FOR A DISTINGUISHED NATIVE OF THE CARIBBEAN, it was a rude welcome to America. Fr. Félix Varela, a renowned Cuban philosopher, educator, writer, and statesman, arrived in New York Harbor on December 15, 1823, disembarking from the cargo ship Draper C. Thorndike and stepping into a full-blown blizzard. Unfamiliar with the perils of walking in a northern winter, on his first steps in the country where he would live the next three decades, he slipped and fell on an icy walkway.

It was an unaccustomed low point in the life of the 35-year-old priest. A few weeks earlier, he had been representing Cuba, then a Spanish colony, as a delegate to the nascent legislative assembly at Cádiz, Spain. In a swift turn of events, the deposed Spanish king had been restored to power and ordered the execution of all who had advocated democracy. Facing certain death if he remained in Europe or returned to his beloved Cuba, Varela escaped at night to Gibraltar, where he boarded the Thorndike,bound for New York.

Suddenly an exile, the thin priest in his thin cloak stood up from the icy harborside pavement and found his footing in the streets of a new city. Over the next quarter of a century, he would become a humble but prominent force in the Catholic community there, serving the faithful of New York with a selfless devotion that matched the patriotic fervor he felt for his homeland.
 

"FATHER VARELA . . . HELPS US TO LIVE OUR FAITH AS A FORCE FOR CHANGE IN SOCIETY. SEEING HIS EXAMPLE, WE CAN OFFER OUR OWN CONTRIBUTION WITH THE SAME ENTHUSIASM THAT HE HAD FOR HELPING THE SOCIETIES OF HIS TIME TO LIVE ACCORDING TO JUSTICE AND TRUTH."

ARCHBISHOP VINCENZO PAGLIA, POSTULATOR IN VARELA’S CAUSE FOR CANONIZATION

Félix Varela would never again set foot in Cuba, but he also never stopped working on behalf of its people, pointing the way for them toward a freedom that would not come in his lifetime. Two centuries later, he is still revered by Cubans and Cuban-Americans of all political persuasions. The cause for his canonization, initiated in the 1980s, is principally overseen by the Archdiocese of Havana. But it is his life after 1823 – his years as a New York priest – that mark Varela unmistakably as a man of God.

FÉLIX VARELA Y MORALES WAS BORN into a military family in Havana, Cuba, in 1788. Orphaned at the age of 3, he was raised by his paternal grandparents in St. Augustine, Florida, where his grandfather was commander of the Spanish garrison. An intelligent, curious child, slight in stature, young Félix took eagerly to his studies in Latin, religion, and history. 

When Varela was 14, his grandfather told him it was time to turn from academic pursuits and enroll in military training. The boy politely refused. “I want to be a soldier of Jesus Christ,” he said. When the commander became angry, Félix responded, “I don’t wish to kill men. I want to save their souls.” Though he was not destined to be a warrior, young Varela did not lack for courage.

Instead of a military academy, his grandfather sent Varela to the Seminary of San Carlos in Havana. There the young man was quickly recognized as a rising star. He became a priest, a professor, and by his mid-twenties, one of the colony’s foremost philosophers and thinkers.

As a professor and speaker, Varela showed no fear in exploring and expanding the potentially dangerous ideas of the era he lived in: the abolition of slavery, the overthrow of absolute monarchies and colonial empires. He became known as a speaker who explained ideas so clearly and persuasively that even those who disagreed with him sat up and listened. As a writer, teacher, and delegate to the Spanish Cortes, the priest stood up for what he believed in.

AFTER HIS LANDING IN AMERICA, it took Varela more than a year to get his credentials verified to serve as a priest in the Diocese of New York. By February 1825, he had begun serving as a parochial vicar at St. Peter’s Church on Barclay Street in Manhattan. He had learned to speak English, and had begun to settle into his duties: saying Mass, hearing confessions, performing baptisms, visiting the sick. In the evenings, the priest also found time to write and edit El Habanero, a magazine for Cuban readers. And the rulers of Spain and Cuba still wanted him dead.

In March 1825, an assassin landed in New York City, dispatched by associates of Francisco Vives, the colonial governor of Cuba. His instructions: to kill Fr. Félix Varela.

The priest received a letter of warning. His friends in the Cuban expatriate community were able to learn the assassin’s identity, but not his whereabouts. They entreated Varela to go into hiding, but he refused. Instead, he went about his business apparently unperturbed. He was not going to let threats turn him from his new mission of helping to build the Catholic Church in America, ministering to the needs of its people.

One day, walking the streets of his parish, the priest encountered the man who had been sent to murder him. In a spirit of compassionate forgiveness, he approached the would-be assassin and counseled him against committing a grave sin. The man listened. Then he returned to Cuba, his mission unfulfilled, while Varela carried on his own with hardly a pause.

BEFORE THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, under British rule, Catholicism was banned in New York. Five decades later, as Varela began his priesthood there, a strong anti-Catholic sentiment still prevailed among many in the Protestant majority. Catholics had to be careful. They could be assaulted in the streets. On one occasion, hundreds of Catholics had to form a human shield around St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Mulberry Street (now known as the Basilica of Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral) to stop a Protestant mob from ransacking and burning it.  

There were two Catholic churches in New York City in 1825: St. Patrick’s Cathedral and St. Peter’s Church on Barclay Street. The diocese opened a third, St. Mary’s, in a former Presbyterian church building on Sheriff Street, in 1826; and the following year, Varela, using his own funds and money raised from the community, purchased a fourth: an old Episcopal church in Ann Street called Christ Church. Varela became pastor of a new Catholic parish there. Its population was generally very poor, and most of the money to operate it came from Varela’s supporters in Cuba and New York.

"FATHER VARELA DEDICATED HIS LIFE TO THE SICK, THE POOR, AND THE HELPLESS. HE WAS CALLED ‘THE APOSTLE OF THE IRISH’ FOR HIS WORK WELCOMING IMMIGRANTS AND TENDING TO THEIR NEEDS."

BISHOP OCTAVIO CISNEROS, VICE POSTULATOR IN VARELA’S CAUSE FOR CANONIZATION

The skills and the passion for justice that Félix Varela had developed in the first 35 years of his life turned out to be just what the Catholic Church in New York needed. His command of the principals of governing served the Church well when parish board members made unruly demands; his problem-solving skills helped keep parishes financially solvent; and his command of language enabled him to build strong community bonds. His talents at oratory captivated congregations during his homilies and, at public forums, unmasked the distortions of demagogues fomenting anti-Catholic sentiment.

Soon he was writing articles in English and co-publishing the New York Weekly Register and Catholic Diary,which was widely read among the immigrant Irish. He wrote an English-language catechism for religious education and opened free Catholic schools for girls and boys next door to Christ Church, where he oversaw instruction and taught many classes himself. The schoolchildren there could hardly have imagined they were being taught by one of the most celebrated professors in the Americas.

In 1829, Bishop Jean Dubois named two vicars general for the Diocese of New York: Fr. John Power, the pastor of St. Peter’s, and Fr. Félix Varela. Varela would serve in the role until 1850. Under their management, the Catholic Church in New York grew rapidly. Six new parishes were created in the diocese (which at the time encompassed the entirety of what is now New York state, plus part of northern New Jersey). With the help of the Sisters of Charity, schools and orphanages were created – often with a considerable portion of the funds obtained through the efforts of the Cuban priest. Upon receiving one particularly generous donation, Varela funded an asylum for widows and their children, which would be run by the Sisters of Charity; the site of the asylum would eventually become St. Vincent’s Hospital.

With its founding philosophy of religious tolerance, the United States attracted many Catholic immigrants, especially from Ireland, where the faith was being suppressed. This added fuel to the virulent anti-Catholic movement in New York and elsewhere, and Félix Varela proved to be one of the church’s most effective forces to counterbalance it. In 1830 and 1831, in addition to appearing on debate stages, he published a periodical called The Protestant’s Annotator and Abridger, in which he patiently dissected each scurrilous charge of a popular anti-Catholic periodical called The Protestant.While other Catholic leaders responded angrily to the insults of the Church’s detractors, Varela was a peacemaker. “In an era of blinding religious animosities,” wrote biographers Joseph and Helen M. McCadden, “Varela was the pioneer ecumenist, able to conduct dialogue without violence, astonishing his opponents by his learning, his patient exposition.”

WHILE VARELA'S WRITINGS AND SPEAKING engagements afforded him a public platform from which to proclaim his faith, the work that he did in New York quietly and without calling attention to himself was an even more remarkable sign of his devotion to the mission of Jesus on Earth. The Cuban priest embodied the notion of selflessness. His service to the poor and marginalized was immediate, direct, and deeply personal. Among Irish immigrants, many of whom came off the boats in desperate need, Varela was known as a tireless champion and supporter. 

During the cholera epidemic of 1832, according to one contemporary, Varela “virtually lived in the hospitals.” He went to greet immigrant ships, going to the aid of the penniless and often sick passengers as they disembarked. Because of his loving approach to people of all denominations, even those who looked down on Catholics, he was able to gain access to institutions that other priests were barred from, including New York City Hospital, which was managed by Protestants (but full of Catholic patients).

Eventually, stories of his benevolence made him famous despite his avoidance of the spotlight. On one occasion, Varela was approached by a poor woman while eating his lunch. He excused himself for a moment, washed the spoon he was using, and handed it over to her. “Money have I none,” he is reported to have said. “But take this silver spoon, the last from my homeland – it will fetch enough to feed your family.” The woman was subsequently arrested on suspicion of having stolen the spoon, and when Varela went to the police to vouch for her, the incident was reported in the press.

Other accounts of his selflessness also spread through the city. There was the wintry day on Chambers Street when a poor, shivering woman with a baby in her arms was approached by an unidentified man who quietly removed his own cloak and draped it over her, then slipped away coatless. Onlookers followed the mysterious benefactor and recognized Varela letting himself into his residence on Reade Street.

In Félix Varela: Torch Bearer from Cuba, the McCaddens describe his housekeeper’s “constant battle to keep him supplied with essentials. Whatever was nearest to hand – his watch, his silver, the dishes from his table, the household linens and blankets, his own garments – he gave to those in need.” When people came seeking help, “he often supplied the receivers of alms through a side window or rear door.”

BY THE LATE 1840s, Varela’s health was failing. He had never fully adapted to the climate of New York, and his respiratory ailments became increasingly serious. Between 1847 and 1849, he experienced debilitating bouts of asthma and “consumption,” going south to recover and then returning north with renewed vigor, resuming his daily rounds of “sick calls, confessions . . . confraternities &c.,” in the words of one of the priests in his parish. In 1850, however, he left New York for the last time, relocating to St. Augustine, Florida, where he had lived as a boy.

By now the Cuban was widely renowned among American Catholics. He made a deep impression in Savannah, Georgia, as Fr. Jeremiah O’Connell recalled in an 1878 article: “In Savannah . . . his memory is held in deep veneration by the faithful and all who made his acquaintance. How he lived was a wonder to his friends, for he gave everything he had to the poor.”

After three years serving the people of St. Augustine, Fr. Félix Varela died in February 1853, surrounded by parishioners who sought his blessing or simply wanted to be in his presence. Among the congregation, he was already considered a saint for his kindness and good works.
 

"VENERABLE FÉLIX VARELA WAS A HERO OF CUBAN INDEPENDENCE AND A GREAT NEW YORKER. . . . HE SERVED THE CHURCH AS PRIEST, PASTOR, AND VICAR GENERAL, ATTENDED THE SICK, WELCOMED IMMIGRANTS, AND GAVE OF HIS OWN BELONGINGS TO HELP THE NEEDY: A PURE SERVANT OF CHRIST."

CARDINAL TIMOTHY DOLAN

“Varela loved all men, and Varela has been loved by all,” observed Cuban scholar José Maria Casal a month after Varela’s death, in a speech to dedicate a St. Augustine chapel built in the priest’s memory. “Cubans owe Varela not only love, but profound veneration.”

Many non-Cubans felt – and feel – the same way. At the Church of the Transfiguration on Mott Street in Manhattan, a parish Varela founded in 1838 after Christ Church suffered irreparable structural damage, he is still proudly claimed as the original force behind a parish known to this day for diversity and service to the poor.

The Archdiocese of New York proudly endorsed the cause for Varela’s canonization when it was launched in 1983, and New York Catholics rejoiced in 2012, when the Vatican’s Congregation for the Causes of Saints declared him venerable. “Venerable Félix Varela was a hero of Cuban independence and also a great New Yorker – the kind of man who just couldn’t help being generous and kind,” says Cardinal Timothy Dolan. “He served the Church as priest, pastor, and vicar general, attended the sick, welcomed immigrants, and gave of his own belongings to help the needy: a pure servant of Christ.”

The streets of lower Manhattan that he walked almost two centuries ago would be unrecognizable to Varela today – though if he searched among the tall buildings and busy streets he would find two parishes that claim him as founder. His light still shines there, and throughout the world.