Anglican Communion News Service

The yellow stucco church stood on a corner. A tall man strode out from under a tree. He hailed us. We stopped the car and I noticed the ragged T-shirt hanging on his thin frame.

"Donde esta el sacerdote (where is the priest)?" I asked.
"Soy yo," he said in a gravelly voice. "It's me."

This, it turned out, was Reynaldo Torres Deroncele, former high-voltage electrician and lay reader of the Church of Santa Maria since 1941. (I later learned that Cuban lay readers carry many of the same responsibilities and think of themselves as priests.)

The translator hurriedly explained that I was an Anglican journalist from Canada hoping to write about the work of the church in Cuba. Reynaldo eagerly offered himself to be interviewed.

To many Canadians, the existence of the Anglican - or, in this case, Episcopalian church in Cuba - comes as a surprise. But there is a rich and lengthy history of Anglicanism in Cuba, stemming from three different sources. One dates back to 1871 and a chance visit by an American bishop who had planned to go to Haiti. Back in the United States he recruited a missionary for Cuba, and a ministry for non-Roman Catholic foreigners in Cuba was born.

More significant to the church's growth was the contribution of Cuban patriots, exiled to the United States during Spanish Colonial rule who, as lay readers, established congregations when they returned to their homeland. Later, a large influx of Anglicans from the Antilles brought their religious practice, and worshipped in English. This group is now dwindling in size, as most Cuban Episcopalians worship in Spanish and are blending a rich mix of Cuban and Spanish translations of Jamaican Anglican music into their worship.

For about 28 years, the revolutionary government in Cuba severely curbed church life by banning practising Christians from membership in the Communist party. No party membership, no job. Pews emptied, baptisms were rare, church marriages non-existent - and for some time, only the calls of birds and the voices of a few courageous parishioners were heard at worship.

In 1991, however, President Fidel Castro removed restrictions on religious practice. Meanwhile, the United States' blockade of Cuba and the collapse of the country's primary trading partner, the Soviet Union, were causing serious shortages of food and medical supplies.

With its government's estrangement from the United States, Cuba's Anglican church turned to Canada for help and support. The Canadian church, through its Partners in Mission program, donated $18,200 to help the work of Anglican churches in the Diocese of Cuba in 1997. There is now a strong and affectionate bond between the two churches. Primate Michael Peers is president of the Episcopal Metropolitan Council of Cuba and takes a lively interest in its activities.

Reynaldo escorted us around the church, posed for pictures in the back garden and then led us to a tiny office. Since there was no place for him to sit, the interpreter stood for more than two hours while Reynaldo told the story of his beloved church, touchstone of his life for nearly 60 years.

He became involved, he said, after a priest collared him for throwing stones at the church. At 18, he became a lay reader and has been with the church ever since.

Now that people are coming back, Reynaldo said, much of Santa Maria's focus is on the jovenes - the young people. Members of the 36-strong youth group are regular blood donors, have a roof-repair squad for the elderly and carry out hospital visiting. The group would be even larger, Reynaldo said, but mandatory military service takes many of them away during the week. But so attached are they to Santa Maria that they return on weekends in uniform.

After church, Reynaldo continued, parishioners feed the neighbourhood children, "when we have food…milk, boiled bananas, yucca and sweet potatoes."

Food is rationed in Cuba. Each person gets about two kilograms of rice, and about 2.5 kilograms of sugar, kidney beans and peas a month. Children under seven get a litre of milk a day. Vitaminosis is less common than it was when the Soviet Union first withdrew from Cuba, but it still occurs.

And the money to pay for the food?

"From the collection plate," said Reynaldo. I marvel, since the average Cuban makes about US $10 (or 200 pesos) a month, and the neighbourhood of Santa Maria is poor. But Cubans share freely with one another. When one has, one gives - even if it means going short a week later.

"Five years ago, I preached on Sunday to maybe five people," Reynaldo said. Now there is a congregation of 204 and a 21-voice choir with two directors.

Reynaldo speaks directly into the tape recorder. "But many more come ... many more," he said.

We break for lunch. When I return, the children's Bible-study group, dressed in their very best, is waiting. Reynaldo has changed his shirt. The women who lead the group warmly introduce themselves in Spanish and tell me the church needs clothes, shoes, medicine.

I'm invited into the final circle, where we hold hands and sing. Reynaldo draws two small boys, shoeless and shirtless, off the street to have their picture taken. I know he is doing this because they show the need in the neighbourhood.

We pose with the boys, the Bible school and a young woman from the youth group, and I reflect on how lucky I was that I was directed to Santa Maria. "Jane, come back again," said Reynaldo, as he gives me a hug. We drive away from the church, from the heart of the neighbourhood.

I can't help thinking this would be a great congregation for a Canadian Anglican group to "twin" with. They have a lot to teach us. At any rate, barring death and taxes, I'11 go back - for certain.

Article from: Anglican Journal of Canada - by Jane Davidson