The Priest Behind the President: How Rev. Numa Molina Became Maduro’s Unlikely Confidant

From Advocate to Power Broker: The Remarkable Journey of Venezuela’s Jesuit Ally

In the sprawling barrios of Caracas, where poverty clings to the hillsides as stubbornly as the morning mist, the Reverend Numa Molina has long been a familiar figure. For decades, his weathered face and compassionate eyes have been a beacon of hope for Venezuela’s most vulnerable citizens. With a worn Bible in one hand and a megaphone in the other, this Jesuit priest built his reputation fighting for social justice, advocating for the marginalized, and speaking truth to power.

But in a nation where political fortunes shift like quicksand, Father Molina has undergone a remarkable transformation. Once primarily known as a champion of the poor, he now walks the corridors of presidential power as one of President Nicolás Maduro’s most trusted confidants and influential advisors. This evolution from street-level activist to political power broker represents one of the most fascinating and controversial trajectories in Venezuela’s complex political landscape. As the country grapples with economic collapse, international isolation, and humanitarian crises, Molina’s proximity to Maduro raises profound questions about the intersection of faith, politics, and power in a deeply divided society.

The Making of a Revolutionary Priest: Molina’s Path to Prominence

Father Molina’s journey began far from the presidential palace, in the humble surroundings of Venezuela’s working-class neighborhoods. Born into modest circumstances himself, Molina entered the Society of Jesus with a burning conviction that Christianity demanded active solidarity with the oppressed. His theological formation coincided with the rise of Liberation Theology across Latin America – a movement that interpreted the teachings of Jesus through the lens of social and economic justice, and which found particular resonance in a region scarred by inequality.

“The Gospel cannot be understood separately from the cry of the poor,” Molina often stated in his early homilies, delivered in small parish churches where paint peeled from the walls and worshippers sat on wooden benches worn smooth by generations of the faithful. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, as Venezuela’s oil wealth concentrated in fewer hands while poverty expanded, Molina became increasingly vocal. He organized community kitchens, literacy programs, and cooperatives, building a grassroots movement that addressed immediate needs while nurturing political consciousness among the marginalized. “Charity without justice is merely treating symptoms while ignoring the disease,” he would tell volunteers as they distributed food in Caracas slums. His radio program “The Gospel in the Streets” gained a devoted following, and his Christmas Masses became legendary for their passionate denunciations of economic exploitation. When Hugo Chávez emerged on the national scene promising revolution and redistribution, Molina was among the religious figures who saw in Chávez’s Bolivarian project an alignment with their own vision of a more equitable Venezuela.

From Pulpit to Palace: Becoming Maduro’s Spiritual Confidant

The death of Hugo Chávez in 2013 marked a critical turning point, not just for Venezuela but for Father Molina’s role within the nation’s power structure. As Nicolás Maduro, Chávez’s handpicked successor, struggled to fill the charismatic void left by his mentor, he found in Molina something increasingly valuable – a voice of moral authority willing to defend the revolution. What began as occasional meetings soon developed into a close relationship that surprised many observers of Venezuelan politics. “Maduro lacks Chávez’s natural connection with the masses,” explains Maria Fernanda Rodríguez, professor of political science at the Central University of Venezuela. “In Molina, he found someone who could articulate the regime’s messages with the legitimacy that comes from decades of genuine work among the poor.”

The priest’s influence expanded rapidly. He began appearing at official events, offering invocations before government announcements, and accompanying Maduro on international trips. Sources close to the presidential palace report that Molina spends hours in private consultation with Maduro, discussing everything from policy decisions to political strategy. More significantly, Molina has emerged as one of the most effective defenders of Maduro’s increasingly authoritarian government. When opposition protesters filled the streets in 2014, 2017, and 2019, Molina used his moral standing to characterize them not as democratic resisters but as violent agents of foreign interests. His weekly television program “Dialoguing with Numa” became a platform for justifying government actions, from controversial elections to the suppression of dissent. “There is no contradiction between supporting this government and my priestly vocation,” Molina told a shocked interviewer in 2018. “True Christianity has always stood against the powerful empires that seek to crush sovereign nations.” For a leader facing international condemnation and domestic unrest, having a respected Jesuit priest as a public advocate has been an invaluable political asset.

Controversy and Criticism: The Price of Political Alignment

Father Molina’s transition from advocate for the poor to defender of a controversial regime has not come without significant cost to his reputation among certain sectors. Former allies within the Catholic Church and human rights community have expressed profound disappointment with what they view as Molina’s legitimization of increasingly authoritarian governance. Cardinal Baltazar Porras, a leading figure in Venezuela’s Catholic hierarchy, has carefully avoided direct criticism of Molina but has repeatedly emphasized that “the Church must always maintain its prophetic independence from any political regime.” International human rights organizations have been more explicit in their criticism, with Human Rights Watch noting that “religious figures who provide cover for documented human rights abuses become complicit in those very abuses.”

Perhaps most painful for Molina has been the reaction from some of the communities he once served. “Father Numa taught us to stand up for justice, to speak truth even when it’s dangerous,” says Carmen Mendoza, who participated in Molina’s youth programs in the 1990s. “Now he stays silent when people are hungry, when political prisoners are tortured, when elections are stolen. It breaks my heart.” Critics point to specific instances where Molina’s defense of the government has required increasingly strained reasoning. When UN investigators documented patterns of extrajudicial killings by security forces, Molina dismissed the findings as “imperial propaganda.” As hyperinflation devastated the purchasing power of ordinary Venezuelans, Molina attributed the economic collapse entirely to “economic warfare” rather than acknowledging policy failures. Most controversially, when fellow priests were tear-gassed while protecting protesters during street demonstrations, Molina suggested they had abandoned their proper role as mediators. These positions have alienated many who once saw Molina as a principled voice for the voiceless, regardless of political affiliation.

The Theological Justification: How Molina Defends His Political Position

Despite growing criticism, Father Molina maintains that his support for Maduro’s government represents not a compromise of his principles but their fullest expression. In interviews, sermons, and his writings, he has developed a theological framework that positions the Bolivarian Revolution as a Christian project under assault by godless imperial powers. “When Jesus drove the money-changers from the temple,” Molina said in a widely-circulated homily, “he was confronting the same forces that today impose sanctions on Venezuela and steal our resources. The Empire has always feared true liberation.” This fusion of liberation theology, anti-imperialism, and Venezuelan nationalism provides Molina with a narrative that reconciles his religious vocation with his political allegiances.

Central to Molina’s worldview is a reading of Venezuela’s situation as a cosmic struggle between good and evil, rather than a complex political crisis with responsibility on multiple sides. “We are witnessing nothing less than a battle for the soul of our nation,” he told supporters at a prayer vigil for Maduro in 2019. “Those who stand against the legitimate government are standing with Pharaoh, not Moses; with Herod, not Christ.” This apocalyptic framing leaves little room for nuance or criticism of those in power. When questioned about specific government failures or human rights concerns, Molina typically redirects attention to external enemies or historical injustices. “Before asking why there are shortages today, ask who stole Venezuela’s wealth for centuries,” he responded when pressed about food scarcity in a rare critical interview. This approach has proven remarkably durable, allowing Molina to maintain his self-image as a champion of the poor while defending a government under which poverty has reached historic levels.

The Legacy Question: How History Will Judge Molina’s Choice

As Venezuela stands at a crossroads, with ongoing negotiations between government and opposition forces offering a glimmer of hope for political resolution, the question of Father Molina’s ultimate legacy looms large. Will history remember him as a principled defender of a misunderstood revolutionary project, or as a religious figure who lent moral authority to a government responsible for widespread suffering? The answer likely depends not just on one’s political perspective but on the future trajectory of Venezuela itself. If meaningful reforms and democratization eventually emerge from the Maduro era, Molina’s defenders may argue that his insider influence helped guide the revolution toward necessary corrections while preserving its core social commitments.

What remains undeniable is the historical significance of Molina’s unusual position. Few religious figures in modern Latin America have achieved such direct influence within a sitting government while maintaining their clerical role. “Regardless of how one evaluates Molina’s choices, his case represents a fascinating study in the complex relationship between religious calling and political power,” notes Dr. Roberto Briceño-León, sociologist and director of the Venezuelan Violence Observatory. “He has forced both supporters and critics to confront difficult questions about what true solidarity with the poor requires in contexts of political polarization.” As Venezuela continues its struggle to find a path forward that addresses both democratic governance and social justice, Father Molina’s journey from barrio priest to presidential confidant stands as a powerful reminder of how the boundary between spiritual and political leadership can blur in times of national crisis. For better or worse, the priest who once simply championed the poor has become inseparable from the controversial legacy of the government he chose to serve.