Opus dei: secretive cult or "work of god"?

Thanks to the continued success of Dan Brown's bestseller The Da Vinci Code (Doubleday), including the film version that will hit theaters later this spring, the Catholic group Opus Dei (www.opusdei.org) has been thrust into the media spotlight, causing widespread speculation about its status as a "secret society" and concern about what some perceive as cult-like practices.

Founded in 1928 by St. Josemaria Escriva (canonized by Pope John Paul II in 2002), Opus Dei is not a church movement, per se; it is actually a personal prelature, unique in the Catholic Church. John Paul II established that status in 1982, with a structure similar to a military archdiocese in that its governance pertains to persons rather than a geographic territory or diocese. The head of Opus Dei, Bishop Javier Echevarria Rodriguez, has jurisdiction over the "persons" in Opus Dei only for matters that regard Opus Dei's internal life, while in matters that pertain to all Catholics, members of Opus Dei are under the jurisdiction of their local bishop, according to John L. Allen Jr. in Opus Dei (Doubleday).

The spiritual foundation of Opus Dei, whose name literally means "work of God," is the sanctification of ordinary work. In other words, whether one is a barber, a stay-at-home mom, a banker, or a teacher, one can cultivate an awareness of God through one's work and by following Opus Dei's "Plan of Life," the structured daily spiritual schedule that includes daily Mass, meditation in front of the Blessed Sacrament, and prayer.

"It teaches laypeople how to be contemplatives in the middle of their workaday world," says Father Michael Barrett, an Opus Dei priest in Houston. "It's a coach for them to turn their work into prayer."

"It's like having a personal trainer in the spiritual life, helping you to keep fit," says Cathy Hickey of New York. "People like me need the encouragement."

Opus Dei's 85,000 worldwide members (3,000 in the U.S.) include supernumeraries--the married members who live otherwise normal lives--as well as numeraries, celibate members who live in Opus Dei centers. Opus Dei also has a number of collaborators, nonmember supporters, including non-Catholics and even non-Christians.

Opus Dei also operates a number of corporate works including schools, neighborhood centers, and chapels. All of Opus Dei's corporate works have secular-sounding names like "Windmoor" and "The Heights," which cause some to accuse Opus Dei of secrecy. Its members see these names as a way of demonstrating Opus Dei's secular character.

Though Opus Dei is admired by millions worldwide, it has many detractors. There is no official Opus Dei "party line," but Opus Dei members who are involved in U.S. politics overwhelmingly skew to the right (and admirers include prominent conservatives like syndicated columnist Robert Novak and Pennsylvania Senator Rick Santorum). Many have criticized some Opus Dei members' involvement with fascist regimes in Spain and Chile.

In addition, the organization has received negative attention from former members. Some formed the Opus Dei Awareness Network (www.odan.org), which provides "information, education, and support to people who have been adversely affected by Opus Dei." ODAN criticizes Opus Dei for what they perceive as questionable practices, including excessive secrecy.

Dennis Dubro, an Opus Dei member for 17 years, including 13 as a numerary, left the organization after its leadership pressured him to conceal dishonest accounting practices while he served as bursar for an Opus Dei residence in Australia. Dubro, who lives in Fremont, California, contributes testimonials to the ODAN website and says that Opus Dei hides information not only from outsiders but from its own membership as well.

"The supernumeraries--the soccer morns, the hard-working dads--don't have a clue what's going on," Dubro says. "They're not involved in the shenanigans as much as the leadership is."

ODAN contributors also criticize Opus Dei for encouraging acts of self-mortification among its celibate members. Though acts of self-mortification can include practices like selflessness or self-discipline in one's work, numeraries wear a cilice, a spiked chain around their upper thigh, for two hours a day and also hit themselves on the back with a knotted cord, a practice called "the discipline," which was once common in some forms of Catholic piety. Though this practice may seem disturbing, Opus Dei members think it needs to be understood in the proper context.

"It's no different than other practices of trying to experience closeness to our Lord in suffering," says Barrett. He also says the infamous Da Vinci self-mortification scene is grossly exaggerated. "The daily workout I do at the gym is far more uncomfortable than the cilice," he says, also mentioning that Mother Teresa used a cilice.

Barrett says that, above all else, Opus Dei is founded on the radical premise that laypeople are the key to the church's ability to transform and sanctify society.

"It's about the lay person being dedicated to bringing [gospel values] to bear on temporal structures. That's the heart of it."