A Prelate Brilliant by Absence – Folha de S. Paulo, June 17, 1973
by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
Cruzado Español is a well-known Catholic magazine published in Barcelona. In it, I found some valuable statements by Most Rev. Eduardo Tomás Boza Masvidal, former auxiliary bishop of Havana and currently vicar general of Los Teques in Venezuela. I think it is essential to transcribe and comment on them here.
I want to reassure the reader right away. This is not one of those treacherous socialist bishops, vulgar seekers of popularity, of whom there are so many throughout the world today. Nor are the statements I am about to reproduce the kind that would shock or horrify any sensible man, Catholic or even non-Catholic.
On the contrary, the Cuban prelate is a truly brilliant figure: he shines through his very absence.
There is no irony in this statement. Let me explain.
Once Fidel Castro had torn off his mask and revealed his communist face, the Cuban episcopate was divided on how to respond. Almost all bishops chose the path of collaboration, which led them to the shameful and cheerful acceptance of the regime imposed by the bearded dictator. Only one had the courage to resist the traitor of Sierra Maestra, responsible for the executions at La Cabaña and the confiscation of all private property in Cuba. For this reason, the prelate took the lofty path of exile. Absent from Cuba, he shines in the eyes of the world precisely because of his absence. It is an affirmation of dignified nonconformity and unshakeable hope for better days for the Church and for Cuba.
Many readers are familiar with the photograph of the Cuban bishops gathered around Fidel Castro. While it is a stain on the Church’s centuries-long history, the picture has one bright spot. Bishop Boza Masvidal is not in it.
How true it is that some absences shine!
* * *
It is a very different story with Most Rev. Sergio Mendez Arceo, the infamous “red bishop” of Cuernavaca, Mexico. I need not repeat his sad saga here. Suffice it to say, for the purposes of this article, that Bishop Mendez Arceo was recently in Cuba. After a comfortable vacation on the concentration-camp island, he praised the atheist, slave-driving regime he encountered there. This prompted Bishop Boza Masvidal to send him a letter published in the Venezuelan daily La Religión. From it, Cruzado Español highlighted the following points:
“You list a series of institutions you visited, but your list does not include the prisons where tens of thousands of political prisoners live. I do not know whether you visited those prisons. Therefore, I do not know whether you were able to see the terrible conditions in which the prisoners live, especially those who refuse to be indoctrinated by Marxists.
“Nor do you say whether you visited the forced labor camps, where those seeking permission to leave Cuba must spend one or two years.
“I do not know whether you have stood in long lines for hours to get some insignificant food, nor do I know whether you have witnessed any executions.”
Naturally, Bishop Mendez Arceo would have had nothing to say in response to these bold but uncomfortable questions from Bishop Boza Masvidal. Not responding is part of the tactic of all Mendez Arceos scattered around the world, whether they are mitred, tonsured, or simple laymen.
* * *
This dignified example of Bishop Boza Masvidal and the shameful silence of Bishop Mendez Arceo prove that Cuba remains, in our day, the island-dungeon that reproduces in our hemisphere all the horrors characteristic of Nazism and communism.
This is plain for all to see, and it is astonishing that the entire Latin America—and also North America—is being swept by an intense propaganda campaign urging a resumption of relations with Cuba.
Maintaining the current blockade of the island is portrayed as a discriminatory and hateful measure, while ending the blockade is seen as a noble and generous aspiration. For example, Hector Campora, the new Argentine president, imagined he would ride a wave of popularity by immediately recognizing Fidel Castro’s government and inviting Dorticos to attend the Justicialist government’s inauguration.
Thus, generosity supposedly consists of shaking hands with the executioner and, ipso facto, consolidating his power.
Could anything be more incongruous?
Yes. The attitude of countless of our contemporaries. Although not communists, they sigh, think of something else, and continue to respect Campora and the entire Arceos clique despite this flagrant inconsistency.
They reserve all their antipathy—albeit veiled—for upright, straightforward, and courageous men such as Bishop Boza Masvidal, who want to continue fighting communism. How pleasant it is to enjoy a warm, carefree Sunday by the swimming pool, at a card table, and with visiting friends. How appealing is the soft, shameful peace of the ponds! How lucrative is the path of complicity! How dare this inflexible Cuban bishop interfere with our enjoyment of these delights by reminding us of the shots fired by firing squads or the sobs that pierce dungeon walls? These coherent people are such killjoys! How much more comfortable it is to forget all this, resume relations with Cuba, and claim that this resumption is an act of generosity!
It is undoubtedly more comfortable, even much more so. At least until the moment when, having rolled from “generosity” to “generosity,” from shame to shame, the incongruous man of our days is submerged by the communist wave he did not want to resist.
At that moment, according to the formidable expression of Holy Scripture, “God will laugh at him.”
He will have sacrificed honor for money and will end up with neither money nor honor. This is the thought that comes to mind when applying Churchill’s well-known phrase against the English pacifists to this case.
* * *
Mr. Pedro Morazzani, the valiant president of the Venezuelan TFP, sent me a curious article titled “Fala o Rude Pravo” (Rude Pravo Speaks), published in the Caracas daily El Universal in April 1972. The article is a word-for-word translation of a large part of the collaboration I published under the same title in Folha de São Paulo on February 13 of last year. The only difference is that the Venezuelan daily lists the author as Mr. Robert Coddington, not me.
I am very grateful to Mr. Coddington for appreciating my article. If he is kind enough to transcribe it again, I would ask him not to replace my modest name with his presumably illustrious one.
