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A Closed Parenthesis
Three years after a historic papal visit, which seemed likely to transform Church-state
relations, Cuban Catholics are suffering a renewal of the old repression.
By Kristina Arriaga de Bucholz
“I was wrong.” Those are the first words of Franciscan friar Miguel Angel Loredo when asked about the long-term effects of the Pope’s visit to Cuba. He was one of many enthusiastic Cuban priests who had predicted that the pilgrimage by Pope John Paul II would ignite dramatic changes. But now Father Loredo concedes: “There has been little improvement in Church-state relations since the Pope’s visit three years ago.”
The Franciscan priest, who was born in Cuba but is now based in New York, has been an ardent advocate of freedom for Cuba. In April 1966 he was arrested in his church in Cuba. He was taken to the forced labor camps on Isla de Pinos and put to work in the quarries. One morning the guards pulled him out of the group with which he was working, and—just because he was a priest—stripped him and began beating him with bayonets. Unconscious and bleeding from his mouth and nose, he was sent back to the prison, where he would spend ten more years. His plight was carefully documented in Against All Hope, a best-selling account of life in Fidel Castro’s gulags written by Armando Valladares.
Three years ago Father Loredo traveled to Rome to witness an audience between the Holy Father and the man who was responsible for his torture. “I enjoyed watching Fidel Castro meet with the Pope,” said Father Loredo in 1997. “I think this was a great victory for His Holiness.” Today, Father Loredo says, the Vatican is deeply upset about the latest developments on Castro’s island nation. “There is as much or more repression than before his visit,” he explains.
Limited access
“It is as if those five days in January 1998 were an opened and closed parenthesis,” says Orlando Marquez, editor of Palabra Nueva, a publication of the Archdiocese of Havana. “The Church faces almost all the same difficulties it faced in the past, including lack of priests, no access to the media, and an inability to access or distribute educational materials.”
Palabra Nueva, for instance, is a compilation of photocopied articles, paginated by hand by volunteers. When it started in 1992, 1,500 copies were distributed. “It now distributes 10,300 copies,” Marquez reports. Yet in spite of the publication’s growth, the Cuban government still enforces a resolution that prevents any Cuban or joint enterprise (except those with specific authorization from the government) from selling computers, facsimile machines, photocopiers, or other equipment to any church, except at the exorbitant “official” prices dictated by the government. So Palabra Nueva struggles along with outdated equipment that effectively limits the number of copies in circulation. The editor says: “It is difficult to tell how many people read it, for I often see patients in the hospitals we visit reading tattered old versions that have been passed around several times.”
It is also difficult to tell many other things about the Church in Cuba. By Marquez’ own admission, the Church is unable to keep track of how many people attend Church or receive the sacraments. Even if Church attendance increases, congregations are unstable because of the large number of parishioners who apply for exit visas. Most priests who are contacted directly do not speak to reporters. Telephone communication between the US and Cuba, which has normally been difficult and prohibitively expensive, as of December 15 became simply impossible. The government of Cuba, citing an international disagreement on telephone tariff increases, decided to cut all direct or indirect phone access between Cuba and the United States. The Church has no access to TV or radio programs except for the 10-minute address Cardinal Jaime Ortega has been allowed to give regularly on the nation’s classical-music station since 1998.
One deep breath of fresh air
During the nearly four decades that he has ruled Cuba, Castro has made only one exception to his policy of denying access to the media for the Church. At the insistence of the Vatican, the Cuban government agreed to broadcast all of the papal Masses during his visit. So after some tough negotiations, on January 21, 1998, a visibly emotional Pontiff arrived in Havana for a 5-day visit that was meant to revitalize a Church that had been nearly buried by repression and scarcity. In spite of the heat and humidity and the risk of persecution by a government that had brutally tortured and systematically murdered countless Catholics in the past, hundreds of thousands of Cubans gathered to welcome the Pope and listen to his message.
The Pope’s opening remarks moved many Cubans—both on the island and in exile—to tears:
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I well know how much you have looked forward to the moment of my visit, and you know how much I have desired it. Therefore my best wishes are joined in the prayer that this land may offer to everyone a climate of freedom, mutual trust, social justice, and lasting peace. May Cuba, with all its magnificent potential, open itself up to the world, and may the world open itself to Cuba, so that this people, which is working to make progress and which longs for concord and peace, may look to the future with hope.
The effect of this period of freedom, according to many witnesses, was palpable. “I stood with the masses in the streets of Havana and at every one of the papal Masses and witnessed incredible joy in the people around me,” said Ondina Menocal, the founder of a Catholic exiles’ group called CRECED. She continued:
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What became evident for many people was what the Church had always thought. Faith had not disappeared; it had been in hiding because of fear or because of prejudice, but it was still alive.
The Pope’s message, and Castro’s
The Pope’s message was clear. He spoke of freedom, the family, youth, and the need for reconciliation and solidarity. On January 24, 1998, the Pope visited the first Cuban diocese, Santiago de Cuba, where the outspoken and persecuted Bishop Pedro Meurice introduced him. In his introduction, Bishop Meurice pronounced what many have termed the most courageous and most critical words spoken against the regime since the early 1960s. Before a crowd of 500,000 Cubans—including General Raul Castro, brother of Fidel Castro and second in command in the Cuban political and military hierarchy—the bishop stated: “This is a noble people and also a people that suffer. This is a people... that is every day more affected by foreign interests, and suffers from a culture of selfishness, due to a difficult moral and economic crisis.” Bishop Meurice went on to explain that Cubans “needed to demystify false messianisms”—an obvious reference to Castroism. Alluding to the totalitarian nature of the Communist government, he lamented that his people had been denied their God-given freedom of “association and participation in civil society.”
In the homily that followed, the Pope emphasized that:
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True freedom . . . includes the recognition of human rights and social justice. In this regard, lay Catholics holding to their specific role as lay persons . . . have the duty and the right to participate in the public debate on the basis of equality and in an attitude of dialogue and reconciliation.
More pastoral services
Something else also lingered after the Pontiff’s visit, according to at least one priest based in Miami. Father Francisco Santana, from the Sanctuary of the Ermita de la Caridad argues that the presence of the Church in Cuba has been much more visible since those days in January 1998. Although Father Santana admits that the Church-state relationship has not improved, he argues that there have been internal improvements within the Church herself, and these improvements may spur other gradual changes.
For instance, in preparation for the Pope’s pilgrimage, representatives of the Church visited thousands of homes, distributing copies of the Gospel and speaking to Cubans about the pastoral meaning of the papal trip. “Three years after the Pope’s visit, the Church has continued in that role,” adds Father Santana.
The Church has also been allowed to hold a limited number of religious processions. In September 1999 the government allowed Catholics to stage an outdoor procession to mark the feast day of Our Lady of Charity in Havana. Although visibly present on the scene, state security personnel did not harass any participants or observers, according to the US State Department’s annual report on Cuba. In the year 2000 “there have been at least 50 processions throughout the island,” reports Orlando Marquez of Palabra Nueva. Still, the US State Department report indicates that dissidents have been warned not to participate in these processions. Also, Marquez remarks, “at times the permit for a religious procession is denied for no apparent reason.”
“The Church has also continued in her mission to provide assistance and medicines,” says Father Santana. In Havana, for instance, Father Fernando de la Vega runs a meal program for people with AIDS. He explains his ministry: “There are no medical treatments for people with AIDS in Cuba, all we can do is try to feed these people, give them vitamins, and try to give them spiritual hope.”
The influence of Santeria
Father Santana also hopes that the Church will be able to teach the basic tenets of Catholicism to the many Cubans who have adopted the mix of traditional African religions, native superstitions, and ill understood Catholicism that makes up the practice of Santeria. Santeros (the adherents of Santeria) worship African deities and make animal sacrifices, but many also attend Catholic Mass and often receive Communion.
Santeria, according to Father Santana, was born out of the need of the Cubans to be able to believe in something. Since being Catholic meant that one could not enter a university, Santana explains, many culturally Catholic Cubans opted to continue their studies, stop practicing their Catholic faith, and adopt Santeria as a religion they could practice in private. The rites of the santero and the actions of the babalao, or santero priest, have provided many exotic visions, and furnished the subject matter for many eye-catching reports about religious practice in Cuba. The Washington Post, for instance, ran a Style section article on November 20, 2000, featuring a photograph of three santeros praying before the image of Our Lady of Charity, Patroness of Cuba, in the Old Havana cathedral: an obvious mix of Santeria and cultural Catholicism.
Ondina Menocal, during her frequent trips to Cuba, has witnessed santeros, dressed in their distinctive all-white outfits, receiving Communion at local churches. But both Menocal and Father Santana view this strange mixture of faiths as an opportunity for the Church rather than simply as a problem. “These are mostly educated Cubans with a Catholic basis for their belief in Santeria,” says Father Santana. “All we have to do is purify their beliefs.”
According to Father Santana, the Cuban Church now faces an unusual opportunity for the spreading of Catholic doctrine. “There are hundreds of new ‘prayer houses’ in Cuba,” he says. “There people gather in Christian communities to pray the rosary and read the Catechism.” However, perhaps the reason that people are meeting in “prayer houses” instead of parish churches is that not a single church has been built in Cuba since 1959, and most church buildings are now in a serious state of disrepair. “I have interviewed many priests,” says Dr. Juan Clark, author of Religious Discrimination in Cuba, “who tell me up to a third of the churches in each of the dioceses have non-functioning roofs.” Even if a parish has the funds to fix the roof, the government often denies permits for repairs. And government officials regularly inspect churches to make sure that no unsanctioned repairs have been performed. In the rare event when a repair is allowed, the authorities inspect to ensure that none of the materials come from the black market.
Restrictions on priests
Another way in which the Castro government exercises its encompassing control over the Church is by choosing which priests are granted visas to enter Cuba. Not a single priest who is a Cuban exile has ever been allowed to re-enter Cuba, although according to Father Santana there are hundreds who have applied. In 1999 the government allowed about 15 foreign priests to enter the country during the year, but some visas were issued only for periods of 3 to 6 months; applications from other priests remained pending according to the State Department report. The pastoral opportunities for these foreign-born priests are limited once they do gain entry to Cuba, because the renewal of their visas is dependent on their willingness to conform their behavior to the wishes of the regime. In other words, Dr. Clark points out, the government basically tells them: “If you behave, we will not repress you as much.”
“For priests from other countries it is a difficult and long process to understand Cuban culture,” says Father Santana. Latin-American priests have an advantage insofar as they speak the (Spanish) language, but they may be handicapped in an odd way by the fact that they come from Catholic cultures, where religious processions and celebrations are allowed. “All of a sudden,” Father Santana explains, “they find themselves in a society where none of this exists.”
In April 1998 the Cuban government made this message unmistakably clear. After Father Patrick Sullivan, a Capuchin priest, gave an interview to the Boston Globe in which he criticized the human-rights situation in Cuba, his application for a visa renewal was denied. “He spoke and remained in contact with Cubans whom the government considered to be of a dissident faction,” Dr. Clark says. Father Sullivan protested in vain; he was forced to leave Cuba.
A low public profile
There is another factor clearly at work in Church-state relations in Cuba. The government does not want the Catholic Church to become an important public influence within the society. As a result, Father Santana observes, “The Church does so much, but cannot proclaim it.” For example, he says, “It irritates the government when the Church acts in her ministry to assist the poor.” Dr. Clark offers a specific example of the lengths to which the government will go to prevent the Church from gaining public recognition. He reports that recently the Dutch government offered to donate millions of dollars’ worth of powdered milk for needy Cubans, on the condition that the Catholic Church be in charge of distribution. The Cuban government turned down the donation.
Dr. Clark offers another example:
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Take the situation of the Archdiocese of Santiago de Cuba, which runs a meal program that feeds the elderly. The government got upset at the bishop, and it simply cut the Church’s gas supply. The archdiocese is cooking on log fires.
In order to dampen the religious enthusiasm that had led to a slight increase in vocations to the priesthood and religious life, last November the Cuban government issued a new law that suspends the diplomas or degrees of professionals who enter a seminary or a religious order. In recent years a number of medical doctors had entered seminaries or joined a Jesuit or Franciscan community. Under this new law, as priests or religious, these physicians would be barred from practicing their profession. Laymen under fire Laymen are also subject to harassment and persecution in Cuba. On November 21, the Fides news agency reported another episode of government-sponsored intolerance. In a high school in the Havana suburb of Aguada de Pasajeros, one of the students dropped a book, and out of it fell a holy card picturing the patroness of the island, Our Lady of Charity. The enraged teacher, Olga Lidia, tore the card to pieces and warned the students not to bring religious pictures to the school. When the parents complained, they were told that “in Cuba, education is the duty of the state and not the right of the parents.” Cuba’s best-known political prisoner is a Catholic physician. Dr. Oscar Elias Biscet Gonzales, the president of the Lawton Foundation for Human Rights, remains in jail today, having been imprisoned since November 3, 1999, after having been arrested 26 times in 16 months. During one of his arrests, on August 14, 1999, one policeman punched Biscet in the face while another crushed his burning cigarette on the doctor’s elbow. He is now serving time in the Cuba Si prison in east Havana for “instigating criminal action.” Dr. Biscet’s most serious “crime” is that he took part in an anti-abortion demonstration outside a hospital in Havana in 1999.
“There may be some improvements inside the Church in Cuba. Maybe there is a slight increase in church attendance. But for a country so desperate for radical changes, this is not enough,” says Father Loredo. “What we need to do now is to denounce the situation. The worst part of all is that we have wasted the last three years thinking something was going to change.”
“We wait for the day when the Church will be able to fulfill her mission in its entirety,” says Marquez. For Cuba, it seems, that day is not coming soon.
Kristina Arriaga de Bucholz is the Projects Director of a public-interest law firm in Washington, DC.
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