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A Cuba Moment, No. 8: The Fear of God
See also: A Cuba Moment, No. 1; A Cuba Moment, No. 2: Castro and Christianity; A Cuba Moment, No. 3: Prison; A Cuba Moment, No. 4: Isla de Pino; A Cuba Moment, No. 5: The Foundation; A Cuba Moment, No. 6: The Ascent; A Cuba Moment, No. 7: Bondage.
Cristo Rompe Las Cadenas (“Christ Breaks The Chains”)
-- a Cuban Christian prison song
THE HISTORY OF CUBA under the Communist regime of Dr. Fidel Castro demonstrates that there is one thing extraordinarily hated and feared by the hard-core Marxist-Leninist revolutionists: It is not the bullet nor the bomb, neither the covert operation, the economic sanction, nor the anthropomorphic revolutionary “Jesus the Liberator” idolized in the handful of state-approved and monitored church fronts. Rather, Dr. Castro and his regime have objectively and consistently demonstrated a real hatred and deathly fear of God; namely, the free preaching and teaching of the Word of God in Cuba, and the life thus manifest in the scattered sheep -- who continue to this day to be led to the slaughter all the day long in Castro’s Cuba.
The following testament was both smuggled out of Cuba and translated by Armando Valladares. Titled The Brother in the Faith, it is a brief biography describing the life of Pastor Gerardo Gonzales Alvarez. Subjected to extraordinary barbarism in Castro’s prisons, including a machete attack by prison guards outside the five circular towers of Castro’s Isla de Pino (Isle of Pines) prison, he was machine-gunned to death during the infamous Boniato prison massacre of September 1, 1975. The testament also gives glimpses into the horrid nature of prison life in Communist Cuba.
Armando Valladares, who spent 22 years in Castro’s prisons, has testified before the U.S. House of Representatives Subcommittees on Human Rights and International Organizations and on Western Hemisphere Affairs.
[begin transcript]
THE BROTHER IN THE FAITH
That Saturday, the groups of prisoners were returning early, at dusk. Thousands of prisoners, surrounded by rifles and bayonets, were silently arriving from the forced labor camps, forming tight lines of hunger, sweat and fatigue. All of them dirty, some were barefoot, and others wore ragged clothes. Their shoulders were fallen, their backs bent as if they were carrying all bitterness and misery.
The muddy streets and roads which led to the penitentiary on the Isle of Pines, and those inside, surrounded by high wire fences, were filled with long columns of men who had just finished the sweltering journey through the mosquito-infested swamps, the quarries, and the citrus plantations fertilized by our blood. More than six thousand political prisoners were housed in this gigantic concentration camp. Some had already entered the building. The prisoners, undernourished, and with the weariness of centuries, were walking slowly. The voices of the section head were heard yelling for them to hurry. That was normal, the same litany every day, month after month, year after year. Then the guards would beat those leading the march with bayonets and clubs, and the line would advance a little faster. Block twenty six, with its four sections, advanced slowly down the road which was parallel to our building. They were exhausted. More than walk, they dragged, without strength to raise their legs.
The guards demanded more speed in their march, threatening them by stirring their machetes and bayonets in the air. The prisoners tried to comply, but the guards demanded more and began beating.
“Hurry up you s.o.b.’s,” they shouted while unleashing their fury and cowardice. The machetes and bayonets made a slapping sound on the back[s] of the prisoners. There was a commotion in the line, a disturbance. The guards lunged into them and continued beating with fury and violence. The first ones made a superhuman effort, then withdrew from their beatings. Suddenly, while his back was slapped with the machete, a prisoner raised his hands and eyes to Heaven and shouted, “Forgive them Lord, for they don’t know what they do.”
It was as if the back on which the machete fell once and again, ripping up the skin, was not his. The clear eyes of the “Brother in the Faith” shone, his arms opened toward Heaven imploring forgiveness for his torturers. At that moment he was an unbelievable, supernatural, marvelous man. The cap fell off his head, exposing his gray hair. Very few who met him knew his real name. He was as a limitless fountain of faith which he passed on to his fellow prisoners in their most difficult and desperate situations.
“Have faith, brother . . .” he repeated constantly, leaving on his way a trail of optimism and peace. We all called Gerardo simply, “Brother in the Faith.”
A Protestant pastor, he had dedicated his life to preach the Word of God. His most beautiful sermon was himself. When he arrived at the Cabana fortress, there were thousands of prisoners crowded in the narrow wards. They slept on the floor, in the corners, under the beds. Fear and death visited every night because there were executions three times. We never knew if we would see again the prisonmate who was taken to the Communist tribunals.
The Soviet rifles’ discharges broke in pieces the Cuban chests which dared confront the atheistic dictatorship of slavery. Those centennial moats trembled with the viril shouts of “Death to communism, Hail Christ the King!”
In those instants of tremendous agony, the Brother in the Faith raised his arms toward the invisible Heaven beyond the vaults, “Lord, receive him in your arms!” And then, when we could hear the sound of the hammers nailing the coffins, the Brother in the Faith told us that the prisoner was privileged because God had called him to His side. He helped many to confront death with bravery and serenity. And so he went among the groups, reaffirming their faith, quieting their spirits, giving them comfort and support.
Every day, when the galleys were opened, he went around looking for the sick. Whether they wanted or not, he washed their dirty clothes. Anyone could see him there, with a piece of rough cloth or leftover nylon tied to his waist as an apron, facing mountains of clothes . . . tall and bent over the washbasin, sweating in profusion. His hair was white and in his clear eyes a resplendent light shown.
He used to get us out of our bunks to attend the worship services.
Get up, lion’s cub, the Lord is calling you,” he would call.
To the Brother in the Faith we could not say no. If he found someone in a thoughtful or saddened mood, he would tell him: “I want to see you in the service this afternoon . . .” and that one had to go.
His sermons had a primitive charm, he had an extraordinary magnetism. From a pulpit improvised with a few old boxes covered with a sheet and a simple cross, the thundering voice of the Brother in the Faith delivered his daily preaching. Then we all sang hymns of praise to God, which he inscribed on cigarette covers and distributed among the attendants. Many times the guards dispersed those prayer minutes with beatings and blows from their rifle butts, but they couldn’t frighten him.
When he was taken to the slave work camps in Isle of Pines, he organized Bible reading and choral groups. Having a Bible was a subversive act. He had, we don’t know how, a small one which was always with him.
If any tired or sick prisonmate was lagging behind in his furrow or in the amount of stones which he had to break with a sledge hammer, the Brother in the Faith appeared by his side. Thin, strong, he had an amazing endurance for any physical effort, and hastened the other’s work, saving him from a beating. When any of the guards went by behind him, and struck him with a bayonet, the Brother in the Faith straightened up like a spring, looked the guard in the eyes and spoke kindly, “May the Lord forgive you . . . !” About a thousand prisoners were in the building. We all felt love and admiration toward this man who didn’t deny having been a great sinner.
The work gangs started coming out at five in the morning. We had to gather at the huge central patio under roof and bars. Sometimes a few on the higher levels lagged behind and, when this happened, the garrison guards entered and started beating everyone. There encouraging us was the Brother in the Faith.
Don’t give foot to the devil, brothers . . .” he told the slow ones.
While we formed the long line for “breakfast” -- hot sugared water, which they brought in tanks of fifty-five gallons with the taste of petroleum -- the Brother in the Faith often quoted Bible stories, or made us laugh with his original and very personal interpretations about sin and men’s behavior.
Don’t forget that I lived in sin, and knew temptation,” he reminded us. His greatest goal was that we would not hate each other. Almost all of his sermons carried this message.
Now he is at the Boniato prison, “Biological Experimentation & Extermination Center,” in an enclosed cell, with metal plates. But his voice, as if emerging from the depth of a cave, is heard every afternoon calling for worship and prayer, which he didn’t neglect even for a day.
Everyone is quiet. A respectful silence fills the deserted hallways of those catacombs. Estebita, el Pire, and Castillo are already dead. . . . The messages those days brought tears even to the driest eyes. No preacher ever worked for God and men under more adverse conditions. Hunger and sicknesses have undermined his body. He is almost a skeleton, his hair is whiter, and his eyes brighter than ever before.
The garrison is clearing for action, shooting haphazardly. They have already shot some prisoners who are not confined in the front section, and they threw grenades. Inside the cells, closed tightly, one cannot see anything, only hear. And then they begin to open the cells and they bring the prisoners out with blows, shoving them to the end of the hall. They are almost all out; many can barely remain standing and lean against the walls. They are thin, exhausted from the hunger and tortures. The brutal beatings began, mangling arms and ribs, heads and faces; the handicapped are torn from their wheelchairs, pulled by their legs, and kicked on the floor . . . all of a sudden, a prisoner, bone thin, ghostly, with raised arms, interposes himself among the guards who are beating them and yells at an invisible Heaven: “Forgive them Lord, for they know not what they do!” His eyes glow like two flaming fires, and his hair is white. The guards stop a moment at the unexpected scene.
“Forgive them Lord, for they know not what they are doing . . . !”
“Get back!” yells the Communist lieutenant, Raul Perez de la Rosa. The guards draw back and the official pulls the trigger of his Soviet AKM rifle. The first blast climbs up the chest of the Brother in the Faith, searching for his radiant eyes; the second, ripping his neck, almost severs his head from his body.
You forgive them, Brother in the Faith, if you want to, but they do know what they are doing.
[end transcript]
Being faithful unto death, he has received a crown of life.
A Cuba Moment is brought to you by the National Council of [Communist] Churches: "Let us minister to you."
Flagged for your perusal.
Flagged for you.
A flag.
bump
Sometimes I think my life is a struggle, and it certainly is a struggle with sin. I compare myself to this great man, Saint and Martyr, and I am enlightened.
I am sure that asking the Saint for his prayers will be to our benefit.
Thanks, Ironword.
Indeed, his life showed what struggle is. (Hello, American Church!)
I imagine the Brother's advice to all of us would be the same as that to his fellow imprisoned brethren: Look to He, not me!
The first blast climbs up the chest of the Brother in the Faith, searching for his radiant eyes; the second, ripping his neck, almost severs his head from his body.
That does it. Has anyone come across the address for enabler Joan Brown Campbell? I will mail her this.
extra bump. How common is this knowledge?
I slid down the chute from the other thread to give you another bump.
I am waiting for one of these Reverend Enablers to deny such things still occur in Castro's Cuba; the mountain of hard evidence will then be moved into public view and prove them liars and nothing more than political hacks.
Although, they probably are aware of the evidence and fact of persecution under Castro's regime, so they most likely will attempt to ignore the subject -- as they have thus far -- with the help of a friendly media.
Thom White Wolf Fassett: United Methodist Church Lobby (Yahoo links to all his wonderous LIBERALISM work)
Rev. Joan Brown Campbell: United Counsel of Churches (joined firmly at the hip and the head to HUGE LIBERAL government programs!)
The continuing persecution in Castro's Cuba is well-documented; it is generally unknown to the greater American public because it never gets much print or broadcast attention.
I recall when there was a letter signed by a group of American Representatives and Senators to Fidel Castro asking for my freedom and for humane treatment. I noticed a slight difference in the way I was treated. For the first time in years they allowed me to take a little bit of sun for a few days. After the effects of this letter vanished, I went back to where I was before. I think it's important to keep up this pressure campaign from abroad because it's things like this that finally helped obtain my own freedom . . . .
--Armando Valladares
Rev. Dr. Fassett's got a Yahoo rap sheet 42 pages long!
Thanks for a bump!
Armando Valladares: A Firsthand Account of Child Abuse -- Castro Style (Wall Street Journal piece).
rap sheet 42 pages long!
No kidding?
There is too much LIBERAL (socialist!) govenment going on -- and we're paying for it.
"We need a God-believing, committed and aware remnant. Our Founding Fathers led only a minority of Americans to gain our freedoms against almost impossible odds. The Holy Bible is filled with examples of what God can do with a faithful remnant. But, do we have such a remnant in America? I am convinced that we do.
Our Clinton-led government wants us to forget God. We cannot let that happen. We have a lot of the American people who will not let that happen -- in spite of the courts, in spite of academia, in spite of some of the liberal churches and in spite of the entertainment world," said Knight.
"So, the controlled media will not let the people know the facts? We now have the alternate media -- which is growing by leaps and bounds -- bringing the unfiltered truth, mostly through the Internet.
"Public education is dying and getting worse daily. But the home school movement is training leaders of tomorrow. Higher education? Yes, they are loaded with more Marxists than exist in Russia. But, they are pricing themselves out of the market. Many private schools are showing the way back to literacy -- which the teachers unions prevent in the public school system.
"So the mainline churches are dying? Let them die. But there are now millions of people in the land that are learning what the Word of God is telling them and are gaining strength, quietly, every day. Bible-teaching churches are growing. Bible study groups expand weekly.
This is releasing steady spiritual power of discernment and strength to the remnant of the American people."
In speaking about this remnant, Knight says, "Those of the American remnant have no voice. They have little money. They have heart, mind and soul. They have growing anger. I am speaking of 10 percent of the population. But we must remember that there was only a minority who supported and fought the American War of Independence -- about one third. But, they had the benefit of the intellectual elite on their side.
"The bottom-line of all of this is that there are a lot of potential fighters out there," he said." But, there is no public voice strong enough or wise enough or astute enough from a public relations point of view to raise the standard sufficiently high enough for others to see and follow.
The conservative movement is still caught-up in its old way of doing things. It is hard for them to break out of the mold.
"God can use a few strong men and women who know who they are, whose they are, and what they ought to do. We must be prepared in case God finds use for us in His plan. So I am by no means throwing in the towel."
Retired General: Clinton has helped Marxists and terrorists... at every opportunity
Oops, my mistake: the Fassett search brings up 42 hits, not pages.
There is too much LIBERAL (socialist!) govenment going on -- and we're paying for it.
......and in more ways than one!
Thousands of prisoners, surrounded by rifles and bayonets, were silently arriving from the forced labor camps, forming tight lines of hunger, sweat and fatigue. . . . The muddy streets and roads which led to the penitentiary on the Isle of Pines, and those inside, surrounded by high wire fences, were filled with long columns of men who had just finished the sweltering journey through the mosquito-infested swamps, the quarries, and the citrus plantations fertilized by our blood.
Gee, what do you suppose is the interest of Archer Daniels Midland in Cuba?
Now he is at the Boniato prison, “Biological Experimentation & Extermination Center,” in an enclosed cell, with metal plates.
One does not see such "progressive" health care when one takes the air-conditioned, VIP "guided bus tour" of Castro's Cuba.
Yeah, I saw that -- why is she on a HUD page? no addy there, though.
why is she on a HUD page?
Because she's a shill for the socialists in government.....NOT A WOMAN OF THE CLOTH!
Were they prescient, or what!
Flagged for you.
Ironword, I have a terrible 'lump' in my throat that will not go away.
I imagine the Brother, along with countless other Cuban Christians, has joined that "great cloud of witnesses."
"Rev. Joan Brown Campbell: United Counsel of Churches (joined firmly at the hip and the head to HUGE LIBERAL government programs!)"
| Is it not amazing how the socialist (commies) intertwine and (thank-you)liberal media seems not to care that there is a whole lot a conflicting of interest going on, seeing how little Como is her boss? |
"why is she on a HUD page?"
| Because she works for them, who is their boss? Andy Como and Donna shelayla, who appointed them? billy-jeff. You get the picture? |
You're making a wonderful reference thread Ironwood (return of).
THank you.
The testament also gives glimpses into the horrid nature of prison life in Communist Cuba.
Has John McCain made any comment about Elian or Communism or prison or the torture this child is facing?
A good question: Paging Senator McCain, hello?
Actually, I'm happy to report that McCain did voice his opinion on this. He is for Elian staying here in the U.S. Chalk one up for McCain. I just wish he'd say more.
Good for McCain, hope he'll say more.
While we formed the long line for “breakfast” -- hot sugared water, which they brought in tanks of fifty-five gallons with the taste of petroleum -- the Brother in the Faith often quoted Bible stories, or made us laugh with his original and very personal interpretations about sin and men’s behavior.
Bump!
BUMP!
Then the guards would beat those leading the march with bayonets and clubs, and the line would advance a little faster. Block twenty six, with its four sections, advanced slowly down the road which was parallel to our building. They were exhausted. More than walk, they dragged, without strength to raise their legs. The guards demanded more speed in their march, threatening them by stirring their machetes and bayonets in the air. The prisoners tried to comply, but the guards demanded more and began beating.
Bump.
Please include me in your list for all future postings.
Thanks;
Luis
An absolutely beautiful story, Ironwood! A True testament to Faith. No man could behave so bravely unless he were very close to our Lord. Thank you for the post!!!
Hi, Lynn!! = )
Hello, CW haven't seen you in a while!! Bumpity bump!!!
I'll be sure to flag you.
You're very welcome!
Cuba: Welcome to the Tropical Gulag (WorldNetDaily, August 2, 2000)
Lest we forget.
BUMP
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