Storytelling is the key to achieving that connection, he said. Each volunteer is expected to tell voters a story about a person he or she loves — and listen to the voter tell a similar story. In a role-playing exercise, Mr. Barbanel-Fried talked about his 93-year-old father, who read history books to him when he was young. “He really taught me that history doesn’t just happen and isn’t just a random series of dates you have to memorize, but that they’re a series of choices that people make,” he said. “This year, when I vote, I’m thinking about my father.”

After the volunteers divided into subgroups to practice their own stories, each was given a two-page script. Canvassers were to begin by asking voters what they would say to President Trump if given the opportunity. Then, after acknowledging that they usually vote Democratic, they were to ask voters to rate their likely voting preference on a scale of zero (for unwaveringly Republican) to 10 (steadfastly Democratic).

Then came the personal story. “Try to use the word LOVE,” the script advised. After the voter told his or her own story, the canvasser was to note how the voter’s values seemed to conflict with those of the president, who, they would say, “appeals to the worst human tendencies.” At the end, the canvasser was to ask the voter to again rate her or his preference on the zero to 10 scale.

Some volunteers said they thought that talking about love was corny or too personal. Mr. Barbanel-Fried insisted that it was critical to connecting. There is a group of Trump loyalists whose votes can’t be affected, he said, “but there are people whose values we share, and we’re trying to show them that there’s a cognitive dissonance in their lives” between their love of people and their support for Mr. Trump. “We need to lead with love, not hate.” He ended by encouraging people to sign up for the December canvass in Bucks County.

Each of the 30 people, including some local residents, who did show up was given a list of people from across the political spectrum with spotty voting histories. I accompanied Cindi Sternfeld, a 58-year-old psychotherapist living in nearby Lambertville, N.J. She told me that she had been canvassing since she was 18 and had found deep canvassing more effective than the traditional kind. “I like canvassing that advances the discussion,” she said. “Being angry is not the answer because it pushes people away.”

At her designated neighborhood, she found stately three- and four-bedroom homes on spacious lots. After a string of unopened doors, Ms. Sternfeld spotted one of her target voters standing in his driveway, preparing to put up Christmas lights with his daughter. Tall and lanky, with closely-cropped hair, James genially returned our greeting.

“I’m usually Republican, but I go by the candidate,” he said. In the last presidential election he wanted change, and Mr. Trump seemed more likely to deliver it. He said he had a Trump sign in his garage. A neighbor had a sign saying, “Hate Has No Home Here.” James asked his neighbor if she hated Mr. Trump, and she said yes. “Then why do you have that sign?” he asked. Because of such encounters, James said, he would rate himself a two or three on the zero to 10 scale.