THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DEI

The impulse to believe the absurd when presented with the unknowable is called religion. Whether this is wise or unwise is the domain of doctrine. Once you understand someone's doctrine, you understand their rationale for believing the absurd. At that point, it may no longer seem absurd. You can get to both sides of this conondrum from here.

Re: THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DE

Postby admin » Thu Oct 22, 2015 9:21 am

7. Sabres and Chasubles

Our war is not a civil war ... but a Crusade ... Yes, our war is a religious war. We who fight, whether Christians or Muslims, are soldiers of God and we are not fighting against men but against atheism and materialism.

-- Generalisimo Francisco Franco


However many Fascists there may be in Spain, there will not be a Fascist regime. Should force triumph against the Republic we will return to a military and ecclesiastical dictatorship of the type that is traditionally Spanish ... There will be sabres and chasubles, military parades and processions honouring the Virgen del Pilar. On that score the country is not capable of anything else.

-- Manuel Azana


WITH THE OUTBREAK OF THE CIVIL WAR, FATHER ESCRIVA REMOVED his cassock and did not wear one again in Spain under the Republic. He also let his tonsure grow out and took to wearing his mother's wedding ring. He told his disciples that even though he was prepared to become a martyr, he had been entrusted with a divine mission and therefore it was his duty to do everything possible to remain alive.

No place in Spain suffered more during the Civil War than Escriva's birthplace of Barbastro, known at the time as a town of soldiers and priests. It boasted a Benedictine monastery, missionary college, Piarist school, seminary and a strong Cathedral chapter, all of which became a butt of leftist anger, led by the Anarchist agitator Eugenio Sopena. The seminary was demolished, and next Sopena ordered all priests arrested. 'Death to the blackbirds' became the cry. But Sopena was heard to mutter: 'We can't allow any carnage around here.' Among those rounded up by Sopena's leftist vigilantes were the bishop, Don Florentino Asensio Barroso, and the Cathedral canon, Mariano Albas, Jose Maria Escriva's godfather.

From Barcelona the 6,000-strong 'Ascaso Column' divided into two pincers. The southern wing, commanded by Durruti, continued up the Ebro valley towards Saragossa. The northern section, under Domingo Ascaso, arrived in Barbastro on the afternoon of 25 July, having gutted the thirteenth-century Lerida cathedral the day before. The first men, dressed like Jacobins with bandannas tied around their heads, reached the town by train. They were accompanied by prostitutes from Barcelona in workmen's coveralls and the riffraff freed from prisons along the way. They were followed towards dusk by a convoy of trucks with machine guns and field pieces. That afternoon. the first executions began.

The commander of the local barracks, Colonel Jose Villalba Rubio, embraced the leaders of the Ascaso Column and paraded his troops through the streets with them. The next day he sent out a joint patrol towards Huesca, but this was ambushed by a rebel Civil Guard detachment and took heavy losses. That night Barbastro was overcome by an orgy of violence. Churches were emptied of their statuary and other religious objects, which were burned in the streets. In the Cathedral the rioters dismantled the main altarpiece, stole all the silver, and the baptismal font was thrown into the Rio Vero. The churches of San Bartolome and San Hipolito were reduced to rubble.

When Durruti learned that five hardened Anarchists who were conveying precious booty to Barcelona had been shot as looters, he came personally to Barbastro to exact vengeance. He had his twelve heavily armed bodyguards convene the Anti-Fascist Committee and in a violent harangue he accused its members of executing five true and loyal Anarchists while Barbastro's prison overflowed with blackbirds and Blue Shirts. Alarmed, the committee quickened the pace of executions.

That evening Mariano Abad, an Anarchist agitator whose sobriquet was 'the Undertaker', went to the prison and handed the guards a signed and stamped piece of paper marked, 'Good for 20'. His instructions were to collect any twenty from among the 400 or so prisoners and execute them. In the middle of the night they were taken to the cemetery, where they were joined by another group from the town hall. The staff at the hospital watched as they were lined up against the exterior wall of the cemetery and shot.

After being locked up for seventeen days, Bishop Asensio was brought before the committee, meeting that night in the town hall. The first thing the Bishop was told was, 'Don't be afraid. If you've prayed well you'll go to heaven.' The hearing lasted a few minutes. Satisfied he was a Nationalist collaborator, they tied his hands behind his back and returned him to the holding cell while other prisoners were heard. Once the night's quota was filled, bishop Asensio was brought back into the room. When he refused to answer further questions he was kicked in the groin, then castrated, after which he was taken to the cemetery. One of his torturers shouted: 'Hurry up, pigs.' The bishop replied: 'Do what you like ... I will pray for you in heaven.' Another guard said, 'Here, take Communion,' and hit him in the mouth with a brick.

But his agony was not over. At the cemetery he survived the firing squad's volley of shots and was heaped upon a pile of corpses where he lay for more than an hour before receiving the coup de grace. Next morning the head doctor at the hospital complained to the committee that the executions were disturbing his patients, making it impossible for them to sleep. In deference to the doctor the remaining priests, including Canon Albas, were shot at night-time at kilometre three on the road to Berbegal, a village to the south of Barbastro. [1] By the end of the month more than 800 Barbastrians had been executed -- including 200 priests -- some 10 per cent of the local population. In Madrid, three out of every ten priests were killed during the reign of terror. In Barbastro, nine out of every ten lost their lives.

Mariano Albas, though martyred while administering the last rites to a group of seminarians executed with him, has not been beatified, and no mention of his fate is found in the 'official' Escriva biographies. In stark contrast to the Calvary suffered by Barbastro's priests, Escriva found asylum in a psychiatric clinic on the outskirts of Madrid, where he learned to simulate the behaviour of the mentally ill. He spent five months doing his best to feign insanity. But one day the milicianos came to search the building. When the pseudo-madman was about to be questioned, one of the bona fide patients went up to the officer, pointed at his gun and asked, 'Is that a string instrument or a wind instrument?' The officer considered the question for a moment and then turned to Escriva and asked, 'Who are you?'

'I am Dr. Maranon,' he replied, pretending he was one of Spain's best-known personalities.

That was quite enough for the officer and abruptly he called off the search.

In early October 1936 the Nationalist forces resumed their advance and Madrid was about to fall when the first units of the Communist International Brigades arrived, followed by Durruti with 4,000 Anarchists. In the counter-attack the Anarchists came face to face with Hitler's elite Condor Legion and fled into the Parque del Oeste, pursued by a bandera of the Spanish Foreign Legion. Durruti was wounded, perhaps shot by one of his own men, and died five days later. In reprisal, the Popular Front executed Jose Antonio Primo de Rivera, who had been in a Republican jail since March 1936 on a charge of disturbing the peace. Their advance stopped, the Nationalists dug in on the western outskirts of Madrid for the remainder of the war. Afflicted by food shortages and frequent power cuts, the mood in the capital became sombre and street-corner executions were common. The staff at the asylum grew suspicious of 'Dr Maranon' and three months later Escriva was asked to leave.

He found refuge at the legation of the republic of Honduras, along with his brother Santiago, Juan Jimenez Vargas, Eduardo A1astrue and Jose Maria Albareda. Until then Albareda had been hiding in the Chilean embassy, but it had become unsafe. Alvaro del Portillo, who had been arrested inside the Finnish embassy and detained for three months, also joined them. The six shared a room that was two and a half metres by three, with a narrow window opening onto an interior courtyard. They called it the 'Honduran cage'. For the next five months it served as their home, office and chapel. They had little to eat; lunch and supper (no breakfast) usually consisted of stale carob beans, mixed with 'proteins', which meant the insects that came with the beans. To keep their sanity, the Father established a programme of prayers, work and meditation.

During those next five months, Albareda became very close to the Father. He told Escriva about Jose Ibanez Martin, a secondary school teacher whom he had met while hiding in the Chilean embassy. Like Escriva and Albareda, Ibanez was a son of Aragon. He was also one of Angel Herrera's Propagandistas and a former CEDA deputy. Jose Ibanez and Albareda were compatible souls and their talks during the long hours with nothing else to occupy them focused on the New Spain that would rise after the Civil War.

News that the Vatican had recognized the Burgos authorities as the official government of Spain stirred Escriva to attempt a crossing to the Blue Zone. By then Albareda had received word that his brother had successfully fled the Republic on an underground 'railroad' that smuggled people over the Pyrenees to Andorra. To arrange passage, travellers had to contact a conductor in Barcelona known as the 'Milkman'.

Escriva convinced the consul general to furnish him with a letter stating that he was the general manager of the Honduran legation. At the beginning of October 1937, he, Albareda, Tomas Alvira and Manuel Sainz de los Terreros, a road engineer in whose apartment he had found refuge the year before, obtained travel permits for Valencia. Juan Jimenez went ahead to make contact with Miguel Fisac and Francisco Botella. The others left by overnight coach. Isidoro Zorzano, Vicente Rodriguez, Jose Maria Gonzalez and Alvaro del Portillo were unable to obtain the necessary papers and remained in Madrid.

In Valencia, the travellers gathered at the home of 'Paco' Botella. He and Pedro Casciaro had been pressed into the Republican army but upon seeing the Father again they decided to leave with him that same evening by train for Barcelona, 350 kilometres north along the Mediterranean coast. According to Albareda, Escriva prayed during most of the journey, which took twelve hours. They spent the next six weeks waiting for additional papers, during which time they made contact with the 'Milkman'. He demanded payment in banknotes issued by the Bank of Spain before 18 July 1936. Between them they had just enough. They split into two groups, leaving behind Alvira and Sainz to wait for Portillo, who was still attempting to raise enough money to join them.

In mid-November 1937, Escriva, Albareda, Juan Jimenez, Botella, Casciaro and Fisac boarded a bus for Seo de Urgel, nine kilometres south of the frontier. The' police checkpoints became more frequent as they approached the mountains. Their instructions were to leave the bus at a crossroads near Peramola, a small village off the main road south of Seo de Urgel. Waiting there was the first of their guides. They slowly progressed towards the border, sleeping in a hayloft and even a large outdoor oven where, in the damp and cold, there was barely enough room to accommodate them. Escriva wanted to turn back. He felt guilty about leaving Portillo behind in Madrid. Over supper he had an argument with Juan Jimenez, who told him, 'We're going to get you to the other zone, even if I have to drag you there by your hair.' [2] The Father sobbed and throughout the rest of the night he cried and prayed to the Virgin for a sign confirming that he was following God's wishes. The sign he suggested was that, in the late autumn of the high Pyrenees, a rose might bloom.

At dawn, Escriva climbed out of the oven and went into the ruins of the nearby church to pray. The altarpiece had been destroyed but he found among the debris a carved wooden rose that apparently had broken off a statue of the Virgin. He took it as the sign he had requested and, showing it to his followers, called upon them to prepare for Mass.

During the next four nights they continued their journey, Alvira and Sainz having caught up with them, crossing four high mountain passes. Their new guide, Antonio, had a robust constitution and a concrete mixer for a digestive tract. He farted with great gusto, emitting foul odours that caused Fisac to turn and remark to the Father, 'If he keeps on like that he'll asphyxiate me.' [3]

On the last night a drizzle turned to snow. Several times they had to cross the Arabell River and Fisac carried Escriva on his back. They were soaked. The ground was freezing. Finally Escriva's strength gave out. He complained that his limbs were numb; his teeth chattered uncontrollably and he could hardly walk. During breaks, Juan massaged his legs. But Antonio was in a hurry. Border patrols had orders to shoot on sight and he said one was close by. They crossed another torrent, and saw the lights of a house. Dogs started barking. They descended into a valley and after entering the woods on the opposite slope Antonio told them they were in Andorra. He then disappeared.

A few days later they reached San Sebastian in Nationalist Spain. Escriva's 'sons' reported for military service. The Father, still in possession of the carved rose, which later became the symbol of the Women's Section, spent Christmas with the Bishop of Pamplona. On 8 January 1938 -- the day before his thirty-sixth birthday -- he arrived in the Nationalist capital of Burgos, and moved into a modest hotel with Albareda, Casciaro and Botella. Albareda had again met up with Jose Ibanez Martin. The Aragonese chemistry teacher was now deputy minister of education in the new Franco cabinet. He found Albereda a job with the National Secretariat of Culture. By pulling strings, Escriva was able to have Casciaro and Botella posted to desk jobs at the military headquarters in Burgos while Fisac and the others were sent to the Front.

Escriva's first concern in Burgos was to re-establish the Work. He immediately travelled south to Salamanca and tried to interest the principal benefactor of the Teresian Institute, Maria Josefa Segovia, to back him, as Father Poveda, the Teresian founder, had been shot during the first days of the Red terror in Madrid.

'I am again with Don Jose Maria,' Maria Josefa wrote in her diary. 'He fills me with such emotion. He looks like a ghost, and he cries ... He spoke of his last conversation with Father Poveda a few days before our Founder was martyred. With his words, we relived all the horror of the persecution. Apart from that, he comes full of projects.' [4]

In this encounter Escriva appears to have taken considerable liberty with the truth while playing upon the wealthy aristocrat's sentiments. We know from his biographers that once the Civil War broke out he never saw Father Poveda again and did not learn of the elder priest's martyrdom until some three months after the event. Poveda was killed by the milicianos on 27 July 1936. [5]

It is not known whether Maria Josefa Segovia contributed to the Work's empty coffers. But after returning from Salamanca, Escriva began anew his doctoral thesis, transforming it into a study of the Abbess of Las Huelgas. The seed for the change had been planted more than a year before, when he had remarked to Pedro Casciaro that the future juridical solution for the Work lay under two tombstones set in the floor of the Santa Isabel church in Madrid. Both were for Palatine Ordinaries, who under canon law held the status of Prelates nullius -- that is, an Ordinary without a diocese but with his own congregation and clergy. [6]

What interested Escriva about the medieval Abbey of Las Huelgas, just a twenty minute walk from his hotel, was its uniqueness in the annals of the Church, having been chartered as prelatura nullius. The abbey was founded in 1187 by Alfonso VIII at the behest of his wife Eleanor, daughter of England's Henry II. It was dedicated to promoting the monastic life of women, possessing its own lands and congregation, and therefore not attached to an episcopal see but coming under its own prelate, the Abbess of Las Huelgas. Her status was similar to a prelate nullius, making her the highest-ranking woman in the Church, and that intrigued Escriva. Las Huelgas remained a prelatura nullius until the mid-nineteenth century, when its status was finally changed.

While Escriva developed his thesis, the Work's very existence became threatened. A Nationalist finance ministry official, Don Jorge Bermudez, originally from Albacete, where the Casciaro family also lived, accused Pedro Casciaro's father, a Freemason and serving Republican officer, of being responsible for the deaths of many National Front supporters in Albacete. He also affirmed that the son shared the father's political convictions, having personally seen Pedro distributing Marxist tracts at Albacete before the February 1936 elections. Bermudez further claimed that Pedro was a Republican spy. He had no proof, but that did not bother him, even though the consequence of such an accusation would have been an investigation of Escriva's activities and, because suspected spies were offered little legal protection, Casciaro's likely execution before a firing squad.

Escriva and Albareda went to see Bermudez at the finance department and appealed to the man's Christian conscience. But Bermudez turned a deaf ear. Even if the son was innocent, which he doubted, Bermudez insisted that Pedro had to answer for his father's crimes. When finally they left Bermudez's office, Escriva was overcome by a premonition of death. Descending the stairs, he turned to Albareda and, eyes almost closed, predicted, 'Tomorrow, or the day after, there'll be a funeral in that family.' [7]

They returned to the hotel and Escriva explained to the others what had happened. Fisac was in Burgos on leave at the time. He now picks up the story: 'We went downstairs for lunch and afterwards everyone left on their own business, with the Father and me remaining alone in the room. We were leaning on the railing of the porch watching the river when he told me in a hushed voice, "Tomorrow, a burial in that house." I was afraid and we remained silent,' he recalled.

'A short while later, the Father proposed that we go to the Cathedral and visit the Holy Ghost. We passed under the Arch of Our Lady and entered the Cathedral, leaving it after long meditation by the side door. We descended the steps, but before arriving in the plaza we stopped at a public notice board. One of the notices, bordered in black, was very recent. The Father read it and became quite agitated. "What's happened?" I asked. He replied, "The gentleman I saw this morning is dead."

'I was deeply struck by this news. We walked on for a few more metres and entered a bistro where we ordered a fruit juice. It was then that the Father told me not to make any judgements on the departed soul. I remember that we probably said a prayer for him. Afterwards, the Father told me that it would be prudent if Pedro and I left Burgos for a few days, and he suggested we go the same evening to Vitoria with Jose Maria Albareda. We went directly from the bistro to the General Headquarters. I entered the building and asked Pedro and Paco to come out for a moment; in the street we explained what had happened. The Father said it would be better if Pedro left for two days until after the funeral. So Pedro requested a furlough for Vitoria, as that weekend it was the Festival of La Blanca.' [8]

When Fisac returned to Burgos three days later he was asked by the others to sign a statement describing what had happened in words dictated by the Father. He said he was convinced that when the Father said, 'Tomorrow, a burial,' he was referring to the Bermudez son who was at the Front. After hesitating, he finally signed the text and the matter was never discussed again.

'Pope Pius XI died on 10 February 1939 and was succeeded by Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli, who took the name of Pius XII. Four weeks after Pacelli's election the Civil War ended. The new pope immediately despatched a telegram congratulating Franco on his 'Catholic' victory. [9] Escriva's return to Madrid with the first Nationalist columns on 28 March 1939 marked the close of Opus Dei's embryonic period.

One of Franco's first measures as the new master of Spain was to launch a campaign of repression against anyone suspected of Republican sympathies. To facilitate the arrest of state enemies, Franco's police issued special blue forms for denunciations, which citizens were invited to fill out if they suspected their neighbours or possessed information that might assist in uncovering Popular Front collaborators. [10] The 'cleansing' of Spanish society that followed the Nationalist victory added another 200,000 victims to the more than 500,000 who lost their lives during the Civil War. [11]

Escriva immediately began stitching the Work back together, making it the standard bearer of a concept known as 'authoritarian clericalism'. With his brother Santiago, Ricardo Fernandez Vallespin and Juan Jimenez Vargas he inspected the DYA Residence. The building had been shelled during the 1937 battle for Madrid and had to be written off. As the Fomento de Estudios Superiores had made no further payment, the owner repossessed the property. Escriva, however, was determined to open a new student residence before the beginning of the academic year that October.

As the rest of Europe prepared for world war, during April and May 1939 Spain was treated to a series of victory celebrations that culminated with Franco's entry into Madrid on Thursday, 18 May. The capital was ablaze with the red and gold colours of the new Spain. Some 200,000 troops had been brought into the city to take part in a grand victory parade. Parks were transformed into military cantonments and the streets jammed with tanks, armoured vehicles, artillery pieces and both mechanized and muledrawn transport. Madrid was said to be overawed by Franco's military hubris. The parade was 30 kilometre long and lasted five hours. It included elite Italian and German units, and line after line of regular Spanish troops sometimes twenty abreast, among them Falangist Blue Shirts, Carlist Requetes carrying huge crucifixes, the battle-scarred Army Corps of Navarra, Moorish regulars in baggy trousers and the dreaded Spanish Foreign Legion.

That Sunday Franco attended a solemn Te Deum Mass at the royal basilica of Santa Barbara. The approach to the basilica was lined with young Falangists waving palms of peace. The choir of the Monastery of Saint Dominic of Silos greeted him with a tenth-century Mozarabic chant written for the reception of princes. Surrounded by military relics of Spain's crusading past, including Don John of Austria's Lepanto battle standard, Franco presented his 'sword of victory' to the Primate of all Spain, Cardinal Isidro Goma, who laid it on the high altar before the great crucifix of the Christ of Lepanto from the Cathedral of Barcelona. Franco then requested divine help in leading the Spanish people 'to the full liberty of the empire of Your glory and that of Your Church'. [12]

At the end of September 1939, Father Escriva published The Way, a collection of 999 religious maxims offering spiritual advice which he promoted as a guide to salvation. 'If these maxims change your own life,' the introduction read, 'you will be a perfect imitator of Jesus Christ, and a knight without a spot. And with Christs such as you, Spain will return to the ancient grandeur of its saints, its sages and its heroes.' Escriva's followers described it as 'a classic of spiritual literature, an a Kempis for modern times.' [13]

Some critics, however, claimed the work was 'superficial', which may be so, but as a criticism it missed the point. The Way was more accurately a handbook of authoritarian clericalism. Professor Jose Marfa Castillo went even further. He claimed it lacked discernment, a serious charge, for in theological terms discernment is a loaded word. 'Discernment is the expression of the true cult of Christians; it puts into practice our living as "children of the light" rather than "children of darkness",' explained Castillo, a Jesuit professor of theology at the University of Granada.

'If a book which claims to be a programme of spiritual life says nothing about Christian discernment, one can say quite surely that it has only a superficial veneer of Evangelical spirit. One can, in fact, say that, deep down, the book is not Christian,' Castillo wrote in an article that engendered Opus Dei's wrath. Shortly after, Castillo's licence to teach theology was revoked.

But what exactly is discernment? It has to do with determining the authenticity of mystical experiences -- whether they result from God's influence on the soul or are humanly induced. Ignatius of Loyola's concern for discernment constitutes an essential aspect of his Spiritual Exercises. Ignatius was so absorbed by the problem that he conceived a set of rules for the discernment of spirits that he applied to his own spiritual life. Perhaps because of his concern for discernment, Ignatius never claimed that God created the Society of Jesus. The same concern for discernment, Castillo claimed, was not reflected in The Way. In fact, The Way tolerates neither doubt nor criticism. It affirmed that true Christians must be disciplined and obedient to a spiritual director. To this extent, maintained Father Castillo, the roots of Opus Dei's fanaticism are contained in the maxims of The Way.

Written in simple, rough language, Escriva's maxims engender a spirit of superiority in anyone who identifies with them. The reader is told that he cannot be 'one of the crowd. You were born to be a leader! There is no room among us for the lukewarm. Humble yourself and Christ will set you aflame again with the fire of Love' (Maxim 16). Maxim 387 states: 'The standard of holiness that God asks of us is determined by these three points: holy intransigence, holy coercion and holy shamelessness.' Convinced he possessed the undeniable truth, Escriva wrote in Maxim 394 that 'to compromise is a sure sign of not possessing the truth. When a man gives way in matters of ideals, of honour or of Faith, that man is a man without ... honour and without Faith'.

Discernment denied, Escriva's lay children would be unlikely to attain spiritual maturity. They are told that if they wish to achieve Christian perfection they must give up their inner self to a superior. Maxim 377 states this clearly: 'And how shall I acquire "our formation", how shall I keep "our spirit"? By being faithful to the specific norms your Director gave you and explained to you, and made you love: be faithful to them and you will be an apostle: The special formation is 'ours' and none other. 'Our spirit' consists of fulfilling the specific norms dictated by 'your Director'. In other words, there is no recourse to one's spiritual discernment, only to one's Spiritual Director.

What Escriva seemed to be saying is that obedience to the Father, through each member's spiritual director, offers the key to the gates of Heaven. Consider Maxim 941: 'Obedience, the sure way. Unreserved obedience to whoever is in charge, the way of sanctity. Obedience in your apostolate, the only way: for in a work of God, the spirit must be to obey or to leave: According to Maxim 623 one must obey in every 'little detail', even if it seems 'useless and difficult. Do it!' Maxim 59 tells us that everyone needs guidance. 'Here is a safe doctrine that I want you to know: one's own mind is a bad adviser, a poor pilot to steer the soul through the storms and tempests and among the reefs of interior life. That is why it is the will of God that [your soul] be entrusted to a Master who, with his light and his knowledge, can guide us to a safe harbour: But this guidance is not attributable to the Holy Spirit. It is attributable to a man, the Father, the only person who can insure that one's sanctity will be achieved. 'Follow my word, and I promise you heaven.'

With the elimination of discernment, the Gospel is empty, faith alienated and the individual demeaned. Paul told the people of Corinth, 'For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgement upon himself. [14] Once alienation has been achieved, the foundations of a cult have been established. Father Castillo concluded: 'The Way leads inevitably to the alienation of the individual, and to an ill-conceived complicity with "the world" which Jesus rejected, and 'by which He was rejected, unto death.' [15]

_______________

Notes:

1. Gabriel Campo Villegas, Esta es Nuestra Sangre, Publicaciones Claretianas, Madrid 1992. Details of Bishop Florentino Asensio's martyrdom were taken from this book and the author's interview with Father Campo in Barbastro on 22 June 1994. Don Florentino's beatification is being considered by the Congregation for the Causes of Saints in Rome.

2. Miguel Fisac Notes, 8 June 1994.

3. Reflections by Miguel Fisac on Pedro Casciaro's book, Sonad y os quedareis cortos (Dream and you will not believe what happens), November 1994.

4. Diary of Maria Josefa Segovia for 21 January 1938, as cited by Flavia-Paz Velazquez in Vida de Maria Josefa Segovia, Publicaciones de la Institucion Teresiana, Madrid 1964, p. 205.

5. Father Poveda was beatified by John Paul II in October 1993.

6. The prelates were Antonio de Sentmanat, Patriarch of the Indies, Chaplain of King Charles IV of Spain, Vicar General of the Royal Armies on Land and at Sea (1743-1806), and Jacobo Cardona y Tur, Patriarch of the West Indies, Titular Archbishop of Zion, Major Chaplain of the Royal Household and Vicar General of the Army (1838-1923).

7. Pedro Casciaro, Sonad y os quedareis cortos, Ediciones Rialp, Madrid 1994, p. 162.

8. Miguel Fisac, Notes, 11 November 1994.

9. Paul Preston, Franco, HarperCollins, London 1993, p. 322.

10. The Times, London, 21 April 1939.

11. Brian Crozier, 'Spain under its little dictator,' The Times (London) 18 October 1993. Also Gabriel Campo Villegas, the Civil War historian of Barbasrro, in an interview with the author in June 1994, placed the number of victims during the war and subsequent years of repression at around 750,000.

12. Tom G. Burns, 'Fresh Thoughts on Franco', The Tablet, 21 November 1992.

13. Preface to the Four Courts edition of The Way, Scriptor 1985.

14. 1 Corinthians 11:29.

15. Jose Maria Castillo, La Anulacion del Discernimiento (The Elimination of Discernment). Father Castillo is also the author of El discernimiento cristiano segun San Pablo (Granada, 1975).
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Re: THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DE

Postby admin » Thu Oct 22, 2015 9:22 am

9. Pious Union

Whatever is written about us, let us never forget that just as our enemies are wont to exaggerate our defects, so our friends are wont to magnify us in their praise; and in the end we are no other than what we are in the sight of God.

-- St Francis, Mission


TO CLAIM ESCRIVA WAS ONLY INTERESTED IN THE SPIRITUAL well-being of his disciples and the manner in which they carried out their apostolate - openly and without guile, bringing the Good News to family, friends and workmates -- was nonsense. Escriva was interested in power. He was a schemer. God's schemer. And he wanted to control higher education, and later government ministries, to assure that there would be no return to Anarchism, Liberalism and Marxism. Defeating this constellation of evil -- the ALMs complex -- was central to Opus Dei's mission. It was the key, as he might have expressed it, 'to looking God in the eye'.

To maintain that Opus Dei had no political mission was, consequently, being less than forthright. It did have one, and Escriva himself explained why: 'It seems substantially better to me that there be many highly qualified Catholics who, while not posing as "official" Catholics, work within the political structure from positions of responsibility to create a true Catholic presence, sustained by an upright love for their co-workers.' [1]

What could be clearer? Opus Dei's mission had little to do with saving individual souls. It had to do with saving Father Escriva's employer, the Roman Catholic Church. That was Opus Dei's principal Crusade. But it was not a message that Opus Dei broadcast openly. It went only to the officers. To the world at large, Opus Dei's mission was to spread the word that holiness can be achieved through work, and that work was an essential part of the human condition and therefore it needed to be sanctified.

'What does it matter to me if a member be a cabinet minister or a street sweeper? What I care about is that he grows in love for God and all men in and through his work,' Father Escriva replied when, in 1957, he was congratulated by a cardinal because two of his 'sons' had been appointed government ministers. The remark was cited by Cardinal Albino Luciani a month before becoming Pope. 'This reply tells us everything about Escriva and the spirit of Opus Dei.' [2] But really it told us more about Luciani's innate goodness and naivety. This story, often repeated by Opus Dei, was devious, for it gave a misleading impression of Opus Dei's mission. Of course Escriva was convinced that members who followed his spiritual guidance grew 'in love for God and all men'. For him it was perfectly evident. If members carried out to perfection their apostolate -- keeping the Church pure while recruiting new members into the militia -- then Escriva would tell them, 'I promise you heaven.' [3] But to gain access to heaven, they had to do battle for the Church. That was the other half of the story. The guarded half. As a natural consequence of doing battle for the Church, souls were saved. Church first, souls second. And to protect the Church, Opus Dei sought to create 'a true Catholic presence' in the Secular City by occupying 'positions of responsibility'. That was the essential character of Opus Dei from 1939 onwards.

Opus Dei might claim this to be the diatribe of an outsider who has misunderstood the inner workings of a divinely inspired organization. Its directors would surely point out that Escriva himself told the world: 'There is no soul whom we do not love.' Did he not also explain: 'Whoever does not thirst for all souls does not have a vocation to Opus Dei. As children of God ... you and I must think of souls when we see people'? [4]

Of course the Founder said those things. But one of the troubles about citing anything by Escriva is that he was a master of double talk and dual standards. He said one thing for the outside world and another for his children. Even more telling, he said one thing for some of his children, while maintaining something else for his staff officers, the inscribed numeraries. He also had two layers of publications: one for the general public, The Way for example, and another reserved for elect numeraries. Strict orders were issued that copies of Cr6nica, the monthly review for staff officers, be kept under lock and key in each centre. [5]

So, yes, the Founder did say, 'Whoever does not thirst for souls does not have a vocation to Opus Dei.' But he also said: 'We do not go to the apostolate to receive applause, but to defend the Church in the front line when it is hard going to be a Catholic, and to pass unnoticed when Catholicism is in fashion.' [6]

Because Opus Dei had no more than a handful at. members in 1939, no money, no headquarters and not even legal status, its agenda over the next few years might have seemed outrageously ambitious. But it was an agenda known only to the Founder and a few of his apostles. It was also an agenda that needed a plan. Escriva, the master strategist, was by definition a master planner. He gathered his strategies into a portfolio which he called his Plan of Life. 'Without a plan of life you will never have order,' he claimed in Maxim 76. After 1,000 days of Civil War Escriva arrived back in Madrid with a small copy-book in which 'point by point he had made a note of his projects of reconstruction and apostolic expansion, identifying the steps to be taken and the goals to be achieved'. [7] This was his outline for Plan 'A'. [8] The war clouds hanging over Europe at that time required it to remain national in scope. In any case, God's proxy needed to establish a secure home base before exporting Opus Dei's apostolate to the rest of the world.

Plan 'A' was many times modified as events progressed towards Opus Dei's registration as a secular organization belonging to the Church. But essentially it had four basic components. It was built around a political focalizer: constructing an ALMs bulwark. To do this Opus Dei needed a general staff, national headquarters and structure. But in addition, it needed troops -- the work of Archangel Raphael. This meant opening new Opus Dei centres in Madrid and the provinces. The strategic objective was to control higher education.

Unbelievable? Megalomania? Here was this provincial priest without means, a nobody thinking he could take over Spain's universities. But the country bumpkin with the dust of Aragon upon his cassock had come a long way since arriving in the capital from the provinces. He had survived Communist persecution. He had escaped from the control of his Ordinary. He had, in a sense, broken the mould. He had a firm hand on the infallible means mentioned in Maxim 474 -- Love, Faith, the Cross -- but now he had other means, provided by Jose Ibanez Martin, providential man of the moment.

Love and Faith, his followers would agree, were commodities that Father Escriva possessed in supernatural abundance. His Cross was the ideology of authoritarian clericalism. But there was nothing original in all this. It was pure ACNP dogma. The root of modern Spanish evil for Escriva, as for Angel Herrera and Ibanez Martin, was the ALMs syndrome; it had taken hold with such tenacity in the 1920s and 1930s that the Liberals assumed control over national education. To erase Liberal influence, national education had to be sanitized. Franco shared this conviction and the man he chose to carry out the cleansing was the owlish Ibanez Martin, naming him as his education minister in April 1939. With the help of Jose Maria Albareda, Ibanez Martin developed a national education strategy that fitted Opus Dei's intentions perfectly.

Ibanez Martin's most urgent task was to create new professors to fill the empty chairs and to check the credentials of those who remained after the Civil War to determine whether they were 'politically reliable'. One hundred and fifty new professors had to be appointed within the next three years. Ibanez Martin turned the selection process upside down, removing any autonomy from the universities. The five-member selection juries were henceforth named by him and served at his discretion. Two Opus Dei members were immediately given a chair: Jose Maria Albareda (agronomy) and DYA alumnus Angel Santos Ruiz (physics). Scores more would follow during the next few years.

Another of Ibanez Martin's earliest initiatives was the Law of 24 November 1939 which created the Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas, or National Scientific Research Council (NSRC), which became the principal cover for Opus Dei's assault on higher education and also helped finance its expansion abroad. Ibanez Martin named himself chairman. As vice-chairman he appointed an Augustinian priest, Father Jose Lopez Ortiz, who was one of Escriva's closest confidants, having first met him at the University of Saragossa in 1924. But the person Ibanez Martin chose to run the Council was Escriva's twelfth apostle. Known for his research in soil chemistry, Albareda was well suited for the job. He became the high priest of Spanish science, a position he maintained until his death in March 1966.

Under the broad definition Ibanez Martin and Albareda gave to science, the Council's prerogatives extended from theology to economics. To carry out his mandate, Albareda surrounded himself with Opus Dei recruits. The NSRC was described as the matrix of Opus Dei. [9] It determined who would obtain scholarships for post-graduate and doctoral studies abroad. It disbursed the grants and travel allowances. Anyone wishing to study in a foreign land could only do so with the NSRC's approval and, because of stringent foreign exchange controls, their foreign stipends were paid by the NSRC through official banking channels.

The NSRC had a strong state-funded budget and it received private donations as well, the dispensing of which Opus Dei was able to influence. It hired its own auditors and was not subject to the Intendant General of Finance. Its resources were truly enormous for Spain at the time. Between 1945 and 1950, the NSRC received 259 million pesetas in public funding, while only 84 million pesetas went to the construction of sorely needed primary schools. [10]

Ibanez Martin opened many doors and provided access to academic trappings that matched Escriva's growing status as the Founder of a politico-religious movement. He told Father Lopez Ortiz that Escriva was preparing a doctoral thesis. Lopez Ortiz visited Escriva and enquired how the thesis was progressing. 'It was practically finished,' the Augustinian recalled. 'The date for its defence could therefore be fixed for the end of December ... I was on the tribunal ... It was a work of juridical investigation carried out with an ability and style which were truly extraordinary. All of us who were part of the tribunal were impressed and the thesis was given the best mark.' [11]

What could have been more expedient? An aura of mystery, nevertheless, surrounded Escriva's civil law doctorate. The thesis dealt with the canonical framework constructed in the Middle Ages for the prelatura nullius of Las Huelgas. Therefore it was not about civil law at all. To clarify this anomaly, an editor of the Madrid newspaper Cambio 16 reported that he had initiated a search for Father Escriva's academic file. In vain. 'At the Ministry of Education and Science we were told that "since 1930 until today there has never been a university student registered under this name". At Saragossa our search was also without results.' [12] Was Father Escriva's first doctorate -- years later he was awarded a second from the Lateran Pontifical University in Rome [13] -- a gift from Ibanez Martin?

To attract a young elite, Opus Dei needed to open student residences, and it needed to open them quickly. Ibanez Martin was preparing a new law governing universities. The new law would require students, as a condition of enrolment, to belong to a Colegio Mayor or hall of residence. Halls of residence could be either state or privately run. The law would be introduced in 1943, but Opus Dei wanted to have several residences operating before then.

The Jenner Residence became the first of these. In July 1939, Zorzano took a three-year lease on three apartments in a building on Calle Jenner, off the Castellana. The building was pleasant; the apartments large. Escriva had them joined together: one was equipped with an oratory, refectory, common room, study hall and catering facilities, the others converted into accommodation. The Father moved into the Jenner Residence with his family in August 1939. When the Residence opened two months later, Dona Dolores -- now called 'Grandmother' -- and sister Carmen -- whom members addressed as 'Auntie' -- took in hand the domestic duties of caring for up to forty male students. The Father had his own suite consisting of bedroom, office and bathroom where he punished himself with the discipline, which he made more biting by attaching pieces of razor blades to its braided hemp tails. He practised self-mortification with such ferocity that it caused his children to wince. One numerary who worked as a surgeon in a Madrid clinic became concerned when he found the Father covered in blood. Next morning, while Escriva was absent, he threw the discipline on to the roof of a neighbouring building. [14]

By the end of 1939, with centres in Barcelona, Valencia and Valladolid, Escriva was the spiritual overseer of one hundred souls. He went on prospecting trips to provincial universities often accompanied by the NSRC's deputy chairman Jose Lopez Ortiz. Until named Bishop of Tuy-Vigo in July 1944, Father Lopez was so close to Escriva that he was considered a member. By his own account, he met Escriva every day and he knew personally most of the other members, being in the case of Isidoro Zorzano his confessor. Escriva had by then put together a general staff. In addition to Zorzano, his administrator general, it included another six of the twelve apostles: Paco Botella served as Secretary General; Alvaro del Portillo was procurator general; and Jose Maria Albareda was the prefect of education. Jose Maria Hernandez de Garnica, Ricardo Fernandez Vallespin and Pedro Casciaro were consultors.

Incorporated into Plan 'A' was a project to provide the Founder with an enhanced pedigree, as if at last he felt a need to shake the dust of Aragon off his cassock. He consulted his sister and brother. Evidently his mother did not go along with the idea as she was not a co-signatory of the petition sent to the Ministry of Justice. The application 'to change our family name to Escriva de Balaguer, in order to distinguish us from other Escrivas by adopting the ancestral form of address', was heard that spring in the Madrid Civil Court. Jose Maria, Carmen and Santiago justified their request by stating: 'Escriva is an extremely common name in the regions of Levante and Catalonia, which can cause prejudicial and annoying confusion. It is therefore desirable to add to our surname the family's town of origin.'

The family had never resided in Catalonia or Levante where they alleged that being called Escriva without any qualifier was such a vulgar burden. No matter. The court approved the name change. Henceforth the Founder of Opus Dei was to be addressed as Dr. Jose Maria Escriva de Balaguer.

By then acquiring a suitable headquarters had become urgent. The Jenner Residence proved so successful that it soon had a waiting list. A private mansion with small garden was found in Calle Diego de Leon. According to Opus Dei, the three-storey mansion was rented by the Fomento de Estudios Superiores, represented by Ricardo Fernandez Vallespin, for 13,000 pesetas a month, then equivalent to about $300. According to an Opus Dei budget director, the property was finally purchased at the end of the 1940s for 6 million pesetas ($140,000) from the Marquesa de Rafal. At first it was claimed that insufficient funds were available to repair the heating system or even to buy coal. If this was the case, it was because money was lavished on other interior modifications, such as transforming an oval sitting room into an elaborately decorated oratory. Escriva moved in with his family in December 1940. He had a small room on the third floor and an office on the second beside the oratory. His mother, brother and sister shared an apartment on the main floor. Even before the transformations were completed, the building was too small and in the 1960s four new floors were added.

Nothing on the outside of the building indicated that it was the headquarters of Opus Dei. Maintaining a headquarters, however, required an administrative staff and bookkeeping. This was entrusted to Isidoro Zorzano. The first apostle was suffering from an undiagnosed ailment that over the next two years left him increasingly weak. The strain of so many years in the wilderness had also left its mark on the Founder; in May 1944 he was diagnosed as having diabetes and thereafter required daily insulin injections. [15]

Dr. Escriva de Balaguer was now operating across diocesan boundaries and this was causing problems. We are told that a whisper campaign started against him. One of the rumours was that he and his disciples were practising Masonic rites. Two young men, professing an interest in joining Opus Dei, took part in a benediction service at the Jenner Residence and reported that the oratory contained cabalistic symbols. The Diego de Leon oratory was likewise denounced to the Holy Office in Rome because it was elliptically shaped. The Dominicans were asked to investigate. They found no pagan symbols in the Jenner oratory, and the Diego de Leon chapel was elliptical because that happened to be the shape of the room. The source of the rumours was never determined. Some believed the Jesuits were responsible, and indeed at this time the Father definitively broke with his Jesuit confessor. The reason given was that Escriva de Balaguer found him less than enthusiastic about Opus Dei's chances of receiving formal approbation from the Church, something that until then had been neglected. [16]

Lopez Ortiz was also subject to criticism for his pro-Opus Dei bias in the university. He had nominated his assistant, the 24-year-old Opus Dei numerary Jose Orlandis, for the post of professor of history of law at Saragossa University. Orlandis received the post, but never took it up. In November 1942 he and fellow numerary. Salvador Canals made a wartime journey to Rome to continue their studies in canon law at the Vatican. Did they benefit from NSRC grants? Opus Dei answered that they received grants from the Ministry of National Education, which amounts to the same thing. In reality, both were instructed by Escriva de Balaguer to make friends among the Roman Curia and inform them about Opus Dei. By their presence in Rome they established the first unofficial Opus Dei centre abroad.

Well after midnight one night the telephone rang in the Diego de Leon headquarters. When the Father answered, a voice addressed him by his Christian name and pronounced in Latin the words of Jesus to Simon Peter: 'Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail; and when you have turned again, strengthen your brethren.' [17] Only the caller used the Latin word for 'sons' rather than 'brethren'.

Escriva de Balaguer had recognized the voice of Leopoldo Eijo y Garay, Bishop of Madrid-Alcala. He took the call as a warning that more persecution was on its way. He claimed he had always kept Don Leopoldo informed of Opus Dei's development and insisted that because Eijo y Garay had bestowed his 'oral approval' upon Opus Dei no approval in scriptus was needed. But months before, Don Leopoldo had in fact told Escriva de Balaguer to register Opus Dei in scriptus with the diocese. Escriva refused. He felt to register Opus Dei as a 'pious union' was too narrow. A pious union is defined as 'an association of faithful with a broad mandate for exercising works of piety or charity, capable of receiving spiritual graces and especially indulgences'. It is the simplest form of ecclesiastical institution, requiring nothing more than the approval of the local bishop. Instead he replied to Don Leopoldo that no provision existed under canon law that suited Opus Dei. The sense of his response was that Opus Dei should not be required to bend its structures to comply with canon law, but that canon law should be made to accommodate Opus Dei. He must have received a 'rocket', because on 14 February 1941 he wrote a letter requesting after all the status of a pious union. As a concession, Don Leopoldo agreed to keep Opus Dei's rules, regulations, customs and ceremonies in the episcopacy's secret archives.

Escriva de Balaguer's letter was noteworthy for several reasons. It marked the first time that the name 'Opus Dei' appeared in an official document. Thirteen years after its founding, God's Work could be said to have emerged from its hidden existence. It was also one of the earliest documents on record in which the Founder joined together his first two Christian names, signing his request as Josemaria Escriva de Balaguer. Opus Dei claims that in fact the Founder had begun using 'Josemaria' as early as 1936, but some former members dispute this, stating that throughout the 1940s he signed internal documents as 'Mariano', a middle name that he started using as a cover during the Civil War. They claim that 'Josemaria' only came into general use after the Founder moved to Rome and began thinking about posterity. It has been pointed out that the Vatican's index of saints contains many San Joses but no San Josemaria.

A month after Opus Dei's registration as a pious union, the 'Grandmother' came down with pneumonia and died. Escriva ordered a Gothic crypt to be built in the basement of the Diego de Leon residence and obtained municipal permission to bury his mother there. He then arranged for the remains of his father to be reinterred alongside her, recreating in dynastic solemnity the family union.

While Opus Dei was now registered with the Church, Escriva de Balaguer momentarily was not. Though still officially the rector of Santa Isabel, he had become a priest without an Ordinary. This oversight was only rectified in February 1942 when he was incardinated in the diocese of Madrid. So once again Escriva de Balaguer found himself, and Opus Dei as well, under diocesan control.

On Saint Valentine's Day 1943, while celebrating Mass in the first Women's Residence in Madrid, Escriva de Balaguer saw a new light. It told him that Opus Dei must obtain 'title' to ordain priests. This addition, it was said, would complete the divine organization of Opus Dei, providing it with a clergy formed from among its own members.

But Vatican approval was needed to found a priestly society. Accordingly, with the Bishop of Madrid's consent, in May 1943 Escriva de Balaguer sent Don Alvaro del Portillo to Rome to negotiate the new status. In the middle of the Second World War, a flight from Madrid to Rome was not without adventure. Don Alvaro was able to observe from the window of the aircraft an attack on an Allied convoy headed for Malta. Salvador Canals and Jose Orlandis were waiting for him when he landed. They introduced him to Archbishop Arcadio Larraona, a Spanish Claretian and friend of Generalisimo Franco. Larraona was a canon lawyer who served as pro-secretary of the Congregation of Religious, the Vatican ministry responsible for relations with the nearly 1 million nuns and 150,000 priests belonging to religious orders (i.e., as distinct from secular or diocesan priests).

In Spain the tradition of guilds -- medieval associations that regulate a trade or profession -- remained strong. During the Middle Ages, guild members wore uniforms that indicated the rank and experience they had achieved within their trade. These uniforms were de rigueur on all formal occasions such as court appearances or state banquets. The custom was abolished by the Republic, but under Franco guilds returned to favour for certain professions. They were, moreover, a notion that suited Opus Dei's doctrine of pride of profession and sanctity of work. On 6 June 1943 Don Alvaro was accorded his first audience with Pope Pius XII. He arrived wearing the guild uniform of a Spanish civil engineer. The appearance of this regal-looking emissary from an unknown Spanish order caused considerable excitement in the papal antechambers.

Don Alvaro handed the Pope Opus Dei's request to found a clerical association. Don Giovanni Battista Montini, the assistant secretary of state, and Archbishop Larraona had already laid the groundwork with the Holy Father so that when Don Alvaro returned to Madrid a month later he was able to announce that pontifical approval would be forthcoming within weeks.

FATHER ESCRIVA'S TWELVE APOSTLES

Joined
1. Isidoro Zorzano 1930 (died 1943)
2. Juan JImenez Vargas 1933
3. Jose Maria Gonzalez Barredo 1933 (died 1993)
4. Ricardo Fernandez Vallespin 1933 (died 1988)
5. Alvaro del Portillo 1935 (died 1994)
6. Jose Maria Hernandez de Garnica 1935 (died 1972)
7. Pedro Casciaro 1935 (died 1995)
8. Francisco Botella Raduan 1935 (died 1987)
9. Miguel Fisac 1935
10. Rafael Calvo Serer 1936 (died 1988)
11. Vicente Rodriguez Casado 1936 (died 1990)
12. Jose Maria Albareda Herrera 1937 (died 1966)

Compiled from information provided by Opus Dei, except for Miguel Fisac, who is considered a non-person as he left the Work in 1955.


Winning papal approval for a priestly society marked an important step in the development of Opus Dei. But the Father's joy was short-lived. A few days after Don Alvaro's return, Isidoro Zorzano died of Hodgkin's Disease. He had been hospitalized since January. His confessor, Father Lopez Ortiz, said, 'he died a holy death'. Preparations began for declaring the departed Zorzano apt for sainthood. The process was officially inaugurated in 1948 when Cardinal Antonio Bacci was charged with presenting Zorzano's case for beatification. [18]

The day after Zorzano's death, Archbishop Larraona drafted a report for the pope describing Opus Dei as 'a new and modern type of institution perfectly suited to the requirements of modern society'. He concluded: 'It is most opportune -- I would say almost necessary -- to confer as quickly as possible the juridical status of [clerical] society upon Opus Dei, which already counts so many fine initiatives on its balance sheet.' [19] In his report, Larraona defended Opus Dei's right to secrecy 'to better penetrate the world.' [20]

After being notified of the Vatican's approval, on 8 December 1943 -- the feast of the Immaculate Conception -- Bishop Eijo y Garay issued a decree constituting the Priestly Society of the Holy Cross as a corporate subsidiary of Opus Dei. The pious union continued to function as before, but now a clerical association existed alongside it. In June of the following year, Bishop Eijo personally ordained the first three Opus Dei priests -- Alvaro del Portillo, Jose Maria Hernandez de Garnica and Jose Luis Muzquiz. All were civil engineers. Opus Dei had now completed the second phase of its development and Escriva de Balaguer with the help of his newly ordained priests was already planning the next phase -- the extension of Opus Dei's presence to more than eighty countries on five continents.

_______________

Notes:

1. Berglar, Op. cit., p. 119, citing Escriva's letter of 16 June 1960, sections 41 and 42.

2. Cardinal Albino Luciani, article reprinted in The Universe, 29 September 1978.

3. Cronica 1/71: 'When the years pass you will not believe what you have lived. It will seem that you have been dreaming. How many good and great and wonderful things you are going to see ... I can assure you that you will be faithful, even though at times you will have to suffer. Besides, I promise you heaven.'

4. Both quotes are from Escriva's letter to his children of 6 May 1945, section 42, as cited by Bernal, Op. cit., p. 159.

5. Opus Dei claims that Cronica, which commenced publication in 1954, is 'a journal written by members of Opus Dei, with articles from different parts of the world about their work, activities, anecdotes, memories, etc.' But this simplistic description omits to mention that Cronica's essential role is to explain and comment upon Opus Dei's interpretation of key doctrinal issues; its distribution is limited to numeraries. Opus Dei refused to provide the author with copies of Cronica.

6. Escriva's letter to his children of 9 January 1932, as cited by Gondrand, Op. cit., p. 170.

7. Vazquez de Prada. Op. cit., p. 200.

8. Plan 'A' is not Opus Dei terminology; it is used by the author as a label for Opus Dei's development strategy in the immediate post-Civil War years.

9. Ynfante, La Prodigiosa Aventura del Opus Dei -- Genesis y desarrollo de la Santa Mafia, Editions Rueda iberica, Paris 1970, p. 37; Artigues, Op. cit., p. 37, citing Notas sobre la investigacion cientifica en Espana, Manana, November 1965.

10. Ynfante, Op. cit., pp. 40 and 44.

11. Bishop Jose Lopez Ortiz in Testimonies to a man of God, Volume 2, p. 5-08. Scepter 1992. The other members of the tribunal were Inocencio Jimenez, professor of criminal and procedural law, Alfonso Garcia Valdecasas. professor of civil law, and Mariano Puigdollers, professor of natural law and the philosophy of law. The president was a Professor Magarinos.

12. 'The Insignificant Saint,' Cambio 16. 16 March 1992. The article stated in part: Josemaria Escriva 'claimed he was a graduate in law. But did he finish his degree? The authorized biographers leave no doubt: he finished it in Madrid with a doctoral thesis, which was read on 18 December 1939 and received the highest note possible, cum laude. The sceptics ask: "But where is his diploma?"'

13. According to Opus Dei, it was awarded on 20 December 1955.

14. Ynfante, Op. cit., p. 16.

15. De Fuenmayor et al., Op. cit., p. 185.

16. In 1952 Bishop Eijo y Garay told Cardinal Joseph Frings of Cologne that a Jesuit had come to him and said, 'Do you know that a new heresy has started: Opus Dei?'

17. Luke 22:31-32.

18. Peter Hebblethwaite, Paul VI -- The First Modern Pope, HarperCollins 1993, p. 321. Also Rocca, Op. cit., p. 20n.

19. De Fuenmayor et al., Op. cit., pp. 144 and 161.

20. Rocca, Op. cit., p. 31.
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Re: THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DE

Postby admin » Thu Oct 22, 2015 9:23 am

9. Villa Tevere

Christ demands humility.

-- Josemaria Escriva de Balaguer


AT THE END OF THE SECOND WORLD WAR, OPUS DEI OPENED ITS FIRST student residence outside Spain, in the Portuguese university town of Coimbra, Portugal being the only European country that looked kindly upon General Franco.

For having supported Hitler and the now defunct Axis, Franco's Spain found herself in the doghouse of nations. She was blacklisted by the Allied powers, excluded from the United Nations, her frontier with France sealed and her aircraft banned from Allied airspace.

Escriva de Balaguer nevertheless confidently placed Britain, France and Ireland on Opus Dei's post-war expansion list. But it was perfectly evident that if the Work went into those countries as a Spanish institution, it risked not being well received. He decided, therefore, that Opus Dei must become an institution of pontifical right.

Opus Dei was already represented in Rome by Salvador Canals and Jose Orlandis. Their work with Archbishop Larraona now turned to crafting a new apostolic constitution that would transform the pious union into an institute subject to the Holy See's jurisdiction and none other. This was an important step, and one that some might have imagined unwarranted for an association with so few members.

The Father again despatched Alvaro del Portillo to Rome, this time as a priest of the Holy Cross. He carried with him a file detailing the expansion of Opus Dei beyond the borders of a single diocese, indeed beyond those of a single state, supported by letters from eight cardinals and sixty bishops praising Opus Dei for its apostolate. His mission was not a success, and in order to get around the Curial roadblock, Escriva de Balaguer decided to go to Rome himself.

He was briefed about what to expect. Half a million Italians were homeless. In the province of Reggio Emilia roving Marxist bands had murdered fifty-two priests since the Liberation, while in Rome every evening the Communists took over the square in front of the Lateran' Palace, and wooed thousands of Romans with music, speeches, banners and grub. The Italian Communist newspaper, L'Unita, was hammering at the Church, and accused its favourite target, Giovanni Battista Montini, of being a 'meddler in politics'.

On his way to Rome, the Father stopped at Saragossa to beseech the Virgin of Pilar to intercede in Heaven and Rome, at Montserrat to pray before the Black Madonna, and in Barcelona to pray before Our Lady of Ransom. Once in Rome he waited five days before obtaining a meeting with Montini, who presented him with an autographed photograph of Pope Pius XII and recommended patience.

Dealing with the Roman Curia, no matter how you looked at it, cost money. By then Opus Dei maintained four persons in Rome, soon to become six or seven. This required cash -- not pesetas, but lire. With exchange controls, however, lire were not easy for Spaniards to come by. While the Rome delegation was by no means wallowing in funds, it had sufficient resources -- Ministry of National Education resources -- to enable its staff to concentrate on assisting Larraona in his work of rearranging canon law better to accommodate Opus Dei, turning it into a new type of association that would be known as a Secular Institute.

Before returning to Madrid, Escriva de Balaguer obtained papal recognition for his endeavours in the form of two documents: an Apostolic Cum Societatis, signed by Pius XII, conceding a number of papal indulgences to Opus Dei members. These included 500 days of remission every time a member kissed 'with devotion' the plain wooden cross placed at the entrance of all Opus Dei oratories. The other, a Brevis sane, signed on 13 August 1946 by Cardinal Lavitrano, amounted to the Holy See's 'approval of Opus Dei's aims', not only in Spain 'but also in other regions, carrying the light and truth of Christ especially to the minds of intellectuals'.

Once back in Madrid Escriva de Balaguer told his children that his first contact with the Roman Curia had robbed him of his innocence. It also taught him that when it came to promoting God's work some holy hi-jinx might be needed. He had decided by then to return to Rome in November and take charge of the final stages of Opus Dei's incorporation as a universal institution. He was not particularly well; in spite of daily insulin injections" his diabetes made him tired, often cranky and he was gaining weight.

Montini, who Escriva de Balaguer claimed was the only friendly soul he met in the Curia under Pius XII, counselled him on how to proceed. The Vatican was transfixed by events in eastern Europe. Very quickly the Soviets had let it be known that the Church would not be spared the Cold War's chill by sentencing Joseph Schlypi, the Major Archbishop of the Ukrainians, to life at hard labour for collaboration with the Nazis. At the same time the Uniate Church, of which Schlypi had been patriarch (and which owed its allegiance to Rome), was forcibly incorporated into the Russian Orthodox Church. This meant that in one swoop Rome lost 8 million souls. Later there would be persecution of the Church in Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, Hungary and Poland.

Escriva de Balaguer was able to convince Montini that Opus Dei's 'apostolate of penetration' could be useful in combating the spread of Marxism, and Montini used this argument to persuade Pius XII to make provision in canon law for a type of association whose features were purpose-built for Opus Dei. In February 1947, Papa Pacelli issued a decree known by its opening words as Provida Mater Ecclesia. It established the Secular Institute as a juridical structure under pontifical law and provided an Apostolic Constitution that associations accorded this status were henceforth required to adopt. Provida Mater acknowledged that through the medium of a secular institute lay Catholics could seek to attain a 'state of perfection while living an everyday existence in the secular world. In its canonical sense, 'state of perfection' had over the centuries come to mean living within a religious community according to the three monastic vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Members of secular institutes did not have to wear distinctive habits or live a cloistered existence. Members of secular institutes, on the other hand, were required to take private vows. And they could continue to practise their trade or profession while striving for Christian perfection. Secular institutes nevertheless had certain points in common with religious orders. Responsibility for tl;1eir oversight, therefore, was assigned to the Congregation of Religious in Rome.

Escriva de Balaguer and Don Alvaro del Portillo pressed the Congregation of Religious to make Opus Dei the Church's first secular institute. As a matter of prestige, Opus Dei had to be a paragon, because as God's creation it was inimitable. Three weeks after publication of the Papal bull, the Congregation of Religious issued a decree entitled Primum Institutum seculare, transforming Opus Dei into the premier institute of the genre, a singular honour for a body that had less than 300 members, including all of nine priests.

Opus Dei now needed to move its headquarters to Rome. But Escriva de Balaguer wanted them to be grand. Montini took the matter in hand. Through his aristocratic connections, a villa was found in Rome's fashionable Parioli district. The villa's owner, known only as Il Nobile Mario (the nobleman Mario), wanted a quick sale, and in Swiss francs. As Escriva de Balaguer did not have enough money even to pay the deposit, he entrusted to the nobleman Mario some gold coins. Supposedly he had intended to melt down the coins and make sacred vessels out of them. Once Mario received the Swiss francs he promised to return the doubloons. In this way the Father secured the title deeds and was able to obtain a mortgage with which he made good the commitment to pay the nobleman within two months. [1]

Not only does this explanation provided by Opus Dei smack of sharp practices, it tries the writer's credulity. No Italian bank in 1947 would have provided a mortgage in Swiss francs -- it was against the law. Nor would any Swiss bank have accepted at that time a mortgage in Italy. Moreover, Opus Dei claimed not to know the full name of the owner.

The owner was Count Mario Mazzoleni. Opus Dei dosed the deal with him in July 1947. Escriva de Balaguer at last had his grand headquarters, which he named Villa Tevere. And even though he professed not to have money, he immediately planned to build a new wing for his growing court of ministers. Its construction was placed under the supervision of Miguel Fisac, whose architecture studio in Madrid was at the time Opus Dei's biggest money spinner. Fisac donated his skills, but the works themselves were financed through donations from contributors in several countries. 'The construction of the central offices was considered the work of everybody,' Opus Dei explained.

Spain maintained exchange controls well into the 1980s, and Italy kept them until the beginning of the 1990s. That Opus Dei had access to large quantities of Swiss francs in 1947 was an indication of its growing resources. The situation may have been influenced by the fact that in 1947 the NSRC opened a Rome office with the aim of continuing the progress of Spanish science and research in the Eternal City, and of developing and co-ordinating the work of Spanish researchers in Italy'. [2]

At the time at least six Spanish researchers were in Rome, all members of Opus Dei. The material needs of Escriva de Balaguer and his disciples in the Italian capital were becoming increasingly extravagant. Construction work at Villa Tevere commenced immediately and continued for the next twelve years. No figures were ever published, but the final cost has been estimated at more than $10 million.

It was now that Opus Dei obtained permission to alter its internal rules to allow married, noncelibate persons to join the Work as 'supernumeraries'. True to Opus Dei's 'strategy of discretion', Alvaro del Portillo also obtained extraordinary authorization to have the complete text of Opus Dei's Constitutions placed under seal in the secret archives of the Congregation of Religious. This remained the case until the 1980s, even though a purloined copy was published in 1970 by the Spanish author Jesus Ynfante in his expose of the Spanish phenomenon. But Opus Dei's insistence on secrecy had served its purpose, preventing other Church groups from modelling their statutes along similar lines.

The spiritual life of Opus Dei members was likewise given a secretive norm, as the institute's Constitution shows:

189 -- To attain its goals in the most effective manner, the Institute as such must live an occult existence ...

190 - Because of [our] collective humility, which is proper to our Institute, whatever is undertaken by members must not be attributed to it, but to God only. Consequently, even the fact of being a member of the Institute should not be disclosed externally; the number of members should remain secret; and more expressly, our members must not discuss these matters with anyone outside the Institute.

191 - ... Numerary and ..supernumerary members must always observe a prudent silence regarding the names of other members; and never reveal to anyone the fact that they belong to Opus Dei ... unless expressly authorized to do so by their local director ... [3]

Shortly after the Villa Tevere acquisition, Escriva de Balaguer was made a domestic prelate of the papal household, which gave him the right to be called Monsignor, add a touch of purple to his robes and wear buckled shoes. One of his biographers tells us that the Father, who found his own name so common that he ennobled it by adding 'de Balaguer', was reluctant to accept this honour. [4]

Escriva de Balaguer's promotion in clerical rank was organized by Montini, who by then had introduced him to a rising young politician and future stalwart in the battle against Communism, Giulio Andreotti. Montini knew the twenty-nine-year-old Andreotti from before the war when he had been chaplain to the Italian federation of Catholic student unions, of which Andreotti had been a president. Pius XII had given Montini the task of putting some political backbone into Catholic Action in Italy, which had significantly more members than the Italian Communist party, and Montini asked Andreotti to handle liaison between it and the Christian Democrat party during the 1948 election campaign. Two factors marked the campaign: first, the enormous resources poured into the fray by Washington through the newly created Central Intelligence Agency; and, second, the Vatican's own covert activities, coordinated by Montini.

Both were decisive in defeating the Communists. CIA funds on deposit with the Vatican bank, the IOR (Istituto per le Opere di Religione), were used to stage popular rallies throughout the country. Catholic Action also organized a Youth Congress whose theme was 'Christ has overcome Marx', and its members plastered campaign posters over the entire peninsula at a rate of 1,000 a day. In the end, the Christian Democrats triumphed with 48.5 per cent of the vote against 31 per cent for the Communists.

From the Christian Democrat victory emerged a Vatican strategy to counter Communism in which Opus Dei, with its growing financial resources, would play a role. The strategy was defined by Montini with help from Andreotti and it revolved around developing a secular network to alert public opinion to the Marxist threat. It enjoyed CIA backing and marked the beginning of a working relationship between Opus Dei and the CIA. As the strategy took shape, Montini told the French ambassador that the Vatican hoped to see Europe's three leading Catholic powers -- Italy, France and Spain -- come together in an anti-Communist union. He castigated the French for keeping their border with Spain closed.

Escriva de Balaguer meanwhile reported that Opus Dei had 3,000 members, including twenty-three priests, and more than 100 centres in a dozen countries. But as the organization continued to grow he became disenchanted with the status of secular institute and began working on a 'final solution' that he anticipated would make him a prelate nullius -- in other words, a bishop without a diocese. He was disenchanted, he said, because Archbishop Larraona had cheapened the secular institute concept by raising seventy other church groups to the same status. He never forgave Larraona for this. Seventy institutions in the world like Opus Dei did not exist. The Work was unique. Moreover, he claimed in Cronica that the concept was supposed to have been reserved for Opus Dei, and Opus Dei alone.

_______________

Notes:

1. Opus Dei UK Information Office, 30 October 1994.

2. Ynfante, Op. cit., p. 44.

3. The 1950 Constitutions, articles 189-91.

4. Vazquez de Prada, Op. cit., p. 249.
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Re: THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DE

Postby admin » Thu Oct 22, 2015 9:24 am

10. Cold Warriors

The reality of Communism means the persecution of the Church and continued assaults upon the elementary rights of the person. Some, it is true, make declarations against violence. But deeds do not follow these words; and as anyone can see, the Church is as mistreated by one group as by another.

-- Josemaria Escriva de Balaguer, Letter of 24 October 1965


ESCRIVA DE BALAGUER, WHOSE ASSESSORS AT THE CAUSES OF SAINTS would claim 'stood out in the history of spirituality on a level with the traditional greats', proposed to provide Pius XII with a corps of Cold Warriors capable of exercising a discreet Catholic influence in key economic sectors and ministries throughout the free world. This represented a new phase in Opus Dei's development, requiring a change in the type of persons recruited into the Work. The archetypal prospect thus shifted from university scholar to banker, company director and public administrator, reflecting the institute's need for greater resources not only to guarantee its survival but to extend its apostolate to all of Christendom.

Escriva de Balaguer was perfectly aware that no institution with a bunch of street sweepers as members could influence key public sectors, nor pull in the kind of income needed to achieve all that he had in mind. Opus Dei, therefore, was not interested in street sweepers and to suggest otherwise was hypocritical. Angel Herrera -- a political strategist par excellence, who would later become a cardinal- had always stressed that the only way to make a mark on society, state or institution was by dominating its summit, advice that Escriva de Balaguer assiduously followed. But Escriva de Balaguer went further than Herrera, subordinating his political agenda to a cult of discretion.

'Remain silent, and you will never regret it; speak, and you often will,' was his advice in Maxim 639. Discretion can be an admirable attribute, but when developed into a cult it usually covers an aspiration for power. After moving to Rome, Escriva de Balaguer had his eyes opened and thereafter he viewed the world differently. In Rome he saw how the Church was really run and, according to his closest collaborators, it shocked him. He realized that power came from conquering positions of influence. For Opus Dei, the source of its growing power was the access of its members to important positions, whether in education, finance or politics. Juan Bautista Torello, a leading Opus Dei ideologist, argued that the conquest of important positions was a 'typically Christian calling'. [1]

Escriva de Balaguer, his followers would assert, lived the cardinal virtues of prudence, justice, temperance and fortitude with heroic devotion. But he also taught them that wielding influence was a more legitimate objective than adopting a policy of abstentionism, which allowed key posts to fall to people who were indifferent or even hostile to the Church.

To better fulfil its apostolate, Opus Dei's reach for influence had to be discreet so that its 'enemies' -- and already it had a fair number -- were kept in the dark as to its real intentions. To protect the Church, Opus Dei had to wield ecclesiastical power. For this, Esetiva de Balaguer anticipated being made a bishop. But for public consumption, his cult of discretion required an opposite expression of humility. You tell the enemy one thing, and do another. With clear conscience, the Father could therefore declare: 'I never talk politics. I do not approve of committed Christians in the world forming a political-religious movement. That would be madness, even if it were motivated by the desire to spread the spirit of Christ in all the activities of men'. [2]

However, Opus Dei manifestly was a politico-religious movement and Article 202 of the 1950 Constitutions proved it: 'Public office ... constitutes a privileged means for exercising the Institute's apostolate.' In line with Article 202, some of Escriva de Balaguer's Spanish sons were hard at work plotting the formation of a political 'Third Force' that would stand apart from Franco's Falange and the newly emerging Christian Democrats.

The Third Force was conceived by a core of Opus Dei intellectuals who were running the NSRC. More precisely, three of the Father's more agile disciples had put forward an idea for a cultural magazine that would serve not only as the mouthpiece for the NSRC's good intentions in culture 'and science, but' also as a platform for Opus Dei's political designs. Rafael Calvo Serer, Raimundo Panikkar and Florentino Perez-Embid brought out, the first issue of Arbor in March 1943. As the NSRC's monthly review, Arbor was funded lavishly from the Council treasury and soon it became one of Spain's most prestigious publications.

Of Arbor's three co-founders, Calvo Serer was the most outspoken. He had joined Opus Dei at nineteen, becoming the tenth apostle. At twenty-six he was appointed professor of history in Valencia, and later worked as director of the Spanish Institute in London. The trio's most colourful figure was Raimundo Panikkar, technically a British subject, his father being Indian and his mother Catalan. He had spent the Civil War in Germany, where his father ran an import-export business. Raimundo passed his baccalaureate in Germany and returned to Barcelona in 1940. He was then fluent in half a dozen languages and by the late 1940s he held doctorates in chemistry, philosophy and theology. This made him a valuable asset for Opus Dei. He was ordained in 1946 at the age of twenty-eight. During the 1950s he was considered Opus Dei's most provocative theologian.

In Opus Dei's structure the Archangels were made the guardians of recruiting, numeraries and supernumeraries. Each Archangel was given an intercessor, called a 'vocal', at headquarters and on regional levels. The vocal oversees the work entrusted to the Archangel he represents. A key person in the work of the Archangel Raphael was the eleventh apostle, Vicente Rodriguez Casado, appointed professor of modem history at Seville University in 1942. He brought into the Work more than a score of exceptionally gifted young men, among them Florentino Perez-Embid.

Perez-Embid had joined the Falange and saw Civil War action on the Cordoba front, being cited for bravery. In 1946 he shifted his activities to Madrid and fell under the spell of Calvo Serer, taking over as Arbor's chief editor when Calvo Serer went to London. In 1949 he was given the chair of history of discovery at the University of Madrid. With Calvo Serer he co-founded Ediciones Rialp in Madrid, which became the cornerstone of Opus Dei's publishing empire.

Calvo Serer's book Espana sin problema, published by Rialp in 1949, won the first Francisco Franco National Literary Award. It and a second work, Teoria de la Restauracion, published by Rialp in 1952, defined an ideological platform for Opus Dei's progressive wing. Both books maintained that the basis for Spain's value system was the Catholic Church. The history of the Church and the history of Spain were interlocked. Consequently, the national tradition was a religious tradition. While Europe was faced with the dilemma of choosing between the American Dream or Sovietization, Calvo Serer and Perez-Embid both believed that the Old Continent would be better served by a combination of German efficiency and Spanish spirituality. [3]

Calvo Serer and Perez-Embid agreed that post-Civil War Spain presented a God-given opportunity to recreate a militant Catholicism that in the sixteenth century had brought the Spanish empire to the height of her creative success. They reasoned that with the modern world committed to godless materialism, whether Capitalist or Communist, the only way to head off catastrophe was to resume Charles V's crusade, not this time with the resources of a single nation, but through a powerful and vital transnational Catholic movement. Escriva de Balaguer encouraged them: in his view Opus Dei had been divinely conceived as a Catholic Regenerator with worldwide reach. [4]

The development of an ideological front within Opus Dei had two consequences. First, it led to a rift among members. The progressive wing wanted Opus Dei to assume a direct political role, while the traditionalists wanted to concentrate uniquely on the spiritual lives of its members. Escriva de Balaguer became a prisoner of his own double-speak and sat on the fence throughout most of the disruption.

Holding the wrong political view was sufficient cause for exclusion from Opus Dei. Just as obviously, the institute also held that only certain political criteria were acceptable for the divine plan. This soon became evident from the second consequence of the Third Force platform, which brought Opus Dei in Spain into direct conflict with the Falange.

The Falange was the only political party officially tolerated by Franco, but as the fuzzy tenets of its doctrine called National Syndicalism were gradually set aside other political tendencies became accepted as long as they did not seek to create a party organization. This applied mainly to the Christian Democrats and Monarchists. Until the rise of the Opus Dei technocrats, all Franco ,governments were delicately balanced mosaics, the main colour being Falangist blue, offset by the pale white of Franco's apolitical cronies whose loyalty went unquestioned, together with a smartering of Monarchist gold and Christian Democrat green.

The Falangists jealously guarded their position as the only legal party and regarded Opus Dei's growing political influence unfavourably. The Falangist youth movement operated a residence for students in Madrid called the Colegio Cesar Carlos. Its lieges, all young militants, protested against the selection process for professors, claiming it favoured Opus Dei candidates. The Cesar Carlos students took to the streets, and to make their demonstrations more biting, they composed some amusing but less than complimentary couplets or letrillas about Escriva de Balaguer which immediately soared to the top of the student hit parade. In a classic rebuttal Escriva de Balaguer called the criticism garbage and denied that his gifted sons 'would preoccupy themselves with chasing after professorships at obscure provincial universities and risk compromising their eternal salvation for a ridiculously small salary.' [5]

The Cold War was in full gale by the late 1940s. Each new gust reconfirmed for the Father that Communism remained more than ever the Church's most serious enemy. After Cardinal Mindszenty's three-day show trial in Budapest, Pope Pius XII told the French Minister in Rome: 'The Church is now engaged in a life-and-death struggle with the Soviet Union, in which the stake is the fate of 65 million Catholics -- a sixth of the world's Catholic population -- living in the Soviet satellite states.' [6] Not long afterwards, the primate of Poland, Cardinal Stefan Wyszynski, was arrested.

Escriva de Balaguer was determined to expand Opus Dei's apostolate in the fight against Marxism. But, he told his faithful, 'I don't want to make martyrs of my sons. I can't do anything with martyrs.' The missionaries he selected were ascetic young professionals trained in spiritual fortitude by himself and his apostles. He sent them into the world to work for God, or rather to do God's work, but not as ordinary missionaries. Proselytizing as practised by the Jesuits was, in his view, a concept of the past. God's work needed to be done in the boardrooms, banking halls and ministerial chambers of the secular state.

At first the numeraries and a few wealthy co-operators were alone in underwriting these efforts. Numeraries were required to hand over their salaries to the Work's general funds and they received back a small allowance. But it was always a strain to balance the books as Escriva de Balaguer had grand tastes. Then married persons -- the supernumeraries -- were admitted into the Work. Their presence greatly enhanced the financial situation, The secular institute was not required to look after their physical well-being, something it was obliged to do for numeraries. Supernumeraries, on the other hand, could not be required to hand over their full salaries, as they had family obligations, and so were asked to make 'voluntary' contributions, at 10 per cent of their annual income, paid in monthly instalments. The result was not inconsequential. Due to the work of the Archangel Gabriel, capital flowed into Opus Dei's treasury like never before. That capital had to be managed. Opus Dei needed its own banks and, in a time of stringent exchange controls, a parallel financial network that permitted it to circumnavigate capital transfer restrictions.

_______________

Notes:

1. Juan Bautista Torello, La Espiritualidad de los laicos, Rialp. Madrid 1965, p. 35.

2. Escriva de Balaguer, Christ is passing by, from the homily 'Christ the King', given on 22 November 1970. Four Courts Press, Dublin 1985, p. 245.

3. Artigues, L'Opus Dei en Espagne, Editions Ruedo-iberica, Paris 1968, p. 136.

4. Ibid., p. 140.

5. Artigues, Op. cit., p. 145.

6. Anthony Rhodes, The Vatican in the Age of the Cold War, Michael Russell, 1992, p. 50.
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Re: THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DE

Postby admin » Thu Oct 22, 2015 9:24 am

11. Spanish Engineering

If Opus Dei had ever played politics -- even for a minute -- I would have left the Work at that very moment of error.

-- Josemaria Escriva de Balaguer, Noticias 1970


WITH THE VATICAN'S STAMP OF APPROVAL IN HIS PASSPORT, ESCRIVA de Balaguer at last felt equipped to launch Opus Dei on the most active expansion drive in its history. He expected his soldiers -- his milites Christi -- to be as catholic as the Church herself in terms of geographical reach and racial diversity, placing his Obra at least on an equal footing with the Jesuits and the other great religious orders, though in his heart he knew that in the long run Opus Dei, being divinely inspired, was destined to surpass them all.

In establishing a strong Catholic -- i.e., Opus Dei -- presence at the summit of society, Escriva de Balaguer believed that the use of pilleria -- dirty tricks -- was permissible and, indeed, frequently necessary. 'Our life is a warfare of love and in love and war all is fair.' The theory behind this reasoning was that in politics and big business the most successful practitioners resorted to devilish tactics and therefore their use should not be denied to those whose sole intention was to further the work of God.

In the next five chapters several cases of holy pilleria will be analysed as examples of Opus Dei's evolving modus operandi. But first, after considering its international expansion we will examine how Opus Dei came to dominate the Spanish political establishment during Franco's last decades. Because of the strange status it had fashioned for itself -- neither religious nor secular, but nevertheless God-inspired -- Opus Dei was prepared to operate in spheres that no other organization of the Church would dare imagine.

As in Europe, the Founder wanted a strong Opus Dei presence in Latin America. In January 1949, the seventh apostle, Pedro Casciaro, architect and theologian, left for Mexico City with hardly any money, a ceramic portrait of Nuestra Senora del Rocio and a list 'of wealthy contacts. Within the next few years he built such an efficient network that Mexico became Opus Dei's third strongest power in terms of membership, after Spain and Italy.

The United States came next, although Father Jose Luis Muzquiz and his colleagues, Salvador Martinez Ferigle and Jose Maria Gonzalez Barredo, found proselytizing in the US hard-going, the spiritual soil being relatively barren, with the result that by 1995 Opus Dei had no more than 5,000 members in the US. [1] Father Muzquiz, however, did have an introduction to the Shriver family which he put to good use. Yale graduate R. Sargent Shriver, Jr., would marry Eunice Mary Kennedy, a member of America's leading Catholic family, and would playa leading role in John Kennedy's presidential campaign, subsequently becoming the first director of the US Peace Corps. Both Eunice and her husband became active Opus Dei co-operators.

The terrain in Italy was infinitely more fertile. In one month August 1949 -- thirty Italian students asked to join and began their intensive training at a villa belonging to the Holy See near the Pope's summer residence at Castelgandolfo. Opus Dei later replaced this rather run-down building with the more opulent Villa delle Rose, a women's residence attached to the Roman College of Saint Mary.

In March 1950 it opened centres in Argentina and Chile followed in 1951 with an official presence in Venezuela and Colombia. In 1952 it opened residences in Germany, Brazil, Ecuador, Guatemala, Peru and Uruguay.

International expansion generated a need for increased staff at the Opus Central headquarters in Rome. Escriva de Balaguer had transferred from Madrid a beautiful dark-haired NSRC research assistant, Maria del Carmen Tapia, to become his private secretary. Maria del Carmen had been recruited four years before by Raimundo Panikkar and to her parents' dismay she abandoned fiance, marriage plans and a newly purchased post-nuptial home to devote her life to Opus Dei.

When she arrived in Rome she found that not only was she required to run the Founder's secretariat but also to surpervize between eighty and ninety assistant numeraries who worked as domestics, looking after the housekeeping of the 300 to 400 male numeraries employed at the Villa Tevere. The domestic staff, living under the same vows of celibacy, poverty and obedience as other numeraries, were often required to work twelve or more hours a day without time off and no place to go as they were not allowed out on their own.

Perhaps as a result of his Civil War experiences, Escriva de Balaguer had a fear of police, and civil authority in general. Everyone who worked at Villa Tevere had to surrender their passports to Maria del Carmen, and they were kept under lock and key in the Father's office, partly because they were needed in support of requests for Italian residence papers. In post-war Rome, residence permits were not easy to obtain as the number of foreigners any enterprise might employ was restricted. Opus Dei never had enough permits to go around, even though it obtained extra ones through the Congregation of Religious. The permits were issued by the police. The Father realized that Maria del Carmen's sparkling, slate-green eyes rendered her almost irresistible to young Italian police officers and he made her responsible for obtaining and renewing residence permits. Moreover, he insisted that on her visits to the local commissarist she take Pilar Navarro-Rubio, then head of the kitchen staff, with her -- Pilar was so elegant that the trades-people called her 'Princess' -- and a couple of bottles of cognac as an innocent favour.

The Father was not only concerned about the caprices of the civil authorities. During the summer of 1951, he began to fear a plot was afoot to remove him from control of Opus Dei. As the weeks passed, his foreboding became more acute and he decided to visit the Marian shrine of Loreto, south of Ancona, to seek the Virgin's protection. When he returned he gave orders to the kitchen staff that henceforth all his food had to be tasted in his presence before being placed on the table, a practice reminiscent of the Borgias and one he retained for the rest of his life.

In 1957, Escriva de Balaguer was informed that the Pope wanted Opus Dei to run a newly created prelatura nullius in Peru so that it might test the Founder's authoritarian clerical ideas for countering the spread of Marxism in Third World countries. The Prelature of Yauyos, with its seat at Canete, 150 kilometres south of Lima, covered a vast mountain region one-third the size of Switzerland with a population of around 300,000. The operation was supported by Adveniat, which in turn was funded by a religious tax in Germany as well as voluntary offerings from Germany's 28 million Catholics. Adveniat concentrated on aiding traditional Church work in Latin America, such as the training of priests, and became one of the biggest supporters of Opus Dei's apostolate in Latin America, providing millions of dollars each year. Politically speaking, the fund's guardian, Bishop Franz Hengsbach of Essen, was somewhere to the right of General Franco and there is no doubt that he admired Escriva de Balaguer.

With Adveniat funds, an FM radio transmitter -- Radio Estrella del Sur -- was installed in Canete to broadcast religious programmes and diocesan news. In September 1964 a second station, Radio ERPA -- Escuelas Radiofonicas Populares Andinas -- started broadcasting educational programmes to 300 district schools. All twenty-five of the prelature's parishes, some not served by hard-surfaced roads, became radio-linked, enabling them to exchange information and report social unrest.

Opus Dei's methodology in Yauyos was to organize secular life around the Church, which provided opportunity and employment, and put in place an educational system where previously none existed. The Church controlled the media, oversaw the enforcing of civil order and in some cases directed local investment. Above all, Opus Dei rarely employed its own funds in carrying out these works, but used whatever private or public monies that were available to it, such as grants from private foundations or institutions like Adveniat and US AID.

In October 1963, Paul VI rewarded Don Ignacio de Orbegozo -- the first prelate of Yauyos -- by elevating him to titular bishop of Ariasso. By the time of his consecration, he could report to Rome that the prelature of Yauyos had thirty seminarians studying in Canete -- when there had been none before his arrival -- and more than 1,000 students attending the prelature's agricultural and trade colleges. But Opus Dei's ultimate success in Peru was due to the influence that its regional vicar Manuel Botas came to exert over the papal nuncio, convincing him that the best way to counter a liberalizing Jesuit influence in the country was to entrust the most tainted dioceses to Opus Dei's care. Within a short time, another five Opus Dei priests in Peru received bishop's mitres.

Spain during these years had not been of much help in financing Opus Dei's overseas expansion as the country's economy was in crisis, and despite a ministerial reshuffle in 1951 the situation continued to deteriorate. Education, on the other hand, changed radically under its new minister, Joaquin Ruiz Gimenez, a former ambassador to the Holy See. And whereas Ibanez Martin's disappearance from the political scene -- he was named ambassador to Portugal -- might have seemed an insurmountable blow for Opus Dei, a new man of providence rose from Franco's Presidencia to replace him, giving Escriva de Balaguer's militia even broader access to the country's highest councils. No one was closer to Franco than Admiral Carrero Blanco.

In the autumn of 1950, however, Carrero Blanco's marital problems became the talk of Franco's entourage. His wife had gone off with an American aviator, bringing the couple into disfavour with Franco's wife, Carmen, who was prudish about such things and wanted him replaced.

A thirty-year-old Opus Dei numerary, Laureano Lopez Rodo, was helping at the time to draft Spain's Concordat with the Vatican. These delicate negotiations were overseen for Franco by Carrero Blanco. Inevitably Lopez Rodo met Carrero Blanco and they became friends in spite of a seventeen-year age difference. They frequently dined together at Madrid's finest restaurants and one day Carrero Blanco mentioned his marital problems. Lopez Rodo introduced Carrero Blanco to Amadeo de Fuenmayor, a law professor recently ordained an Opus Dei priest. With tact and good sense, Fuenmayor, who became Carrero Blanco's confessor, was able to restore unity to the admiral's broken marriage. Franco's wife assuaged, Carrero Blanco was promoted secretary general of the Presidencia. After the Caudillo, he became the strongest man in the cabinet and remained grateful to the two Opus Dei numeraries for saving his career.

At the time a handful of senior Opus Dei members were actively conspiring to insure that post-Franco Spain would revert to a monarchy. In spite of Escriva de Balaguer's contention that the Work would never become involved in politics the country's future political system began to take shape at a secluded Opus Dei estate in the hills of Segovia. Escriva de Balaguer followed all aspects of the plan and he even met with the various claimants to the throne to harvest their reactions.

Opus Dei's political energies were channelled into two separate streams. The most visible, and undoubtedly the pump-primer for the constitutional changes that followed, was the so-called 'Third Force', led by the tenth apostle, Calvo Serer. But the deeper and more enduring stream began with Lopez Rodo. A successful lawyer and law professor who practised with fervour the Opus Dei ethic of professional virtuosity, he viewed the success of whatever department he headed as a sign of his Christian perfection.

Calvo Serer and Lopez Rodo were opposites, not only in temperament but although guided by similar goals they employed different means. Calvo Serer burned himself out relatively quickly. A dedicated technocrat, Lopez Rodo went on to dizzying heights, leaving a lasting impact on the institutions that govern Spain. He represented everything that was noble, though elitist, in the Opus Dei ethic.

The tenth apostle launched his Third Force with the intention of promoting closer links between the monarchists and Franco; he favoured a restoration of the monarchy under Don Juan, Alfonso XIII's son who lived in exile in Portugal. Lopez Rodo, on the other hand, preferred Don Juan's eldest son, Juan Carlos, a choice that was more palatable to Franco. In either case, a climate of confidence had to be created between the Caudillo and the official Pretender, Don Juan.

In September 1953, Calvo Serer, at some personal risk, published in Paris an article criticizing the Falange, which opposed the restoration of the monarchy, particularly under Don Juan, because his mother was English and he had sided with the Allies during the Second World War. The article called the Falange administratively incompetent, economically inefficient and totally misguided in its autarkistic beliefs. By the same measure, he branded the Christian Democrats as wishy-washy and claimed that the educational policies of Ruiz Gimenez lacked cohesion. He set forth a Third Force platform based on tighter controls over public spending, decentralized government, a more liberal economy and 'representative' monarchy. The article caused a furore. [2]

For the first time a public figure known to belong to Opus Dei had adopted a political stance. Inside the secular institute there was criticism of Calvo Serer's intentions. Some feared they might compromise the Work's canonical status.

Clearly Opus Dei was not interested in traditional power politics -- i.e., the political system per se, with its party structure, special interests and alliances. But it was interested in the politics of its own apostolate -- that Christ may reign in every aspect of human endeavour. This, of course, was coloured by its vision of how Christ should reign, which was not necessarily the same as everyone else's vision, nor even the vision of every other Catholic.

In the end, Franco ignored the Third Force, and Calvo Serer passed into political limbo. Franco's confidence went instead to Lopez Rodo.

The Concordat with the Vatican was signed in August 1953. It ended Spain's diplomatic isolation. But Franco had to pay a price. The Church was exempted from taxation and given grants with which to construct new churches. Her bishops acquired the right to demand that publications found offensive be withdrawn from sale, while diocesan publications were freed from state censorship. The Concordat also gave the Church the right to found universities and for this reason it was as important to Opus Dei as it was to Franco.

As education minister, Ruiz Gimenez blocked Opus Dei from acquiring further influence over higher education -- by the early 1950s one-third of all university departments in Spain were headed by Opus Dei members. Escriva de Balaguer, therefore, decided to found Opus Dei's own university: the Estudio General de Navarra in Pamplona. To begin with it only had a law faculty and, under a 1949 law governing independent institutions of higher learning, was not entitled to issue degrees. This problem was solved by attaching it to the University of Saragossa. It soon opened a medical school, followed by arts and science and journalism faculties.

As soon as Franco signed the Concordat, Opus Dei moved to transform the Estudio General into a pontifical university. Bu. 'insurmountable difficulties' were raised to bar its way to a papal charter and the project was only saved by the new nuncio, Monsignor Ildebrando Antoniutti. He was so pro-Opus that he could have been a member. His entire staff, from chauffeur to cleaning ladies, was reported to be Opus Dei and the joke circulated in Madrid that he was not the apostolic nuncio but the opustolic nuncio. [3] Escriva de Balaguer took it for granted that, with Antoniutti in charge, the Holy See's approval would be forthcoming and he began referring to Estudio General as the University of Navarra shortly after the new nuncio's arrival in Madrid.

During the lobbying for Navarra's pontifical charter a miracle occurred at the Villa Tevere for which the medical fraternity had no explanation. The Founder's diabetes had become progressively worse in spite of the daily insulin injections. Some days he would be unable to stand up. Sight in his right eye was failing. He was forbidden the use of the discipline and cilice because they provoked skin irritations that easily became infected. He had a bell installed by his, bedside so that he could call for the last sacraments during the night.

On Tuesday, 27 April 1954 -- the feast day of Our 'Lady of Montserrat -- the Father was seated at the dinner table in his private dining room when he passed out. 'Something very peculiar happened,' explained Don Alvaro. 'He changed colour instantly: first a deep red, then a purplish colour, and finally a kind of tawny yellow. Above all, he seemed to dwindle and shrink, slumping over to the side.' [4]

Don Alvaro gave him absolution and then called for the doctor. To counterbalance the effect of the insulin, he put some sugar in the Father's mouth. By the time the doctor arrived, the Father had regained consciousness. He was unable to see for several hours. But with the return of his sight, he was no longer diabetic. He had been cured of the illness that had accompanied him for more than ten years. Soon after his cure, people started calling him the 'Miracle Priest'. As Don Alvaro remarked, a reason exists for everything. 'Nothing falls outside divine Providence.' [5]

What finally propelled the Opus Dei technocrats into power in Spain were the January 1957 worker riots in Barcelona. They highlighted the worsening economic situation. Inflation was out of control and Spain's balance of payments was disastrous. The country was a victim of chronic overspending, encouraged by a lack of ministerial controls, and no coherent monetary or fiscal policy. In an effort to head off a moratorium on foreign payments and a massive devaluation, Franco ordered a cabinet restructuring that marked one of the great watersheds of Opus Dei's development.

The architect of the restructuring was Lopez Rodo. His recommendations sounded the death knell of the Falange. After the July 1957 changes, the Falange retained but three minor ministries -- labour, housing and the portfolio of the Falange Movement itself -- while three anti-Falangists were placed in the key portfolios of interior, foreign affairs and army. And then came the Opus Dei technocrats, interested not in playing politics at all but in integrating Spain into the European economy. Thanks to Opus Dei -- or at least to Lopez Rodo - Spain found herself, without realizing it, in the process of leaving the ranks of world dictatorships.

Lopez Rodo announced that the new government's first objective was a minimum annual wage of $1,000 for every working citizen. 'If we are able to achieve this, the rest -- social and political -- will follow quite naturally,' he predicted. [6]

Who were the Opus Dei technocrats preparing to modernize Spain? Mariano Navarro-Rubio became finance minister. A 43-year-old Aragonese lawyer from Teruel, he had fought with distinction on the Nationalist side during the Civil War, and was three times wounded. Competent, hard-working, he was also on the board of Banco Popular Espanol and was one of the architects of that bank's spectacular growth. He would be credited with giving Spain a stable monetary policy.

The new Minister of Commerce was numerary Alberto Ullastres, also forty-three, professor of political economy and deputy governor of the Spanish Mortgage Bank. He had studied in France and Germany, and fought with the Nationalist forces on the Asturian front. Lopez Rodo, Navarro-Rubio and Ullastres worked together as a team and they brought other Opus Dei technocrats into key government positions.

Soon after the new cabinet was announced, Opus Dei's Spanish headquarters issued a statement denying the institute's involvement in politics. 'Its activities are directly and exclusively apostolic and because of its dedicated spirituality it is not involved in the politics of any country.' [7] Strictly speaking, that was true. Opus Dei was not a political party and had no pretensions of becoming one. Nevertheless it did have political goals -- however well hidden -- that were consistent with its spiritual beliefs and role as Catholic Regenerator. And its members, whether government ministers or company directors, were subjected to a degree of spiritual guidance far more encompassing than required of any other Catholic lay person -- extending, as will be shown in Chapter 16, to 'all professional, social and other questions'. [8]

Political considerations aside, the Opus Dei ethic was soon to pay real dividends for the Spanish people. During the fifteen years from 1960 to 1975, a period referred to as the anos de desarrollo -- the years of development -- Spain's economy grew faster than any other, except Japan. Average annual income would attain Lopez Rodo's magic benchmark of $1,000 annually by 1968. When Spain's first economic miracle ended in the mid-1970s, due to a world economic slump rather than her own economic shortcomings, she was ranked as the world's ninth industrial power. In 1957, one in every hundred Spaniards owned a car. By the end of the 1960s, the figure was one in ten. Almost every home had a telephone and more than half had washing machines and refrigerators. By the mid-1970s, illiteracy had dropped to under 10 per cent, and the student population had doubled. The important change, however, was in expectations. Surveys showed that workers could expect much better jobs, in terms of pay and prestige, in the 1970s than their fathers had known. And so it could be said that, largely thanks to Opus Dei, by the early 1970s Spain had become part of the modern European economy. With wealth came corruption.

_______________

Notes:

1. Originally from Badajoz, Spain, Muzquiz adopted American citizenship and twice served as Opus Dei's regional vicar in the US. He died in Plymouth, Massachusetts, in 1983 at the age of 70.

2. Calvo Serer's article, La Politique Interieure de l'Espagne de Franco, appeared in the September 1953 issue of the right-wing Ecrits de Paris.

3. Yvon Le Vaillant, Sainte Maffia -- Le Dossier de l'Opus Dei, Mercure de France, Paris 1971. p. 181.

4. Vazquez de Prada, Op. cit., p. 278.

5. Ibid., p. 278.

6. Ernest Milcent, 'Ainsi Naquit Opus Dei,' Notre Histoire No. 46, Paris 1988.

7. El Correo Catalan, Barcelona, 13 July 1957.

8. Reference to Article 58 of the 1950 Constitutions.
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Re: THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DE

Postby admin » Thu Oct 22, 2015 9:25 am

12. The Matesa Scandal

Don't be afraid of the truth, even though the truth may mean your death.

-- Maxim 34, The Way


OPUS DEI'S FIRST REPORTED USE OF PILLERIA IN FINANCIAL MATTERS involved the Matesa scandal. As a result of fraud a large sum of money disappeared, never to be traced, and two bankers directly or indirectly involved in Matesa's operations lost their lives. Publicly, Opus Dei denied it was involved with Matesa, but privately members were reported to have joked about the operation, inferring that the movement's coffers were enriched by the misdealings. Two things can be said for certain: Spanish ratepayers were ultimately handed the bill; and the person who took the blame for the scandal eventually received a royal pardon. His name was Juan Vila Reyes. He was one of the first graduates of IESE (the Instituto de Estudios Superiores de la Empresa), Opus Dei's prestigious business administration school in Barcelona.

In July 1956, Vila Reyes founded a technical support company for the textile industry. He called it Maquinaria Textil del Norte de Espana Sociedad Anonima, which he shortened to Matesa. During the late 1950s, 'technology' and 'technocracy' had become buzz words in Spain. Vila Reyes was quick to see that a corporation dealing in 'hi-tech' and directed by outward-looking 'technocrats' offered high potential in a country that was hungry for export successes. He doted Matesa with a capital of $80,000, only a small portion of which was paid in, against the issue of 200,000 shares, held in majority by himself as managing director. His brother Fernando, their sister Blanca, and brother-in-law Manuel Salvat Dalmau were the other shareholders. The next step was to learn how to become a technocrat. And so in October 1958 he signed up for IESE's top management programme. At this point he was not even a co-operator of Opus Dei, although his brother-in-law and sister were supernumeranes.

A slight digression is necessary to understand what follows. Opus Dei's success was and remains dependent upon its ability to recruit new members. Recruitment, however, is not a word that Opus Dei likes. It maintains that people are not recruited into the Work at all. Rather, they ask to join in recognition of a God-given vocation that guides them to dedicate their lives to the apostolate. Nevertheless, in spite of efforts to keep the troops fully committed, a constant erosion of members due to natural causes or disillusionment requires expansion-minded Opus Dei actively to seek new members. It has over the decades developed a recruiting structure which is surprisingly efficient. Not just anyone is targeted, nor accepted. Rather like a tennis dub, 'new members might ask to join. But they have to be compatible with the dub's aims. If they're only interested in chess or learning to rumba, they would be out of place and therefore there is no sense in accepting them,' a member commented.

A dossier prepared by former numerary John Roche examines Opus Dei's recruiting procedures in some detail. A certain awareness of Opus Dei vocabulary, however, is necessary. 'Proselytism' is synonymous with 'recruiting', even if the targets are fellow Catholics. 'Winning vocations', means 'bringing in new members'. In his analysis, Roche states:

The single most important activity in the life of a member of Opus Dei is recruitment or 'proselytism'. The Founder, Monsignor Escriva, emphasized this repeatedly:

We do not have any other aim than the corporate one: proselytism, winning vocations ... Proselytism in the Work is precisely the road, the way to reach sanctity. When a person does not have zeal to win others ... he is dead ... I bury cadavers. [Cronica V, 1963]

[G]o out to the highways and byways and push those whom you find to come and fill my house, force them to come in; push them ... we must be a little crazy ... You must kill yourselves for proselytism ... [Cronica IV, 1971

None of my children can rest satisfied if he doesn't win four or five faithful vocations each year. [Cronica VII, 1968]


... Every member is supposed to have at least fifteen 'friends', five of whom at any moment are being 'worked on' actively to 'whistle'. Effort and success in proselytism is tied so closely to sanctification that it often becomes the single most important source of spiritual anxiety for the less successful. The obligation to win recruits is stern and unrelenting.

... Opus Dei's publicly known corporate enterprises are dedicated to proselytism. According to the Founder, 'University residences, universities, publishing houses ... are these ends? No, and what of the end? Well, it is two-fold. On the one hand, personal sanctity. And on the other, to promote in the world the greatest possible number of souls dedicated to God in Opus Dei ...' [Cronica V, 1963]

The primary purpose, therefore, of all of Opus Dei's schools, hostels, clubs, cultural centres, catering colleges, pre-university courses, summer schools and international gatherings is the recruitment into Opus Dei of those who attend. Members are frequently reminded privately of this priority, but publicly the Founder insisted that its corporate activities are primarily 'a disinterested service to humanity'. Because of this, these activities are frequently supported by public money. [1]


The IESE to which Vila Reyes was admitted in 1958 had been founded that same year by two numeraries as an extension of their apostolate. They obtained a grant of $50,000 from the Banco Popular Espanol. IESE was attached to the University of Navarra and later aligned its syllabus with the Harvard Business School, with which it became associated. Some of Opus Dei's best cadres have over the years been formed at IESE, but also many of Spain's top business executives. But it had a hidden objective. Upon graduation, students became tracked in their professional careers -- and assisted if deemed appropriate -- so that directly or indirectly they became associated with the Work. Some slipped away, of course, but most willingly and even enthusiastically participated in the process without thought as to whether they were being used. It was all very convivial, with nothing so crude as pressure ever being applied; after all, they were encouraged to believe that they belonged to an elite executive club. One early graduate, for example, was Spain's future ambassador to Moscow, Juan Antonio Samaranch, who, when he became head of the international Olympic movement in the 1980s, transformed it into a vast money-spinning enterprise, according to the 'Christian and scientific principles' he learned at the IESE. And then there were the ambitious few, aware of what Opus Dei expected of them, who played the game to the hilt, exploiting the contacts it gave them. Vila Reyes was one of these.

The contacts acquired by Vila Reyes during his year at the IESE enabled him to accelerate Matesa's development. After graduation, he retained as legal counsel Jose Luis Villar Palasi, a multilingual attorney with offices in Madrid. Villar Palasi was closely linked to Opus Dei, though the Work asserts that he was never a member nor even a co-operator. [2] In 1962, the Minister of Commerce, Opus Dei numerary Alberto Ullastres, appointed Villar Palasi as his under-secretary. This meant that for the next six years Vila Reyes never looked back. A multitude of doors opened for his 'hi-tech' company whose only sophisticated technology was its telex machine and an electric typewriter.

Matesa acquired -- one is not quite sure how -- a French patent for an industrial loom. The patent cost all of $12,000. [3] The loom was known as the Iwer, no doubt after its inventor. Vila Reyes hyped its technical novelties. He said it was revolutionary because, shuttleless, it could weave virtually any type of material from silk to fibreglass. A prototype was shown at the 1959 Milan Industrial Fair, where it aroused modest interest.

Villar Palasi introduced his client to Laureano Lopez Rodo. They became friends. Lopez Rodo introduced him to the Opusian banker Juan Jose Espinosa San Martin, who in July 1965 took over from Mariano Navarro-Rubio as Minister of Finance. Navarro-Rubio was named Governor of the Bank of Spain.

With the Iwer patent and an IESE diploma, Vila Reyes was able to obtain sufficient credit to build an assembly plant in Pamplona. In Barcelona, Matesa installed a research department that employed several hundred technicians. Then began the search for export markets. While the fabulous Iwer was being presented to potential buyers in the US, Latin America and Europe, Lopez Rodo introduced Spain's first Five-Year Economic Development Plan. An important aspect of the plan was the stimulus it gave exporters by introducing a mix of fiscal enticements and state subsidies.

Matesa was said to have an 'export vocation'. Juan Vila Reyes went to the state trough and came back with warehousing loans, discounting for its bills of exchange, and a revolving credit to help finance its export orders. It was a game. Against the outlay of state funds, Vila Reyes sent donations to IESE, the University of Navarra, and some of the Work's educational projects abroad. But Spain was still in the grips of foreign exchange controls.

Rather than exporting the fabulous Iwer, a subsequent public enquiry revealed that Matesa apparently exported much of its state funding. Vila Reyes set up a maze of foreign convenience companies, many of them in the Swiss canton of Fribourg, lenient in its taxation of locally domiciled holding companies. Finance minister Espinosa San Martin had excellent contacts with the Giscard d'Estaing family in Paris, and with Prince Jean de Broglie, a co-founder of the Giscardian Independent Republican party. Valery Giscard d'Estaing was elected to the French National Assembly in 1956, the year that Matesa was founded. In January 1962, General de Gaulle appointed Giscard as his minister of finance. Though replaced in 1966, he remained in the wings of the Elysee Palace, waiting to serve as a future president of the Fifth Republic.

Prince Jean de Broglie was the man who kept Giscard's political agenda up to date. Senator and member of the National Assembly's foreign affairs committee, he was a successful financier, with extensive contacts in the right-wing pan-European movement. In 1967, Giscard d'Estaing sent Jean de Broglie on a mission to Madrid. The exact nature of the mission is not known. But during de Broglie's stay in the Spanish capital, he was introduced to Juan Vila Reyes.

Whatever the reason for the Madrid meeting, when de Broglie returned to Paris he gave instructions to an assistant, Raoul de Leon, to create for Matesa a holding company in Luxemburg, Sodetex S.A., with a paid-in capital of 1 million French francs ($170,000). The capital was transferred to a Sodetex account in Luxemburg by Brelic S.A., Fribourg, a Matesa subsidiary. Chairman of Sodetex was Prince Jean de Broglie, and Robert Leclerc, the head and principal shareholder of Banque de l'Harpe (which became Banque Leclerc) in Geneva, was one of the board members.

By June 1968, Matesa's capital had increased to $2.4 million. Now a multinational enterprise, it was touted as a showcase of the new Spain's entrepreneurial spirit. But sales of the Iwer loom were never what they were purported to be. It was a delicate machine, over-priced and, plagued by production problems, delivery was uncertain. In Spain, purchasers of the loom could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Sales abroad were overstated. A consignment of Iwer looms, supposedly destined for New York, was found abandoned on the docks of Barcelona. The head of customs who uncovered the fraud, Victor Castro Sanmartin, was an Opus Dei member. [4] He probably did not realize the significance of Matesa for the financial arm of Opus Dei, given the institute's penchant for internal secrecy hat was every bit as strong as its external secrecy, and he filed a detailed report with his superior, the Minister of Finance. A copy of that report landed on the desk of Manuel Fraga Iribarne, the Minister of Information. Fraga was the senior Falange member in the cabinet, opposed to the influence wielded by the Opus Dei technocrats.

The Falange had been watching Matesa's growth and wanted revenge after its humiliation by the Opus Dei technocrats in the 1957 cabinet reshuffle. The surviving Falange ministers saw in Castro Sanmartin's report an opportunity to break Opus Dei's hold over key government portfolios. In the summer of 1969 the Falange unleashed a press campaign that hinted Matesa's foreign orders were a ruse to qualify for export credits.

Matesa's Luxemburg subsidiary, Sodetex, was planning to launch a 15 million Swiss franc ($3.6 million) debenture issue through Banque Leclerc in Geneva. But the anti-Matesa press campaign finally spread to the foreign media and in August 1969 the debenture offering was cancelled. The negative publicity also killed, according to Vila Reyes, outstanding orders for the Iwer loom.

Until then Franco ignored the scandal. When the Falange Movement minister Jose Solis Ruiz personally complained to him that the Opus Dei ministers were not 'perfect gentlemen', the Caudillo remarked curtly: 'What have you got against the Opus? Because while they work you just fuck about.' [5]

By September 1969 the brouhaha over Matesa had become too much for even Franco. He was particularly infuriated by the foreign publicity. Vila Reyes and his brother were arrested. Investigators quickly found the company insolvent. But Matesa had acquired $180 million in government export financing. Where had the money gone? Espinosa San Martin and Fausto Garda Monco, another Opus Dei banker who replaced Alberto Ullastres in 1965 as minister of commerce, did not have an answer. They resigned. Nevertheless Franco was not appeased, though ironically he did not direct his anger against Opus Dei. He was upset with the two Falange ministers Fraga and Solis as they had permitted the media to reflect the reality of Spain in the 1960s -- a country that was 'politically stagnant, economically monopolistic and socially unjust.' [6]

Rumours abounded of a ministerial bloodletting. It was widely believed that Opus Dei's influence in government was on the wane and that Franco, fed up with the intrigues, would remove the technocrats altogether. But Franco had grown tired of the Falange and instead it was the technocrats who triumphed.

Madrid was stunned when state television interrupted its evening programme on 29 October 1969 to announce the new cabinet. Of the nineteen ministers, ten were Opus Dei members or co-operators. They were led by Lopez Rodo (Economic Development), Gregorio Lopez Bravo (Foreign Affairs), Enrique Fontana Codina (Commerce) and Alfredo Sanchez Bella (Information and Tourism).

Of the remainder, five were said to be close to Opus, among them Jose Luis Villar Palasi (Education and Science) and Alberto Monreal Luque (Finance). Three others were known to work with Opus Dei. That left only the Prime Minister, Luis Carrero Blanco, and everyone knew where his sympathies lay. Lopez Rodo was portrayed as the architect of this velvet 'coup d'etat'. Although Carrero Blanco was prime minister, it was really Lopez Rodo's government. But others said that the new king maker was Luis Valls Taberner, a monk-like and enigmatic Opus Dei numerary who was Banco Popular Espanol's deputy chairman. Valls Taberner and Lopez Rodo lived in the same Opus Dei residence in Madrid.

The new government named a commission of enquiry. It found that most of the missing loot had been transferred abroad. It also disclosed that Matesa's network of foreign companies had made some grants to the University of Navarra, and one relatively small contribution to President Nixon's re-election campaign. Other monies were paid to Vila Reyes's alma mater in Barcelona, the IESE. Not mentioned in the commission's report, and vehemently denied by an Opusian vocal, were rumours that substantial indirect payments had been made to Opus Dei through its 'auxiliary societies'.

A spokesman stated: 'Opus Dei received no donations whatever from Matesa. Vila Reyes did make some personal donations over several years to the IESE business school. These totalled 2 million pesetas (£12,000) and were well documented. The charge that he gave 2,400 million pesetas (£14 million) to various Opus Dei institutions in Spain, Peru and the United States is absolutely false.' [7]

The denial is an interesting example of Opus Dei's bending the truth. It began with, 'It is important to note that Juan Vila Reyes ... and his legal adviser, Jose Luis Villar Palasi, were not members of Opus Dei ...' This may have been true, but Juan Vila's sister and brother-in-law were both members of Opus Dei and shareholders of Matesa. Moreover the Opus Dei denial neglected to mention that another Opus Dei supernumerary, Angel de las Cuevas, undersecretary of industry in the Finance Ministry and deputy chairman of the Banco de Credito Industrial, the state bank that accorded the export financing to Matesa, was charged with complicity in the fraudulent scheme.

Perhaps more telling, a former Opus Dei budget director confirmed privately that 'my office only received minor contributions from Matesa'. [8] Needless to say, there is a difference between a categorical 'no contributions' and 'minor contributions'. But even this does not represent the full story because the budget director was the first to point out that international transfers did not pass through his office. They were handled by Dr. Rafael Termes Carrero, at the time regional director of Banco Popular Espaiiol in Barcelona. Rafael Termes was very close to Luis Valls, and it was Termes who set up the Andorra by-pass, engineering the acquisition of Credit Andorra, on whose board of directors he sat. Credit Andorra was the principality's largest and most active commercial bank. It was acquired in 1955 with Banco Popular's assistance by an Opus Dei auxiliary company called Esfina. [9]

By the late 1950s, with an economic upswing underway, Spain was financing almost half of Opus Dei's world-wide operations, and Andorra -- which had no exchange controls -- acted as one of the staging centres for the exported funds. They were collected there and redirected to the money-market centres where funds were most needed -- in general, Frankfurt, London or Zurich. If money was going to Rome, the Villa Tevere was informed by Madrid in a coded message that, for example, 'fifteen collections left today'. A 'collection' equalled $1,000, so that fifteen collections meant that $15,000 was en route from Credit Andorra to Opus Dei's account with the IOR (the Vatican bank).

Opus Dei never disclosed whether it received, directly or indirectly, any payments from Matesa's Luxemburg subsidiary, Sodetex, or from any of Matesa's other foreign affiliates. Sodetex went into liquidation soon after the scandal erupted. Sodetex's role in the disappearance of the $180 million was never investigated. The Spanish receivers claimed that Sodetex owed Matesa only $1 million, a rather paltry sum compared to the $179 million that still remained unaccounted for.

The state prosecutors found tracks that led to Andorra for a small amount of the missing money. In October 1967, a special court for exchange control violations found Juan Vila Reyes and one of his employees guilty of illegally exporting $2.5 million through the principality. The money, in bundles of 1,000 peseta notes, was taken by car from Madrid or Barcelona to Andorra where it was deposited with the Credit Andorra. The court concluded that the money went from Andorra to Switzerland. [10]

Vila Reyes's recompense was a few months in prison, many more months under house arrest and millions of pesetas in legal fees. He was financially ruined. In May 1975, he was sentenced to three years in prison. But six months later, Franco passed away and Prince Juan Carlos became head of state. One of the future king's first acts was to pardon the champion exporter.

For Prince Jean de Broglie the recompense was the Lord's vengeance. In 1974, after long negotiations, he agreed to repay the $1 million which the Spanish liquidators claimed Sodetex owed Matesa. The terms of the agreement stated that the money with interest would be returned in two annual instalments, beginning on 15 November 1975. But when the first instalment fell due, Prince de Broglie reneged. Forty-four days after the due date for the second instalment, Jean de Broglie was gunned down in a Paris street by a professional hitman.

In May 1977, Banque Leclerc in Geneva was ordered into liquidation. Days later, the bank's general manager, Frenchman Charles Bouchard, fell into Lake Geneva, not far from his front door, and drowned. According to his widow, he was an excellent swimmer and in good health. Twenty years later, she still maintains that her husband was murdered.

One of the lawyers in what became known as l'Affaire de Broglie was Roland Dumas, who served as a foreign minister during Francois Mitterand's presidency. Dumas asked the investigating magistrate handling the de Broglie case to look into the connections between Sodetex and Matesa, which until then had been covered up. Dumas focused on whether the French police report on de Broglie's murder had purposely glossed over the links between the prince and Matesa.

'A more probing investigation would have shown that Matesa was an instrument of Opus Dei, whose tentacles stretch everywhere in western Europe. No investigation of this connection was undertaken in the criminal information [against Matesa's management] opened in Madrid or Luxembourg. The reason no doubt resides in the evident links that exist between Opus Dei and the political party of the Independent Republicans whose principal leaders were the friends of Prince de Broglie,' Dumas told a French journalist. [11]

Robert Leclerc was charged in Geneva with fraud in connection with the collapse of his bank. At trial, his attorneys claimed that a stroke had deprived Leclerc of his ability to speak. In spite of remaining mute, he was convicted and served a light sentence in a prison hospital. Released, he miraculously recovered his voice, but never disclosed what had gone wrong inside Banque Leclerc. He died of old age in 1993.

In spite of the Matesa setback, Opus Dei continued to develop its financial network outside Spain. The Matesa affair had provided an important lesson. Opus Dei theologians view the world through the tinted spectacles of Christian fundamentalists. They believe that Christ was crucified and rose again to break the stranglehold of evil so that the world might be fashioned anew, according to God's design. For Opus Dei, God's design extends to all mankind.

Bearing this in mind, Opus Dei members believe strongly that God spoke to Moses, and also to Escriva de Balaguer, but that money speaks to the world. Opus Dei was out to build an earthly empire to the glory of God. Opus Dei's strategists realized this required a vast amount of capital -- more than any Church body, royal house or banking empire had ever assembled. Just as important, Opus Dei's strategists are not stupid people, enclosed in a world of incense and icons. The Father and his apostles had recruited into the Work some of Spain's brightest lights. By the 1960s, they were doing the same throughout Europe and farther afield, the Work by then being present in almost thirty countries.

For the first time, a handful of dedicated people, most of them Spaniards, began to chart how to harness the financial establishment and the monetary system to spread the Good News. They were fashioning a holy conspiracy. Opus Dei has no financial apostolate? Opus Dei undermines its credibility by maintaining that it lives from Divine Providence, as if it received financial manna from Heaven. In this respect a professor at the University of Madrid made me aware of something I have called the 'Law of Financial Hegemony'.

'Opus Dei's hierarchy knows very well that money rules the world and that religious hegemony in a country or a continent is dependent upon obtaining financial hegemony,' affirmed Javier Sainz Moreno.

If this is accepted, then much of what transpired on the economic and financial fronts during the next twenty-five years -- from the demise of Matesa to the forced winding up of an Opus Dei auxiliary operation known as the Fundaci6n General Mediterranea -- can be explained by this 'law' when applied to the Work's main apostolate, which, according to Cronica, is to 'fulfil a command of Christ, who tells us, "Go forth into all the world and preach the gospel to all creatures" ... the marvellous seeding of sanctity in all the environments of the world.' [12]

Opus Dei's corporate aims, according to Professor Sainz Moreno, were, first, to control the Vatican finances in order to control the Vatican itself, and, second, to achieve the largest degree of financial hegemony wherever possible. But for God's Work to succeed on the scale that Escriva de Balaguer's lieutenants envisaged, a way of generating and deploying stateless capital had to be developed.

The most fruitful field for generating odourless capital is international trade. Hidden profits can be easily created through the transfer of goods and services between countries with different fiscal and legal systems. Matesa's foreign transfers had shown that. Physical transfer across frontiers of suitcases stuffed with banknotes was outmoded. New methods were devised through the drafting of international contracts that transferred profits, commissions or brokerage to distant jurisdictions for warehousing. From these warehouses the monies could then be shunted about, putting resources to work where they were most needed. About this time, Opus Dei was becoming one of the largest players in the Eurodollar market -- a market that experienced exponential growth in the 1960s and 1970s.

When it moves into a new country, Opus Dei's secular arm concentrates on developing foreign trade outlets -- especially between states where Escriva de Balaguer's children are already well placed in government. Thus when Opus Dei opened a new centre in India in 1993, a Spanish wool merchant was one of the numeraries sent to Delhi with the intention of establishing a trading company for operations between India and Europe. In this light, one understands how important the Matesa experiment was. In a sense, Matesa's demise marked the beginning of a new era of growth.

_______________

Notes:

1. John J. Roche, 'Winning Recruits in Opus Dei: A Personal Experience', The Clergy Review No. 10, London, October 1985.

2. Opus Dei UK Information Office. 30 October 1994.

3. Le Vaillant, Op. cit., p. 345 (The sum mentioned is 500,000 pesetas). converted at 42 pesetas to the dollar.

4. Santiago Aroca, 'Opus IV -- The Occult Children -- Politicians, Military, Secret Agents', Tiempo No. 219, Madrid, 21 July 1986.

5. Preston, Op. cit., p. 745n.

6. Ibid., p. 745.

7. William O'Connor, Opus Dei -- An Open Book, Mercier Press, Dublin 1991, p. 139.

8. Francisco Jose de Saralegui, Madrid, 24 February 1995.

9. Ynfante, Op. cit., p. 249.

10. Ibid.. p. 250.

11. Thierry Oberle, L'Opus Dei -- Dieu ou Cesar, J-C. Lattes, Paris 1993, p. 220.

12. 'Freedom and Proselytism', Cronica VIII, 1959 (emphasis added).
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Re: THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DE

Postby admin » Thu Oct 22, 2015 9:26 am

13. Vatican II

In my life I have known several popes, many cardinals, a multitude of bishops. But on the other hand, Founders of Opus Dei, there is only one!

-- Josemaria Escriva de Balaguer, Cronica I, 1971


DURING HIS YEARS IN ROME, ESCRIVA DE BALAGUER DEVELOPED A highly idiosyncratic view of the papacy. He held Pius X, the Pope of his childhood, in high esteem, considering him the fairest Pontiff of modern times. He never forgave Pius XII for three times refusing him a bishop's mitre, and intensely disliked him because of it.

When Angelo Roncalli, Patriarch of Venice, was elected the new Pope in October 1958, he surprised everyone by taking the name of John, which no Pope had used in more than 600 years. His next surprise followed almost immediately when he removed his biretta, the red skull cap of a cardinal, and placed it upon the head of Alberto Di Jorio, who had been secretary of the Conclave but also was head of the Vatican bank. This act instantly raised Di Jorio to the cardinalate.

The world knew relatively little about the 76-year-old Roncalli. He was the third of thirteen children from a frugal Bergamo farming family. Most of his ecclesiastic career had been spent in the Vatican diplomatic service in places like Romania and Turkey, and as nuncio in Paris. Only Opus Dei remembered that in July 1954, the year after becoming Patriarch of Venice, Roncalli had made a pilgrimage to Saragossa and Santiago de Compostela. In both cities he stayed in Opus Dei residences. This indicated that the kindly patriarch was certainly familiar with some of the more open aspects of the secular institute.

Opus Dei, however, was far from John XXIII's concerns. His first priority was to rejuvenate the College of Cardinals. Within days of his coronation he distributed another twenty-three red hats. His list included the first cardinals ever for the Philippines, Japan, Mexico and Africa. At the top of the list were Giovanni Battista Montini, by then Archbishop of Milan, and Domenico Tardini, whom John asked to become his secretary of state. A year later, he added to the list Opus Dei's former friend, the 72-year-old Arcadio Larraona.

In January 1959, John XXIII announced that he would convene the first Ecumenical Council in ninety years. Within weeks, a committee was formed under Cardinal Tardini, Opus Dei's protector in the Curia. He named Opus Dei's secretary general, Alvaro del Portillo, chairman of one of the sub-commissions. Nevertheless Escriva de Balaguer had to wait almost eighteen months for his first audience with the new Pope. The audience lasted less than thirty minutes. The Father, accompanied by Don Alvaro, wished to explain to John that Opus Dei no longer felt at ease in the clothing of a secular institute. In ten years it had grown from 3,000 to 30,000 members, including 307 priests. The Spanish prelates proposed that Opus Dei should be transformed into a prelature nullius. This would have given Escriva de Balaguer the mitre he so cherished.

Pope John was puzzled by Opus Dei. He did not reply to the request for almost two years -- another snub of major proportions. In May 1962, he finally had Cardinal Amleto Cicognani, who had taken over as secretary of state after Tardini's unexpected death, inform Opus Dei's founder that transforming the institute into a prelature nullius would present 'almost insurmountable juridical and practical difficulties' and therefore the request was denied. [1]

Within three weeks, Escriva de Balaguer was inside the papal apartments, making known his 'profound disappointment'. Since the previous year one of his leading experts in canon law, Professor Pedro Lombardia Diaz of the University of Navarra, had been working on defining a 'floating diocese' that possessed most of the characteristics of what later became known as a personal pre1ature. Papa Roncalli counselled patience as the Second Vatican Council would begin its work that autumn, and one of the items on the agenda was the creation of a new legal structure for mixed lay and religious organizations like Opus Dei. Escriva de Balaguer was not pleased and came away from the meeting with what some former children have described as 'a profound dislike' of Pope John. Thereafter in moments of anger he referred to Roncalli as 'a peasant with body odour'. [2]

One of Escriva de Balaguer's closest collaborators at this time [3] reported that the Founder was obsessed by the notion that popes could be chosen from outside the College of Cardinals and raised to Peter's throne by acclamation. His seventh apostle, Pedro Casciaro, was convinced that this could occur and confided to a member of the Spanish hierarchy that the next Conclave might produce a major surprise. Because of his age, Roncalli was regarded as a transitionary pope whose reign would be short.

Three years into John XXIII's pontificate, Escriva de Balaguer sought to establish closer contact with the outspoken Cardinal Giuseppe Siri of Genoa. He knew that Siri, one of the electors of John XXIII, regretted that he had helped place the rotund Roncalli on the papal throne. Escriva de Balaguer wanted Siri to know that they shared similar concerns. He was convinced that, in the name of reform, evil forces were eroding the Church from within and he saw in Siri a potential ally in stopping the decay.

Siri's archdiocese of Genoa, with one million Catholics, was one of the richest in Christendom. He had established an administrative section to manage its finances, placing the archiepiscopal treasury under the direction of a young mutual fund salesman, Orazio Bagnasco, who was later adopted as one of Giulio Andreotti's proteges. Andreotti, Siri and the two Spanish prelates considered John XXIII's diplomatic opening to the Communist world as dangerous. Siri began describing Pope John's pontificate as 'the greatest disaster in recent ecclesiastical history'. By 'recent', Peter Hebblethwaite claimed, Siri meant the last 500 years. [4] Siri and Escriva de Balaguer were said to view the Second Vatican Council as an unnecessary sideshow destined to complicate 'the work of the Pope's successor.

Getting Vatican II under way was no easy task. Papa Roncalli made it clear that he intended to open its doors to all religions -- a revolutionary step. Pope John would also turn the procedural rules upside down.

Pope John's opening address to the Council explained Vatican II's purpose: to ensure that 'the sacred deposit of Christian doctrine -- the common patrimony of all mankind -- be preserved and taught in a more effective way ...' But Roncalli had no plan. It was Montini who offered a plan. He proposed that the Council focus on one theme: the nature of the Church and her aggiornamento (renovation) in preparation for the third millennium. The Council fathers were called upon to consider the roles of the Church's constituents: bishops, priests, religious and lay people. Montini also reasoned that the council should consider the mission of the Church at the end of the second millennium, and he proposed a discussion on the Church's relationships with other religions, including her traditional 'enemies'.

Vatican II took place in the public eye. This also went against Opus Dei's principles. Moreover the Father feared that the large number of experts whom Pope John allowed to take part would overwhelm the less sophisticated bishops. A bishop needed strength of mind to remember that his authority came from his mystical consecration as Christ's apostle and not from the divergent opinions of counsellors, no matter how learned...Because of this, the Father believed that 'the potential expansion of the Devil's field of action' which Vatican II provided was 'beyond the Council fathers' imagination'. [5]

Escriva de Balaguer refused to participate in the work of Vatican II. It is said that Pope John wanted to appoint him a consultor, but he would have nothing of it. Pope John, therefore, made Don Alvaro del Portillo the secretary of the Commission on Discipline of the Faith. Throughout the three years that the Council sat, Escriva de Balaguer brooded in the Villa Tevere, dubbing it the 'Council of the Devil'.

Pope John did not live to see the work of his great enterprise completed. He died on 3 June 1963. Escriva de Balaguer believed that the 'peasant Pope' had embarked upon a destructive exercise. Cardinal Larraona commented more charitably: 'John's goodness and simple-mindedness had led him astray.' [6] Siri, more direct, remarked, 'It will take the Church four centuries to recover from John's pontificate.' [7]

Montini became the next pope. Although the Father had not forgotten Montini's help in transforming Opus Dei from diocesan association to an institute of pontifical right, he considered the Archbishop of Milan, now Paul VI, weak on important doctrinal issues. Montini was also strongly anti-Franco.

Rather than rejoicing over Paul's election, Escriva de Balaguer was indignant, especially as Paul VI made it clear that he was committed to completing the work of the Council. The second session closed in December 1963, with Paul promulgating a new Constitution on Liturgy, which was said to have made Escriva de Balaguer tremble with rage. Paul opened the third session in September 1964, for the first time admitting women -- religious and lay -- as auditors, and closed it in November 1964.

At Escriva de Balaguer's first meeting with Pope Paul he pressed for a revision of Opus Dei's status. Paul counselled him to wait until the close of Vatican II, still almost two years away. The Founder fretted, but Pope Paul remained firm, and when Gaudium et Spes was finally published in December 1965 it offered Opus Dei a few pearls. For example the Church accepted for the first time that work was part of the divine plan: 'We hold that through labour offered to God man is associated with the redemptive work of Jesus Christ.' [8] While Escriva de Balaguer might have privately cursed the Council, Opus Dei publicly claimed that Lumen Gentium, the Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity and Gaudium et Spes all drew their inspiration from his teachings.

The Council now over, Pope Paul began implementing its decisions, steering the Church through a period of difficult change. He substituted the vernacular in the liturgy, and in pursuit of ecumenism he held meetings with the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Patriarch Athenagorus I. Then in July 1968 he issued Humanae Vitae, condemning artificial methods of birth control. But it disappointed many, not least because a majority of the pontifical commission appointed to examine the subject had been in favour of contraception under certain conditions. Pope Paul had ignored the majority view. He was said to have been profoundly shaken by the critical international reaction this harvested. A horrified Escriva de Balaguer had actually worked to oppose Humanae Vitae, because he felt it was not strong enough in its rejection of contraception. He was, on the other hand, encouraged by the role that Cardinal Karol Wojtyla had played in turning Paul's hand. It was said that Wojtyla had convinced Pope Paul to pull back from changing Church doctrine in favour of artificial birth control.

Escriva de Balaguer was convinced that he was living in a time of heresies. He increasingly viewed Opus Dei as the core of the real Church, a lean and sleek Church. His sons were her guardians, the Catholic counterpart of Islam's Mutawah, a religious police sworn to maintain discipline and silence dangerous revisionists. 'God', he believed, 'has chosen Opus Dei to save His Church.' [9] Inside the Work, his word was law. He established Opus Dei's own Index of Prohibited Books, similar in intent to the one established by Paul IV in 1557 and renewed by Leo XIII in 1900. He bombarded his regional vicars with written directives that were filed in each centre's praxis manual. The subjects varied from Note S-4 of 30 August 1952, which in one curt sentence warned against talking about internal matters to persons outside the Work, to the latest additions to the Index. [10]

One theme that recurred over and over again was the vigilance needed to prevent 'philo-Marxism' from corrupting the doctrines of the Church. He instructed Opus Dei's sons and daughters 'in positions of government or teaching' (contrary to its public statements that it never interfered in the professional lives of members) to root out and report on Marxist infiltration. Six months later he issued another directive forbidding members to read certain Catholic publications he deemed contaminated by Marxist philosophy.

For several years numeraries had been reading in Cronica such affirmations as, 'the heritage of heaven comes to us through the Father', [11]or were informed by their spiritual directors that, '... the will of the Father is the will of God.' [12] Escriva de Balaguer believed he was in possession of divine confidences. These confidences told him that Humanae Vitae, because it was too weak, had thrown the Church into disorder.

John Roche said, 'The Opus Dei hierarchy in Rome was starting to prepare us for schism. They said, "Saints have been in schism before." They were preparing us for the possibility of leaving the Catholic Church and becoming a separate church. This was an indication of the paranoia that spread through Opus Dei in the early 1970s. I remember asking one of our Irish priests who he would choose if it came to schism, the Pope or the Father? "The Father, of course," he replied.' [13]

In the early 1970s, Escriva de Balaguer pulled back from schism. According to former insiders, Alvaro del Portillo counselled a more subtle approach to solving the Church's problems. Portillo pointed out that, like Opus Dei, many cardinals were convinced that Paul VI's pontificate was a disaster. He proposed that Opus Dei should attempt to form a common front with the more conservative members of the cardinalate. Few cardinals knew very much about Opus Dei. If the secular institute was to make itself heard, it had to open its apostolate to the hierarchy of the Church. Portillo proposed the creation of a Roman centre for priestly gatherings -- the Centro Romano di Incontri Sacerdotali (CRIS) -- and to use it as a forum for putting across to the hierarchy with as much tact as possible Escriva de Balaguer's fears for the Church. Before agreeing to this proposal, the Father wanted guidance from the Virgin Mary and he embarked on a pilgrimage to four Marian shrines in Spain, Portugal and Mexico. One of these was at Torreciudad, where he had commissioned an imposing basilica, which he termed 'my last folly'. Construction began shortly before his April 1970 visit and required five years to complete.

The fact that the Father had chosen another member, Heliodoro Dols, and not Miguel Fisac, to design the basilica was because the ninth apostle had turned his back on Opus Dei. After nineteen years in the Work, during which he had paid over all his earnings -- a separate revenue account in the Spanish ledgers carried the label 'Estudio Fisac' -- he was surprised by how little baggage he had to take with him.

'I remember that, when I left the Diego de Leon residence with a very small suitcase, I told myself all the way to my parents' home, "Now, Miguel, you will always tell the truth and you will try to be a good person, and nothing more." This thought underscored the moral anxiety in which I found myself, with so many secrets, so many lies, and also this indignation for rules and prayers that corseted the lives of Opus Dei's numerary members.' [14]

Fisac, by then one of Spain's most famous architects, described his relationship with Escriva de Balaguer as that of the servant to a grand dame of the stage. The servant knows all the grand dame's foibles and secrets. 'She tells me in confidence about her agent, her lovers, her fellow actors on the stage and her fans. Well, with Escriva it was very similar; he told me everything ... I could recite for you in the smallest detail what he said about the people he liked a lot and who held him in great respect -- people like Jose Ibanez Martin or Ricardo Fernandez Vallespin. In the final analysis; however, I do not want to nauseate you ... With the exception of Alvaro del Portillo, he never had a good word to say about anybody,' Fisac wrote to a fellow architect many years later. [15]

Three months after leaving Opus Dei, Fisac married an architecture student who knew nothing about secret societies. His sister, Lola, who had joined the Work soon after the Civil War, was not permitted to attend the wedding. But Antonio Perez Hernandez, Opus Dei's secretary general in Rome at the time, sent a telegram with the Pope's benediction.

The Fisacs had three children, the third of whom died, aged six. On the day of the funeral, Fisac and his wife were visited by Francisco Botella, who had been his confessor, and Antonio Perez Hernandez, then back in Madrid as rector of Saint Michael's church. According to Fisac, in offering their condolences 'they made gestures of horror and let it be understood that what happened was God's punishment for having left Opus Dei.' [16] Fisac showed them the door.

Fisac revealed that a vain and often choleric Founder actively prepared for sainthood during his lifetime. 'Escriva told us about a discussion he had with several Jesuits who complained that the original companions of St. Ignatius did not consider it important to conserve the objects, buildings and sites which were important in Loyola's career. He added that it would be stupid if we did the same thing ... Then one day, a long time after I left Opus Dei, Juan Jimenez Vargas came to my office with a collection of photos of the region of our flight across the Pyrenees: the outdoor oven and chapel [where Escriva found the rose], and other places where we stopped along the way. He told me that Opus Dei was in the process of buying these sites in order to conserve them as relics. The question he wanted to ask me was whether the ladder used to climb into the oven shown in the photo was the original one ... And at the time Escriva was still alive!'

Torreciudad was designed as yet another stage in Escriva de Balaguer's journey towards sainthood. While dedicated to the Virgin of Torreciudad, it was in reality a shrine to the greater glory of the Founder of Opus Dei. With proper humility, Escriva de Balaguer affirmed that the sanctuary was conceived purely and simply to promote Marian devotion and therefore he insisted that it was to be a place of conversion and reconfirmation. Consequently, the specially cast water fountains throughout the sanctuary were clearly marked 'Natural Drinking Water' so there could be no suggestion that it was holy water. He would not allow shops or souvenir stalls inside the sanctuary, not even a restaurant. 'People will come here to pray, to honour Our Lady and to seek God's way, not to buy baubles. I dislike the idea of God's house being turned into a bazaar,' he said.

Heliodoro Dols had not fully understood the message. On that April 1970 pilgrimage, the architect was on hand to explain for the Father the plans, including where in the basement level he intended to place a self-service cafeteria. The Father would not hear of it. He ordered that a display of ceramic murals depicting the Mysteries of St Joseph take its place. 'That will prepare pilgrims for confession,' he said. Dols took note and suggested that ten confessionals would be sufficient. The Father insisted on forty. 'Everybody told him it was too many,' Torreciudad spokesman Manuel Garrido recalled.

'It may seem like too many now, but the time will come when it will seem too few,' he replied with assurance.

Escriva de Balaguer returned to Rome feeling relieved and began making plans for the inauguration of the CRIS premises at Opus Dei's Residenza Universitaria Internazionale in the EUR suburb of the city. As a think-tank for Catholic orthodoxy it served Opus Dei better than even Portillo had imagined. CRIS's inauguration marked the beginning of Opus Dei's real power within the Church hierarchy.

Opus Dei's vitality could not help but stir the cardinals who attended the CRIS meetings. The meetings were held behind closed doors and participants could speak their mind without fearing indiscreet leaks. The cardinals were able to meet the young priests of Opus Dei who had rallied to Catholic orthodoxy with such evident enthusiasm that it was difficult not to be impressed. Opus Dei appeared to have an inner cohesion which the rest of the Church lacked. The concept worked brilliantly because CRIS was a two-way forum where cardinals gave their views but also received those of Opus Dei. Nobody who attended a CRIS meeting left with any doubt that a crisis of faith, moral confusion and indifference to society's permissiveness was undermining the Occident.

Opus Dei was particularly partial to the German bishops since they received $2,500 million annually in tax money to distribute among Catholic charities and aid organizations. One of the German treasure-chest guardians, Cardinal Hoffner of Cologne, made his first appearance at CRIS in 1971. He was followed in 1972 by Franz Hengsbach, Bishop of Essen, a ferocious opponent of Marxism. Cardinal Casariego of Guatemala also made a notable appearance to speak out against the dangers of Liberation Theology and praised the Founder for being 'the only priest who during his lifetime has brought to the priesthood some one thousand men - professionals from five continents, engaged in different sectors of science and the liberal professions'.

Of the eastern cardinals, Karol Wojtyla was considered the most receptive to Opus Dei's ideas. When in January 1964 Paul VI named Wojtyla Archbishop of Cracow, he was already considered Poland's most outstanding bishop. Wojtyla's orthodoxy appealed to the Father. Before becoming Poland's second cardinal, it was rumoured inside Opus Dei that Wojtyla had been inducted as an associate into the Priestly Society of the Holy Cross, which ran CRIS. He made three CRIS appearances and his talks were bound into a book under the title of La fede della Chiesa.

Escriva de Balaguer was unable to break down Paul VI's resistance to transforming Opus Dei into a floating diocese. Paul's appreciation of Opus Dei was said to have been influenced by the views of his most trusted assistant, Archbishop Giovanni Benelli. The son of a bakery worker from Pistoia, Benelli had served under Montini at the Secretariat of State; in 1962 he was sent to the nunciature in Madrid. Benelli's posting to Spain brought him into contact with Opus Dei. Not only did he deplore its secrecy, but he suspected that Escriva de Balaguer wanted to create a church within the Church. [17]

In 1969, Paul replaced the ageing Cardinal Cicognani, his secretary of state, with the chain-smoking French cardinal, Jean Villot. At the same time, he named Benelli as VilIot's under-secretary. Back in Rome, Benelli became Opus Dei's most outspoken Curial critic. Forceful, direct and not concerned about walking on the toes of others earned Benelli the sobriquet of 'Gauleiter' or 'Berlin Wall'. He overshadowed VilIot, who couldn't stand him. Villot and Opus Dei therefore became natural allies.

If Opus Dei remained indefinitely blocked by Benelli's intransigence, its influence inside the Curia would decline, and gradually it risked being marginalized, proving it was an invention of man and not the divine creation that the Founder claimed. In order for Opus Dei to remain an ascending movement, it became imperative to find a way around Benelli's opposition.

_______________

Notes:

1. De Fuenmayor et al., Op. cit., p. 422.

2. Interview with Peter Hebblethwaite, Oxford, 5 October 1993.

3. Antonio Perez Hernandez.

4. Peter Hebblethwaite, John XXIII -- Pope of the Council, Geoffrey Chapman, London 1985, p. 368. Hebblethwaite added, 'In his evidence to the beatification process of Pope John, Siri withdrew this judgement and said that he had been wrong.'

5. Berglar, Op. cit., p. 246.

6. Hebblethwaite, Paul VI (Op. cit.), p. 320.

7. Ibid., p. 321.

8. Gaudium et Spes, paragraph 67.

9. Golias No. 30, Op. cit., p. 65.

10. Note S-4 stated: 'Tell them that we abominate secrecy, but that they must shut up: the things of the family are for the family.'

11. Cronica I, 1961.

12. Maria Angustias Moreno, El Opus Dei - Anexo a una historia, Editorial Planeta, Barcelona 1976, p. 228.

13. Dr. John Roche, 8 October 1994.

14. Fisac Notes, 8 June 1994.

15. Fisac letter to Luis Borobio, 18 February 1995.

16. Fisac Notes, 8 June 1994; also his letter to the Scottish Catholic Observer, 26 March 1993.

17. Hebblethwaite, Paul VI (Op. cit.), p. 563.
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Re: THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DE

Postby admin » Thu Oct 22, 2015 9:27 am

14. Puffs of Pride

Honours, distinctions, titles: things of air, puffs of pride, lies, nothingness.

-- Maxim 677, The Way


IN JANUARY 1968, THE BOLETIN OFICIAL DEL ESTADO IN MADRID published the following Ministry of Justice notification:

Don Jose Maria Escriva de Balaguer y Albas has requested the rehabilitation of the title of Marquis, granted on 12 February 1718 by the Archduke Charles of Austria to Don Tomas de Peralta, the interested party having chosen in grace the distinction of Marquis of Peralta. The provisions of Article 4 of the Decree of 4 June 1948 for granting the request having been satisfied, a delay of three months from the publication of this edict exists for any persons wishing to make known their opposition. Madrid, 24 January 1968.


The notice was signed by the Ministry's under-secretary, Alfredo Lopez, an Opus Dei supernumerary. A few paragraphs below in the same issue, Don Santiago Escriva de Balaguer y Albas requested the rehabilitation of the barony of San Felipe. To many outsiders, the fact that Escriva de Balaguer wished to dust off an old title seemed untypical for someone whose profound humility would be mentioned twenty years later as one of his cardinal virtues. But in the eyes of his children the Father's behaviour was at all times irreproachable.

The Opus Dei faithful quickly assimilated the anomaly of their Founder's seeking a 'puff of pride' with the exercising of a fundamental right. Escriva de Balaguer, moreover, was insistent that he had not made the request for his own benefit. He maintained that the title was for his nephews, the children of his younger brother, Santiago. It was said that he wished to compensate his parents [already long dead] his sister [also dead] and his brother, for the sacrifices they had made in order to permit him to carry out the Work. Thus the Father portrayed his act as 'a matter of filial piety and justice.' [1]

According to research carried out by genealogists at the University of Navarra, the Marquisate of Peralta was bestowed upon one of Escriva de Balaguer's more distant ancestors who had been minister for war and justice in Naples following the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713. The Father's claim to the lapsed title was thus given a mantle of legitimacy. The fact that so much effort and resources were invested in producing a pedigree of nobility indicated that, however much he might protest, the Father enjoyed collecting social distinctions. He had in recent years been awarded the Spanish Grand Cross of St Raymond of Penafort, the Grand Cross of Alfonso X the Wise, the Grand Cross of Isabel the Catholic, and the Cross of Charles m. But to show his modesty, we are assured that he never wore them. When an army officer congratulated him for having been honoured with a coveted distinction, he replied: 'My son, it is very important for you military fellows to be awarded one of these medals. For me it isn't. The only important Cross for me -- and I know you feel the same at heart -- is the Cross of Christ.' [2] This remark gives us the very essence of Escriva de Balaguer as he laboured in the 1960s to cut a new suit of juridical clothing for Opus Dei. The deal that he was seeking from the Holy See's highest authority was the Work's 'final approbation' as a prelature of the Church. It became his window on immortality, and it was a fixation from which, in the last decades of his life, he could not be weaned.

The fixation was like a beacon that guided his manoeuvrings with the Curia. Nothing was left to chance. There was a reason -- divinely inspired, his children believed -- for everything. Only when the outsider realizes the depth of adoration paid to him by his more dedicated followers do their seemingly incongruous excuses for his outrageous inconsistencies become more comprehensible: 'The Father sought nothing for himself. He simply was fulfilling a strict family duty.' [3] To the outsider it may seem a transparent lie, but for members living in an enclosed and carefully controlled climate of a religious sect, it was not only evident but part of the divine plan whose mysteries were not always explainable.

The comments which the notice in the Boletin Oficial provoked in the salons and bars of Madrid were pungent. One wag suggested that The Way by Josemaria Escriva would soon be re-issued under a new title: The Super Highway by the Marquis de Peralta.

But the question remained: why did Escriva de Balaguer leave himself open to such derision? Some, of course, saw in it the act of a penitent son paying off the social debt of his father, the bankrupt shopkeeper from Barbastro. But at least two other theories were put forward. By late 1966, Escriva de Balaguer would have known from his sons in government -- particularly Laureano Lopez Rodo -- that Franco was about to designate the twenty-eight-year-old Prince Juan Carlos as' hi's successor and future King of Spain. [4]

According to one theory, the Founder rehabilitated the Peralta title because he expected, or hoped, to be named Regent in the transitionary period between the designation by Franco of his royal successor and the actual coronation. It was said that with the title of marquis Escriva de Balaguer believed he possessed the three prerequisites which he considered necessary for the job: public stature, priesthood and nobility. [5] He was in direct contact with the prime minister, Luis Carrero Blanco. Moreover, in preparation for the restoration, he had met with Don Juan de Borbon, Juan Carlos's father, then living in exile at Estoril, in Portugal. [6]

Another hypothesis that tickled the imaginations of some was that Opus Dei's directorate in Rome had considered attempting a takeover of the Sovereign Military Order of the Knights Hospitaller of Saint John of Jerusalem, called of Rhodes; called of Malta, as it was the only Church institution to hold the status of an independent state. Some titled Opusian gentlemen were already members of the Order and its sovereign council in Rome feared a coup d'etat. As Marquis of Peralta, Escriva de Balaguer might have thought he was eligible for the highest rank of the Maltese Cross as the Order's regulations permit only celibate knights of noblesse to become Grand Master. In addition to being recognized as a sovereign head of state, the Grand Master holds a rank in the Church that is equivalent to a cardinal and this, too, would have appealed to the newly titled prelate. But when it was learned that the Grand Master had to be a secular person, this plan was dropped.

By the early 1960s some of Escriva de Balaguer's children were moving in rather rarefied spheres. Alfredo Sanchez Bella was one. He had broken with Opus Dei in the early 1940s but returned to Escriva de Balaguer's fold in the 1950s. [7] In 1949, the year after the Communist takeover of Czechoslovakia, he co-founded with Archduke Otto von Habsburg the European Centre of Documentation and Information (CEDI), whose objective was to construct around the Spanish Borbons a federation of European states united in Christianity and anti-Communism. This sounded very much like a modern resurrection of the Holy Roman Empire over which Charles V had reigned. Like the Spanish empire of old, the envisaged Catholic federation was intended to have large-spectrum antennae in Latin America and the United States.

CEDI was believed to be an auxiliary operation of Opus Dei. [8] Although headquartered in Munich, it held its annual general meetings at the Monastery of El Escorial, near Madrid, and it continued functioning throughout the Cold War. Its tentacles spread among Catholic Monarchist circles throughout western Europe. Archduke Otto, who was educated in Spain and completed his studies at the Catholic University of Louvain, reportedly became one of Opus Dei's most treasured Old Guard supernumeraries. [9] Like Opus Dei, CEDI published no membership lists, but the president of its Belgian chapter, Chevalier Marcel de Roover, was known to have close ties with the Belgian royal family. Indeed, Archduke Otto's nephew, Lorenz von Habsburg, son of international banker Karel von Habsburg, married Princess Astrid of Belgium, daughter of King Albert II. Astrid's aunt, the former Queen Fabiola, was related through the House of Aragon to the Spanish Borbon family. Professor Luc de Heusch of the Free University of Brussels, an expert on Sacred Kingship, maintained that Queen Fabiola, a disciple of Escriva de Balaguer, 'introduced Opus Dei to the Catholic aristocracy of Europe.' [10]

An idea of the company CEDI kept can be gathered from the membership of a sister organization, the Pan-European Union, headquartered in Zurich. Also headed by Archduke Otto, among its members were two Belgian prime ministers, an Italian industrialist close to the Vatican, a former French prime minister, his legal counsellor, an aide to Valery Giscard d'Estaing, the secretary of Giscard's Independent Republican parry, a professor of theology at the Grand Seminary of Fribourg who was a Secret Chamberlain to the Pontifical Household, the deputy head of NATO's intelligence division, a director of West German intelligence, the Spanish ambassador to the European Community and Alfredo Sanchez Bella, who had served as Spanish ambassador to Colombia, the Dominican Republic, and, in the 1960s, Italy. While in Rome, he headed the Office of Diplomatic Information, Spain's exterior secret service for Europe. [11] Franco named him Minister of Tourism and Information in 1969.

Many Pan-European members belonged to a right-wing association that had little formal structure but became known as the 'Pinay Group', after Antoine Pinay, a former French prime minister. In a sense it was broader than the Union because its participants were not exclusively Catholic and its meetings were regularly attended by right-wing Americans. These included former CIA director William Colby, banker David Rockefeller and public relations pioneer Crosby M. Kelly. But the Pinay Group was essentially a European Community lobby established to counter Marxism. It was plugged into virtually every west European intelligence service. Although it met under the auspices of Pinay, the co-ordinator for the Group was Jean Violet, a right-wing Gaullist and friend of Giulio Andreotti. [12] The Pinay Group was said to be another Opus Dei auxiliary operation, and its principal protagonists, Pinay and Violet, were variously reported to be connected with the Work.

Rumours of Nazi collaboration led to Violet's arrest following the war, but he was quickly released 'on orders from above'. [13] Shortly afterwards, he offered his services to SOECE, the French counter-espionage establishment referred to in the trade as La Piscine (the Swimming Pool). He joined Antoine Pinay's entourage in 1955. By this time Violet had become close to several Opusian personalities, among them Alfredo Sanchez Bella and Otto von Habsburg.

In his journeys, Violet came to know Father Yves-Marc Dubois, a French Dominican who was in charge of international relations for his Order. But Dubois represented more than the foreign policy interests of the black friars of Faubourg Saint Honore. He was described as a 'member of the Vatican's intelligence network, if not its head'. [14] He popped up from time to time as an unofficial member of the Holy See's delegation to the United Nations. When in Paris, he stayed in the Dominican chapter house at 222 rue Faubourg Saint Honore, in the Eighth Arrondissement, within walking distance of Jean Violet's apartment at 46 rue de Provence, in the Ninth Arrondissement.

Dubois introduced Violet to his 'Swiss correspondent', Father Henri Marmier, the 'official' of the diocese of Fribourg and editor-in-chief of APIC, the Catholic International Press Agency based in Fribourg. Father Marmier and a Polish Dominican, Father Josef-Marie Bochenski, founded under the auspices of the University of Fribourg the Institute of Sovietology. The Institute's extracurricular activities included the running of a clandestine network that provided aid to Catholic groups behind the Iron Curtain, particularly Poland. The Institute was in part funded by what officials in Fribourg euphemistically called 'the American grant'. According to the registrar's office at the University of Fribourg, Opus Dei sent several of its members to the Institute.

Another of the Institute's supporters was Violet's boss, General Paul Grossin, chief lifeguard at the Swimming Pool from 1957 to 1962. Grossin was said by some to have transferred fees owing to Violet directly to Father Marmier's 'charities' in Poland. [15] (Violet was made a Chevalier de Legion d'Honneur by General de Gaulle. He claimed to British author Godfrey Hodgson that he was in charge of covert political operations for SDECE until he retired as an active spy in 1970. [16] According to Count Alexandre de Marenches, the chief lifeguard from 1970 to 1981, Violet was 'given the heave' because he cost the French government more than any other spy on SDECE's long list of secret agents. De Marenches further claimed that Violet had been a triple agent working in addition for the Vatican and the West German BND. Other sources said that he was in fact fired because he knew too much about the sexual follies of one of France's leading ladies.)

Others who attended Pinay Group meetings included Franz-Josef Strauss, head of the Christian Socialist Party in Bavaria and for a time West German Defence Minister, Dr Alois Mertes, another West German minister, and Prince Turki bin-Faisal, a Deputy Minister of Defence and director of Saudi intelligence. Both Strauss and Mertes were said to be linked to Opus Dei, though Mertes later denied it. Prince Turki's elder brothers were King Faisal and Prince Sultan ibn Abdul Aziz, the Saudi Minister of Defence.

Sanchez Bella, von Habsburg and Violet were convinced that a Europe united against Communism required a strong figurehead -- e.g., King Juan Carlos of Spain -- who could act as the torchbearer of Catholic morality, and around whom the Occident could rally as a figure of wholesome fortitude. However a figurehead with all the moral fortitude in the world would be hamstrung if he lacked sufficient resources to act on the same plane as popularly elected governments. They also realized that to achieve this would require some financial cobbling of heroic proportions. A plan began to take shape at a luncheon at the Hotel Westburg in Brussels in the autumn of 1969 that was attended by Alain de Villegas, his brother-in-law Florimond Damman, a devotee of the archduke, and Jean Violet. Whether the plan was another example of pilleria by the sons of Escriva de Balaguer is open to interpretation. Although ultimately uncovered as a racket, it proved relatively profitable. Some of the funds that subsequently went missing were traced to religious works in Spain.

Alain de Villegas had studied engineering at Louvain. He was an ecologist, antinuclear to the core, and believed in flying saucers. He was above all a staunch European and ferociously anti-Communist.

Convinced that the world was running out of water, Villegas used to say, 'We can live without oil, but not without water.' He disclosed to alleged triple agent Violet that he had invented a machine capable of detecting ground water. Violet did not need to be told that such a machine, if it performed as claimed, could be immensely valuable to a country like Spain, whose tourist industry was hobbled by lack of water, or to Middle Eastern countries.

Villegas explained that he and his associate, Professor Aldo Bonassoli, had developed a low-energy desalination process capable of transforming seawater into fresh water, and as a result of this they were developing a 'water-sniffing' machine. They claimed that their invention could determine underground structures up to depths of six kilometres. Villegas showed Violet a small-scale prototype and convinced the lawyer of its potential. As financing was needed for a full-scale prototype, Violet agreed to speak to his friend and client Carlo Pesenti, an Italian industrialist close to the Vatican, and to Crosby Kelly in New York.

Crosby Kelly made no bones about his political leanings. 'I am a Rightist, Conservative and anti-Communist,' he told Hodgson. He was said to be a sometime CIA operative. He had designed and launched the sales campaign for the first Ford motorcar produced after the Second World War, and was among Robert McNamara's original 'whiz kids' at Ford. For thirteen years he had been on the board of Litton Industries. Kelly told Violet he would not invest a penny until satisfied that the invention was capable of finding water. Pesenti, on the other hand, put up some capital. Spain's new tourist minister, Sanchez Bella, placed several test sites at the team's disposal. Kelly monitored Villegas's progress. He told Hodgson that the Spanish government paid the drilling costs. [17]

The search for water went on with slight success for two years until interrupted by the Yom Kippur War of 1973, which brought about an Islamic oil boycott and subsequent quadrupling of world oil prices. Villegas kept his project alive by announcing that his 'sniffer machines' could also detect oil. Pesenti was persuaded to invest additional funds.

As the world geo-political equation had suddenly changed, the project was transformed into a crusade to liberate Christian Europe from dependence upon Islamic oil. Pesenti's engineers equipped a DC-3 with one of the 'sniffing' machines. Using contacts provided by Antoine Pinay, they flew to South Africa and were given government authorization to conduct tests over Zululand. A promising site was identified and drilling began, but by the end of 1975 the costs had become so heavy that Pesenti again opted out. The Zululand borehole eventually bottomed out at 6,000 metres, having broken the drill stem, with nothing more than traces of Karoo basalt to show for the millions spent in drilling expenses.

By this time Violet's Spanish associates lost interest. In fact, With the assassination of Carrero Blanco in December 1973, Opus Dei's political fortunes had changed and the new prime minister swept the Opusian technocrats from government. But they had done their job well, preparing the way for a restoration of the monarchy under Prince Juan Carlos, which occurred upon Franco's death two years later. Meanwhile, thanks in part to Prince Turki, southern Spain had become a playground for Saudi royals. Madrid and Riyadh enjoyed such friendly relations that even the State Department in Washington was envious. Spain was given long-term access to Saudi oil on preferential terms.

A known technique for transferring profits in international transactions is to use 'sandwich companies' domiciled in offshore jurisdictions whose laws insure strict secrecy. As the name implies, a sandwich company inserts itself between the parties to a transaction in the guise of providing a service, such as facilitating a contract for, say, 100 million tons of Saudi crude. As the crude passes from wellhead to market, the sandwich company collects a commission or passes on the merchandise to the purchaser at a marginally increased price through back-to-back contracts. The real principals of the sandwich companies are rarely known and it is virtually impossible to pierce their veil of corporate secrecy. There is nothing illegal about these operations, provided they do not infringe the laws of disclosure in the jurisdictions concerned, and vast sums can thus be accumulated without anyone outside the inner circle being any the wiser.

With the Spaniards no longer interested in the Villegas invention, and Carlo Pesenti's pockets empty, Jean Violet used his counterespionage contacts to interest the French petroleum company ELF in the 'sniffing' machines. In May 1976 at the headquarters of Union Bank of Switzerland (UBS) in Zurich, ELF's chairman entered into a contract with a Panamanian sandwich company called FISALMA, supposedly representing Villegas. The FISALMA contract gave ELF the exclusive use of two electronic 'sniffers' -- Delta and Omega -- for one year against payment of $50 million.

ELF's chairman was no fool. He was credited with creating both France's nuclear power industry, one of the most advanced in the world, and the French nuclear force de frappe. UBS is Switzerland's largest commercial bank. Its chairman at the time was Philippe de Week, and one of its board members was the Panamanian consul in Zurich, Dr Arthur Wiederkehr. The de Wecks are a well known patrician family from Fribourg. Although FISALMA -- a company that issued from the law offices of Dr. Wiederkehr -- was controlled by Villegas, de Weck acted as its president.

Tests started in June 1976. Delta came up with nothing and so Villegas proposed mounting the more powerful Omega in the aircraft. Omega found what was described as a large deposit at Montegut in the Languedoc, nine kilometres long and a kilometre wide, 3.9 kilometres below the earth's surface. Excitement was intense. Drilling began in January 1977. By April no oil had been hit, but in June 1977 ELF nevertheless renewed the FISALMA contract for another year. The Montegut borehole was halted at a depth of 4,485 metres, still bone dry. By then drilling had begun at a new site where Omega was said to have uncovered a more promising formation.

ELF was persuaded in a 1978 meeting at UBS's main conference centre near Zurich to extend the FISALMA contract a second time and triple its investment. The company received authorization from the French Treasury to keep the transaction hidden from government auditors. The new payments, bringing the total French investment to 450 million Swiss francs ($150 million), was to be advanced to FISALMA by UBS in four instalments of 50 million Swiss francs each. UBS charged the French government 6 per cent interest, holding state-guaranteed ELF debentures worth 500 million Swiss francs as collateral.

Present at the meeting were three members of ELF's senior management, the two inventors, Antoine Pinay, Jean Violet, Philippe de Weck and the twopriests, Dubois and Marmier. De Weck introduced Marmier as a diocesan judge from Fribourg who specialized in marriage annulment cases. De Weck said he had specifically requested Marmier's presence. What role Marmier really played was not known, but divorce between ELF and FISALMA was avoided and the new contract signed.

Valery Giscard d'Estaing was then in the sixth year of his presidency. He had been discreetly following the project and was alarmed to learn that ELF had committed, drilling costs included, more than $200 million to the sniffers. He now became directly involved. The 88-year-old Pinay convinced him to attend a demonstration arranged for early April 1979. Philippe de Weck was present. The test was so negative that Giscard requested an immediate investigation and suspended further government financing.

The President of the Republic was thus able in a few minutes to see through a fiasco that the managing directors of France's largest company had been unable to detect in three years of dealings with Villegas and Bonassoli. Once Giscard gave his instructions, the machines were sequestered and found to be fakes (their 'decoders' turned out to be two video cameras linked to a special-effects generator).

Threatened with legal action, UBS returned 250 million Swiss francs and all of the debentures. Liquidators seized Villegas's fleet of 'sniffing aircraft' parked in a top-security hangar at Brussels International Airport. By then the fleet included a Boeing 707, a Fokker 27 and a Mystere 20 executive jet for transporting personnel. Together with the sale of other assets and the attaching of bank accounts, ELF recouped another 41 million Swiss francs. Villegas and Bonassoli, whose only degree was a diploma qualifying him as a television repair man, were never prosecuted.

Albin Chalandon, the new chairman of ELF, told a parliamentary commission: 'We were dealing with madmen rather than crooks. They faked their machines, but they believed in their invention. Villegas was a mystic on the outer edge of normality, and Bonassoli lived in an unreal universe that made him believe in his own make-believe.' They had, in other words, struck a gusher of intellectual pilleria. As for the Pinay Group, it continued to meet and produce confidential reports that were circulated to selected government ministries and intelligence services in several countries.

Enquiries have shown that no detailed accounting for the ELF moneys paid to FISALMA was ever rendered. About $2.8 million was known to have been used by Villegas to finance the construction of a new church for an organization called Foyer de Charite in the south of France. Dedicated to Holy Mary Mother of God, the church was inaugurated in June 1979. Villegas also donated $52,000 to build a Catholic workshop for Indians in the Choco region of northern Colombia. Through a foundation created in Liechtenstein he helped finance Catholic aid projects in Niger, Rwanda, Upper Volta and Spain totalling another $7 million. The aid projects in Africa included the drilling of water wells and purchase of a small fleet of ambulances, leaving one to conclude that the bulk of the Liechtenstein trust money went to Spain. FISALMA also maintained an account at the lOR (the Vatican bank) which allegedly was used 'for investing in secret political schemes.' [18]

ELF got back $100 million. But what happened to the remaining $50 million? As with Matesa's $180 million it had gone astray through the use of cleverly drafted contracts and fast-service sandwich companies, the junk food of transnational finance. These two ventures alone -- Matesa and FISALMA -- meant that more than $200 million in Spanish and French ratepayers' money could be sloshing about in the international monetary system, free of controls and ready for use in any number of causes, as for example defeating Communist insurgency in Latin America or taking control of a strategic European bank.

_______________

Notes:

1. Vazquez de Prada, Op. cit., p. 348.

2. Ibid., p. 319.

3. Ibid., p. 348.

4. This occurred on 22 July 1969, when Franco announced that he had chosen Juan Carlos. grandson of Alfonso XIII (who died in February 1941), to succeed him.

5. 'The Double Life of Saint Escriva -- Names, Titles and Ambitions', Cambio 16, Madrid, 30 March 1992.

6. Arriba, Madrid, 13 May 1967, and El Pensamiento Navarro, Pamplona, 17 May 1967.

7. Ynfante, Op. cit., p. 353; also Artigues, Op. cit., pp. 38 and 149. In a lawsuit brought by the German branch of Opus Dei in 1985 against Rowohlt Taschenbuch Verlag, publishers of the Aktuell Rororo Yearbook, lawyers for the Prelature claimed inter alia that 'Alfredo Sanchez Bella is not a member of Opus Dei and was not a member when he supposedly occupied [public office].' A decision against Welt Aktuell required that the 1986 edition of the yearbook be withdrawn from sale. However, Opus Dei admitted to the author on 30 October 1994 that Alfredo Sanchez Bella had indeed been a member, though he 'disconnected himself from Opus Dei before holding a fixed political system [sic] or a position in Spanish public life: According to Maria del Carmen Tapia, he rejoined the Work as a supernumerary after marrying in London. The Barcelona newspaper La Vanguardia in its 28 June 1995 edition claimed Alfredo Sanchez Bella was still a member.

8. Jean-Pie Lapierre, 'Puissance et rayonnement de l'Opus Dei', Revue politique et parlementaire, Paris, September 1965. The article claimed that CEDI was an instrument of Opus Dei. This was repeated by Le Vaillant, Op. cit., p. 151.

9. 'La Maffia blanche', Golias No. 30, Lyon, Summer 1992, p. 168.

10. Professor Luc de Heusch discussion with the author at University of London lecture on 'Monarchy, Spiritual and Temporal', 14 October 1993.

11. Ynfante, Op. cit., p. 353.

12. Antoine Pinay was a member of Marshal Petain's wartime National Council until the closing days of the Second World War when he helped General de Gaulle to power. He served as prime minister in 1952, under the Fourth Republic. He died on 13 December 1994, aged 102. Various sources claim that Pinay was an Opus Dei supernumerary, most recently Nicolas Dehao in 'Un errange phenomene pastoral: l'Opus Dei', Le Set de fa Terre No. 11, Paris, Winter 1994-95, p. 139.

13. Pierre Pean, V, Fayard, Paris 1984, p. 41

14. Ibid., p. 49

15. Ibid., p. 50.

16. Interview with Godfrey Hodgson at Oxford, 11 September 1993.

17. Sniffer article (unpublished) by Godfrey Hodgson, p. 24.

18. Pean, Op. cit., p. 212.
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Re: THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DE

Postby admin » Thu Oct 22, 2015 9:28 am

15. Octopus Dei

Members of Opus Dei act either individually or by means of associations which may be cultural, artistic, financial, etc., and which are called 'Auxiliary Societies'. These societies and their activities are also placed under the obedience of the hierarchical authority of the Institute.

-- Article 9 of the 1950 Constitutions


WHILE ESCRIVA DE BALAGUER WAS COLLECTIG 'PUFFS OF PRIDE', OPUS Dei was building corporate pyramids and developing the praxis of profit-transfer accounting. Using anstalts, stiftungs and offshore shell companies, it created veils of corporate secrecy to hide its many tentacles. A stiftung (foundation) is a form of corporate trust developed by the Swiss and often used for intricate financial dealings. Anstalt (establishment) is a Liechtenstein speciality, modelled on an Austrian forerunner, the Privatanstalt. It has a fixed capital but issues no shares. Both are so shrouded in confidentiality that their 'founder-in-fact' or 'founder-in-due-course' -- i.e., the real owners are absolutely unidentifiable to the outside world.

Opus Dei's reliance on these devices came about in stages as it grew in size and sophistication. A first stage was its use of ordinary onshore trusts to disguise the ownership of property, but new layers were added in the mid-1950s. One of the most important of these was created by lawyer Alberto Ullastres, before he became minister of commerce. Known as Esfina, its initial capital was not quite $1 million. Esfina promoted a new 'Opusian invention, the so-called 'common works'. These were quite different from 'corporate works', which were concentrated in the educational field and openly linked to Opus Dei, the University of Navarra being a prime example.

Common works, on the other hand, although part of the apostolate, were considered as commercial vehicles, financed whenever possible with other people's money but run by Opus Dei personnel. Many of the Esfina holdings were in the 'AOP' (Apostolate of Public Opinion) sector, established to influence public opinion, under the guidance of an oversight committee. In Spain, the first AOP overseers were Laureano Lopez Rodo, Alberto Ullastres and Professor Jesus Arellano.

AOP was a cover for pilleria of a different nature. Opus Dei was, and remains, a privileged institution of the Church that claims -- indeed insists with all the piety it can muster -- that its only interest is the spiritual well-being of members and that it never interferes in their daily lives. It doesn't own anything, certainly not a bank, and it never plays politics. But now, with its AOP ministry, Opus Dei wanted to covertly influence public opinion, having first conditioned its members to adopt a set of moral values that set them apart from the rest of society.

In a first phase, the Apostolate of Public Opinion concentrated on founding or taking over public companies involved in broadcast and print media, publishing and communications. A majority of the share capital in each company was held in trust by Opus Dei numeraries, supernumeraries or tested co-operators. In all cases, the trustees were required to execute undated contracts of sale for the shares they held which were kept in a safe at the regional headquarters.

In Spain, the common works were funded through Esfina, which raised its capital from the families of members and friends. In each case the capital so raised was treated like a savings account at a private bank, receiving interest at rates moderately above commercial bank rates and every account being individually managed with full diligence and discretion. In addition to tax advantages, Esfina's depositors had the satisfaction of believing their money was financing 'God's work'.

Esfina's first chairman was Pablo Bofill de Quadras, an Opus Dei numerary who also served on the board of the Spanish subsidiary of a Vatican-controlled company, Condone Espanola. His deputy chairman was Jose Ferrer Bonsoms, a young banker and supernumerary whose family owned extensive holdings in Argentina. Esfina acquired or founded with the monies of others Ediciones Rialp, Opus Dei's flagship publisher, Editorial Magistero Espanol, publisher of secondary- level school books, and SARPE, which in turn owned Alcazar, a conservative newspaper, Actualidad Espanol, a news magazine, Actualidad Economica, a business weekly, Telva, a popular women's magazine, and Mundo Cristiano, a religious magazine.

These publications, managed and predominantly staffed by members, in turn needed a press agency, and so Europa Press was born. Their advertising and sales promotion was handled by an Esfina-owned agency, and they used printing presses belonging to Rotopress S.A., also a child of Esfina. All were dependent upon the financial backing of Opus Dei as frequently, serving AOP needs rather than purely commercial pursuits, they ran at a deficit.

In 1958, Esfina branched into banking, acquiring a small private bank in Barcelona, which it renamed Banco Latino. Months later it added Credit Andorra, the largest bank in Andorra. In 1959, Esfina formed Universal de Inversiones S.A. to manage its more speculative investments. Universal's president was Francisco Planell Fontrodona, until ordained in 1964. He was assisted by Alfonso Lopez Rodo, brother of Laureano Lopez Rodo, until Alfonso also was ordained.

The Falange regarded SARPE's activity with hostility. Strict censorship still reigned in 1962, as rivalry between Opus Dei and the Falange was moving towards a final showdown, and the Falangist minister of information wanted to close SARPE on grounds that it was the propaganda arm of an unauthorized political movement. Opus Dei denied its involvement with SARPE, which was manifestly untrue. When threatened with an expropriation order, Opus Dei's regional administrator telephoned Navarro-Rubio and Calvo Serer to inform them that overnight they had become SARPE's controlling shareholders. The Falange backed down and SARPE was saved by a sleight of hand that would not have been necessary had Opus Dei been what it claimed to be: a spiritual organization that did not engage in politics.

A major Opus Dei benefactor immediately following the Civil War was the Catalan industrialist Ferran (Fernando) Valls Taberner, who had financed the opening of a NSRC commission in Barcelona and insured that it was staffed by Opus Dei numeraries and who had founded Banco Popular de los Previsores del Porvenir (the Popular Bank for Future Needs) which after some major face-lifting in the 1950s became the cornerstone of Opus Dei's financial edifice in Spain.

With Valls's sudden death in 1942, Felix Millet Maristany, an ultra-religious Catalan financier, became the bank's chairman. In 1947 he changed the name to Banco Popular Espanol and listed it on the Madrid Stock Exchange. His right-hand man was Juan Mariuel Fanjul Sedeno, an Opus Dei supernumerary who, like Millet, had been close to Ferran Valls. Fanjul was proxy-holder for an important block of the bank's shares belonging to the Valls family. [1] Through Fanjul, Opus Dei began its penetration of the bank's directorate.

Ferran's eldest son, Luis, became an Opus Dei numerary. At 24 he was an assistant professor of law, first at Barcelona and then at Madrid. In 1950, his Opus Dei superiors decided he should become the Vocal of St Gabriel, looking after the spiritual requirements of supernumeraries and their families. But after two years of struggling with the Archangel's duties, he told his spiritual director that he was not cut out to be a counsellor of souls and wanted to become a banker. In the world of banking Luis Valls became for Opus Dei what Lopez Rodo represented in the world of government.

In 1953, he entered the family bank and was taken in hand by Mariano Navarro-Rubio. Banco Popular Espanol had by then moved its main offices to Madrid. A restructuring of the Valls holdings concentrated the banking interests with Luis and his brothers Javier and Felix. Manufacturas Valls, the family textile combine, was left in the hands of their uncles. In any event, Luis and Felix, also a numerary, continued to hold shares in Manufaeturas Valls, which soon branched into nuclear engineering. As Opus Dei was more interested in banking than textiles, Banco Popular was brought solidly under its domination. Opus Dei has never owned the bank, not legally at least, because control was ultimately run through a series of offshore trusts.

The joke around Opus Dei was that Esfina really was a coded abbreviation for 'we take money from unholy souls to finance holy works'. The cynical would say that this notion fitted the Opus Dei ethic perfectly, in that as the end-product (money) was destined for holy works, the source from which it came was of no account. Escriva de Balaguer often said this and believed it was morally upright. But Esfina also brought headaches. Using the common works to promote Opus Dei's political agenda, namely the liberalization of the economy and a modernizing of Spain's political structures, involved a degree of risk. The common works also constituted a financial burden. These factors provoked an unexpected reaction from Opus Central. One day in 1963, the regional administrator was informed that the Father in Rome had decreed: 'No more common works!'

Buyers were found for a few of the more viable concerns, and in one or two cases -- Telva, for example -- friendly banks financed a staff buy-out. But overall the experience of arbitrarily being required to liquidate the common works was traumatic for most concerned. Many members had put their hearts and sometimes their family's savings into these enterprises, believing they were doing God's work, only to be told that God wasn't interested any more.

The liquidation of the common works did not mean that Opus Dei abandoned the AOP concept. It was continued under another form. A few of the common works, moreover, were sacred. These included the Rialp publishing house and Talleres d'Arte Grande, which supplied religious art for Opus Dei centres around the world.

After winding down the common works, Esfina's newly freed capital was invested in the banking sector. The first target was Banco Atlantico, a small regional bank whose major shareholder had been killed in a train crash. Negotiations were entrusted to Barcelona industrialist Casimiro Molins Robit, an Opus Dei supernumerary, who led the sellers and public to believe that he was acting on behalf of Banco Popular Espanol. The deal successfully concluded, Molins became Atlantico's new chairman, while management was taken over by the Bofill-Ferrer tandem. They built the bank into one of Spain's top dozen, modifying its statutes along the way to permit 15 per cent of the profits to be donated to social causes. As Bofill and Ferrer were informed that their brother in the faith, finance minister Mariano Navarro-Rubio, was drafting new legislation that would permit commercial banks to branch into merchant banking, they planned to launch Atlantico's own merchant bank, baptized Bankunion. But they wanted to bring international partners into the new unit. The managing director of the Vatican-controlled Condotte d'Acqua S.p.A., Loris Corbi, introduced Bofill to John McCaffery, the Rome representative of Hambros Bank. [2] Bofill offered McCaffery a participation. But Hambros was already committed to form a merchant bank with Banco Popular Espanol. McCaffery therefore suggested that Bofill and Ferrer contact the up-and-coming Milan financier Michele Sindona.

Bankunion was registered in October 1963 with a share capital of $24 million. Banco Atlantico directly held only 10 per cent of the capital. It is uncertain whether Sindona ever joined the consortium. If he did, he participated through one of the anonymous foreign investment companies that became Bankunion's majority shareholders. Other investors included Esfina and Condotte Espanola. [3] Like Banco Atlantico, Bankunion's statutes required that 15 per cent of its profits be donated to social causes. [4]

Sindona, in the meantime, succeeded in selling a 24 per cent interest in his Banca Privata Finanziaria of Milan to Continental Illinois Bank & Trust of Chicago. Continental Illinois was at the time the seventh largest bank in the United States. The move proved astute as Continental's chairman, a Mormon bishop by the name of David M. Kennedy, became Richard Nixon's Secretary of the Treasury. Sindona was introduced to him by Paul Marcinkus, a priest from Chicago turned Vatican diplomat who became Pope Paul Vi's travel director. Sindona in turn introduced Bofill and Ferrer to David Kennedy. They interested the Mormon bishop in acquiring for Continental Illinois an 18 per cent interest in Banco Atlantico. The transaction was run through a Swiss company, Greyhound Finance AG. Greyhound was domiciled in the Zurich offices of one of Europe's leading confidential money experts, Dr. Arthur Wiederkehr. During the negotiations, Bofill and Ferrer met Wiederkehr, whose talents were much in demand by international capital movers. Sindona used Wiederkehr, and he also told fellow Milan banker Roberto Calvi about the Zurich lawyer's services. Almost as an aside, Sindona introduced Calvi to the Madrid crowd.

Opus Dei at the time was re-organizing its corporate holdings worldwide along the guidelines established in Spain. Ownership and management of assets were generally split between two separate corporate entities which in turn were owned by one or more private trusts or holding companies. This gave Opus Dei an almost invisible corporate profile but also theoretically gave it access to a percentage of the funds received as grants by certain of its auxiliary societies.

In Ireland, for example, the Work had been present since July 1947. Its property investments there were placed under the umbrella of University Hostels Limited. But the properties themselves were managed by another company, Hostels Management Limited. Sixty-two per cent of University Hostels' shares held in the name of Father Patrick Cormac Burke were transferred to Lismullin Scientific Trust. University Hostels' remaining shares went to Tara Trust. While it is unclear who were the owners of these trusts, both listed their address as Knapton House, which was an Opus Dei residence in Dun Laoghaire, County Dublin.

In 1977 the Reverend Doctor Frank Planell was named Opus Dei's regional vicar for Ireland. As Francisco Planell Fontrodona, 'Frank' had already served Opus Dei as chairman of Esfina's Universal de Inversiones S.A. One of the most gifted Irish numeraries under Planell was Seamus Timoney, a professor of mechanical engineering at University College, Dublin. When not lecturing, Timoney tinkered with advanced weapons systems, designing and patenting a sturdy armoured personnel carrier known as the Timoney APC. Timoney, however, was no marketing expert. Was it too much to assume that Father Frank referred the matter to Opus Central, which happened to be aware that the Argentine Army needed this type of equipment? It is known that the Timoney APC went into production in 1978 and that an undisclosed number were sold to the Argentine Armed Forces. [5] If normal prescriptions were followed, 10 per cent of the proceeds of the Argentine sale would have been paid to Opus Central.

Professor Timoney was an interesting case. Associated with Opus Dei since the 1950s, he was internationally known for his weaponry inventions. In 1957, he incorporated Industrial Engineering Designers Limited, which became an Opus Dei auxiliary society. Five of the six founding directors of Engineering Designers were Opus Dei numeraries. Netherhall Educational Trust, the principal Opus Dei charitable trust in the UK, received a 'gift share'. Several prominent Opus Dei members in Ireland and the UK also put up capital, and yet Opus Dei claimed, 'No funds of Opus Dei were ever sought by Professor Timoney, nor given to him.' [6] Technically, that may have been correct, but it did not prevent Timoney in his various ventures from calling upon the resources of the Opus Dei network, bringing to Ireland associated engineers from Britain, Spain and the US. Industrial Engineering Designers Limited's manufacturing facility, Advanced Technology Limited -- one supposes another auxiliary society -- was set up in 1975. Ad Tee, as it became known, built and tested prototypes of the Timoney APC. One of the largest orders for the vehicle came from the Belgian Army. It was also produced under licence in General Pinochet's Chile.

If not disturbed by the fact that an Opus Dei numerary, supposedly dedicated to achieving Christian perfection, spent his spare time designing armoured personnel carriers and other military machines, then one will not be bothered by the fact that numerary Michael Adams supported the throwing of bombs by IRA terrorists. Adams was managing director of Four Courts Press, publishers of The Way in Ireland, and he lived at Opus Dei's national headquarters, Harvieston, in Dublin. What he really went on the record to state was that throwing bombs in Northern Ireland was defensible if it brought the British to the negotiating table. This is what he wrote: 'None -- let's hope -- of the guerrillas in the North [i.e., Ulster] enjoys killing English soldiers, yet they will celebrate in a kind of poignant exhilaration the death of each soldier because each death builds up the only language which the British seem to understand ... It is pathetic that the sorrow of bereaved English families should need to be compounded ... but somebody has to die, somebody has to get hurt. If the "hurt" can be achieved through civil disobedience that certainly is preferable and more "Christian"; but it is difficult to believe that anything less than violence can at this stage keep the pot boiling and so lead to fruitful negotiations ... Bombs seem to work.' [7]

One of the uglier rumours that surfaced concerning the Vatican bank's hidden activities was the unproven allegation that it provided funding for the IRA. The first mention of this was made by a former Italian Secret Service agent and since then it has resurfaced from time to time, but never substantiated. What is known, however, is that in May 1981 John Paul II sent one of his personal secretaries, Father John Magee (now bishop of Cloyne), on a secret mission to Ireland, during which Magee met the IRA's Bobby Sands, then on a fast to death in an Ulster prison. Also a Panamanian company, Erin S.A., of uncertain origin but later linked to the Vatican bank, received almost $40 million in loans that were transferred to it through a Peruvian bank. Nothing connects Erin to the IRA, or to Ad Tee for that matter, but the name was certainly suggestive. Nor is it known what actually happened to Erin's $40 million, other than it was added to the pool of stateless capital in the international monetary system.

Opus Dei's ownership of French assets was even more complex. Although Father Fernando Maicas and Alvaro Calleja had arrived in Paris in October 1947, Opus Dei was not registered under French law until May 1966. Both came with NSRC grants and a piece of Isidoro Zorzano's death shroud to hang in the oratory of the residence they opened in boulevard Saint Germain in the Latin Quarter.

A first corporate holding was established in 1955 under the name of Association de Culture Universitaire et Technique (ACUT). It was registered as a charitable trust and was placed under the patronage of three illustrious Sorbonne professors, the vice-president of the French Senate, a former Gaullist minister and a senior Quai d'Orsay diplomat.

One wonders whether the patrons realized what they were patronizing, because Opus Dei, not yet registered in France, was nowhere mentioned in ACUT's statutes. ACUT acquired a seventeenth-century chateau near Soissons, north-east of Paris, which became an Opus Dei conference centre. The managing director of ACUT was a 21-year-old student at the Institute of Political Studies in Paris, Augustin Romero.

After completing his studies Romero went to work for the Banque de l'Union Europeenne, one of Banco Popular Espanol's correspondent banks. [8] This little-known institution was also partly owned by Banco Ambrosiano of Milan. Opus Dei used it to transfer money into France. In the meantime, a series of covert holding companies with strange acronymic names like SEPAL, SAIDEC, SOCOFINA, SOFICO and TRIFEP began to mushroom throughout the country.

SAIDEC (Societe Anonyme d'investissement pour le developpement culturel) was founded in 1962 with a minimum capital of $2,000. Nicolas Macarez, a Spanish national, was listed as its managing director. Initially the largest individual shareholder was Romero, but with successive capital increases 90 per cent of its shares were taken up by TRlFEP. [9] This seemingly straightforward detail was confused by the fact that SAIDEC owned 90 per cent ofTR1FEP and the two companies had interlocking boards of directors. [10]

SAIDEC's capital rose to $3 million over the next dozen years. In 1976, one of the contributors to a major capital increase was the Societe Anonyme de Financement pour les investissements culturels, a totally anonymous company headquartered in Liechtenstein. SAIDEC became the owner-of-record of the chateau and a Paris building in rue Ventadour, which housed its registered offices. The rue Ventadour was on the opposite side of the Avenue de l'Opera from the Banque de l'Union Europeenne. This proved convenient because the Banque de l'Union Europeenne was banker to SAIDEC.

Also in 1962, Banco Popular Espanol acquired 34,900 shares of Banque des Interets Francais, representing 35 per cent of the Paris bank's share capital. The Banque des Interets Francais belonged to the Giscard d'Estaing family and its chairman was father of the future French president. Rafael Termes Carrero, at the time one of Banco Popular's managing directors, became a Banque des Interets Francais director, seconded by numerary Andres Rueda Salaberry, head of Banco Popular's European Department, who was described as the 'invisible overseer of Opus Dei's financial interests in France'. [1]

Opus Dei's corporate presence in the United Kingdom was no less confusing. In the autumn of 1946, Juan Antonio Galarraga, a chemist, arrived from Madrid on a NSRC research grant. By 1950, Galarraga had only been able to recruit one Briton. He was Michael Richards, a former army officer involved in debriefing prisoners after D-Day but who in Opus Dei legend quickly became a war hero. Escriva de Balaguer referred to him as his 'English rascal'. [12] He was sent to Kenya to reconnoitre the terrain for an Opus Dei presence in East Africa, after which the Father discovered his late vocation and had him ordained.

With monies transferred from abroad Opus Dei acquired a small hotel in Hampstead, which opened as a student residence in April 1952 as Netherhall House. A group of assistant women numeraries were sent from Spain to look after housekeeping and catering, and suddenly Opus Dei was in business in the United Kingdom, though still not registered.

Registration only occurred in April 1954 when John Galarraga and Michael Richards formed the Sacerdotal Society of the Holy Cross and Opus Dei Charitable Trust. The deed of incorporation indicated that the purpose of the trust was 'the advancement of the Roman Catholic religion'. Its real aim, however, was to spread the apostolates proper to Opus Dei. The deed gave the trustees absolute discretion over the buying and selling of property and all forms of securities; for reasons unknown, it did not officially apply for the tax-exempt status until 1965. At that time it listed three properties as assets: Grandpont House in Oxford, which had been acquired in 1959, the new national headquarters in Orme Court, Bayswater, and a residence in Manchester. By then, most of Opus Dei's other UK properties had been transferred to the Netherhall Educational Association (NEA), founded in 1964 with an input of funds from abroad.

Three Opus Dei numeraries arrived in Switzerland in October 1956 and opened the first centre in Zurich's well-to-do residential district of Fluntern. Two of them were Catalan. Their leader was Father Juan Bautista Torello. He was accompanied by Pedro Turull, an architecture student, and Hans Rudi Freitag, a Swiss economics graduate who had worked in Valencia. In 1961 they founded Kulturgemeinschaft Arbor as the owner of record of the Work's corporate undertakings in Switzerland. Zurich became a key money centre for Opus Dei after the formation of Fundacion General Mediterranea (FGM), a 'charitable' trust that received a percentage of Banco Atlantico's profits. FGM had two known subsidiaries -- Fundacion General Latinoamericana (Fundamerica), based in Caracas, and the FGM Foundation in Zurich. [13] But it also appeared to have a third off-shoot in Argentina that helped finance the forming of neo-Peronista cadres under Carlos Menen. FGM spawned Limmat-Stiftung, a Zurich trust that initially had a capital of $42,000. Limmat-Stiftung's corporate envelope came out of the offices of Dr Arthur Wiederkehr. Its undertakings were 'exclusively within the public-interest domain, particularly in the field of education, both in Switzerland and abroad', which assured it of tax-exempt status. Limmat-Stiftung received donations from Banco Atlantico while at the same time it was listed as a Bankunion shareholder. Wiederkehr served on Limmat-Stiftung's board.

Dr. Wiederkehr is also said to have sold the Zurich-based Nordfinanz Bank to Opus Dei. This institution was founded a year before the outbreak of the Second World War, when the Zurich attorney was starting out in the legal profession. It had led a sleepy existence under the name of Verwaltungs Bank until 1964, when Wiederkehr sold 80 per cent of its capital to a Nordic finance group. According to Spanish sherry magnate Jose Maria Ruiz-Mateos, Opus Dei controlled Nordfinanz, though he did not explain how. On the other hand, Wiederkehr remained the bank's chairman for many years, finally resigning in favour of his son, Dr. Alfred Julius Wiederkehr.

When still a young man, Arthur Wiederkehr's talents had come to the attention of Lord Selborne, the UK minister of economic warfare. In 1942 Lord Selborne placed the Zurich lawyer on a wartime Statutory List of persons suspected of trading with the enemy or acting as Nazi agents. The Daily Mail of 25 November 1942 carried this report of proceedings in the House of Lords:

Relatives and friends of people in Occupied Territories are being blackmailed into parting with thousands of pounds as payment for exit permits for people under German domination. If the money is not forthcoming the victims, and sometimes their families, too, are ... sent to concentration camps.

First news of this 'racket in freedom' was given yesterday in the House of Lords by Lord Selborne, minister of economic warfare ... Two principal agents -- Dr. Arthur Wiederkehr, a Swiss lawyer, and Anna Hochberg, a Dutch Jewess -- operate the racket. Both live in Zurich ... [14]

After the war, Wiederkehr appeared before a disciplinary commission of the Zurich Bar Association, which absolved him of any misconduct. He served on the board of Union Bank of Switzerland from 1975 to 1981, during the period when Philippe de Week was UBS chairman. Opus Dei certainly appreciated his services. He set up for the institute or its associates untold numbers of convenience companies, including Supo Holding S.A., Zurich, with a capital of 1,000,000 Swiss francs. Spelt backwards, Supo becomes Opus.

The most striking feature of Opus Dei's financial operations was, and remains, the element of secrecy. 'Opus Dei is poor. We have no money,' claimed Andrew Soane, the UK spokesman. Soane is a chartered accountant, an unusual qualification for a media spokesman, and in an interview with him I tried to find out about Escriva de Balaguer's wishes to open an Opus Dei college at Oxford. This was not something to be entertained by a poor organization. But the Father had designed a coat of arms and drafted plans for the college. He wanted it to have a clock tower crowned by a statue of the Virgin Mary, which at night would be floodlit. [15] To concretize the Father's intentions, Opus Dei submitted a report to the diocesan authorities claiming that its members were helping combat the spread of Communism in Africa by indoctrinating African students with Western ideologies, which seemed a political undertaking of serious proportions. But Opus Dei is a spiritual organization. That presumably is why the headmaster of its Strathmore College in Kenya, Yale graduate David Sperling, a friend of US Peace Corps president Sargent Shriver, allowed the US Embassy in Nairobi to use the college, which was partly funded by the UK government, as an 'orientation centre' for African students seeking scholarships in the United States. 'Orientation centre' was a CIA euphemism meaning recruitment base.

Pending a reaction from the Oxford authorities, Opus Dei's UK charitable trust acquired Grandpont House, a listed eighteenth-century mansion on the Thames. Escriva de Balaguer's proposal for an Oxford college was rejected, causing him 'great distress'. He said it was the Catholics who torpedoed him and he designed another coat of arms for Grandpont House that reflected his sorrow - the Virgin Mary with the words ipsa duce above a bridge with white and blue waves underneath it.

One of the points of this story -- other than the Work's apparent willingness to allow its Nairobi installations to be used as a CIA 'orientation centre' -- is that 'poor' Opus Dei was able to call upon important sums of money, even then, to finance its undertakings. A more grandiose example was the Sanctuary of Torreciudad, which opened in 1975. It was said to have as much construction below ground as above it. Certainly the above-the-ground structure rivals Saint Peter's in volume and the total was reported to have cost in the neighbourhood of $30 million.

As we have seen, physical ownership of Opus Dei's world-wide patchwork of assets can rarely be traced. This is intentional. The financial operations must remain confidential to give its Corps Mobile the greatest chance of success. Therefore, in addition to the praxis of profit-transfer accounting, Opus Dei's strategists developed a system of spiritual rather than physical control for its network of interests. But the system is by no means infallible. In fact it had to be significantly overhauled after a trusted son, Gregorio Ortega Pardo, momentarily disappeared in the mid-1960s.

The regional administrator in Portugal, Ortega was a collector of 'puffs of pride' -- including Spain's Grand Cross of Civil Merit, which was awarded to him while Ibanez Martin was ambassador to Lisbon -- and he possessed a devilish love for luxury. He acquired for Opus Dei control of the Banco de Agricultura in Lisbon, an interest in the Banco Comercial de Angola, and in 1963 he founded Lusofin, a finance company enjoying governmental support. In the autumn of 1965, Ortega Pardo was arrested in a five-star Caracas hotel with two suitcases containing $225,000 in cash and $40,000 worth of jewellery, having been reported to the authorities by a prostitute. Ibanez Martin suggested he had gone to Venezuela to purchase a new residence for the local Opus Dei chapter. In any event, he was extradited to Spain. Waiting journalists were disappointed not to be able to interview him, for he was whisked away to a psychiatric clinic run by an Opus Dei doctor. The charges against him were eventually dropped and two years later he was expelled from the Work with a one-way ticket to Argentina.

The Ortega affair presented a number of puzzling contradictions. The organization insists it is poor when quite obviously it controls, through a complicated network of trusts and other devices, a large assortment of assets for which no public accounting exists. Outwardly it attempts to create a placid, pious image when in reality it is driven by a strong inner sense of mission. It denies interfering with the private lives and careers of members when manifestly the opposite is true, down to determining the choice of books they read. In a more general context, it appears to pursue opponents or those imagined to have done it harm with all available means, including pilleria and the use of physical muscle. On top of all this, it portrays itself as just another branch of the Catholic Church when it has developed a strong sectarian approach, with oblates becoming bogged down in fundamentalist doctrines that demand their submission to a lifetime of servitude not to the Church but to the Father.

Impossible, you say? The Church would never allow such a thing. I thought so, too. But perhaps the single most telling fact is that when the Church had a perfect opportunity to investigate, during the beatification hearings for Escriva de Balaguer, no-one so much as thought to ask such a basic question as why God's Servant, who was said to have lived the seven Christian virtues so heroically, needed to adopt the lapsed title of a Spanish grandee.

When former members wanted to put their doubts, fears or observations before the beatification tribunals, they were systematically excluded from doing so because they were portrayed as being mentally unbalanced or sex fiends. And yet no independent verification of the claims was ever made. As for an institution of the Church imprisoning members or making them accomplices in their own loss of freedom? The next chapters will examine Opus Dei's system of governance to determine the manner in which the Church's most powerful secular organization regulates its existence.

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THE STRUCTURE OF OPUS DEI Prelate (Bishop): Villa Tevere, Rome Vicar General

Regional Vicars

Sacerdotal Society of the Holy Cross (Clerical association distinct from but inseparably united to the Prelature, 2% of membership.) Diocesan Clergy (Associate Priests) exact numbers unknown CRIS: Rome

General Council: Rome (Permanent Commission) Numeraries (8% of membership) Associates (3% of membership) Supernumeraries (34% of membership) Co-operators (exact numbers unknown)

Central Advisory: Rome (Permanent Commission) Numeraries (10% of membership) Supernumeraries (36% of membership) Co-operators (exact numbers unknown)


_______________

Notes:

1. Ynfante, Op. cit., p. 233.

2. Condotte d'Acqua provided the City of Rome with its water supply. Condotte was also a major Italian construction company. It built autostradas (motorways) and had completed the Italian side of the Mont Blanc Tunnel under the Alps. Condone was at that time owned by APSA, the Administration of the Patrimony of the Apostolic See. Condotte d'Acqua would later be sold to Italian financier Michele Sindona in a complicated operation involving the IOR and Sindona's Banca Privata Finanziaria, Milan.

3. Ynfante, Op. cit., p. 251.

4. Ernesto Ekaizer, Jose Maria Ruiz Mateos -- el Ultimo Magnate, Plaza & Janes, Barcelona 1985, p. 167.

5. Maurice Roche, 'The Secrets of Opus Dei', Magill Magazine, Dublin, May 1983.

6. O'Connor, Op. cit., p. 152.

7. Michael Adams, Letter to the Editor, The Irish Press, 14 September 1971.

8. Dr Filippo Leoni, Banco Ambrosiano's general manager for international business, in testimony before the Italian P2 Parliamentary Commission, Vol. CLIV, Doc. XXIII. No.2, Ter 7, p. 228.

9. Romero was later ordained and became Opus Dei's regional vicar for France.

10. Oberle, Op. cit., pp. 86-87.

11. Ibid., p. 88; Ynfante, Op. cit., p. 239; and Ekaizer, Op. cit., p. 276.

12. Vazquez de Prada, Op. cit., p. 302.

13. Golias 30, pp. 40 and 133. Arthur Wiederkehr was a founding director of FGM Foundation, Zurich.

14. Reginald Eason, Daily Mail (London), 25 November 1942. Another article under the heading of 'Allies Stop Nazi Traffic in Exit Permits', appeared in The Daily Telegraph (of the same date). At 1994 exchange rates, 100,000 Swiss francs was worth about £50,000.

15. Vazquez de Prada, Op. cit., p. 303.
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Re: THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DE

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16. The Inner World of Opus Dei

We must always be ready to spend our life for what God asks of us. And He has asked us to leave our entire life for Opus Dei. That is why we must live very close to God, to Our Lady and to the Work which so needs our help.

-- Josemaria Escriva de Balaguer, Cronica I, 1971


MOST PEOPLE JOIN OPUS DEI OUT OF LOVE FOR GOD. BY THE SAME measure, most who leave do so for the same reason. Once inside the organization they may find that love of God comes second to love of the Father, who is perfect because he is the son of God. Not prepared to serve God through the Father, they opt out. Vladimir Felzmann, who left Opus Dei after twenty-three years to become a priest of the Westminster diocese in London, explained his departure in this way: 'As God brought me into Opus Dei, it was His love that let me out. Once I could see that I could leave without breaking my word to God, I left. But it took me many, many hours of prayer until ... I saw that the Work of God is not identical with God.' [1]

FeIzmann believes that people who live inside Opus Dei for any period of time become so conditioned by 'mortification of intellect' that they become emotionally dependent and totally bind themselves over to the organization. It starts from the moment of their oblation and is strengthened by the 'means of formation' to which thereafter they must submit. These factors combine to form a powerful mind control system, making a mockery out of Opus Dei's claim that it never, repeat never interferes in the private or professional lives of members. Through this system highly intelligent people are induced to surrender their capacity for ethical reasoning to a superior authority, in some cases abdicating all moral responsibility for their conduct in the secular world. Never before published, Opus Dei's 'means of formation' are worth considering in some depth as they represent the conduit by which its recruits are transformed into Christian fundamentalists.

THE OPUS DEI OATH OF FIDELITY

The Oblate declares:

In the full exercise of my freedom, I ..... declare my firm intention to strive with an my ability to attain a state of sanctity and to exercise the apostolate, according to the spirit and customs of Opus Dei. From this date until renewing my oath on 19 March next, I pledge:

1. To remain obedient to the Prelate and other authorised persons of the Prelature, and apply myself in all things that pertain to the Specific undertakings of the Prelature; and

2. To fulfil all duties that pertain to being a numerary of Opus Dei and to observe the Norms by which the Prelature is governed, and also to observe all legal prescriptions of the Prelate and other authorised persons of authority belonging to the Prelature -- in accordance with its Codex Iuris, spirit and apostolate.

A Regional Vicar of the Prelature declares in the presence of the Oblate and two witnesses, members of the Prelature, at least one of whom must be a numerary:

As a Regional Vicar of the Prelature, I solemnly declare that beginning from the moment you join the Prelature as a numerary member, and for as long as you remain a numerary member, Opus Dei assumes the following responsibilities:

1. To give you a continuous formation -- doctrinal, spiritual, ascetic and apostolic -- and also to provide you, through the priests of the Prelature, with personal pastoral guidance; and

2. To undertake such other responsibilities which, in relation to Prelature's faithful, are set out in the Codex Iuris proper to the Prelature.


After serving five years as a novice, in order to be accepted as a numerary the oblate must swear an Oath of Fidelity in the presence of the regional vicar and two witnesses, one of them the oblate's spiritual director and immediate superior. The oath is administered before a plain wooden Cross without its crucified in the darkened chapel of an Opus Dei centre. A ring is then slipped upon the oblate's finger, for as a full numerary member he or she is now married - not to the Church, but to Opus Dei. To consolidate the marriage the oblate is required to read aloud a passage from the Work's catechism, affirming his or her responsibilities to the organization and its hierarchy.

As in everything pertaining to Opus Dei, a reason exists for the oblation rite. Not only is it one of the distinguishing features of a religious sect but, according to sociologist Alberto Moncada, the symbolism of the empty Cross is important because it is intended to reinforce one's feeling of inadequacy and guilt. This is clearly set forth in Maxim 178 of The Way: 'When you see a poor wooden Cross, alone, uncared for, and of no value ... and without its Crucified, don't forget that that Cross is your Cross ... the Cross which is waiting for the Crucified it lacks; and that Crucified must be you.'

Opus Dei denies that members must submit to an oblation rite or that they are required to take vows of any kind. Just as 'recruiting' is not a word used by Opus Dei, also 'oblation' and 'vows' are not part of its lexicon. But on 5 June 1946 Don Alvaro wrote to the Sacra Penitenzieria Apostolica in Rome explaining inter alia that Opus Dei members do emit vows, to the Virgin Mary, St Joseph, the three Archangels and the Apostles Peter, Paul and John. [2] Moreover, every 19 March -- the feast day of St Joseph -- Opus Dei numeraries are required to renew their vows of chastity, poverty and obedience in a partial repetition of the oblation rite. This practice still continues.

OPUS DEI MEMBERSHIP CATEGORIES

Opus Dei's membership is characterised by four types, depending upon each individual's availability for the works carried out by the Prelature:

Numeraries -- lay people who dedicate themselves to celibacy and full availability for the needs of the Prelature. They usually live in an Opus Dei residence. Among the women numeraries are assistant numeraries, who dedicate themselves to the material administration of the centres of Opus Dei, such as maintenance, cleaning, laundry and catering. A few of the male numeraries are ordained to the priesthood and incardinated in the Prelature.

Associates -- lay men or women who dedicate themselves to celibacy, but generally do not live in an Opus Dei residence. Male associates may also become priests of the Prelature.

Supernumeraries -- lay men and women, either single or married, who live their vocation to Opus Dei in the setting of their families.

Members of the Priestly Society of the Holy Cross -- includes the Prelature's own priests as well as diocesan priests incardinated in their own diocese (called associate or supernumerary priests) who wish to receive spiritual formation from Opus Dei and who participate in Opus Dei's apostolate. The Priestly Society spreads the spirit of Opus Dei among the clergy not otherwise linked with the Prelature.

An association of co-operators exists for persons who are not members, but who help with their 'prayers, donations, gifts and other forms of assistance'. In an unusual twist for a Catholic organization, Opus Dei's co-operators can be of any religion.


Just as important as the oblation and renewal of vows in cultivating Opus Dei's sectarianism are the six 'means of formation' -- known as the Confidence, Brief Circle, Examination of Conscience, Confession, Fraternal Correction and Weekly Meditation -- as they set the Work apart from all other organizations of the Catholic Church. 'The idea of the formative norms is to keep you humble and in a constant state of unworthiness. The norms have both a positive and a negative side. They act as a check on self-satisfaction. Anybody who is self-satisfied is a dangerous animal. But also it tends to worsen one's feelings of inadequacy and guilt,' explained Felzmann.

Whatever one's rank inside the Work one must submit to the formative norms. Conditioning begins while still a novice. Every novice is placed under the supervision of a local director who observes and tests his or her reaction to spiritual suggestion. Novices are also assigned an Opus Dei priest through whom they must practise the sacrament of penitence at least once a week. The obligations become more embracing once one takes the oath of fidelity. Members are required to participate fully in the life of the local centre to which they are assigned. If a husband and wife are both members, they are never assigned to the same centre, nor attend the same Brief Circle, as the separation of sexes is strictly adhered to throughout the Opus Dei structure. Each centre also serves as a house of residence for a certain number of numeraries, insuring a constant mix between celibate and noncelibate members.

Each member's first obligation is the weekly Confidence. This is a one-on-one session with the spiritual director who is always a lay numerary. Set topics are discussed, the recruiting of new members being the most important. Also reviewed is one's personal and professional conduct. Faults in attitude or personal behaviour, whether self-confessed or reported by others, are remedied by what is known as 'fraternal correction' -- an act of contrition, or punishment, required by the spiritual director.

Members are encouraged to place full 'confidence' in their spiritual director. Several former members believe - and on occasion have affirmed it publicly -- that collusion exists between the spiritual director (a layman, not covered by the seal of the confessional) and the confessor (who must be an Opus Dei priest). This is a serious charge. But it is one that is almost impossible to prove. Opus Dei knows this and denies it vigorously. Still, the potential for manipulating minds and emotions is evident. Consequently, Opus Dei insists that once members receive the spiritual help they require (everybody needs spiritual help, according to Maxim 59), its job is finished. But one's professional career is the central pillar of each member's personal apostolate. Therefore it is of direct interest to the Work. This filters through in the Brief Circle, a formative norm that, like the Confidence, is held weekly.

The Brief Circle is described as the ground-floor mechanism through which Opus Dei gains the greatest degree of leverage over its members. It is a group function that includes never more than twenty participants, all of them socially, intellectually and professionally matched to form a homogenous cell-like nucleus. Each Brief Circle is chaired by the local director. He opens it with a short talk, supposedly on the Gospel but invariably on some aspect of Opus Dei or the Father's teaching. Participants then recite aloud the 'Plan of Life', which provides discipline and structure to their existence. The full programme is as follows:

I. Invocation, in Latin, of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary, source of Hope and seat of Wisdom.

II. The Director's Commentary on the Gospel.

III. Reading aloud the Plan of Life -- everyone must stand while it is read -- followed by a commentary on some point of the Plan, Norms or Customs.

Plan of Life

Daily: Morning offering. Mental prayer (half an hour in the morning and evening). Holy Mass. Communion. Visit to the Blessed Sacrament. Reading of the Holy Gospel and of some spiritual book. Holy Rosary. Examination of conscience. Recital of the Angelus or Regina Coeli.

Weekly: Sacramental Confession. Corporal mortification (for numeraries) and recital of the Hail Holy Queen, or Regina Coeli, on Saturdays. Weekly meditation service.

Monthly: One day of recollection.

Yearly: Spiritual Retreat

IV. Examination of Conscience. Each member is required to ask:

1. Have I omitted the meditation or shortened it, except in the case of illness?

2. Have I practised presence of God and considered my divine filiation frequently each day?

3. Have I sought to give my first and last thought each day to God?

4. Have I omitted a particular examination of conscience, or hurried over the general examination?

5. In the Holy Mass each day, have I remembered the Work of God, my brothers, and especially my Directors?

6. Have I borne the annoying things of each day well?

7. Have I omitted the customary mortifications?

8. Do I endeavour to acquire a spirit of penance?

9. Have I sought a right intention, anxious only for the glory of God in everything?

10. Have I said the Preces of the Work and the other vocal prayers calmly and with attention?

11. Have I lived a spirit of sacrifice in the apostolates entrusted to me by my Directors?

12. Have I been docile to my Directors in those things that refer to my spiritual life and apostolate?

13. Have I fulfilled with due diligence the apostolic tasks entrusted to me by the Work?

14. Have I taken special care to practise charity in my relations with my brothers?

15. Am I especially mindful of the Norms of charity and prudence whenever it is necessary to make or accept fraternal correction?

16. Is my spirit of proselytism borne out by my deeds?

17. Am I conscious of having caused Opus Dei any definite harm through my apathy, imprudence, tepidity, or coldness in attending to my religious, social or professional duties?

18. What efforts have I made in my intellectual development which is essential to my purpose, in my study and in making the best use of my time?

19. Have I spent money unnecessarily, out of extravagance, capriciousness, vanity, laziness, etc.?

20. Have I always been deeply sincere with my Directors, combining the capacity for initiative and personal responsibility with the virtue of humility in order to identify myself with the indications I have received for my spiritual and apostolic work?

21. Have I despised sacrifice in the little things of each day?

22. Do I try to live order in my work so as to make it more effective and to give greater glory to God?

23. Do I do my work when I ought (today, now), or do I deceive myself by leaving it for later, which is the same as not doing it at all?

24. Am I careful to see that there is nothing odd or annoying in my outward appearance that might not be in keeping with my duties and position?

25. Do I allow myself to be dominated by gloominess, without realizing that it is an ally of the enemy?

26. Do I always work with the happiness of one who knows he is a son of God?

V. Help us in the name of God.

Confiteor Deo ... May the Almighty and Merciful God release us from the chains of our sins.

After which, those who have obtained previous permission go by turns on their knees and accuse themselves of their faults [not of their sins or any matter of conscience, which must be confessed to a priest, in confidence], saying at the beginning, 'In the presence of God, Our Lord, I accuse myself of ...' and at the end, '... for these faults I beg pardon and penance.'

The Director imposes penance on each, according to Custom.

VI. Reading and commentary on some spiritual book, or talk.

VII. Conversation about affairs of the Work.

VIII. Preces (Prayer).


The Brief Circle establishes each member's spiritual menu. It has all the necessary minerals and vitamins for a healthy diet. Members are told that anyone who follows it religiously can become a saint. The eighth item of the Plan of Life, after reading from the Gospel or the works of the Father and reciting the Rosary, requires members to perform the third formative norm, the Examination of Conscience, or simply the Conscience. It is a private exercise that numeraries accomplish in the oratory of their residence, usually prior to the major silence, and others in the evenings before retiring. It requires ten or fifteen minutes to ask oneself the twenty-six questions of the Conscience, during which notes of weak points should be made so that they can be discussed at the weekly Confidence or raised in Confession. Four of these questions concern professional attitudes. Another three evoke the mind-conditioning character of Opus Dei's inner world: members are expected to be 'docile' with their superiors; they are required to practise due diligence in fulfilling special apostolates -- i.e., missions; and finally they are reminded of the omnipresent 'enemy'.

The last of the means of formation is the least intensive, consisting of the Weekly Meditation: a meditation service in the chapel directed by the resident chaplain. Its purpose is to explain some activity of the Work, for example one of the norms or perhaps a new order from Opus Central, always placing it in a spiritual context as serving the wishes of the Father.

The lifestyles of numeraries and supernumeraries are by necessity quite different. A supernumerary is expected to live a pious, disciplined existence within the context of his or her family. Lay numeraries are the second-level elite (priests being the first). A numerary's day is crowded with spiritual and other obligations that leave no time for idleness and little for leisure. Custom requires numeraries to rise in silence and kiss the floor, after which they are accorded a half-hour to wash and dress. This is followed by another half-hour of silent prayer before attending Mass in the residence chapel. After morning Mass the 'Major Silence' is broken and breakfast is served in the refectory, following which those who work outside leave for their place of employment. During the day they are required to read from the Gospel as well as some other spiritual book, and pray the Rosary. At midday they should recite the Angelus.

Returning to the residence after work, the numerary completes his spiritual reading and spends another half-hour in silent prayer. Each member has some apostolic responsibility and usually this is the time to fulfil it. The apostolic duties might be presiding over a circle - there are three types of circles: St Raphael for persons under recruitment; St Michael for numeraries; and St Gabriel for supernumeraries - or meeting the local director.

The numerary's day ends in the chapel for the Conscience. Afterwards, residents gather for a reading from the Gospel. The reading and commentary on it is assigned to a different numerary each evening. The commentary has to be reviewed by the director beforehand to make sure it hits the right spiritual note and that there are no out-of-place remarks. One passage that frequently gives rise to light-heartedness is a commentary on the Five Foolish Virgins. A remark at the end of the commentary such as, 'And don't you be like the foolish virgins and forget your lamp', can cause a bout of giggles that destroys the desired atmosphere of devotion. After the reading the Major Silence begins.

Requiring male numeraries to sleep on the floor once a week is a custom. Women numeraries sleep on boards covered by a blanket. When an Opus Dei member greets a fellow member he must say, Pax. The automatic response is In aeternum. Another custom that started in the late 1960s is called 'Spoliation'. It applies only to numeraries and takes place on the Feast of St Francis of Assisi. On that day the director can come into a numerary's room and remove any object to which the numerary is thought to have become over-attached. 'This could be a teddy bear or a pair of gold cufflinks, but if it happens to be a watch given to you by your mother it hurts,' one former numerary explained.

As the membership profile changed in the 1960s, becoming more professionally oriented, Opus Dei was accused of possessing a rakishly Capitalist image. Because of the bad press this generated, Opus Dei's hierarchy began to fear for its canonical status. Accordingly, the institute re-oriented its main apostolate towards primary and secondary schools, youth clubs and inner-city social centres, thereby moving the Work into areas that previously had been Jesuit preserves.

As Opus Dei remains elitist, the preferred clientele for its grammar schools and youth clubs are middle-class children whose families can afford the relatively high tuition fees which go with the privilege of having their sons and· daughters become targets for recruitment. From registration to graduation, the spiritual development of its academic wards is followed and encouraged. At the same time a selection process singles out the more apt pupils, and little by little those selected are prepared for their formal incorporation into Opus Dei, preferably as celibate members.

This new phase started in the 1970s. 'It focuses on guaranteeing the institution's survival by recruiting young adolescents at a primary level while the higher aim is controlling power in the Vatican,' Moncada, a former numerary, wrote in a controversial treatise on Opus Dei's sectarianism. But recruiting children under eighteen years of age is against the canons of the Church, and Opus Dei is unlikely to scoff openly at the legal prescriptions of the Church.

'To be sure, general principles of canon and civil law forbid incorporation before the age of eighteen. However, in this as in other aspects of its activity, Opus Dei has discovered how to combine external respect for the law with functional pragmatism which allows it, for instance, to snare youngsters with emotional complicity in their own loss of independence, all the while proclaiming neutrality and concern for the freedom of the affected children to parents worried about premature decisions,' Moncada explained. [3]

Opus Dei denies that it recruits adolescents, but one only need consult the relevant source material on the subject (not, however, available to the general public -- nor even to all Opus Dei members) to understand the importance it attaches to the young mind:

... Youth is the time of formation. It is a time in which ... the direction and the meaning of one's entire life is fixed. It is a time of ideals and of love, a time when the soul opens -- is vigorously receptive -- to the light of doctrine ... It is a more opportune time for an effective sowing ... [4]


With the extension of its school network during the 1980s, Opus Dei began attracting more reliable, dedicated members, trained from childhood to devote themselves to a lifetime of promoting the Prelature's worldwide strategies and interests.

The Father, in the person of the prelate general, is the primary bond that encourages members to transfer their capacity for rational analysis to a superior authority. This authority conditions them to abide by internal covenants that would not be tolerated in an external society. Commented Moncada: 'Since one must be submissive to the Father and those who stand in his stead, and even "sacrifice one's judgement", the negation of individual rights is plain.' Such obedience frowns upon internal criticism and stifles all personal opinions concerning the apostolate. Under these conditions, one's brothers in the faith turn into secret informers.

'From the time of entering the Work, a member is forbidden to go to confession with any priest who does not belong to the institution. An ample literature on the theme of the "good shepherd" and the maxim of "washing dirty linen at home" legitimizes the sealing off of members' consciences from the outside and makes mental control by superiors more simple. Opus Dei priests, furthermore, employ information received in the confessional to design the strategy to be followed with candidates for membership. To tighten the circle of mental dependence and group loyalty further, all members must make a weekly "confidence", similar in nature to confession, with the director of their house or centre in which the most explicit sincerity is encouraged towards a person with no sacerdotal qualifications,' he added in his treatise.

The absolute surrender of one's judgement to a superior, it has been suggested, breeds a form of ethical childishness. Another consequence is that it provokes abnormally high stress levels among younger members. 'Stress is a consequence of the constant dissimulating towards the outside ... Aspiring numeraries, for example, are advised to tell their parents that they have made no commitment to the Work. From the outset, one's sense of honesty is distorted, Moncada continued.

Opus Dei rejects the suggestion that its means of formation result in a collective distortion of moral standards. 'Opus Dei does not get involved, indeed cannot get involved ... in the professional, family, social, political and cultural matters of its members,' it repeats. But Opus Dei remains keenly interested in influencing public opinion by placing certain of its members in key media positions. This obviously has advantages, but it also makes a lie out of the affirmation that it does not involve itself in the professional, social or economic affairs of its members. Opus Dei, nevertheless, remains firm in dismissing any such intention. Opus Dei controls the lives of its numeraries by a subtle combination of suggestion and 'holy coercion'. One example illustrating how the Prelature works in this domain, and the psychological damage it can produce, is told by a former British numerary:

'From the day I wrote my letter to the Father requesting admission, I handed over my [university] grant and all other income (e.g., allowance from my family) ... I was attracted to Country Dancing and Gilbert and Sullivan societies, but both of these were no-go areas for a numerary, who cannot attend theatres or mix with the opposite sex unless professional life demands it ... During my first year as a numerary, my Directress was a young Portuguese. She persistently told me that I had a flair, an asset for the apostolate. She heard my "Confidences". Opus Dei members have a weekly talk with their Director or Directress. This is called the "Confidence", and supplements the weekly confession with an Opus Dei priest. The Confidence, combined with a fortnightly talk with the priest (not limited by the seal of confession), is perhaps the most effective means of control within Opus Dei. Members are required to give a detailed account of every aspect of their lives: prayer, reading, apostolate, money, mortification plan of life, etc.

'My Directress suggested that with my distinction in English 'A' level, and command of the language, I might think of becoming a journalist. (Internal documents, as I later discovered, encouraged superiors to watch out for potential media professionals ... )' [5]

After some years this UK numerary began suffering depressions, and one day collapsed from nervous exhaustion. She was put in the care of an Opus Dei doctor, who prescribed Librium and Tofranil, which she took 'out of obedience'. She was eventually enrolled in the University of Navarra's Institute of Journalism.

When she returned to London she took a job on the foreign news desk of the Guardian. She never personally sought to be a journalist; in her own words she 'was not cut out to be one'. The depressions kept recurring, and she was finally admitted as an out-patient to a psychiatric hospital, where she was treated by a psychiatrist who was also an Opus Dei numerary. She finally left Opus Dei in 1971, after four years on medication and psychiatry administered by Opus Dei members. She had £100 to her name, and had to give up her job for health reasons. Her family doctor, who treated her for the next two years, compared her condition to that of a former prisoner of war. Her freedom restored, she reverted to her original career preferences -- dance and languages.

Another example was given by a top Milan corporate lawyer who was attracted to Opus Dei by its work ethic. Then he found out, in his words, that 'complicity exists between the director and chaplain. They combine to interfere in your personal affairs and pressure you to make decisions that affect your private and professional life ... Every effort is made to make you spiritually dependent upon the organization. You must open your soul, be trusting and slowly they work upon you to empty yourself and acknowledge that in spiritual matters you are like a child, unknowledgeable and in need of help. Once you begin to accept the notion that you are a child in spiritual matters, then the next step is to get you to obey. "Obey intelligently but blindly," the local director would repeat.'

Humble yourself before your superior. That is the sure way to sanctity. Accept that and you have become a member of Christ's militia. 'It is surprising the number of strong-minded people who will give in to this concept of spiritual immaturity and the need to entrust your soul like a child to the Father,' he added. 'You see others do it -- your peers, whom you respect -- and you start saying, "OK, why not me?" And soon you're hooked.' In his circle were one of Italy's leading investment bankers, the managing director of the second largest privately held financial and industrial conglomerate, and a retired Fiat director.

Elizabeth Demichel was 'hooked' while a high school student in the Swiss city of Fribourg. Opus Dei has been active in Fribourg, a Catholic university centre of 40,000 inhabitants, since the 1960s. In her after-school hours Elizabeth frequented a youth club run by Opus Dei. She wanted to become a simultaneous translator and the club director suggested she take a four-year language course in Vienna. She was eighteen and it was her first time away from home. Her parents were only too happy when she announced that she had found lodging in a student hostel run by Opus Dei.

The atmosphere at the Vienna centre was warm. Other young women there, most more advanced in their careers than her, helped her and smothered her with friendship. When she announced-to the directress that she would like to become a supernumerary, the directress replied that a 'state of grace' enabled her to detect vocations and she recognized in Elizabeth the vocation of a numerary. The directress explained that even though numeraries took a promise of celibacy, they enjoyed the same liberty as other lay people. Surprised by the revelation that she had a vocation, Elizabeth became confused. The directress suggested she should talk about it to her confessor, the house chaplain, which she did. He was understanding and proposed that she go on a three-day retreat to reflect and question her soul. She didn't really want to go on a retreat, but agreed anyway.

During confession towards the end of the retreat, the priest suddenly affirmed, 'Well, you've decided, no?' Not expecting such a direct approach, Elizabeth replied, 'Yes'. And so she came to 'whistle' inside the confessional. Collusion? Of course not. Nevertheless she learned afterwards that the house numeraries held a celebration when told she had written her letter to the Father.

After 'whistling', Elizabeth was more fully indoctrinated into the ways of Opus Dei. She was given the internal Catechism, a booklet with 500 questions and answers which novices must learn by heart. As it had to be returned to the directress's office each evening, she was only allowed to study it for two or three hours at a time -- in addition to her language courses. She was also required to study the Ceremonial Book -- the Vademecum de ceremonias liturgicas. Another secret document, it too was kept in the house safe, along with the Opus Dei song book which contains the internal hymns and songs that women numeraries sing at tertulias and other gatherings. The song titles included Going Fishing and I Whistle So You'll Whistle Too. 'Fishing' is Opus-speak for recruiting and 'whistling' is when a recruit decides to join. The women numeraries sing these songs in front of prospective recruits who are unaware of their meaning.

When Elizabeth informed her parents that she had signed a 'contract' to become an Opus Dei numerary, she explained that it was not definitive because of a five-year acceptance period. Then towards the end of Elizabeth's final year of studies her parents suggested she should come home and think of looking for a job. They had spoken by then to the directress of the Opus Dei centre in Fribourg about the obligations of a numerary and were assured:

(1) A numerary lived in the same manner as any other lay person, with freedom to choose her employment and work as she pleased, where she pleased; (2) no vows or promises were required, but only a 'contract simple' by which the Work undertook to give numeraries the spiritual help they required, doctrinal formation, and guidance by the Work's priests in carrying out their apostolate, against which numeraries undertake to remain celibate, live in an Opus Dei residence if their work permits, and donate free time to the Work's collective apostolate; (3) if at any time a numerary discovered that she was not adapted to the Work's mission, she was free to leave; (4) numeraries retained full control over their personal possessions and inheritance, and contributed from their income as they saw fit.


Not long afterwards, Elizabeth wrote to her parents: 'To travel to another country can only be approved by the Father, while travel to another city or even another centre must be approved by the local directress. Therefore if I should return to Switzerland, it is because the Father wishes it and I will accept that as the will of God ...'

Concerned, the parents contacted the Opus Dei vicar delegate for Switzerland who assured them that he understood their concern and promised to do everything in his power to find a solution that would be in the family's best interests. Shortly afterwards, Elizabeth wrote to her parents: 'Daddy always wanted me to take a doctorate. That is exactly what I am now going to do! You also want me to leave Austria. That, too, I am going to do (after obtaining my degree)! In fact Monsignor Alvaro wants me to go to Sweden to enrol at the university there (it is important that it be re-Christianized) ... I have already enquired about the conditions of enrolment at the University of Stockholm.' After asking her parents to continue paying for her tuition, she added, 'Personally, I see in this request of the Father the will of God, Who always arranges everything for our greatest well-being.'

A psychologist had advised the parents that any show of opposition to their daughter's intentions would be exploited to turn her against them. Elizabeth now told her mother that she was going to make a will in favour of the Work. 'Don't worry, it's only for the little things that we have in our room,' Elizabeth said.

Her mother had read the Constitutions by then -- which the directress had never shown Elizabeth -- and knew that it was more serious. But it made her think. Whenever money is mentioned, Opus Dei becomes most attentive. She told her daughter that she was going to have a serious operation and wanted to bring her will up to date. She said Elizabeth was needed to co-sign the various papers with her brothers and sisters before going to Stockholm. Elizabeth talked to her directress, who agreed that she should go through Fribourg on her way to Stockholm. Permission for her to stay at home was denied. But her mother said that before the operation she wanted to take Elizabeth on a three-day retreat at a convent near Fribourg. The local directress agreed. During the retreat the mother mentioned the unethical practices of a sect she had read about. Elizabeth agreed that she could never belong to such an organization. At that point the mother showed Elizabeth a file on Opus Dei detailing everything she had mentioned. Elizabeth was shocked because the experiences related in the file so resembled what had happened to her and therefore it had to be accurate. As if an enormous weight was lifted from her conscience, she fell into her mother's arms. 'I can't belong to an organization like that, can I?' she cried.

To extract Elizabeth from Opus Dei was not easy. She had to write to the Father in Rome asking for permission to leave. In the meantime she kept out of sight as numeraries who knew her waited on the commuter station platform near her home on the outskirts of Fribourg to intercept her. Finally the vicar delegate called and accused the Demichels of 'kidnapping' their own daughter.

Opus Dei's first vocation in Britain, Father Michael Richards, also became disenchanted with the Work and in 1973 decided to leave. Tormented and by then a hypochondriac, he took a position as chaplain at the University of Bangor in Wales. He withdrew into himself and stopped taking medication, until he died of a cerebral haemorrhage in August 1977. When Vladimir Felzmann asked to leave the Work, the regional vicar took him to Michael Richards' graveside and said, 'You see, Vlad, what happens to people who leave the Work.'

Raimundo Panikkar, one of the Father's most gifted sons of the 1940s and 1950s, was sent to India to open an Opus Dei presence there with funding provided by the NSRC. A few years later Escriva de Balaguer called him to Rome to become chaplain at Opus Dei's Residenza Universitaria Internazionale. But it was not long before Panikkar decided that Opus Dei was suffocating him and in 1966 he prepared to leave. In the midst of these preparations he accepted to give a lecture at the Sacred Heart Convent in Bonn, where his sister had been a student. When he arrived at Bonn railway station, two former university friends -- both lapsed women numeraries -- were waiting to accompany him to the lecture. However, before they could greet him, Panikkar was intercepted by the regional vicar, Rev. Dr. Alfonso Par, and another Opus Dei priest. They whisked him away to the regional vicariat in Cologne. Concerned, his friends informed the Archbishop of Cologne, then Cardinal Josef Frings, of Panikkar's apparent sequestration. Cardinal Frings immediately had his secretary call the Opus Dei centre and ask to speak with Panikkar as the cardinal wanted to invite the celebrated theologian to lunch. He was told that Panikkar had changed plans and was leaving instantly for Rome.

Panikkar was escorted to Rome and then held at an Opus Dei residence for priests for the next ten days. Escriva de Balaguer was said to be furious over his suspected defection and asked that the Vatican secularize him. Paul VI, meanwhile, had been informed by a mutual friend of Panikkar's rough handling and replied that rather than the Church lose a priest, Panikkar should be released from Opus Dei. Panikkar in fact was expelled and, handed a one-way ticket back to India but no money, he was put on a flight to Delhi.

These recitals of loss of personal freedom, in which the members themselves are often willing accomplices, were related by people who left the organization. What about the views of those who remain inside? The 'extraordinary freedom' that an Opus Dei member enjoys was explained by Manuel Garrido, the information officer at the Sanctuary of Torreciudad. When asked where, for a numerary, the division lies between the spiritual and secular world, he avoided giving a direct answer by insisting that individual members enjoy total 'freedom'. He was clearly intelligent, extremely engaging and no reason existed to doubt his sincerity. But one wondered what would happen if he wished to expand his professional horizons by undertaking additional studies in London. Would he be free to do so?

'Of course,' he answered. But the 'of course' was tempered by an important proviso. He would be required to submit a detailed proposal and reasons for soliciting the move to his superiors. And what would happen if his superiors said no? He replied that it would be his 'joy' to continue the work he had been doing for close to twenty years. He wasn't forced to, he insisted, but he did it because of his 'love' for God, the Father and Opus Dei. [6]

That Opus Dei had developed a strong sect-like character did not seem to concern the Vatican unduly. The Work had amassed significant resources and was sworn to protect the Church from her enemies, which any pope could not fail to appreciate. Opus Dei's success was a reflection of the wisdom and foresight of its central directors. To understand the workings of Opus Central better a peek behind the massive black doors at 73 viale Bruno Buozzi in Rome is necessary.

_______________

Notes:

1. Vladimir Felzmann, 'Why I left Opus Dei', The Tablet, 26 March 1983.

2. Rocca, Op. cit., document 22, pp. 154-155.

3. Alberto Moncada, 'Catholic Sects: Opus Dei', Revista Internacional de Socialogia, Madrid, December 1992.

4. 'The Seed Bed of the Work', editorial in Cronica VII, 1962.

5. Eileen Clark, Opus Dei -- An 11-Year Experience of the Women's Section, February 1995 (unpublished), pp. 4-5.

6. Manuel Garrido, interviewed at Torreciudad, 21 June 1994.
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