By: Rosa Miriam Elizalde on June 7, 2025
Warm greetings between Raúl and Pope Francis upon his arrival in Havana. Photo: Ismael Francisco
Ninety years ago, on June 7, 1935, Cuba and the Holy See officially sealed a diplomatic bond that, against all odds, has withstood the upheavals of the 20th century and the challenges of the 21st. That agreement was not only the beginning of a formal relationship: it was the expression of an understanding that, without much fanfare, has been nourished by mutual respect, attentive listening, and tenacious diplomacy that has preferred bridges to trenches.
The roots of that relationship are deeply embedded in the island’s turbulent history after the end of Spanish colonial rule in 1898. With the disappearance of the Royal Patronage, the Catholic Church in Cuba was left in an uncertain position, without the privileges of the past. From Rome, the concern was clear: would the island fall under the Protestant influence promoted by the United States?
It was then that the Vatican, before taking a definitive step, chose to send apostolic delegates to take the pulse of a nation under US intervention. One of them, Monsignor Placide-Louis Chapelle, even had to manage the resignations of bishops closely linked to the old colonial regime. These were times of transition, of ecclesiastical and political tensions. But the path, although tortuous, remained open.
Decades later, in a country seeking to rebuild itself after the fall of dictator Gerardo Machado, the situation became favorable. President Carlos Mendieta, with the signature of Secretary of State José Barnet, and Pope Pius XI took the historic step. Monsignor Giorgio Giuseppe Caruana presented his credentials as the first Apostolic Nuncio to Cuba on December 6 of that same year. The relationship was sealed.
Since then, dialogue has never been interrupted. It did not cease with the triumph of the Revolution in 1959, when other countries chose to break relations with Cuba. The Vatican did not. It opted for contact, calm diplomacy, and patient understanding, even in the most difficult moments. History would reward this relationship.
Fidel bids farewell to Pope John Paul II at the end of his visit to Cuba, José Martí International Airport, Havana, January 25, 1998
Few nations in Latin America can say that they have been visited by the last three popes. In 1998, Saint John Paul II arrived in Havana with a message that still resonates in the collective memory: “May the world open itself to Cuba and Cuba open itself to the world.” That phrase was both an invitation to dialogue and a firm rejection of isolation. It was not rhetoric. It was a stance.
He was followed by Benedict XVI in 2012, who clearly denounced that external sanctions only aggravated the suffering of the Cuban people and undermined their dignity. And in September 2015, Pope Francis landed in Cuba like an old friend. His closeness was palpable. “Thank you, Cubans, for making me feel at home,” he said. It was in Havana that the historic meeting with Orthodox Patriarch Kirill took place, a gesture of ecumenical unity that turned the Cuban capital—in the words of the pontiff himself—into “the capital of unity.”
From the prophetic voice of John Paul II to the interventions of Francis, the Holy See has maintained a clear line: the economic, commercial, and financial blockade imposed on Cuba is immoral. Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, during his visit in 2008, was emphatic: the blockade constitutes “oppression of the Cuban people.” Benedict XVI reiterated this at the time. And Francis was even more direct. In his meeting with popular movements, he condemned unilateral blockades and sanctions as forms of violence against peoples.
During the flight from Santiago de Cuba to Washington, the Argentine pope did not shy away from uncomfortable words. He called the blockade a “blockade.” And in an interview with Univision Noticias in July 2022, he acknowledged: “I was happy when that small agreement was reached with the United States that President Obama wanted at the time, and Raúl Castro accepted it… It was a good step forward, but it stopped… Cuba is a symbol. Cuba has a great history. I feel very close, even to the Cuban bishops.”
The link between Cuba and the Holy See has also been human, not just institutional. In 1996, Fidel Castro was received by John Paul II at the Vatican. Years later, Raúl Castro visited Pope Francis, with whom he shared not only a political vision but also a sensitivity to the poor. In 2023, President Miguel Díaz-Canel was received by the Supreme Pontiff in Rome, in another meeting marked by respectful listening and a willingness to dialogue.
Sometimes, however, it is anecdotes that best illuminate the depth of this relationship. Luis Amado Blanco, journalist, novelist, and Cuban ambassador to the Holy See for almost fifteen years, recounted an endearing confidence. In the midst of the October Crisis, Pope John XXIII said to him: “Ambassador, tell my little son Fidel to hold on, that the Holy Father is praying for him and for Cuba.” The ambassador himself recounted this story, which was picked up by Monsignor Carlos Manuel de Céspedes in an article published in Palabra Nueva in 2001. Foreign Minister Raúl Roa, who visited Castel Gandolfo, the Pope’s summer residence, with Amado Blanco in the 1960s, recalled the moment with emotion: “There we were received by John XXIII, the pope of the humble, of peasant origin and sorrowful.”
Today, ninety years after that diplomatic visit, Cuba and the Holy See continue to walk together. They dialogue. They disagree. They listen to each other. In this profound exercise of dialogue—theological, political, human—Cuba has found a unique interlocutor: one who does not impose or threaten.
And perhaps therein lies the key to this relationship: in its vocation to accompany. As John Paul II said, “the Cuban people are the protagonists of their history.” And in that history, the Holy See has known how to be present. Not as a colonial power or an external watchdog, but as a witness in solidarity with a people.
Because, at the end of the day, ninety years are not just a number. They are proof that there are bonds that, despite the storms, cannot be broken. They transform, they adapt, but they do not break. And when diplomacy is based on dignity, dialogue becomes permanence.
Source: Cubadebate, translation Resumen Latinoamericano – English