There was no possibility at all of my staying any longer on the island or of returning in a few months because of serious work engagements. I insisted on taking advantage of the opportunity. He resisted, saying that he wanted to be better prepared for an interview on such a delicate and important topic as religion. Before the interview, he wanted to read Leonardo Boff’s Jesucristo libertador (Jesus Christ the liberator) and Iglesia, carisma y poder (The Church, charisma and power) and the Vatican II and Medellín documents, Spanish-language copies of which lay on top of his desk. He also wanted to study Gustavo Gutiérrez’s works, and he needed a little more time to read the complete texts of the speeches given by John Paul II during his February 1985 tour of Latin America. I wondered how, with his tight work agenda, the Cuban leader could combine the countless tasks of government, his intellectual voracity for the most diverse topics, and the pleasure of talking. I didn’t recall ever meeting another person with such a sharp intelligence and inclination for personal talks. Joelmir had rightly noted and commented to me that Fidel enhanced everything, giving great importance to whatever topic was being discussed, from cooking to the Third World’s foreign debt.
In view of my silent resistance, he requested that I read the questions I wanted to ask him. After hearing the first five, he immediately became interested. Those were the ones related to his personal history and the Christian education he had received. He had probably imagined an endless list of theological questions for which he would require a bibliographic preparation. He asked me to stay at least two more days in Cuba, so we could work better. His main difficulty was that he had to welcome a delegation of Latin American visitors who would arrive that Thursday, but he expressed his willingness to find some time to begin the interview.
I found out that the delegation had canceled its trip. That was good news for me. After dinner I received a message that someone would call me that same evening for a meeting with the comandante. At 11:45 p.m. his Mercedes Benz drew up at the door.
“Where are your parents?” Fidel asked.
I told him they had just gone to sleep but that I would wake them up. He wouldn’t hear of it, and he invited me to go for a drive through the city. He’d just come from a dinner at the residence of the apostolic nuncio, given in honor of Monsignor Cordero Lanza de Montezemolo, nuncio in Nicaragua and Honduras, who was visiting Cuba at the personal invitation of the commander-in-chief. We talked about the situation of the church in Nicaragua, and I told him my opinion that the bishops’ failure to explicitly and directly denounce the aggression promoted by the US government was harming the life of faith of many Nicaraguan Christians, mainly the youth, who didn’t feel supported by their parish priests. Anticommunist prejudices were keeping the episcopate silent regarding the actions by the mercenary troops stationed in Honduras who go into Nicaraguan territory to murder farmers and even children. The victims included the Barredas; the husband had led a course on Christianity, and I had met him in Estelí during a pastoral meeting in 1981. Throughout history, people of the church have committed a serious mistake by remaining silent in the face of the criminal elimination of human lives, in the name of the alleged defense of orthodox principles. My contact with the popular Christian communities in Sandino’s homeland has taught me that all is not lost. Faith is reborn with even greater strength from these tests, with the awareness that the church is not the exclusive preserve of the bishops and priests but belongs to all people of God in communion with their pastors and with the pastors at the service of the people.
The comandante listened to me. Then, before starting to talk about Cuba he said, “I prefer not to meddle in the internal affairs of the church.”
Late that night when he took me home, I insisted on waking my parents up. Quite surprised, in housecoat and pajamas, they greeted Fidel in the living room. When he found out that we were returning to Brazil via Mexico, he started reminiscing about when he had lived in the capital of that country and commenting with my mother about the preparation, seasoning, and taste of Mexican food.
Thursday, May 23, 1985. I arrived at the Palace of the Revolution a little after 9 p.m. A heavy rain was falling in Havana, offsetting the drought of the last few days. Vilma Espín, president of the Federation of Cuban Women, was just finishing a meeting with Fidel when I got to his office.
We sat at the rectangular meeting table, Fidel across from me. He was wearing his olive-green uniform, with a white star in the center, between two branches, on each shoulder. To his left, there was a box of cigars; to his right, a small white teacup with a gold rim. We began the interview. While speaking, he scribbled on a piece of paper; this seemed to help him systematize his ideas. It was the first time in history that a head of state — above all, the head of a revolutionary, Marxist-Leninist state, a socialist country — had granted an exclusive interview on the topic of religion.
Frei Betto: Comandante, I’m sure that this is the first time the head of state of a socialist country has granted an exclusive interview focusing on the topic of religion. The only precedent is the document on religion issued by the national leadership of the Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN) in 1980. That was the first time a revolutionary party in power issued a document on this topic. Since then, religion hasn’t been dealt with in such an informative, in-depth, and even historical fashion — and this at a time when religion is playing a major ideological role in Latin America, in view of the existence of many Christian base communities — of the indigenous Guatemalans, Nicaraguan farmers, and workers in Brazil and many other countries. There is also the offensive that, beginning with the Santa Fe document, imperialism has been waging in an attempt to directly attack liberation theology, the most theoretical expression of the church which is deeply committed to the poor. I think that this interview and your contribution to this topic are very important. Let’s start with your background. You come from a Christian family.
Fidel Castro: Well, before I reply, now that you’ve provided an introduction, I’d like to explain that, knowing you were interested in an interview on this complex and delicate topic, I would have liked to have had more time to review some materials and give some thought to the matter. However, since the interview has coincided with a period of intense work for both of us and with your pressing need to return to your country, I agreed to discuss all these topics in a practically impromptu manner. It reminds me of a student who has to take an exam but hasn’t had time to study the subject, or a speaker who has to deliver a speech but hasn’t had the opportunity to familiarize himself a great deal with the topic and deepen his understanding of it, or a teacher who has to give a class without having had even a minute to review the subject matter. It is in these circumstances that I embark on this conversation.
I know that this is a topic you have mastered thoroughly. You have the edge on me. You’ve studied theology extensively, and you’ve also studied Marxism a great deal. I know some Marxism and really very little about theology. I know that your questions and statements will be serious and profound and that even though I’m not a theologian but rather a politician — I also believe I’m a revolutionary politician who has always been frank about everything — I will try to answer all your questions with absolute honesty.
You say that I come from a religious family. How can I respond to such a statement? I could say, first, that I come from a religious nation and, second, that I come from a religious family.