EXAMINATION
OF OPUS DEI | | Power
Secrecy Organisation Beliefs Rituals Exclusivity 2 3 4 5 3 1 THE Jesuits have
been around longer, but Opus Dei is rapidly supplanting the older, more intellectual
order as a powerful elite at the heart of the Catholic Church. Although the organisation
is fairly secretive, it received unprecedented publicity earlier this year when
150,000 members descended on Rome for the beatification of the organisation's
founder, Monsignor Jose Maria Escriva de Balaguer.
Opus Dei (literally, the work of God) originated in Spain in 1928, but has now
spread its network through 80 countries. Many of its members are recruited at
school and university. Although only 2% of Opus Dei members are priests, the organisation's
adherents dedicate themselves to prayer and self-discipline. The
real masochists live in residencies run by the Opus Dei, where they practise self-flagellation
and wear uncomfortable spikes on the inside of their trousers. But most members
of the society live outwardly normal lives and keep their membership of Opus Dei
a secret, even from close friends and relatives. |
Outsiders hoping to identify members of Opus Dei must look for tell-tale signs.
Somewhere in the house of most members will be a small model of a donkey, representing
the ass that Christ used to enter Jerusalem. A whiff of Atkinson's cologne, the
favourite of Escriva, is also a giveaway.
Some outsiders, alarmed by the organisation's numerical strength, secrecy and
reactionary beliefs, regard it as a rather sinister force. Others credit the organisation's
philosophy of salvation through hard work with helping to infuse southern Europe
with an equivalent of the Protestant work ethic. But, politically, Opus Dei's
influence seems to have declined since the 1960s, when its members played a dominant
role in the Spanish government.
There was, however, a row in Ireland when it was discovered that the country's
chief justice, responsible for enforcing the country's Draconian anti-abortion
laws when a 12-year-old rape victim sought an abortion, was a member of Opus Dei.
And whatever Opus Dei's influence in the secular world, inside the church itself
the organisation is prospering. Many of the pope's entourage are members, and
Escriva seems well on his way to sainthood. Power
Secrecy Organisation Beliefs Rituals Exclusivity 5 5 5 5 5 5 The Economist
Volume 325.
May
22, 1997 A
missionary from ABWE in Peru reports to us by E-Mail that the greatest persecution
in Peru comes, not from Shining Path, the Communist terrorists-- It comes
from Opus Dei, and they are particularly treacherous in the countryside in attacking
the Baptist and Bible believing Christians. The Pope must be very proud
of his murderous soldiers in Peru.
FROM
THE SCOTSMAN January 2005 IT
SITS on a hill, a villa of honey-coloured stone in a leafy suburb on the south
side of Glasgow, and gives no hint of what goes on behind its sturdy walls.
This is the Scottish headquarters of Opus
Dei, which translates from the Latin as "God’s work", a term familiar to the
120,000 Scots who have bought copies of The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown’s
global bestselling novel. The thriller centres on a search for the Holy Grail
which is hampered by a villainous member of Opus Dei.
Dunreath,
the house in Glasgow, is not home to a murderous monk, though self-flagellation,
as featured in the novel, is practised here.
The Catholic organisation,
founded in Spain in 1928 by Josemaría Escrivá, has long been mired in controversy.
It has been described by critics as a cult and dismissed by one theologian as
"the Mafia - shrouded in white". Yet its members enjoy the personal favour of
Pope John Paul II, who made its founder a saint in 2002, in spite of his close
ties to the dictator General Franco.
In recent weeks, the media
spotlight has focused on Opus Dei after the appointment of Ruth Kelly as Secretary
of State for Education.
While Ms Kelly has refused, as recently
as this week, to confirm or deny her involvement with the group, The Scotsman
has established that she is, indeed, a "supernumerary", as married members of
Opus Dei are described.
Last week, the Archdiocese of Westminster
announced that a parish had been entrusted to an Opus Dei priest, evidence of
a thaw in relations. The late Basil Hume, the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster,
viewed the group with deep suspicion.
His concern centred on what
he believed to be the group’s manipulative recruitment techniques. His official
biographer, Anthony Howard, said this week that Hume regarded them as he would
the ‘Moonies’.
Yet Opus Dei has recently embarked on a PR offensive,
using The Da Vinci Code and the appointment of Ms Kelly to promote its agenda.
Jack Valero, Opus Dei’s British press spokesman, is upbeat. He says:
"Ten million people have now heard of Opus Dei thanks to The Da Vinci Code. That
can only be a good thing - 2005 is going to be the year of Opus Dei."
Ronnie Convery, the director of communications for the late Cardinal Thomas Winning,
and now for Mario Conti, the Archbishop of Glasgow, was a member for many years
before leaving after he found it too demanding.
"As a student, I
was quite taken with the idea that you could have a vocation to work in the world,
and not flee from it, which is a central plank of Opus Dei’s message," he says.
"So it seemed an obvious step to take to join in 1990. Over the
years, I found the long daily list of prayers, devotions and customs too demanding
for me. So I left after eight years. I had read horror stories of people being
pressurised to stay in. Instead, the guy with whom I discussed it said simply:
‘Better to be a happy former member of Opus Dei than an unhappy member’."
The question is: what is Opus Dei’s role in Scotland, where they have three
large properties, all in Glasgow? In order to dispel the image of a shadowy organisation,
the group, when approached by The Scotsman, opened its doors.
"We’ve
really nothing to hide," said Dermot Grenham as he sat in a comfortable armchair
in one of the many elegant rooms at Dunreath, Opus Dei’s centre for men, where,
until this week, he was the director.
"Opus Dei’s role is to do
God’s work out in the world. We are here to help people become saints," he said.
The Church’s philosophy is that every man, woman and child - priest
and laity - has a universal calling to holiness and the capability to become a
saint. In Opus Dei, unlike many Catholic institutions, the power lies with the
laity. The group’s global membership is about 85,000, only 2,000 of whom are priests;
the remainder are different types of members.
While the organisation
is most powerful in Spain and Latin America, where prominent politicians are among
its number, in Britain there are only 520 members, of whom about 50 are based
in Scotland.
It is an extremely wealthy body, with a net worth in
Britain of about £20 million, largely due to its property and a chain of student
halls of residence, which help recruitment.
Tommy Burns, the former
Celtic player, has, in the past, attended Opus Dei meetings, while Archbishop
Conti dined at Dunreath before Christmas.
There are four types of
Opus Dei member:
• A numerary, such as Mr Grenham, is a celibate
member who lives in an Opus Dei house, segregated by gender, and donates his or
her full salary to the group, retaining only what is required for clothes, etc,
to carry out the daily "civilian" job.
• An associate is, again,
a celibate member but who, for personal reasons such as looking after an elderly
parent, does not live in community. Such members continue to donate any unrequired
income to the organisation.
• A supernumerary is a married
member, such as Ruth Kelly, many of whom make a monthly donation, though no amount
is prescribed, and follow Opus Dei’s spiritual formation on a daily basis.
• A co-operator is not a proper member. Instead, he or she is a registered
supporter who, in exchange for services, receives "indulgences", or spiritual
benefits.
All official members follow a prescribed process of prayer,
meditation and daily mass, and regularly read The Way, a book of 999 maxims written
by St Josemaría Escrivá.
While supernumeraries offer small "mortifications",
or discomforts, such as keeping the heating low or forgoing sugar in their tea,
numeraries of both sexes induce physical discomfort by wearing a cilice - a wire
band round the thigh which irritates the skin - often for an hour each day, and
by whipping themselves with a knotted rope, known as "the discipline", once a
week.
"It may seem very strange to the outside world, but these
mortifications have been a part of the Catholic Church for centuries," says Mr
Grenham, who insists they are optional and do not draw blood.
In
the past, one controversial aspect of Opus Dei’s work has been among the young.
The late Cardinal Hume issued instructions that Opus Dei should not permit anyone
under the age of 18 to join and, even then, any admissions should be only in consultation
with the parents.
In Scotland, both the male and female centres
in Glasgow operate sport and activity clubs for children. The Dunreath Club has
a junior section for boys aged between ten and 12 and a senior section for those
13-16.
Many of those who attend are the children of members, and
those who are not require parental permission. The centre’s library is available
to pupils for private study, which encourages teenagers to become more involved
with the group.
However, the parent of one teenage boy, who was
pursued to join Opus Dei, described its methods as "spiritual grooming". The man,
who did not wish to be named, said he had felt compelled to contact an Opus Dei
priest and insist he no longer contacted his son.
"I’m very uncomfortable
with their methods," he said. "They are extreme in their behaviour, in their practice,
and I remain very suspicious of them."
In Glasgow, as in Opus Dei
across the world, the men and women are separated by more than the River Clyde.
In the drawing room of a West End town house that is home to seven
female numeraries, Eileen Cole, a member for 27 years, explained that the sexes
rarely meet and are content to proselytise among their own gender. However, female
members are expected to organise all the cooking and cleaning for the men. This
is in keeping with the founder’s view of the role of women, which many people
find deeply sexist.
"If we didn’t do it, they would be living like
savages," says Ms Cole. "Women are simply better at these things than men."
She describes her vocation as rewarding and says: "The Work [as members
describe Opus Dei] has made me less self-centred. It helps you to spend your life
being of service to others."
The vast majority of members of Opus
Dei, however, are supernumeraries. There are 21 female supernumeraries in Scotland,
such as Clare McDonald, 42, a mother of six children.
The former
GP says: "We live in an utterly secular society today, and I’ve found Opus Dei
a tremendous help in maintaining my own moral and spiritual values. It’s something
you can do quietly. You can turn your daily tasks into a prayer."
Unlike many members who are angry at their group’s portrayal in The Da Vinci Code,
Mrs McDonald thinks it "cool". She jokes: "Now, if people ask about Opus Dei,
I tell them, ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you’."
WOMEN
OF GOD WHEN
Josemaría Escrivá founded Opus Dei in 1928, "God’s Work" was strictly for men
only.
Two years later, however, the Spanish priest changed his mind
and permitted women to join. The sexes were to be kept strictly separate, and
there is no doubt which was to be the dominant partner.
Yet the
organisation has more women in its number because, as one explained: "We’ve got
to look after the men."
Women in Opus Dei, as in the upper echelons
of the Catholic Church, remain second-class citizens.
Deportment
and modesty are among the subjects on the curriculum for female members of Opus
Dei, while there is no equivalent for men. Opus Dei’s new $50 million headquarters
in New York has separate entrances for men and women.
As Escrivá
wrote: "Wives, you should ask yourself whether you are not forgetting a little
about your appearance. Your duty is, and will always be, to take as good care
of your appearance as you did before you were married - and it is a duty of justice,
because you belong to your husband." He also preached: "Women needn’t be scholars
- it’s enough for them to be prudent."
The most damaging charge
against him was that he doubted the number of Jews killed in the Holocaust. This
charge is dismissed as a lie by his followers.
Escrivá was canonised
by Pope John Paul II in 2002.
A
DAY IN THE LIFE OF A FOLLOWER AM:
Rise exactly when alarm goes off. Get out of bed. Kiss the bedroom floor and say:
"Serviam" - Latin for "I will serve."
Morning prayers followed by
30 minutes prayerful meditation.
Noon: Say the Angelus, followed
by a particular "examination of conscience". For example, "am I being lazy?" or
"am I humble enough?" etc
Daily Mass is mandatory for members, and
many fit this in during their lunch hour. After Mass ten minutes is spent in "thanksgiving".
Evening: Five decades of the Rosary, ten minutes of spiritual reading,
five minutes of gospel reading, 30 minutes of spiritual meditation.
Before bed: General examination of conscience, followed by an Act of Contrition.
Final prayer before sleep called the "Preces".
Weekly:
Confession, evening prayer meeting called "the Circle".
Monthly:
Evening event of reconciliation.
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