By the early 1970s, more Latino families were arriving in Rhode Island. Some came from the Dominican Republic, some from Puerto Rico, some from Colombia, Guatemala, Ecuador, and other parts of Latin America. The community was growing, but there were still very few places for our people to gather in worship, especially in Spanish.
In the summer of 1974, Rev. Pedro Ortiz, a Cuban minister working with the American Baptist Church, came to Providence looking for churches willing to open their doors to Spanish-speaking congregations. He walked through the city and spoke to local churches, asking who would make room for our people. Calvary Baptist Church on Broad Street was the one that opened its doors.
That church had been there a long time, since 1854, but in 1974 it became something new as well. At 747 Broad Street, the first Hispanic Baptist congregation in Rhode Island began. For many of us, it was more than a church service. It was the first time people could gather in one place, in their own language, with others who understood what it meant to leave home and begin again.
When I became pastor of Iglesia Hispana El Calvario, I understood very quickly that building a church in Rhode Island would not be easy. This is a small state, and people were always moving. Families came looking for work, stayed a few months, maybe a year, and then moved again. Some went to New York, some to New Jersey, some to other cities where they had family or better work. Many would find our church, begin attending, and then leave just when they were becoming part of the congregation. That made it difficult to build something steady. But, I saw the people come.
Sometimes we had two hundred people, sometimes two hundred fifty. Other times one hundred fifty, maybe one hundred eighty. It was always changing because the community was always changing. But even with that movement, the church stayed full of life.
The people who came to us brought many traditions with them. Some had been Catholic. Some came from Pentecostal churches. Others were Methodist. They came from different countries, with different customs, different ways of worshiping, and different expectations of church life. My work was to bring them together and help them feel they belonged to one family.
That meant the church had to feel familiar to them. It had to sound like them. It had to move like them. Our services were full of music, prayer, testimony, and the sound of people praising God in Spanish. They were lively. Sometimes loud. Sometimes they went long. But no one complained, because people needed that joy. They needed a place where faith could sound like home.
What we were building was not only a congregation. We were building community. The church became a place where people found comfort, friendship, guidance, and support. It was where newcomers found familiar faces. It was where people asked for help, shared news, found work, and helped one another settle into a new life.
Other churches were growing too. Hispanic Pentecostal congregations were already beginning to take root, and more would come. Families like those of Rev. Juan Francisco Jr., whose parents founded Iglesia Pentecostal Puerta de Refugio in 1974, were doing similar work in other parts of the city. Each church served its people in its own way, but together we were all helping build something larger than ourselves.
What began with only a few Spanish-speaking congregations in Rhode Island has grown into many churches across the state. That growth reflects the growth of our community, but it also tells another story. For many of our people, the church was one of the first places where they found belonging. Before they felt at home in Rhode Island, they found a home in the church. ◼︎
