entering into a trance is due to their
acceptance of the holy spirit. "The word kavod [honor]," she
says, using Hebrew terms, "means kaved, [heavy], such is the glory
of all-powerful God. Therefore, the body of those who respect and accept
God falls and collapses."
The churches' psychosocial role is emphasized by the sociology
of religion and migration literature (Hurh & Kim, 1990; Taylor &
Chatters, 1988; Leon, 1998; Patillo-McCoy, 1998). According to these
studies, the migrants' attraction to religion should be seen in the
context of the psychosocial strategies people resort to in attempting
to cope with macrosociological changes. Turning to the churches is portrayed
as part of the attempt by status- and power-deprived groups "to
restore their lost honor" and as an alternative structure of opportunity
in which participation affords status and strength in the community
hierarchy (Frazier 1963: 43, quoted in Min 1999: 1374). This is especially
so with regard to the church leaders and those who hold key positions
in the community's religious life, most of whom are in Israel without
residence and work permits, but it is also valid in large measure for
the ordinary members of the congregation, whose participation in the
church gives them a sense of belonging and comradeship.
The churches' "compensatory" role finds clear
expression in the believers' devoted response to their exacting demands.
One to three times a week, adherents are required to attend a range
of activities, each of which lasts an average of about three hours,
usually in the evening or late at night; and strong social control is
exercised on the congregation to take part in underwriting the church's
operation by paying a "tithe" and making "donations."
Given the fact that these are hard-up people who do intensive physical
labor for an average of ten hours a day five or six days a week and
who conduct their lives in the "underground", their participation
in church practice is far from self-evident.
While constructed as a "shelter" or "protected space"
for undocumented and persecuted migrants, churches are not altogether
insensitive to events in the outside world. On the contrary, the outside
world against which the church is supposed to protect the migrants penetrates
the church space in the form of the pastoral sermons and the migrants'
prayers. The evangelical liturgy is a central element for understanding
how the church "speaks" to the migrants and allows them to
bring their day-to-day life into the religious arena. Apart from the
sermon delivered by the church leader, the evangelical ritual creates
a broad platform for the believers' active participation by means of
group prayers or petitions, and testimonials.
Petitions, which are prayers on specific subjects that
are submitted to the pastor by the believers, generally make public
the everyday problems encountered by the migrants: difficulties at work,
disputes with the employer or the landlord, worries about the children,
and anxieties about deportation and police violence. Such a prayer comes
from Lorena, an active participant in the CC church that asks God to
make her "invisible in the eyes of the police." Every month
the pastor chooses a limited number of petitions for which the congregation
is asked to pray. If there is a large number of petitions, the pastor
divides the congregation into smaller task groups, which divide the
work of prayer among them. In the LLM church, for example, the "opening"
petitions of May 1999 dealt with giving thanks to God; liberating the
souls of the Christians in the world; and blessing the Jewish people
in Israel and praying for their protection from wars and enemies.
Another liturgical practice through which the mundane
outside world penetrates the church space is the testimonials. These
are delivered by the church leaders or by members of the congregation
who are called to the pulpit. As the word suggests, they are "testimony"
of the Lord's appearance in the individual's day-to-day life. However,
an equally important goal is to bring migrants to the church and persuade
them that their participation is "worthwhile." As a member
of the ER congregation put it, "Everything we ask from God comes
to pass. I asked Him to let me get to the Promised Land, and so it was.
In work, too, I asked and I received. About wages, I asked, I received.
God is present in the ba'albayit [using the Hebrew word for landlord],
in work, in everything that happens to us. The more we earn, the larger
the tithe. Those who uphold the word of the Lord, He compensates them
doubly. God is the Lord of money, and the money is for spreading His
word in Israel, the land of the Gospel" (interview with Juan Pablo,
KH).
The believers' remarks reflect their perception that participation
in religious life produces immediate results, visible mainly in the
economic sphere. This approach, which is not foreign to Latin American
migrants, is based on the importation of the "theology of prosperity,"
which developed as a distinctive element in South American Evangelicalism
(Oro & Seman 2000; Mayrargue, 2001). According to this theology,
"God is the gold and the silver. He is the key to the gates of
the Promised Land. He
helps us in the spiritual world and in the material economic world"
(interview with Pedro, ER church).
If religious faith and practice confer meaning on the day-to-day life
of people that find themselves uprooted, culturally, geographically,
and socio-economically, the church acts as their concrete physical anchor.
Churches take on a new meaning for the migrants, different from that
ascribed to them in the home country. Whereas back home the church is
one of many social spaces in which people can participate, in a migration
situation it is one of the few legitimate venues at which undocumented
migrant workers can take part and obtain some sort of public acknowledgment
and visibility. Thus the church provides a platform for social interaction
that is so diverse as to encompass simultaneously the activities of
a spiritual center, bank, school, employment bureau, and community center
(Patillo 1998). Consequently, it is not surprising that people who shunned
religious affiliation in the past turn to the church and in some cases
become active in it, in the wake of their migration.
The constitution of the church as a "protected space"
and its increasing appeal to previously non-observant people, reflects
in more than one way the structural position of undocumented labor migrants
whose access to the public sphere is limited almost exclusively to those
social spaces they have created by themselves. These spaces of "cultural
autonomy" provide the micro-social arena for the development of
distinct identities that lie outside the range of direct supervision
of dominant groups. In this sense, the church space corresponds to the
sociological definition of the term "free space," as it appears
in the literature on social movements. As Evans and Boyte put it: "Particular
sorts of public places in the community[
] are the environments
in which people are able to learn a new self-respect, a deeper and more
assertive group identity, public skills, and values of cooperation and
civic virtue" (1986: 17, quoted in Polletta 1999: 3). In other
words, migrant churches as "free space" are an institutional
expression for the "weapon of the weak" and reflect the fact
that the authorities' methods of control are not one-directional and
all-embracing (see Scott 1985).
However, the establishment of a "protected space"
has another aspect, which is not taken into account by those who emphasize
its empowering capabilities: an empowering space is not necessarily
a space of resistance. It can provide a platform for raising claims
for inclusion within the dominant group which are not in conflict with
hegemonic definitions of membership and belonging. As Lehmann poignantly
points out, "strategies devised for coping with an inegalitarian
and exclusionary structure - such as the creation of free spaces - are
not necessarily equatable with subversion or a challenge to the existing
reality" (Lehmann 1996:1-22).
3. Christian Zionists in a Jewish State: Claiming legitimacy
through religion
"Shake off the dust and bless this house! That is the message I
convey to the members of the congregation. How wonderful it would be
if the government were to take notice that we, the Christians, love
Israel. That we are your only friends. If we only had a visa, we could
convey to the whole world a message of love for Israel."
(Gloria, pastor's wife of ER Church).
Although Christian Zionism is an important principle in evangelicalism
it becomes a crucial one for labor migrants in Israel. As it will be
shown, the strong emphases put on Christian Zionism by the pastors and
congregants from different churches becomes a way of legitimizing their
presence in a Jewish state and a means by which migrants' claims for
inclusion in the host country are channeled.
Our main argument in this section is that with their Christian belief
in the Return to Zion as a prologue to the advent of the messiah, and
their concomitant identification with the Jewish people's right to the
Land of Israel, evangelical migrant workers are challenging the basic
assumption prevalent in Israeli society, according to which only a Jew
can be a Zionist. How is the theological position of Christian Zionism
translated into a sociological claim for inclusion that seeks to overcome
the marginality of non-Jewish migrants into a Jewish state?
When asked to define the main goal of his church, the pastor of the
ER church declared ardently that "its purpose is to encourage Christians
in the world to pray for the people of Israel, to connect with the tradition
of Israel and to become acquainted with the reality in the Land of Israel."
In fact, he imparted to us not only his personal belief but the main
tenets of Evangelicalism, which are based on Christian love for the
Jewish people and the Land of Israel, where Jesus was born and buried.
The desire to work for Israel as Christians was a recurrent motif in
all our meetings with church leaders. It is also a recurring element
in the collective prayers and petitions of the church members in which
their desire to support the Jewish state and to help solve the conflict
in the Middle-East is overtly articulated as the migrants' raison d'etre
in the Holy Land.
Evangelicals consider themselves bound by the Old and the New Testament,
believing that Jesus was the messiah but also being committed to the
Jewish tradition and heritage. They define themselves as Christian-Jews.
The blurring of the differences between evangelical Christianity and
Judaism is given expression both in religious practice and in the believers'
narratives of identity. The church setting is permeated with a mixture
of symbols drawn from Judaism and Christianity. Hanging next to one
another above the main podium of the ER churches are a Star of David,
a menorah, and a crucifix. There are usually readings from both the
Old and the New Testament during the service, in an effort to examine
how the prophecies of the earlier book are fulfilled in the later one.
Religious boundaries are also constantly blurred in the celebration
of religious holidays. Evangelists celebrate Jewish and Christian holidays
alternately. In the KHZ church the pastors and some of the worshippers
wore a kippa (head covering) and draped a talit (prayer shawl) over
their shoulders during the ceremonies. Jewish songs are often sung during
Mass (a favorite is "Hinei ma tov umana'im" - "how good
and pleasant it is" for brethren to sit together), in the original
Hebrew, if possible. If the congregation is unfamiliar with the Hebrew
text, the words are projected in transliteration on a large screen.
The fact that a collage of Jewish-Christian practices takes place in
Israel adds a surplus value to them. Apart from the "informative"
aspect borne by syncretic practices, the significance of Christian Zionism
in Israel is not circumscribed to theology but rather derives from the
congregants' situation as undocumented migrants facing arrest and deportation.
On the one hand, the dissolving of the boundaries enables the migrants
to express their identification with Judaism and with the fate of the
Jewish people over the centuries as part of their Christian faith; while
on the other hand, it enables them to justify their presence in Israel
as a kind of "right of return," to which they are entitled
by their common heritage with Judaism. This logic is manifested in the
way many members of the LLM church defined their identity: they claimed
to be descendants of the Spanish marranos (Jews who formally converted
to Christianity under pressure of the Inquisition but secretly continued
to observe their religion). The KHZ' pastor emphazises repeatedly in
her sermons the presumed "marrano" origins of the church members
as one that should entitle them to residence. Their migration to Israel
is then legitimized on the grounds that they are Jews whose Judaism
was disavowed and are now reclaiming it.
The translation of theological beliefs into a quest for belonging is
not detached from the ambivalent attitude of Evangelicalism towards
Jews and Judaism. Church leaders emphasized time and again that the
church thrust is not to judaize Christians but rather to christianize
Jews. This is more clearly expressed in the missionary activities geared
by the churches to convert Jews which did not spare the authors of this
article either.
"The paradox," the pastor of ER church explained to us, "is
that the people of Israel does not recognize the revelation of its own
Bible because it does not recognize him [Jesus] as the messiah."
Evangelicals feel that they bear responsibility for healing the Jewish
people, purging it of evil, and leading it out of darkness. That responsibility
looms far higher in Israel due to their belief that the building of
the Third Temple and the war of Gog and Magog will usher in the return
of Jesus and the conversion of the Jews. Hence their benediction: "Let
us pray for light on Israel. O Lord, God of Israel, we ask for peace,
God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, God of Israel, illuminate our hearts
with the light of Jesus."
Similarly, the lighting of the first candle of the Hanukkah festival
was interpreted as symbolizing Jesus Christ's presence in the Land of
Israel: "The Jewish people today exists in darkness, and it is
up to us, as believers, to serve it as a light and illuminate the points
of darkness. For that, we need prodigious spiritual powers. Spiritual
power brings light." In the pursuit of that goal, the most prominent
members of the church, those with international reputations, are enlisted.
The ambivalence toward Judaism and the quest to save Jews from themselves
is not novel as a theological stance. However, it gains an instrumental
value for Christian labor migrants in Israel. As the leader of the ER
church expressed it, "We [the heads of the evangelical churches]
have a special mission in Israel... We want Jews to come to our church
and see that we identify with the Jewish people and are not troublemakers."
While the above mentioned examples reflect the Evangelicals' attitude
toward Judaism, the churches' performative repertoire is replete with
examples of identification with the State of Israel and their support
for Zionism. One example is the Israeli Independence Day celebrations
that were held in the KHZ and ER churches. In both cases a grandiose
event was held, which included dancing with Israelis and community singing.
Similar celebrations are not held in the churches to mark the independence
days of the members' home countries. The organizers of the Independence
Day festivities in the churches say that they are an expression of the
churches' solidarity with Israel. Their presence in Israel, they explain,
imbues the evangelical principle of "love of Zion" with a
unique meaning; not only does it enable the believers to return to the
Jewish roots of Christianity - which would not be possible to the same
degree in Latin America - it also "reinforces" their belief
that they will become better "Ambassadors of Zion" in their
home countries in Latin America.
Their identification with the fate of the Jewish people is apparent
from remarks made by Gloria, the wife of the pastor of the ER church.
In 1999 she devoted herself to sending press clippings and photographs
about Israeli soldiers who were killed in Lebanon to churches in Latin
America. It is essential to familiarize people with the Israeli reality
in order to create identification and closeness with the Jewish people
in Israel, she explained. These "spiritual consignments" are
part of what Levitt calls "social remittances" in which migrant
communities are involved. Through them, migrants create a transnational
network of ideas, practices, identities, and social capital, which blur
the boundary between home country and country of destination (1998:
76-7). Social remittances are carried by migrants on their trips back
and forth between the two countries or, alternatively, are disseminated
by means of technological devices such as the Internet, letters, telephone
calls, and video cassettes, which evangelical migrants are very adept
in using. On Gloria's last visit to her home country, Chile, she spent
much of her time lecturing on Israel in various public forums, including
evangelical media.
The translation of the Christian Zionist theology into a sociological
claim for inclusion made by Christian migrants in Israel carries political
implications which, in the local context, cannot be ignored. If evangelical
theology seeks to "update" Jewish symbolism and intertwine
it within the semiotic world of Evangelicalism, the Israeli context
in which Christian migrant workers articulate their beliefs - the context
of the Israeli-Palestinian national conflict - "localizes"
the pro-Jewish theology and instills it with a political significance
which is not neutral regarding the national conflict. This was made
manifest in January 2000, when Israeli right-wing groups held a mass
rally for a "united Jerusalem" outside the Old City's Jaffa
Gate, in the presence of the mayor. The demonstration was organized
by an association called "One Jerusalem," most of whose founders
are from the United States and some of whom are engaged in Christian
fundamentalist activity. Prior to the demonstration, supporters were
urged to sign a petition "to save Jerusalem" and "preserve
it under the sovereignty of the State of Israel." We received the
petition via E-mail from one of the leaders of the Latin American churches,
and they also disseminated it within their communities and among their
acquaintances.
About a month later, shortly after the elections for Prime Minister,
we interviewed one of the church heads who told us in no uncertain terms
of his preference for the right-wing candidate, Ariel Sharon. "Our
position regarding Jerusalem is the position of the Tanach [the "Old
Testament"]. It is God's will that Jerusalem be and remain united,"
he asserted, referring us to Zechariah 12:2. "The Evangelicals
are in favor of Israel, while the Catholic Church is in favor of [Palestinian
leader Yasser] Arafat," said Pedro, from the ER church. According
to the pastor, his support for Sharon also reflects the opinion and
wish of millions of people around the world, who pray for a united Jerusalem.
The "Zionist" solidarity displayed by evangelical migrants
is buttressed by Evangelicalism's theological attitude toward "Islam."
The collective prayers, which are a type of communal narrative articulated
within the church space itself, often disclose a hostile approach to
"Islam" and "Arabs," with no clear distinction always
being drawn between the two. "Arabs" and "Islam"
are invoked as stereotypical concepts that are synonymous with "terrorism"
and are the embodiment of "the Other" in Judeo-Christian civilization.
The attitude toward Muslims elicits a theological explanation - "the
existence of the Arab nation stems from Abraham's mistrust of God"
- and reflects an unequivocal hierarchical differentiation between a
"true" religion such as Evangelicalism and a sect, since Islam,
in this view, "is a sect and not a way of life."
The negative stereotyping of Arabs is rarely based on personal acquaintance.
There are very few contexts in which migrants meet Israelis, still less
members of Israel's Arab population. The only direct contact that the
representatives of the migrants' churches have with Arabs is in meetings
with Protestant pastors who are Arabs, at clerical events or in conferences
held in Jordan and Egypt, where Evangelicalism has grown in recent years
as a result of missionary activity.
Christian Zionist theology thus becomes not only a basis that legitimizes
the presence of undocumented migrant workers in Israel; it also legitimizes
a particular type of religious nationalism whereby migrant workers find
themselves taking a stance on contested ostensibly "local"
issues such as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the right to the Land,
the return to Zion, and the status of non-Jews in Israel. Evangelist
migrant workers and their churches may be calling into question the
foundations of Israel as a Jewish immigration state and society, though
they pose certainly no challenge to its Zionist character. The migration
of Evangelicalism to the Holy Land in the late 1990s thus serves as
a clear instantiation of the "glocalization" (Barber 1995)
processes underway in the late modernity whereby new hyphenations are
being produced and articulated. The mixture between religious and national
identity introduced by non-Jewish Zionist in Israel during the last
decade is a case in point.
4. Conclusion
What are the new "sacriscapes" that emerge from the flow of
labor migrants and their religions into the political space of an ethnonational
state?
This article adduces two main arguments concerning the nature of collective
spaces opened by and for disenfranchised migrant workers and the nature
of the challenges they pose to the nation-state in the global era. Our
first argument is that evangelical churches in Israel become the only
public space where undocumented migrants living in conditions of extreme
marginality acquire a public presence of some sort, within the limits
of the emergent migrant community. Much of the attraction that evangelical
churches hold for Christian migrants workers in Israel, as well as the
socio-therapeutic function they fulfill, lie precisely in their ability
to exploit the "status quo" that exists between them and the
state. According to it, Christian churches are posited as "islands"
that are protected from the supervision of the authorities. They become
"protected" or "free" from the state's scrutiny
thanks in no small measure to their ability to take advantage of existing
institutional arrangements with the authorities, which oblige the state
to protect other religions, or at least not to interfere with them.
Do they therefore serve as an arena of contestation and resistance?
Our contention is that the connection between "protected spaces"
and "spaces of resistance" is an empirical rather than a conceptual
question. Its elucidation thus necessitates a dual examination: first,
of the role played by migrant churches in the creation of new collective
identities, and, second, the modes through which migrants translate
their theological beliefs into a sociological claim for inclusion and
membership.
This duality is particularly interesting in the case of evangelical
churches established by migrants in Israel: as migrants' churches, they
seek to serve a community of believers who come to the church in the
hope of finding compensation for loss of self-respect and social status,
and a physical and spiritual shelter from the persecution of the authorities.
The church setting opens a new space for participation as well as for
the articulation of a collective identity for uprooted migrants. Within
the church bounds they cease to be "aliens" or "illegal"
and reaffirm their belonging to a larger and inclusive family of Christianity.
At the same time, by invoking a pro-Zionist form of Christianity, evangelical
migrants are justifying not only their presence as "foreigners"
in the Jewish state but also claiming to be included in as members of
the Israeli society. Indeed, Christian Zionism as deployed by migrants
in Israel acquires a unique significance. Whereas abroad, Christianity
is used to legitimize pro-Zionist attitudes and perceptions, in Israel
Zionism is adduced to legitimize the Christian presence in a Jewish
state. Thus, the discursive practices of Evangelical migrants in the
Holy Land offer an original reading of the "law of return":
who is entitled to return to Zion and on what grounds? In this sense,
evangelical migrant workers' bring into the local sacriscape a new prototype
of "national-religion," one fraught with challenge but which
seemingly, and for the foreseeable future, is not subverting the hegemonic
definitions of Israel as a Zionist state.
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