/o-604642/n/opus-dei)
Opus Dei is the most controversial - and unknown - force in the Catholic Church. Here, John L. Allen uncovers its real nature. Accused of promoting a right-wing political agenda, of cult-like practices, and immortalized forever in the pages of Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code, Opus Dei is the most notorious, most talked about - but least known - religious organization of our time. Granted unlimited access to those within its ranks, and with an investigative eye intent on uncovering closely guarded secrets, John L. Allen finally separates the myths from the facts: the actual use of the cilice; the reason men and women remain separate; the true extent of Opus Dei's funds. Built around a wealth of interviews with the heads of Opus Dei in the Vatican and in centres around the world, comparing the attitudes of current members with those of highly critical members and outsiders, Opus Dei is a portrait of a remarkably powerful organization, both inside and outside the Church. One of the most mysterious and controversial religious forces today, and immortalized in Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code, the interest Opus Dei has become a worldwide phenomenon. In Opus Dei John Allen uncovers its real nature. We talk to John on his thoughts of Opus Dei. What prompted your interest in Opus Dei?
I lecture widely on Catholic affairs, and over the years I noticed that whenever I spoke, no matter the location or ideological predisposition of the audience, someone would eventually ask me about Opus Dei. “Are they as powerful as people say?” “Are they as secretive?” “What’s the deal with women?” and so on. After the Robert Hanssen spy scandal and the release of the thriller The Da Vinci Code, these questions were no longer just from Church insiders, but from everyone. In light of this strong public curiosity, I had the idea of doing a lengthy magazine piece about Opus Dei based on an interview with their prelate, i.e., the bishop in charge in Rome, Bishop Javier Echevarría Rodríguez. I had presumed that given the controversies that have swirled around Opus Dei for decades, someone would have written a basic reporter’s book separating fact from fiction. What I found was that such a book didn’t exist, in any major language. I proposed the idea to my publisher, and it took off from there. That’s the reporter’s logic. As a Roman Catholic, I have long been concerned about the capacity of different groups in the Church to speak with one another, in order to overcome the acrimony that too often poisons our relationships. My hypothesis was that if I could help foster a rational, informed conversation about Opus Dei, there might be hope that the Church could do the same thing on other topics that have long been divisive. What were you most disturbed by during your investigation?
Opus Dei is a bit like the Marine Corps – “the few, the proud.” For the most committed inner members, known as “numeraries,” the bar is set high, and it’s a demanding, highly structured life. For those suited to it, life inside Opus Dei is rewarding, fulfilling, and a pathway to God. Those not cut out for it, however, can wind up feeling ground down and abused, and Opus Dei has not always succeeded over the years in exercising good judgment in giving these people proper support. Hence you have the phenomenon of embittered ex-members, so many that it’s impossible to treat it as a series of isolated instances. At the same time, most members of Opus Dei report positive experiences, and even many ex-members remain on good terms. There is a strong sense inside Opus Dei of honoring God with one’s work, which under certain circumstances can translate into an exaggerated work ethic and a push to perform “better than the best.” This drive is part of the motor fuel of Opus Dei’s remarkable accomplishments, but it can also generate pressure that some find overwhelming. Work becomes not a mean to an end, which is sanctification, but is confused with sanctification. This is a spiritual risk against which Opus Dei needs to remain on guard. I also find disturbing the quality of much public discussion about Opus Dei, both inside and outside the Catholic Church, and perhaps especially in the Anglo-Saxon world. Because Opus Dei is quite small, only 85,000 members worldwide, the odds are that most people have never met a member. Discussion therefore tends to rely on media images and stereotypes. I hope the book can help set the table for a debate about Opus Dei that is better informed and therefore more helpful. What were you most impressed by?
The satisfied, well-adjusted numeraries, the most committed members of Opus Dei, that I met over the course of research for this book (and they strike me as the majority) are among the most impressive people I’ve ever known – sharp, focused, persons of deep faith and moral purpose, but never joyless. Whatever its flaws, I felt there must be something attractive about the Opus Dei ideal that brought so many talented, intellectually lively and spiritually serious people into its orbit. At the same time, some of the ex-members I met around the world are equally remarkable. They feel like struggling David's going up against a Goliath, trying to warn other impressionable, idealistic young people against signing over their lives to Opus Dei until they understand what the commitment is all about. Tammy DiNicola and her mother Dianne, for example, keep the Opus Dei Awareness Network afloat out of their home in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. It’s a wing and a prayer operation, whose “headquarters” is really a kitchen table, but they have had a remarkable worldwide impact in shaping the public discussion of Opus Dei. In some ways, it is the flip side of the missionary zeal, intelligence, and sense of purpose that presumably drew them to Opus Dei in the first place. Why do we need to be aware of what Opus Dei really is?
Despite its small size, Opus Dei has a dramatically outsize presence on the global stage. Inside Roman Catholicism, it is a lightning rod for the broader cultural wars in the Church. Liberals see Opus Dei as the embodiment of all they hoped Vatican II had overcome – unflinching papal loyalty, highly structured modes of common life, a very traditional conception of gender roles, and a missionary attitude with respect to the outside world. Conservatives tend to defend Opus Dei, if only because they dislike its critics. In the court of broader public opinion, Opus Dei has taken its place alongside the Masons and Skull and Bones as a short-hand reference. Thus to understand Catholicism in the 21st century, one must understand Opus Dei. For Catholics, there is perhaps a further motive for careful consideration of the realities of Opus Dei. Conversation within the Catholic Church these days often tends to be fragmented among various self-defined ghettoes – liberal reformers, charismatics, liturgical traditionalists, neo-conservatives, peace and justice people, and so. The result is often misunderstanding and suspicion across those lines. Given the highly polarizing character of Opus Dei, if the Church can manage to have a patient, reasoned conversation about it, there may be hope for dialogue about many of the other issues that currently divide Catholics. Do you think this is a particularly Catholic phenomenon?
In one sense, Opus Dei is utterly Catholic – its faithfulness to the pope, its unapologetic practice of traditional devotions and spiritual disciplines, its origins in ultra-Catholic Spain, and so on. In another sense, however, Opus Dei illustrates a universal human phenomenon, which is the joys, and risks, involved when any organization demands a total commitment of one’s mind, heart and soul in pursuit of some noble aim. People who respond well will experience satisfaction and a sense of purpose, and often will achieve levels of excellence unattainable for less focused and motivated individuals. People for whom the system breaks down, however, will often end up feeling abused and exploited by it. These are perhaps the two sides of the same coin – vast ambition can change the world, but it can also exhaust and crush people who end up questioning both the means and the ends to which that ambition is directed. Opus Dei’s experience thus offers an important lesson for all, Catholic or not, religious or not. No one ever said that Catholics have a monopoly on ambition, or on the various ways that organizations can use and abuse it.
I lecture widely on Catholic affairs, and over the years I noticed that whenever I spoke, no matter the location or ideological predisposition of the audience, someone would eventually ask me about Opus Dei. “Are they as powerful as people say?” “Are they as secretive?” “What’s the deal with women?” and so on. After the Robert Hanssen spy scandal and the release of the thriller The Da Vinci Code, these questions were no longer just from Church insiders, but from everyone. In light of this strong public curiosity, I had the idea of doing a lengthy magazine piece about Opus Dei based on an interview with their prelate, i.e., the bishop in charge in Rome, Bishop Javier Echevarría Rodríguez. I had presumed that given the controversies that have swirled around Opus Dei for decades, someone would have written a basic reporter’s book separating fact from fiction. What I found was that such a book didn’t exist, in any major language. I proposed the idea to my publisher, and it took off from there. That’s the reporter’s logic. As a Roman Catholic, I have long been concerned about the capacity of different groups in the Church to speak with one another, in order to overcome the acrimony that too often poisons our relationships. My hypothesis was that if I could help foster a rational, informed conversation about Opus Dei, there might be hope that the Church could do the same thing on other topics that have long been divisive. What were you most disturbed by during your investigation?
Opus Dei is a bit like the Marine Corps – “the few, the proud.” For the most committed inner members, known as “numeraries,” the bar is set high, and it’s a demanding, highly structured life. For those suited to it, life inside Opus Dei is rewarding, fulfilling, and a pathway to God. Those not cut out for it, however, can wind up feeling ground down and abused, and Opus Dei has not always succeeded over the years in exercising good judgment in giving these people proper support. Hence you have the phenomenon of embittered ex-members, so many that it’s impossible to treat it as a series of isolated instances. At the same time, most members of Opus Dei report positive experiences, and even many ex-members remain on good terms. There is a strong sense inside Opus Dei of honoring God with one’s work, which under certain circumstances can translate into an exaggerated work ethic and a push to perform “better than the best.” This drive is part of the motor fuel of Opus Dei’s remarkable accomplishments, but it can also generate pressure that some find overwhelming. Work becomes not a mean to an end, which is sanctification, but is confused with sanctification. This is a spiritual risk against which Opus Dei needs to remain on guard. I also find disturbing the quality of much public discussion about Opus Dei, both inside and outside the Catholic Church, and perhaps especially in the Anglo-Saxon world. Because Opus Dei is quite small, only 85,000 members worldwide, the odds are that most people have never met a member. Discussion therefore tends to rely on media images and stereotypes. I hope the book can help set the table for a debate about Opus Dei that is better informed and therefore more helpful. What were you most impressed by?
The satisfied, well-adjusted numeraries, the most committed members of Opus Dei, that I met over the course of research for this book (and they strike me as the majority) are among the most impressive people I’ve ever known – sharp, focused, persons of deep faith and moral purpose, but never joyless. Whatever its flaws, I felt there must be something attractive about the Opus Dei ideal that brought so many talented, intellectually lively and spiritually serious people into its orbit. At the same time, some of the ex-members I met around the world are equally remarkable. They feel like struggling David's going up against a Goliath, trying to warn other impressionable, idealistic young people against signing over their lives to Opus Dei until they understand what the commitment is all about. Tammy DiNicola and her mother Dianne, for example, keep the Opus Dei Awareness Network afloat out of their home in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. It’s a wing and a prayer operation, whose “headquarters” is really a kitchen table, but they have had a remarkable worldwide impact in shaping the public discussion of Opus Dei. In some ways, it is the flip side of the missionary zeal, intelligence, and sense of purpose that presumably drew them to Opus Dei in the first place. Why do we need to be aware of what Opus Dei really is?
Despite its small size, Opus Dei has a dramatically outsize presence on the global stage. Inside Roman Catholicism, it is a lightning rod for the broader cultural wars in the Church. Liberals see Opus Dei as the embodiment of all they hoped Vatican II had overcome – unflinching papal loyalty, highly structured modes of common life, a very traditional conception of gender roles, and a missionary attitude with respect to the outside world. Conservatives tend to defend Opus Dei, if only because they dislike its critics. In the court of broader public opinion, Opus Dei has taken its place alongside the Masons and Skull and Bones as a short-hand reference. Thus to understand Catholicism in the 21st century, one must understand Opus Dei. For Catholics, there is perhaps a further motive for careful consideration of the realities of Opus Dei. Conversation within the Catholic Church these days often tends to be fragmented among various self-defined ghettoes – liberal reformers, charismatics, liturgical traditionalists, neo-conservatives, peace and justice people, and so. The result is often misunderstanding and suspicion across those lines. Given the highly polarizing character of Opus Dei, if the Church can manage to have a patient, reasoned conversation about it, there may be hope for dialogue about many of the other issues that currently divide Catholics. Do you think this is a particularly Catholic phenomenon?
In one sense, Opus Dei is utterly Catholic – its faithfulness to the pope, its unapologetic practice of traditional devotions and spiritual disciplines, its origins in ultra-Catholic Spain, and so on. In another sense, however, Opus Dei illustrates a universal human phenomenon, which is the joys, and risks, involved when any organization demands a total commitment of one’s mind, heart and soul in pursuit of some noble aim. People who respond well will experience satisfaction and a sense of purpose, and often will achieve levels of excellence unattainable for less focused and motivated individuals. People for whom the system breaks down, however, will often end up feeling abused and exploited by it. These are perhaps the two sides of the same coin – vast ambition can change the world, but it can also exhaust and crush people who end up questioning both the means and the ends to which that ambition is directed. Opus Dei’s experience thus offers an important lesson for all, Catholic or not, religious or not. No one ever said that Catholics have a monopoly on ambition, or on the various ways that organizations can use and abuse it.
