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THEIR KINGDOM COME -- INSIDE THE SECRET WORLD OF OPUS DEI |
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5. 'Do That I See'
IN SEPTEMBER 1920, 'GOD'S GIFT TO THE CHURCH OF OUR TIME' [1] entered the Royal Seminary of San Carlos in Saragossa and his quest for spiritual fortune now began in an organized way. The next seven years would be a time of psychological testing, when his dreams of winning glory for God would suffer many hard knocks. To offset the hardship, he would experience his first inner locutions -- which he described as encouragements from his Maker -- but he kept them secret. Jose Maria was conscious that Saragossa represented an important gateway. It was by far the largest city he had known until then. It was the capital of Aragon, and its history was of the sort he thrived upon. Founded by the Romans, it had been sacked by the Goths and taken by the Moors, who in 712 made it an independent emirate. It was reconquered for Christendom in 1118 by Alfonso I of Aragon, who transferred his court there from Barbastro. Saragossa possessed two cathedrals: La Seo (the See), a former mosque, was the older; but the Metropolitana del Pilar the larger and more famous. It rises from the banks of the Ebro upon the spot where, according to legend, the Virgin Mary appeared to St James the Apostle. She was said to be standing on a pillar of jasper which she left behind as testimony of her coming, and it now stands beneath the Metropolitana's eleven multicoloured domes, protected by a sheath of bronze and another of silver, and lest we forget a statue of the Virgin stands upon its summit. To study in Saragossa, where he could follow courses in both theology and civil law, had required some extra string-pulling. An uncle, Canon Carlos Albas, lived in the city as well, but Jose Maria had little contact with him. Don Carlos did not approve of the business ethics of Jose Maria's father, blaming Don Jose for exposing his sister to the shame of bankrupcy. [2] Life at the seminary took some getting used to. Many of the students arrived at San Carlos still smelling of the farmyard; some found Escriva's manners affected. They chided him for his ostentatious piety. One remarked: 'I must say he was the only one of us who would go down to the chapel in his spare time.' [3] He spent long moments there, kneeling to one side of the altar, his gaze fixed on the tabernacle with the intensity of someone willing himself to enter the holy mysteries. It was not long before his classmates began calling him the 'Mystical Rose'. [4] When young men share the same dormitory, few secrets remain buried for long. One of the students discovered that Jose Maria used a cilicio. This medieval instrument of penitence is so uncomfortable it can only be worn for an hour or two at a time. But the barbs of the bracelet were nothing compared to the barbs he received from his peers for possessing such an instrument. What was happening outside the walls of San Carlos was largely unknown to the young seminarians. Jose Maria, for example, would have been oblivious to the fact that the world had entered a period of inflation unknown in intensity since the sixteenth century, or that the Spanish army was about to be engulfed in a Moroccan catastrophe in which some 7,000 troops would be massacred by Berber guerrillas led by the legendary Abd-el-Krim. Major Francisco Franco, second in command of the Spanish Foreign Legion, got his name into the newspapers as one of the few officers to fight with distinction. During his second year at San Carlos Escriva attracted the attention of the archbishop, Cardinal Juan Soldevila y Romero, who recommended that he be named prefect. This required his admission to the clerical orders as a novice, which meant he had to be tonsured. [5] The Cardinal personally shaved his head in a private ceremony at the episcopal palace. He was twenty years old and henceforth was required to wear a priest's cassock. As a prefect he was responsible for maintaining discipline, which meant that his relationship with other seminarians was placed on a new footing. Also as a special privilege he received the rector's permission to enrol in the civil law faculty at the University of Saragossa. Six months later -- in March 1923 -- a moderate Anarchist trade union leader, Salvador Segui, was killed by hired pistoleros in the streets of Barcelona. Buenaventura Durruti, a railway worker from Leon, and Francisco Ascaso, a waiter, swore revenge and decided to strike at the heart of the Establishment in a manner that would provoke national outrage. On 4 June 1923 they assassinated the eighty-year-old Soldevila, riddling his body with automatics. The police never found them. They fled from Saragossa during the night and disappeared into the unknown for a decade, spent as itinerant bank robbers and booksellers, treading revolutionary paths that took them from La Paz to Paris, robbing the rich to give to the poor, and inciting workers to revolt. Unfortunately for Spain, theirs was not an isolated act, but part of a chain that was leading the country to civil war. To prevent the country from sliding deeper into chaos, in September 1923 General Miguel Primo de Rivera, the military governor of Catalonia, seized power. Jose Maria was devastated by Soldevila's assassination. He was one year away from priesthood and he felt the loss of such a powerful sponsor even more deeply than the news received later that autumn that his father had suddenly died. Jose Maria admitted he had never been filled with 'filial affection'. But as head of the family, he was now required to shoulder new responsibilities for which he was hardly prepared. He found a small apartment in Saragossa into which he moved with his mother, sister and brother in time to celebrate a bleak Christmas together. Jose Maria was ordained on 28 March 1925. Three days later the new priest received his first pastoral assignment in Perdiguera, a parish of 870 souls 30 kilometres from Saragossa. The local curate was ill and Jose Marfa was named temporary regent. But he was not pleased. He feared it would cause him to miss his law exams. Jose Maria did not remain there long. Only six weeks later his Ordinary permitted him to return to Saragossa and begin preparations for his law exams. His finals were still two years off, but once awarded his degree he immediately obtained a two-year transfer to the diocese of Madrid-Alcala so that he could prepare for a doctorate in civil law at the Central University. He arrived in the capital in April 1927 with little else than a thick country accent and the dust of Aragon upon his cassock. He found lodgings in a residence for priests, run by the Apostolic Ladies of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, not far from the law faculty. About a dozen priests lived there and Escriva, at twenty-five, was the youngest. He paid five pesetas a day for full room and board. During the previous two years nothing had been heard of his longing to know God's intentions. Spain was enjoying a period of relative prosperity under the dictatorship of Primo de Rivera, who had booted out the corrupt politicians. Primo de Rivera was a prince of paradox. Never quite able to cast off his attachment for Spain's traditional past he nevertheless talked of drafting a new Constitution that would bring the country into the twentieth century. By the same measure, he proposed to overhaul the demoralized bureaucracy and restore faith in the army. His slogan was 'Fatherland, Monarchy, Religion' -- all institutions that Escriva identified with and wished to see prosper. To end the war in Spanish Morocco, Primo de Rivera adopted a proposal put forward by the newly promoted Colonel Franco to attack Abd-el-Krim's mountain stronghold. The plan required landing a force at Alhucemas Bay. During preparations for the campaign, Franco worked with the navy, experimenting with landing craft, and one morning aboard the gunboat that was assigned to him he was served breakfast by a young naval lieutenant, Luis Carrero Blanco. The meeting was fortuitous, for in the years ahead Carrero Blanco would become Franco's closest collaborator, and by the same occasion Opus Dei's strongest supporter. But those days were still far off and no-one could have foreseen the many twists that the careers of three men -- caudillo, priest and future prime minister -- would know in the interim. Franco's battle plan met with success: Abd-el-Krim's capital of Agadir was captured and the Rif leader surrendered to the French six months later. Franco was promoted to brigadier, becoming at thirty-three the youngest general in Europe since Napoleon. As for Primo de Rivera, his standing would never be higher. World markets were booming and Spain's raw materials were in high demand. Primo de Rivera had established good relations with the labour movement, permitting industry to improve productivity. He also introduced a public works programme that almost did away with unemployment. But Primo de Rivera was incapable of producing any meaningful constitutional reform. As Escriva would later point out in one of his maxims, without a plan it is impossible to achieve order. Primo de Rivera had no plan. Escriva, on the other hand, had a plan, stimulated in part by his encounter with the Apostolic Ladies. Their headquarters -- the Patronato de Enfermos, or Foundation for the Sick -- had been opened on 14 July 1924 by the king, giving some indication of their social importance. As Escriva got to know more about them, he saw an opening and offered to help. We are told that the ladies were charmed by his sweetness. In June 1927, he became their chaplain. The Foundation provided food, medicines, clothing and spiritual help to about 5,000 ailing or infirm who were confined to the solitude of their often miserable dwellings. Through a sister organization the Apostolic Ladies also ran sixty schools in the poorer precincts of the city and operated a string of soup kitchens. Not only did Escriva take in hand the chaplaincy but he was asked to organize catechism classes for the schools and provide spiritual care for the sick. As soon as time permitted, he chose as his confessor a Jesuit, Father Valentin Sanchez Ruiz, who worked at one of the Foundation's hostels. Jose Maria also registered for his first courses at the faculty of law. He proved during those first months in the capital that he was an effective organizer, ordering his life as if driven 'to cast fire upon the earth'. Most mornings he left the Larra residence before the others had come down for breakfast. He went first to the Foundation to celebrate Mass and then attended classes at the university. In the evenings he made his rounds, visiting the sick. He heard confessions and prepared children for First Communion. While fulfilling his apostolate among the poor, he celebrated private Masses for his patrons, the Apostolic Ladies. Two years previously, Angel Herrera had told ACNP members that higher education 'was a terrain virtually abandoned by Catholics'. He described the university as the summit of society. After meeting Herrera, Escriva saw the need for a university apostolate. He spoke of 'influencing able minds as a real source of potential good'. Intellectuals, he added, 'are like the snow-capped summits: when the snow melts, the waters pour down the valleys and make them fertile'. [6]This became his version of a holy 'trickle down' approach -- that a new regard for the Church must begin on the highest summits and gradually seep down through the layers of rock and soil to the fertile valleys. If the summits are sanctified the valleys will seed themselves. For the moment, however, while casting his regard towards the intellectual summits, Escriva was in danger of drowning in the swamps of Madrid's slums where he administered to the sick. He found them a spiritually-inert wasteland. The ideological causes that bred this wasteland were not his concern but the weight of anticlerical prejudices existing there did fall upon his shoulders and the burden was heavy. Moreover, the same anti-clerical prejudices he found in the slums were invading the university corridors and lecture halls. The hostility made him feel uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he sat for his first exams in September 1928. Immediately afterwards, the Vincentian Fathers held a retreat for priests. Diocesan priests were required to participate in at least one retreat a year. As it would be his last opportunity before the new term began, he decided to attend. He was given a room under the eaves where each morning after Mass he withdrew to read his diaries. On the Feast of Guardian Angels -- Tuesday, 2 October 1928 -- he was in his room reflecting on the words of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar of Jericho who asked Jesus, 'Master, do that I see!' [7] when suddenly the Lord opened wide His arms and displayed before the young priest a vision of Opus Dei, 'as He wanted it, and as it would become according to His wishes down through the centuries'. [8]At least this is what the postulation for Jose Marfa Escriva's sainthood unveiled to the world more than fifty years later. In his own lifetime, however, Escriva was reluctant to discuss what happened on that October morning. 'Please do not ask me to go into details about the beginnings of the Work ... They are intimately connected with the history of my soul and belong to my inner life,' he told an interviewer in the late 1960s. [9] For Escriva, then three years into priesthood, this vision -- one of several 'cornerstone' visions he would receive over the next three years -- was an expression of God's will. The message was simple: 'Sanctify work, sanctify oneself through work, and sanctify others in their work.' From his interpretation of Genesis -- and particularly the fifteenth verse of the second chapter which states that God put man in the garden of Eden 'to till and keep it' -- he concluded that God had created man to work. This conclusion was justified, he believed, because the Genesis reference to man's labours -- i.e. 'tilling' the garden -- came before his fall from grace. Therefore work was at the very heart of the human condition. It was part of God's plan. His 'Genesis 2:15 proposition' was simply reasoned. Anyone could understand and identify with it. Having set it to paper, had the young priest departed this world leaving only that proposition behind, he would have made an enduring contribution to Catholic thinking. But Escriva did not stop there. He went on, adding over the years layer after layer of dogma to this basic affirmation, giving rise after a prolonged period of incubation to a fascinating ecclesiastical power play designed to ensure its everlasting acceptance by the Church. Escriva's Genesis 2:15 proposition was an important correction of the theological principles established in the thirteenth century by Thomas Aquinas (c. 1225-74). Aquinas held that work in all its forms was a condition of man's fall from grace and therefore an impediment to sanctity. But since work was necessary, it had to be tolerated so long as goods and services were sold at a just price. This principle had been reaffirmed by the Council of Trent (1545-63), and declared official Catholic doctrine by Leo XIII in 1879. According to Escriva's revelation, however, Aquinas had got it wrong. Now Escriva was not tackling some obscure myth. By affirming that work should be placed at the forefront of Christian living, and that a layman could attain Christian perfection through professional excellence, he was chipping away at the very foundations of the Church in order to re-orient and reinforce her theological systems. Escriva believed that this flaw in Aquinas's philosophy was impeding the Church's ability to satisfy the spiritual requirements of a modern, industrialized society. [10] On that October morning the Divine Sower planted a seed that in another forty years would bring about a change of Church doctrine. The seed took the longest time to sprout. It only began to show signs of life many months later, and would require a dozen years to put forth the first blossoms. Moreover, Escriva consistently denied that Opus Dei was his creation. He insisted that he was only the gardener. This is important to understand. If accepted, it bestows upon Opus Dei a sort of divine licence that, in the view of its members, permits it to function in a sphere beyond the laws of man. From the very outset, then, in order to become a member one had to accept without qualification that this Opus was truly God's creation, and that Escriva had only acted as proxy. If not accepted, the gates remained closed. For Escriva nothing that morning was without divine meaning. The birth of God's Work on the Feast of Guardian Angels meant that they had a special role to play in its development. For him, they were powerful allies and it was prudent to seek their protection. At the same moment he received the revelation, the pealing of the bells from the parish church of Our Lady of the Angels, not far from the Vincentian residence, came to his ears, He took this to be another divine pointer, affirming the Marian quality of the Work. 'From that moment on, I never had any tranquillity, and I began to work -- reluctantly -- because I did not like the idea of being the founder of anything ... I had my twenty-six years, God's grace and a good sense of humour, and nothing else. But just as men write with a pen, our Lord writes with the leg of a table to make it clear that it is He who is doing the writing: that is what is so incredible, so marvellous,' he explained. [11] Marvellous perhaps, but also deceptive. Escriva avoided defining the full range of the divine plan he received. The message as he revealed it to the world was, by his later words, not the complete message. The complete message could only be made known to initiates, according to the degree of their immersion in the Work. Thus from inception Opus Dei led a layered existence, with only the outer layer being for mass consumption; successive inner layers were reserved for higher ranks in the hierarchy. Escriva's principal concern was to restore the Church to a central role in society. This remains the core of the Work: 'the labour of placing Jesus [i.e., the Church] at the summit of all human activity throughout the world'. To do this requires a dedicated, disciplined militia -- troops of various ranks and stations who, by sanctifying their work, sanctify (i.e., convert) others and sanctify the workplace. 'What good is it to me if so-and-so is said to be a good son of mine, a good Christian, but a bad shoemaker? If he doesn't strive to learn his trade well or doesn't give it due attention, he won't be able to sanctify it or offer it to God. Doing one's ordinary occupation as well as possible is the hinge of true spirituality,' is one Escriva saying that Opus Dei fondly repeats. So now we have the basics. There is a public version of the Work's founding -- to promote the sanctity of work -- and a hidden version that explains why a Catholic militia is needed for 'in-depth penetration' to protect and place the Church at the summit of human activity. To sum up the public version: God showed Escriva what He wanted -- an enterprise that encouraged ordinary Christians to carry out, each in their own way and according to their own skills, a personal apostolate that would reach areas not normally accessible to priests. Very good. But there was more to come. For example, the enterprise had no name -- not yet -- and neither had the holder of God's proxy written down any statutes or given it a formal structure. It would grow according to no blueprint other than the memory of a vision fixed in his mind. He told nobody about it for days or even weeks. That Tuesday was also the first day of the new university term. Was this confirmation that the Work also had a specific university apostolate? And, too, at about the same time the bells of Our Lady of the Angels began to peal, General Primo de Rivera returned to the capital from a weekend tour of the Basque provinces. As soon as the Irun Express pulled into the North Station, he was whisked off to a cabinet meeting. Did this mean that the Work had a political mission as well? Escriva had said that nothing on that October morning was without meaning. The first person he told about the revelation was his confessor, Father Sanchez, who encouraged him to persevere. Escriva also spoke to a few other priests, within and outside the diocese. Then, with growing assurance, he began visiting friends and future followers, writing letters, trying to interest others in his mission. At the outset he had little success. There was no infrastructure, no tradition to build upon. Moreover, he had his duties to fulfil as chaplain of the Foundation for the Sick, lecturer in law at a private academy and post-graduate student. Gradually he dropped the latter two to concentrate more fully on God's Work. The next cornerstone vision came on St Valentine's Day 1930. One of the founders of the Apostolic Ladies had asked Escriva to celebrate Mass for her eighty-year-old mother, the Marchioness of Onteiro, at the family mansion. While serving Communion, Escriva said God instructed him to create within his still unnamed work a separate section for women. Some weeks later Escriva had another soul-searching session with Father Sanchez. Two versions exist as to what happened. The one accepted by Opus Dei is that the Jesuit, full of enthusiasm, asked, 'And how is this work of God going?' Escriva was still searching for a name for his enterprise. The one suggested by Father Sanchez's apparently innocent question seemed providential. It fitted like a glove, a Work promoted by God -- Opus Dei. [12] It had finally come together! But a second version of these events suggested that Escriva lifted the name from another priest, Father Pedro Poveda Castroverde, who in 1912 had founded a similar sort of association for lay people, Poveda's Teresian Association was primarily interested in the spiritual and pastoral formation of teachers. It received diocesan approbation as a pious union in 1917 and was recognized by Rome in 1924, four years before Opus Dei was born. Father Poveda was almost thirty years older than Escriva and was well established in Madrid as a royal chaplain. He appeared to understand the problems and ambitions of the younger priest and tried wherever possible to help. Poveda was in the habit of referring to his Teresian Institute as the Obra, meaning 'Work', and Escriva adopted it, using the Latin Opus, to which he added Dei. When he asked Father Sanchez for his opinion, the Jesuit reportedly responded that it sounded pretentious and advised him to change it. Escriva kept the name but changed confessors. Seven weeks after receiving the second 'cornerstone' revelation, Escriva drafted a first pastoral letter for his handful of followers. The Work was now two years old; it apparently had a name, but little else. Escriva himself had but one full-time disciple, Father Jose Maria Somoano Verdasco, approximately the same age. Somoano was from Asturias. After arriving in the capital as a young priest he became chaplain at a home for young delinquents and orphans where Escriva gave catechism classes. 'They used to come with runny noses. First you had to clean their noses, before cleaning their poor souls a little,' Escriva would remark during public speaking tours years later. Father Somoano also played an important role in Opus Dei's earliest development and may have been running with the concept somewhat faster than Escriva appreciated. Escriva's first pastoral letter was dated 24 March 1930. In the style of papal bulls, it became known as Singuli Dies. It set out the Work's basic programme in terms described as 'clear and limpid, like the language of the apostles'. [13] Singuli Dies foresaw, vaguely, the forming of a corps of Christian militants who, though they dressed the same as everyone else in their station in life, were nevertheless set apart from them. 'The supernatural mission that we have received does not lead us to distinguish or separate ourselves from others, it leads us to unite ourselves to everyone, because we are the equals of the other citizens in our country. We are, I repeat, equal to everyone else, though not like everyone else. We live in the same general environment, wear normal clothes, have no distinctive mannerisms. We share all the ordinary civic concerns, and those pertaining to professional work and other activities.' [14] The letter contained twenty-two sections. From it, according to one Opus Dei specialist on canon law, the organization's first statutes were developed. [15] The text seemed to suggest that Opus Dei's mission was national and that in 1930 the Founder had not yet considered a worldwide apostolate. And yet, thirty-seven years later, Escriva would claim, 'From the first moment, the Work was universal ... It was born not to solve the concrete problems facing Europe in the twenties, but to tell men and women of every country and of every condition, race, language, milieu and state in life (single, married, widowed or priest) that they can love and serve God without giving up their ordinary work, their family life and their normal social relations.' [16] Singuli Dies is viewed with suspicion by some former members who wonder whether it might not be an Opus Dei attempt to rewrite its early history. Curiously, Opus Dei refused to provide a full-text copy, claiming 'this letter and several others are being studied with the ultimate objective of publishing them with commentaries ...' The Founder was during this time working on bringing in disciples. Early in the summer of 1930 he had written to Isidoro Zorzano, whom he hadn't seen for many years. Then on 24 August 1930, Escriva was on his way home, but not along his usual route, when 'by coincidence' he saw Isidoro Zorzano walking in the opposite direction. 'I've just been to see you, and when I found you weren't at home, I was going to look for a restaurant before catching the night train north to join my parents,' Isidoro told Escriva. He quickly added that he was in need of spiritual advice. But there was nothing particularly spectacular about this 'coincidence', as they met literally a few paces from Escriva's office. 'What's troubling you?' Jose Maria asked. Isidoro explained that he believed God was asking him to become more actively involved and he did not know how to respond. He enjoyed his work as an engineer with the Andalusian railways in Malaga and didn't want to give it up. Escriva, of course, had the solution. 'The Lord has called us to the Work to be saints; but we will not be saints if we do not unite ourselves to Christ on the Cross. There is no sanctity without the Cross, without mortification,' he told Isidoro. Zorzano had to catch his train. But before leaving Escriva's office he asked to join Opus Dei. Jose Maria improvised an oblation ceremony, requiring Isidoro to promise before God to devote his life to apostolate while abiding by the ecclesiastic counsels of poverty, chastity and obedience. [17] Isidoro Zorzano thus became Opus Dei's first lay member -- the first to persevere -- and from then onwards he called his boyhood friend Father. [18] _______________ Notes: 1. The phrase 'Gift from God to the Church of our time' was used by one of the seven judges in summing up his reasons for supporting Escriva's beatification. 2. Bernal, Op. cit., p. 66; and Berglar, Op. cit., p. 20. 3. Opus Dei Newsletter No.9, In the Seminary at Saragossa, p. 7. 4. Gondrand, Op. cit., p. 43; and Vazquez de Prada, Op. cit., p. 88. 5. This practice, begun in the fifth century, was abolished by Pope Paul VI in 1972. 6. Vazquez de Prada, Op. cit., p. 107. 7. Cf. Mark 10:.51-52. 8. Berglar. Op. cit., p. 39, citing Articoli del Postulatore, section 45, Rome 1979. 9. Pedro Rodriguez, Palabra, Madrid, October 1967. 10. Thomas Aquinas (1225-74) was canonized forty-nine years after his death. This was very quick. But the canonization of the founder of the Black Friars, Dominic Guzman (c.1170-1221), had been even swifter. He was made a saint thirteen years after his death. 11. '2 October 1928', Opus Dei Newsletter No. 1 (London 1989), p 9; and Amadeo de Fuenmayor et al., L'itineraire juridique de l'Opus Dei -- Histoire et defense d'un charisme, Desclee, Paris 1992, p. 36. Also Bernal, Op. cit., pp. 109-110. 12. Berglar, Op. cit., p. 64. 13. Taken from the French edition of Berglar's Opus Dei (p. 83). 14. Berglar, Op. cit., p. 66, quoting from section 5 of the letter of 24 March 1930. 15. De Fuenmayor et al., Op. cit., pp. 75-77. 16. Conversations with Monsignor Escriva de Balaguer (Peter Forbath, Time Magazine), Scepter, London 1993, p. 62. 17. Giancarlo Rocca, 'L 'Opus Dei' -- Appunti e Documenti per una Storia, Edizioni Paoline, Rome 1985, p. 20, citing the document Beatificationis et canonizationis Servi Dei Isidoro Zorzano Ledesma viri laici, signed by Cardinal Bacci in Rome, 1946. 18. Gondrand, Op. cit., p. 80.
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