by Rev. Dr. Marilyn Sewell

A sermon given December 2, 2001

First Unitarian Church

Portland, Oregon

CALL TO WORSHIP

Good morning!  Welcome!  Our church is a place of worship, a community of caring. Whoever you are and what ever brought you here today, may your thirst be satisfied.  Come now, and let us worship together.

I’m in the airport at Mexico City, rolling my little black suitcase up and down the ticket counters, trying to find the group from Global Exchange, the organization that’s taking me to Cuba.  Yes, there they are! All kinds of people, all ages, unclassifiable, except that they look as if they might be at home at, say, a demonstration.  There are about 70 of us.  And there’s our guide—she must be all of 23, a tiny brunette in jeans, waving a clipboard with a lot of energy and authority.

We are supposed to leave at 3:00 p.m., but after three abortive attempts we take off at last at 6:00 in the morning, dead tired—but the brilliant reds and oranges that streak the morning sky promise all that we have been waiting for, the color, the joy that is Cuba.

We’re on the ground!  We’re in Cuba!  We go through customs with not a hitch and then climb on the buses that Global Exchange has provided for us.  As we drive down the highway, I notice something strange—there are hardly any cars on the road.  There is little gasoline, our guide explains.  And the cars themselves!  Back to the fifties, with lots of wings and fins and chrome—Cuban roads and city streets are one long parade of gorgeous antique cars.  Cubans bicycle and walk along their highways, as well as drive—there are not that many cars, to endanger anyone.

Another thing that we immediately notice—no KFCs, no Taco Bells, no, not even a single Golden Arch to be seen.  There is no advertising.  There is nothing for sale in Cuba.  And I was planning to shop!  Well, it’s not quite true that there’s nothing for sale.  People can buy the necessities from government stores, with their pesos.  If they are lucky enough to have dollars, maybe sent by American relatives, there are dollar stores where fancier goods can be found. 

I should explain that Cuba has a dual economy—the peso economy and the dollar economy.  Most people in Cuba (70%) live with the peso economy and are very poor—their personal ration consists of monthly allocations of rice, beans, a few eggs, maybe one piece of meat a month, plus milk for children and pregnant women.  If they want cheese or chicken, they must go to the dollar store, or to the black market. Since 1994, farmers have been allowed to sell fresh vegetables and meat at farmer’s markets, but a pound of pork might cost, say, 40 pesos, which would be almost 1/3 of a technician’s monthly salary.  The people have taken to farming on any bare lot in the city—30,000 of them in Havana alone.

This dual economy has made for some strange working arrangements:  people in the tourist industry are paid in dollars, and so a chamber maid might make more than a surgeon.  In fact, one day a group of four of us decided to leave the bus and hop a taxi to another place, and when we began chatting with the taxi driver, he told us that he was an orthropedic surgeon, by trade.  Our Cuban guide Carlos was a Ph.D. in English, formerly a university professor.  I remember he said to a busload of us, “You know, you are not seeing the real Cuba.  To do this, you must go and stay with a family living in the peso economy.”  Cubans blame their extreme poverty and lack of medical supplies on the embargo by the U.S.  They don’t hate us, but they hate the policies of our country.

Why has Fidel Castro allowed this dual economy, which clearly defeats his intention of economic equality?  After the successful revolution in which the corrupt Batista was thrown out of power, Castro gradually instituted radical reforms:  he gave 250,000 peasants ownership of their land.  Tensions between Cuba and the U. S. rose, for our government could see that more socialist policies were coming.  The big U.S. oil compnaies stopped fuel shipments to Cuba.  In response, Castro expropriated the Esso, Shell and Texaco refineries.  Eisenhower chose to suspend  purchases of Cuban sugar.  Castro retaliated by nationalizing the sugar companies.  Our government then expanded the blockade to all products, including food and medicine.

Cuba was really forced at this point to accept economic assistance from the Soviet Union.  With this help, Castro managed amazing reforms.  In 1961, one Cuban in six could not read or write.  The rate of illiteracy now is virtually zero.  In 1959, infant mortality stood at about 40 infant deaths per 1,000 live births.  Reform of health services brought that down to 7 deaths per 1,000 births, the highest of all developing countries and higher than the 1999 figure of 8.3 for the U.S.  Cuba’s ratio of 5.3 doctors to every 1,000 citizens is the highest in the world.  Cuba’s medical system is famous throughout the world.  And in Cuba, health care and education are free to everyone. 

But in spite of these remarkable reforms, Cuba became too dependent on the Soviet Union.  Cuba gave the Soviets sugar, and in exchange the Soviet Union gave Cuba 130 million barrels of oil per year, the surplus which Cuba sold on world markets.  The regime had not magaged to diversify the economy, and after the Communist block crumbled in 1989, Cuba suddenly began losing 4-5 billion dollars in annual subsidies.  Castro launched a program of economic measures called “the special period,” and there was severe rationing of food, comsumer goods, fuel, and electricity.  Once again, after 30 years, hunger returned to Cuba.  Carlos, the guide I spoke of, is a man who stands about 6’ 2”, and he said that he was sick almost all the time during the “special period” because he had only 1800 calories a day to live on. 

So why did Castro allow a market economy to get a foothold in Cuba?  Because that was the only way to survive, and he wanted to save the essential  accomplishments of the Revolution, which are universal education and universal health care.  Small businesses are now being created—plumbers, mechanics, taxi drivers.  And foreign investment is encouraged, especially in the tourism industry, with high-rise hotels going up on the beach front.  Tourism is a huge industry now, with visitors from Canada, Latin America, Italy, France, and increasingly, the United States. 

It should be said that Fidel Castro did not characterize himself as a Marxist Communist until he was forced to go to the Russians for aid.  His political journey is fascinating.  After a he led a failed attack on a military barracks in Santiago in 1953, most of the 120 armed men were either killed outright or taken prisoner, tortured, and then killed.  I visited the Museum of the Revolution and saw the torture instruments and the pictures of the dead and tortured rebels.  Castro and a few others, including his brother Raul, were jailed and brought to trial.  Castro defended himself in his famous speech “History Will Absolve Me,” which was about 3 hours long.  In the speech he exposed the evils of the Batista regime and set forth a vision for the future.  He speaks of farm laborers living in miserable shacks with no land of their own, workers whose retirement has been embezzled, small business owners weighted down with graft and venal officials.  He speaks of hungry children and lack of health care.  He never once mentions Marxism or Communism, but speaks only of the Revolution, an ideal in which Cubans still believe, a vision which supports them during their hardships. The speech is eloquent, brilliant.  He was 26 years old when he delivered it.

The Revolution itself was an amazing phenomenon.  Castro made his next attempt in 1956 when he and his men, including Che Guevara (the martyred hero, who died fighting in Boliva and whose picture is everywhere in Cuba), boarded the Granma, a small yacht, and attempted a military landing.  The Granma ran aground, the Cuban army attacked, and only twelve rebels survived.  Fidel, hidden in a sugar cane field with only two companions, claimed victory.  Castro was nothing if not optimistic.  He slowly built up his rebel forces once more, and with little military equipment—he turned a tractor into a tank—he and his men overthrew the army.  The common people supported him, and they still do.  When the people heard that Batista was gone, they celebrated in the streets.  In Havana, the people tore down the slot machines and gambling tables of the Mafia—who were more or less running the city—and they left.  No longer would Havana be a weekend playhouse where wealthy Americans could gamble, drink mojitas, and hire prostitutes.

My visit to Cuba was brief—just 7 days in the country.  But during that time, Cuban guides led us into many, many fascinating experiences.  We saw the colorful dances of the practitioners of the Santeria, an Afro-Cuban religion, part Yoruba, part Catholic.  We went to a clinic and had a dialogue with the doctor in charge.  One visitor asked the doctor how Cubans now treated homosexuals, knowing how in the past, they were ill treated.  He said, “We believe that homosexuality is simply an alternative way to express one’s sexuality.”  We know that there is much less repression now than in the 1960’s. 

We visited a co-operative farm and were offered a bounty of fresh fruit, some of which I could not identify, and also cups of vegetable soup from a huge steaming vat and a coconut with the top sliced off, to drink from.  Cuba now leads the world in techniques of sustainable agriculture.  Without gas to run tractors, without fertilizer, they had to learn new ways.  One of the farmers and I planted a small eucalyptus tree together, as a gesture of friendship.

I went to Old Havana on January 1, which is the day they celebrate the Revolution.  The plaza was almost empty when I arrived, but soon filled with people.  Music was everywhere, as it is in Cuba, guitars and singing, and joy was in the air. 

I walked the streets alone.  I was never afraid, for women can walk pretty much anywhere alone.  Havana is filled with some of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen—Spanish Colonial buildings, many of which are now crumbling to dust.  Some of the better ones are being renovated, but the Cubans simply don’t have the paint or other materials to repair most of these buildings.  It is truly a tragic loss.

I didn’t buy much in Cuba, as I said—try as I would, shopper that I am—because there’s really nothing much to buy.  It’s not a commercial society.  Cubans do, however, sell their mostly second-hand books in outdoor stalls.  I bought some books, and I was chatting with the book seller and an American lawyer.  The lawyer said, “Let me buy you two a beer,” and the book seller said, “No, let me buy.  I’ve already sold $70 worth of books, and it’s only mid-afternoon.”  That, of course, is more than Cuban workers make in a month from their government jobs.

One of our most interesting trips was to the suburbs of Havana for a visit to one of the Committees for Defense of the Revolution, or CDRs.  These neighborhood groups are everywhere, and they are a kind of combination PTA, neighborhood watch, and spy team—at least, that was my interpretation.  We crowded into a large room that was the meeting house for the local CDR.  The leader of the group began explaining the function of the CDRs, and ended with the statement, “And of course we’re always on the lookout for anti-revolutionary activity.”  I raised my hand and asked, “And what would anti-revolutionary activity consist of?”  A silence, a very loud silence, fell over the group.  The leader thought carefully and then said, “Well, if a driver brings milk to the children, and someone steals milk from the truck, that would be anti-revolutionary activity.”  No one could argue with that.  But could someone write and publish a satirical poem about Castro?

Each day was packed with activity.  I went on a trip to the Bay of Pigs, took salsa lessons, and went to two artists’ studios, where I was able to purchase some examples of Cuban art.  The event I enjoyed most was a concert by Pablo Manales, the most popular singer in all of Cuba.  After the concert, I wanted to buy a CD, but of course there were none for sale.  The Cubans could learn something from us about creating an opportunity to make money!  Then I tried to buy this same CD at the airport just before I left the country.  I was determined to shop in Cuba!  I tried to use my credit card, which didn’t float with the Cuban clerk.  In fact, there was no way to get cash once you were there, so you had to carry all your cash around with you for the whole trip.  I finally dug up my last $15 and got the CD. 

There have been trade-offs for the benefits to the Cuban people, and one certainly would be that only the Communist party is legal, and Castro is in for life, though town and district officials are elected by the people, I believe.  Cuba has been cited often for human rights abuses.  In March of 1999, for example, the Cuban government condemned four dissidents to heavy prison sentences for demanding greater democracy in a publication entitled “The Homeland Belongs to Us All.”  I could not live in Cuba myself, because of the lack of personal freedom.  I was complaining about this at dinner one evening and a retired history professor from our group reminded me that Cuba is only 90 miles from the greatest military power in the world, and that the CIA has made multiple attempts to assassinate Castro, plus has tried out amazing schemes to harm and discredit the government.  When a country feels threatened, civil rights begin to go, as we have seen in our own country.

I love the warmth and joy and humor and sensuality of the Cuban people, and I admire the social progress they have made in the last 40 years—it has been almost miraculous.  In spite of our embargo.  I wish we would lift the embargo and then see what would happen.  No longer could we be blamed for failures in their economy, and perhaps we could see if this social experiment really does work.  When Castro dies, who knows what will happen—but everyone agrees that there will be change, for Castro has held things together not just by social policy but by his personal vision and charisma.

There is so, so much I didn’t say and can’t say this morning because of time constraints.  But I do want to ask the question, “If we had a revolution, what would it look like?”

Let’s go fifty years into the future.  By then, I’ll be—well, dead—and my children will be elderly.  My grandson will be middle-aged.  What kind of world will they see?   To begin with, the world over, citizens will share fundamental understandings about how the earth functions and how to sustain it.  The United Nations will have gained power to lead and to police when necessary, and peace will prevail.  People still refer to the WTO march in Seattle, for it was a turning point.  Because people all over the world have turned to the streets in protest, trade laws among nations have taken into account the needs of workers and the preservation of the environment.

In the U.S., a radical campaign finance reform bill will have been passed, the result of dramatic citizen protest.  Congress will provide public funding for election campaigns, and will require media to provide free broadcast time for all qualified candidates.  Corporate welfare as we know it has been ended, and concentrations of corporate power have been broken up.  Education is free, as is health care.  Low income housing will be adequate so that all our citizens will have a place to live. Those who can work will earn enough to take care of their needs.  Those who can’t will have a safety net.  Charity will become a thing of the past, a social dinosaur, for justice will be the watchword of the day.

Well, that’s a beginning, anyway.  Who said we can’t dream big?  I’m wondering one thing, though, when I consider Castro’s revolution and ours.  Actually my son Madison suggested this question to me when I returned from Cuba.  He said, “You know, Mom, you can’t have freedom and justice.  And if I have to choose, I’ll choose freedom.”  Is he right?  Can we have freedom and justice? 

That, my friends, will take a profound spiritual revolution, for then we will learn that the strong and the weak are one, that we cannot be divided from one another and survive as a people.  That consciousness can be born—but if and only if the people understand that it must.  This revolution will not chiefly come from government, nor from business, but from the third sector, the voluntary or non-profit sector of which this church is a significant part.  This is the sector in which Americans have always developed and finally insisted upon the kind of broader good, the kind of public-mindedness that often runs counter to the profit-seeking of the business sector and the self-interest of the political sector.  This third sector offers a place for all people—marginalized people, ordinary middle-class citizens, and the wealthy—to re-think our values and to act out of the conclusions that serve the greater good. 

This revolution has always been in process, of course, but perhaps what has been missing is intentionality—the gestalt, the focus, that will let us see our non-profit work as a revolution, and the most significant kind, for in changing the consciousness of a people, counter-revolution or regression is less likely to happen.

The suffering of so many, the suffering in our own lives, which is for many of us a kind of spiritual, moral suffering, makes us ripe for change.  Our revolution will be a spiritual/cultural one that brings a shift in consciousness, the same moral force that ended slavery, that forbade child labor, that changed mental health treatment.  The spark of the divine in each of us, and in the collective body of us, if allowed to flourish, if given a place, can revolutionize our world.

So be it.  Amen.

PRAYER

Spirit of Life, we see needs around us, and feel them within, and yet these complex problems leave us confused and uncertain.  We need clarity, we need true wisdom, and most of all, we need caring hearts.  We are laying the groundwork for what will be.  Help us to understand how significant that work is.  May we pass on to the next generations a kinder, a more sane, world than we have known.

BENEDICTION

Go now and dream, dream large, and begin to create the world you would have it be for your children and your children’s children and to generations unknown, to follow.

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Copyright 2001, Rev. Dr. Marilyn Sewell.  All rights reserved.