"Reflections on Cuba" by Rev. Jillian Hankamer 6/29/2025

A sermon for Northminster Church

            As I’ve considered the best way to reflect on Cuba, or at least my experience of it, the word that kept coming to mind was paradox. As a reminder, one of the definitions of a paradox is something “that is seemingly contradictory or opposed to common sense and yet is perhaps true.” Let me give you an example of what I mean.

We all know Cuba is 90 miles off the coast of Florida. I think most Americans, if we know nothing else about the island, know that. So Cuba is closer to our country than my mom is from me here in Monroe to her home in Longview, Texas. And yet, flying to Cuba is an international flight. The shortest international flight I’ve ever taken!

One other thing Americans likely know about Cuba is that it’s a communist country. Maybe you feel differently, but my gut reaction to communism and visiting a communist country is fear. And distrust. And while you do see government regulations and the practical effects of communism when you’re in Cuba, the people on the whole aren’t communist sympathizers waiting to indoctrinate people. They’re just people who are working, trying to feed their families, and trying to survive.

Another paradox is the food. I’ve had Cuban food in this country on several occasions that was delicious. Both in Atlanta and on Calle Ocho in Miami, the food was flavorful, sometimes spicy, and a real treat. Cuban food in Cuba is not a treat. It’s plain, filling, and often needs salt. Many of the things we think of as staples have to be obtained on the black market, which, as I understand it, is not so much a nefarious network but a necessity.

When we were in Cuba, we ate better than I’m sure most Cubans regularly do because of the high standard of Cuban hospitality. But in every instance that food was ha, it was shared around a table. That might sound silly, that we sat at a table to eat together, but how many of us gather around a table, without some sort of distraction, every day for every meal? And how many of us take the time for true gratitude if we do sit down at that table to eat? I saw that gratitude at the churchwide meal we had after church on Sunday, partially because for some of the folks there, it was the first meat they’d had in months. But even if the meal had been rice and black beans - a Cuban staple - the gathering would have been joyful.

That’s the most striking paradox I want to communicate to you. Cuba is a difficult place to live. The people do without so much that we consider necessities, like toilet seats and paper, drugstores with full shelves, consistent and affordable transportation, and even salt for rice and beans. And yet I’ve never met kinder, more loving people than those at our sister church. Which, of course, sounds like the kind of thing you’re supposed to say in church about another church, particularly in a country as poor as Cuba. But please understand me, this is not me being paternalistic or patronizing to those poor, sad people in Cuba who need our help. Does Iglesia Manuel benefit from our monetary gifts? Of course they do. As does the wider Ciego de Avila community. But is their love and affection for us or each other based on money and what we can do for them? Not for a second.

That’s the legacy of our relationship with Iglesia Manuel, which was designed from the beginning to be a friendship, a partnership, a family, not a short-term mission project. We don’t go to Cuba to build a building or lead a camp for their children, though we certainly would if they asked. We go to Cuba, we support our Cuban siblings because they’re our friends, our family in Christ, and we have a relationship with them that’s more important than any financial support or form of government. 

That’s perhaps the most striking paradox of all when I think of Cuba. Because for so long I didn’t think of Cuba. Despite being so close, I didn’t know much about Cuba beyond its proximity and learning about the Bay of Pigs Invasion and Fidel Castro in history classes. But to visit Cuba is to fall in love with Cuba’s people even as your heart is broken by the challenges they face both on the island and in international relationships. To get to know Cuban people is to be embraced - literally, the church folks at Iglesia Manuel are the best huggers I’ve ever encountered - by a people and culture who take such good care of each other that even with all they struggle against, homelessness simply doesn’t exist in Cuba.

And to take part in Northminster’s relationship with our siblings in Christ at Iglesia Manuel is not to fix a problem for them or give to them out of our incredible generosity. Taking part in the relationship we have with our Cuban siblings is being embraced and loved by people who sincerely want to know us for who we are. Who mean it when they say they’re praying for us. Who are grateful for our financial support, but so much more so for our friendship.

And to take part in this relationship with our Cuban siblings is to sit at the table, over the blandest bowl of rice and black beans, and not care a bit about what you're eating or how long the meal takes or even how much food you have. Because even with the language barrier, the Spirit of God hovers over that table. The Spirit infuses any conversation that can be made. And if you pay attention, you can feel the rightness, the necessity, the pure joy of being in the company of those with whom we have the most important connection - the one which is found in the heart of God and the message and example of Christ.