Cuaresma (how they say "Lent" in Cuba)

Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Traditionally, those are the three spiritual practices associated with cuaresma (the Lenten season). I have been thinking a lot lately about how seeing these three practices through a Cuban lens could be transformative for our context as church in the US. Here are some thoughts on ways to re-imagine the disciplines during these forty days of renewal and preparation for Holy Week and Easter:

First, prayer. I have spent a lot of time in recent years learning how to engage in "centering prayer," a contemplative way to listen to God and deepen relationships with the Holy. But, given our social location in the US as the "center" of the world with our superpower status, maybe we don't really need any more "centering." What if we spent forty days in "de-centering" prayer, a contemplative practice that would move us to the margins? Here's an idea of what such a prayer practice might involve: If English is your first language, then pray in Spanish. English has become such an important facet of life in the "center," that praying in Spanish could be a good first step in de-centering. One way to do this is to begin every day in Lent by reading a Psalm in the Reina Valera, or another Spanish translation. If you don't have any facility in Spanish, that's ok, read it any way; you can check in with your English translation and see what it is you are praying. And then, imagine that you are praying this Psalm not from the context of a super-power, but from a nation under siege, suffering from a super-power's economic blockade. The people of Israel almost always were under the domination of some bordering superpower, be it Egypt of Assyria or Babylon or Rome, and the Psalms give us a good perspective on what it felt like to be on the margins of these empires. Try reading and praying the Psalms from a marginalized victim's perspective, and read "US" whenever you see "nations" and "enemies"(which the Psalmist is almost constantly referring to). See how this re-imagining transforms your understanding of our relationship with God here in the center of the world.

Second, fasting. What if we spent forty days not simply abstaining from some favorite treat, be it chocolate or coffee or alcohol, but diving deeper into the discipline by hearing it as a call to dismantle our US exceptionalism, with its accompanying sets of privilege and supremacy? There are a lot of progressive folks hearing the call to dismantle white privilege and racism, and that is good, essential work. But if we are going to journey through Lent with an eye toward the Cuban perspective, there's more dismantling to do. US citizens of all colors can work together to unravel the robe of US hubris and hegemony in the way we interact with the rest of the world. One essential piece of our exceptionalism is the way we have created a standard of living based on an economy of surplus, a surplus that requires our exploitation and control of human and natural resources around the globe. So, along with the intellectual work of discovering and dismantling the exceptionalism and privilege we wear like a cloak, another part of fasting could involve the practical work of choosing to live without so much surplus. This will have implications on a daily basis, as we have ample choices every day to partake of or abstain from the surplus of food and drink and other creature comforts we have come to see as normative. Figuring out ways to detach from this addictive economy of choice is not easy, but no one said Lent would be easy. 

Third, almsgiving. In the unequal relationships of haves and have-nots, there is always a dangerous temptation to create a system of benevolent givers and desperate beggars. The history of Christian missions has been too much defined by our succumbing to this temptation. What if we spent the Lenten season leaning into other paradigms that could re-define what it is we are doing when we send money and other resources from the US to Cuba (and places like it)? Here are some options: we could think about how our remittances are small steps toward reparations, repaying an exploited country for centuries of unjust appropriation of its resources. Or we could think of our the transfers of wealth as a means of restorative justice (a system of criminal justice which focuses on the rehabilitation of offenders through reconciliation with victims and the community at large). Another paradigm would be the biblical concept of Jubilee, where wealth and property was periodically re-distributed to put everyone back on equal footing. 

I'd love to have some company on my journey through Lent, so if any of these practices sound inviting to you, let me know, and we'll orar juntos through the Psalms, we'll share insights into how to dismantle our superpower exceptionalism and wean ourselves off of the addictive surplus economy, and we'll re-distribute some resources with a model that doesn't encourage beggar-giver relationships. Then we can compare notes when we arrive at the empty tomb on Easter morning, and see how we have been transformed in the process.