One of the most heartbreaking consequences of leaving Golden Dawn Tabernacle, former members say, is being blocked from attending the funerals of loved ones still in the Tucson church, or even being ejected from them.
A Tucson pastor made the rules in his church so harsh that leaving means estrangement from family members.
Andrew Loza, who left the church in the early 1990s, said he was barred from attending his own father’s funeral in 2011. He drove to the cemetery with his wife and children, a pair of binoculars in tow because he didn’t expect much. But his wife convinced him he should try.
His wife and children got out of the car, approached the deacons and asked if they and Loza could attend. They were turned away. Loza said his family came back to the car crying for him. They finally understood how powerful the shunning was at Golden Dawn, a church that 20 former members have called a “cult.” The church's formal name is Tabernaculo Emanuel.
“That funeral incident opened eyes for them, which allowed me to process,” Loza said. “Like yeah, that is deeply, deeply wrong in every way possible, knowing that that was my dad.”
The pastor of the church, Isaac Noriega, said Loza is lying. Noriega said Loza was separate from his family, and his wife and children shook Loza's mother's hand. Noriega said Loza's brother was the one who asked him to leave.
Samuel Silva had been out of the church for about a year and a half when his grandfather died in March 2020, he said. The service, like most Golden Dawn funerals, was at South Lawn Cemetery, 5401 S. Park Ave.
Silva decided to attend, he said, even though he had become one of his family’s “black sheep.” He drove there, leaving his fiancée in their parked car.
“I was dressed in a suit. It was how I used to dress. The only thing different is, I had a mustache,” Silva said.
Facial hair is frowned upon in Golden Dawn.
“I was standing with one of my cousins, who was part of the black sheep. We were standing a distance away,” he said.
“The funeral director came up to me and said ‘They want you to leave.’ I was like, ‘Me?’ ‘Yeah, they want you to leave.’"
Other family members protested his expulsion, Silva said, but he left.
“Regardless of how my parents disowned me and turned their back on me, I still wanted to respect their wishes. It was my dad’s dad. If they wanted me to leave, then I’m going to respect it.”
“To me, it was really humiliating. It was really hard.”
Former Golden Dawn member Robert Avila, 41, said he couldn’t attend the funeral services for either of his grandparents on his mother’s side. Neither could his mom or siblings.
When his grandfather passed away in 2020, likely from COVID-19, Golden Dawn kept his funeral a secret, he said. When Avila’s grandmother died in March 2024, they weren’t welcome at the funeral then either.
His mother tried to attend, but church members wouldn’t let her into the funeral service, Avila said.
He said he’s angry that the church stole time with his grandparents away from him. He saw them maybe once or twice over more than 30 years because his grandparents were afraid of Pastor Noriega, he said.
“I’m 41 years old, and I’m still traumatized,” Avila said. “I loved my grandparents so much and I was never able to see them.”
A former funeral director at South Lawn Cemetery, which arranges Golden Dawn’s funerals, said Noriega and deacons never put up a physical barrier to prevent people from attending funeral services. But she said there were other ways church leaders limited attendance.
“Everyone there was definitely congregation people,” the former funeral director said. “I don’t think they made an opportunity for outsiders to come.”
The funeral director asked to have her name shielded because she wasn’t sure what information she was contractually allowed to share about her former job. She helped run about 20 Golden Dawn funerals over 12 years before leaving in 2021.
Part of her job was to sit through the entire funeral arrangement discussion, during which Noriega or a church deacon was almost always present.
Noriega typically advised families against publishing obituaries or service times online or in the newspaper due to cost, she said. Sometimes they discussed not wanting certain people to attend, or Noriega would comment that he didn’t want the service “to be bigger than it needs to be,” the former director said. She said the implication was that church outsiders were not welcome.
The funeral services were always private, so if anyone called to ask for event details, South Lawn staff were obligated not to say when funerals were happening, the former director said. They deferred to the family. Staff never shared false information, but sometimes they could tell church outsiders had been misled.
“There were definitely calls of, ‘I’m trying to have flowers delivered for (the funeral) service on Thursday.’ And we can plainly see that the service is on Wednesday. But it’s a private service, so I can’t tell you that,” she said. “I can’t tell you that you’re off by an entire day.
“There’s always so much underneath any family dynamic that we’re never going to get to understand in the hours that we sit with them,” she added. “So you kind of have to chalk it up to, ‘I don’t know what this family went through. I don’t know why they don’t want this person here. But I have to respect (it).’
“But you definitely feel like, ‘I really hope it’s not his son.’ Or, ‘I really hope it’s not their daughter that can’t come to say bye to their Mom and Dad.'”
Noriega said in an email that the families “make their own decisions on who they want to be in attendance for funeral services.”
But the former funeral director said there was a subtle deference to Noriega on everything from flowers to the ceremony to the casket.
“A lot of it very much felt like, let’s not let this person down,” she said. “Let’s not disappoint Noriega. ... Let’s let him lead us.”
“This was definitely a religious figure that was making decisions with and on behalf of the family.”