Omar Maren: The Intensity of a Life

Last Updated (Tuesday, 05 April 2011 14:35) Written by Carlos Molina Rodgriguez Friday, 01 April 2011 15:46

Omar Maren Turcaz: the Intensity of a Life
Carlos Molina Rodriguez
Matanzas, Cuba
March 25, 2011
Translation by John Walter

                                                        To Omar Maren, in memory of his life.
                                                               Death opened its wings too early.
                                                                                     Miguel Hernandez



Ultimately, the month of March has been a painful date for Cuban Presbyterians,
and by extension, for the entire church on the island. A year ago on Thursday,
March 11, 2010, Isaac Jorge Oropesa, the illustrious and famous teacher died.
This year March has carried away one of his dearest disciples, Omar Marén, a
natural leader and renowned pastor. His life, consecrated to active leadership in
 his church in recent years, was inexplicably cut short when it had scarcely borne
its first fruits. His sudden death has filled many with dismay both inside and outside
Cuba. For years - perhaps decades - the affairs of a young  leader didn’t stir the
Cuban Church a great deal. Chance has willed that his death take place with circumstances
similar to those of Jacobo Reyes, also a young leader and President of the National Union
of Christian, who passed away as a result of a tragic accident on the 28th of July, 1935
in the densely populated area of Matanzas called Coliseo.

Born in Guantanamo on the 30th of October 1976, [Omar] moved at an early age with
his family to Havana, where he grew up and studied telecommunications engineering
at Jose Antonio Echeverria University Center  – but he didn’t graduate. Then still in his
youth, he came into contact with Presbyterianism; and in the year 2000, as the Presbyterian
Youth of Cuba (JUPRECU) was reviving, he was nominated for the presidency of the
National Executive Committee. The following year he entered the Evangelical Seminary
in Matanzas (SET), where in 2004 he was awarded a degree in theology. On June 25, 2005,
he was ordained as Presbyter, and on that same date was installed as pastor in the Presbyterian
Church in Santa Clara.


During his brief and concentrated ministry he discharged, among other responsibilities,
President of the Commission on Ecumenical Policy of the Presbyterian Reformed Church
of Cuba (IPRC); member of the General Council; President of the Directing Committee for
the National Presbyterian Camp (CANIP); and Executive Secretary of El Centro Presbytery.
Therefore, It’s clear that both his denominational leadership and contributions in the
ecumenical sphere are irrefutable.


At heart, the success of his prolific ministry consisted in knowing how to combine the best
of the reformed tradition with the noble lineage of his church, anchored by such exemplary
igures as: Evaristo Collazo, Ezequiel Torres, Ferrerol J. Gomez, Edelmira Cuesta, Francisco Garcia,
Alfonzo Rodriguez Hidalgo, Carlos Camps Sierra, Elsa Hernandez as well as others. All of them,
through their enduring efforts and constancy, dreamed of and succeeded building a better church.

I met Omar in mid 1998 on the campus of the First Presbyterian Church of Havana. Since then,
and up to the time of his death, we maintained an affectionate but not intimate relationship
characterized by hopes and dreams, doubts and uncertainties, silences and marked distance.
As I appeal to memory, an image of that young man whose intense gaze and unfounded haste -
someone who was always disposed to blurt out a guffaw - pops up.  I seem to see him arriving
at Master Isaac’s office all sweaty, or talking with Hector Mendez, his pastor, or gently placing
in my hands the most recent issue of Palabra Nueva (New Word, Roman Catholic magazine).
Years later we were classmates in the halls of the Evangelical Theological Seminary in Matanzas.
There, sharing our books, we grew closer in our passion for historical subjects and were united
by our devotion to Rafael Cepeda. As a prerequisite for graduation, Omar later wrote an
investigative essay about this great man of the church.


Omar impressed me because of his perspicacity and maturity. He was notably more ambitious
and resolved than some of the contemporary pastors; and with his determination and creative 
mentality, he achieved much of what he proposed; however, he was never the archetype of
ambition in the church today. I was impressed by his critical thinking, his nonconformity with
Cuba’s present state, and the force of his most intimate convictions. For such reasons I alerted him
to the ever present danger that hangs over our generation: To repeat the errors of those who
preceded us, making concessions in exchange for privileges, and to be accommodating of civil and
ecclesiastic power for a handful of promises.


Since the beginning of our relationship I continued both directly and indirectly following the
evolution of his ministry. I found him doing about as I had expected: In our own way each of us
was suffering the stings of criticisms and reproaches. Through that we became conscious that
that is the price paid when one is not indifferent, when one does not live in perennial self-censorship.
I was also impressed that , together with the immediacy of his exertion, hat at times his thirst
for knowledge, his eagerness to stay informed, and his unlimited capacity to struggle impeded him
rom reviewing his pastorate (obra). For such reasons, if it was within my power, I would always
delightedly share books and ideas with him.

On occasion I remember expressing to him that it made me uncomfortable that some of our
colleagues told lies to obtain truths.  We also spoke with bewilderment about Cuba and the church:
that they shared aspects of the Yoruba fable in the film Guantanamera “No one dies, the old don’t
yield control and the young are being asphyxiated.”  He always laughed loudly, spitting
out a harangue that I should not and care not to repeat here.

On the other hand I have a grateful memory of him which I will carry as long as I’m  alive:
In these last years Omar knew how to be my family’s selfless and conscientious pastor, whose love
and understanding was always evident during the best and worst of times.  With his pastorate
the church In Santa Clara experienced a renaissance, beginning a new epoch with its spirits renewed.
It will be difficult [for the church] to accept his absence; far easier [for us] to remember him.


In these bitter days, those who knew him will remember him as an intimate and courageous
friend. Surely we will hold him in our hearts for both his wise deeds as well as for his errors;
for his childish capacity for astonishment; for his passing bouts of arrogance; for his sense of ease
and contagious laugh, and also for his occasional inappropriate manners.

A long time will go by before any of us should be able to discern his last play of  hand. We
will insist that this is just another joke he's playing on us, and we will almost console ourselves.
Above all, because we all, him and us, have so much left to do, and because in spite of death
and absence, life goes on, even for him.
 



Carlos R. Molina Rodríguez:   (Santa Clara, Cuba, 1976)  is a professor of Church History at the
Evangelical Theological Seminary in Matanzas. His investigatory and editorial activities have
centered in historical themes of Cuban Protestantism, especially in missionary work, ecumenical t
heological education, and Protestant thought of the Twentieth Century.