Among the many altars of the homeland, some of which are almost unknown, there are two that seem fundamental to us. Perhaps without them, Cuban nationality would not have been so falsified. Without them, it would be possible that the moral basis that has supported the most progressive ideals of Cuban political thought, acting for the common good and justice, might not have been realized, neither with the depth of its content nor in the poetry expressed in the most diverse documents.
The first of these is the building that housed the Colegio de San Carlos y San Ambrosio. There is a classroom, sober and full of dignity, which, despite the thick walls, invades the sound of the sea on winter days.
The other location is in the sacred interior of the Aula Magna of the University of Havana. To the far right of the Rector’s Pedestal is a marble ossuary, unadorned, with a touch of Spartan pride, almost hidden by the magnificence of the enclosure, as if wishing to attract no one’s attention. In this small room, collected in all its dignity, rest the glorious remains of Father Félix Varela y Morales.
With a simple body, this priest followed the path of his teacher, the priest José Agustín Caballero, and in his teaching he broke down the dogmas of scholastic thought, placing the practice of thinking with its own criteria at the heart of his teaching.
The teaching carried out by Varela acquired greater importance than it did in 1821, as a result of the political changes in Spain and with the support of Bishop Espada (“that Spanish bishop that all Cubans carry in our hearts”, José Martí would say) He founded the Constitutional Chair and from his pulpit lectured on the most progressive political ideas of his time to bring them into the island’s vibrant reality.
Its criteria could be summed up in one idea: respect for individual rights and respect not for a government or a person but for a law capable of defending such principles for the benefit of the common good and justice.
Faced with the reality of the time, these lessons implied questioning class domination and the contempt for the poor, the arrogance of having overcome being, and slavery that made one hear “the hideous crunch” of the scourge, as José María would write . Heredia in his poem To Emilia.
It was a thought that called for respect and rebellion on an ethical basis and reached its greatest importance from 1823, when Varela became independent.
His libertarian preaching is well known. But the main seed of his work, which began at the seminary, was found in this sense of patriotism, in which he reflected on the Cuban identity from its reality, its landscapes, its people.
Out of this work was the question of what is Cuban, a question that has pointed to the most infinite mysteries and that marks those born on this side of the world in their way of laughing, singing, crying and even love.
Many examples could be given of the enormous importance of his legacy. However, at the risk of being unfair, we would say that in the greatest thing in one’s life one cannot help but mention the imprint of humanity in one’s teaching.
This lofty legacy would be continued by his direct disciples and followers, one of whom would be a calm-gesturing teacher who one day in 1866 knocked on the door of a humble Spanish tailor to ask permission in a slow voice, himself its not her family who paid for the child’s studies in the house, an adolescent with very dark and deep eyes, the only male offspring in the house.
This teacher, with the neat beard and polite gestures, was called Rafael María de Mendive, and the young man’s name was José Martí. From that day, under this sublime idea of good, the luminous figure of Father Félix Varela y Morales, with his holy and peaceful smile, would walk with them forever.