Wednesday, September 27, 2006

RE: Opus Dei Spirituality

While Opus Dei is a orthodox guide and help for Catholics seeking to deepend their spiritual lives, I take issue with the oft-repeated claim that it has given the Church the first authentic lay spirituality. For example, James Martin. S.J. reports in "Opus Dei In the United States":
They all felt that Opus Dei is unfairly maligned. Part of the reason, they said, has to do with their “unique” charism—the spirituality of everyday life. Though lay spirituality has long been a Catholic tradition (St. Francis de Sales wrote his Introduction to the Devout Life [1608] with laypersons in mind), members say there are still many who do not understand their charism. “Opus Dei represents a new concept in the church,” said Bill Schmitt, “and this has given rise to misunderstanding, even, in some instances…slanders.” But he added, “A lot of it comes from bad will.”

Similarly, Dennis Helming says this about Josemaría Escrivá in his Opus Dei founder Monsignor Josemaria Escriva's contribution to modern lay spirituality:
This self-dubbed "anticlerical" monsignor believed so much in us weaklings - quite ordinary, mediocre men and women - that he was able to pull off what no one had ever attempted on such a large scale throughout the sweep of Christianity.
Alas, we find that the claim about a new lay spirituality is repeated even by Albino Cardinal Luciani (before he became Pope John Paul I). In his "Seeking God through Ordinary Work," the cardinal writes:

In less eloquent words, the "everyday realities" constitute the work which one does every day; and the "flashes of divine splendor" are those things which lead to a holy life. Msgr. Escrivá, with Gospel in hand, constantly taught: God does not want us simply to be good, he wants us to be saints, through and through. However, he wants us to attain that sanctity, not by doing extraordinary things, but rather through ordinary common activities. It is the way they are done which must be uncommon. There, in the middle of the street, in the office, in the factory, we can be holy, provided we do our job competently, for love of God and cheerfully, so that everyday work becomes, not "a daily tragedy," but rather "a daily smile."

More than three hundred years earlier St. Francis de Sales taught something along the same lines. A preacher had publicly consigned to the flames from his pulpit a book in which St. Francis had said that in certain circumstances dancing can be permissible; the book also contained a whole chapter on the “worthiness of the marriage bed." However, Msgr. Escrivá went further than St. Francis de Sales in many respects. St. Francis proclaimed sanctity for everyone but seems to have only a " spirituality for lay people” whereas Msgr. Escrivá wants a lay spirituality." Francis, in other words, nearly always suggests for the laity the same practical means used by religious, but with suitable modifications. Escrivá is more radical; he goes as far as talking about "materializing" --in a good sense-- the quest for holiness. For him, it is the material work itself which must be turned into prayer sanctity.
One is disappointed that the cardinal would write this, as if he were ignorant of the history and development of Christian spirituality.

Were not the early Christian martyrs examples of authentic lay spirituality, even before their martyrdom? We are to enliven all our actions with the infused virtue of charity. Let us take into account the different kind of works that people do, the different functions that they have in society--it is clear that the work that bishops and priests are involved in are, by their very nature, of a different order, involving in themselves Holy Things. But what of the temporal work of the Christian faithful. Did they think that it could not be sanctified? Let us take for example the work of monks -- their original opus dei was certainly prayer, sanctifying the hours of the day with the divine office? (See the Rule of Saint Benedict.) Still, the monks also had to do more mundane tasks, in order to sustain themselves, and these were done in the spirit of prayer and charity, so as to make prayer unceasing, even if their minds and hearts were not consciously praying.

Fr. Louis Bouyer states my point better in An Introduction to Spirituality (NY: Desclee, 1961):

Work
Whether his vocation is intellectual or manual, whether he is inclined toward tasks of directing or of executing, or toward the most disinterested kinds of cultural work, he must, therefore, see his work as being ultimately the special form that "faith working through love" is to take in him. This means that he should make of the work for which he feels himself more and more particularly destined his own special way of living charity, that he should make it his self-gift to the creative, the generous design off God Himself which at the same time is being opened out to him by this faith. This shoudl take on a twofold meaning for him, subjective and objective, which cannot be divided in the concrete without thereby making charity unreal.

Under one aspect, each person's work should be for him his special opportunity to live in all his activities that charity which results from faith, arousing in us an act of thankksgiving in which the whole being gives itself to God recognized in Christ. Under the other asepct, which cannot in practice be separated fromt he first, his task is to introduce this charity, from the point of his own insertion in the world, into the life of other men.

Under this aspect, everything that he does, in the most seemingly "profane" orders of activity, must be done in such a way as to break up the present organization of the world in view of the satisfaction of egotistic lusts which cannot help secretly warring against one another even when they provisionally aid one another. For the Christian, on the contrary, even through the very conflicts in which his fidelity to his faith will necessarily involve him with those who refuse it, his whole activity has no final purpose other than that of gathering all men, insofar as this depends on him, into the communion of God's charity. It is by giving this meaning, this ultimate purpose, to all his activities, it is in carrying them out concretely always in the light of this finality, that the Christian will make all his works an achievement of the charity which should be reigning first of all in his own heart.

If this is to be possible, it presupposes that the activity to which he devotes himself willb e one that can be "supernaturalized." Any activity, that is, which in itself involves sin or which leads to it as if inevitably, the Christian must ruthlessly avoid. But those which he may make his own can be consecrated in two different ways. They can be consecrated positively, in their positive human value: teh enrichment that they can give, along [with] their own proper lines, to his capacity and to the capacity of tohers to conceive and to carry out their vocation as children of God, called to live in the presence of the Father in a continual and total "act of thanksgiving." And they can also be consecrated negatively, simply by the abnegation they require, and so by the witness given to the cross, to its fruitfulness "in Christ": a witness which they provide the Christian the opportunity to render by providing him with a cross which is peculiarly his own.

But when we leave the abstract order and come to consider particular cases, we see that in every Christian's activity these two possibilities are always as it were very closely overlaid. Experience shows that the activities whihc are the most positive from the first viewpoint, such as the loftiest cultural pursuits, are endowed with a fearsome tendency to turn themselves into some kind of idol-making. Thus, for the faithful Christian, they cause an internal tension perhaps more painful than any bitterness that might be connected with humbler kinds of work. And, consequently, they involve him in conflicts, in particularly tragic ruptures with those who are pursuing the same tasks without the same faith....

On the other hand, there are servile forms of work which seem at first sight to have nothing but a trial of faith to offer the man who devotes himself to them, so barren are they of positive human satisfaction. And yet frequently they may afford him opportunities for generous contact with others, so clear that faith and its witness can as it were already gain in them some foretaste of the eternal reward. The poor man who gives a cup of water to another poor man may find therein an immediate recompense, of a fullness (because of a purity) certainly surpassing those that the Christian artist, and still more the Christian politician, can find in any of his achievements.

More simply still, the more the horizons of any truly creative work are extended and braodened, the more it requires us continually to go beyond what we have already seen and achieved--a requirement which is without doubt one of the most crucifying forms that the cross can take on in our human life. The most ambitious, the grandest human works are those the achievement of which, even when relatively successful, and in proportion to their success, is the most unsatisfying, if not delusive. For the Christian who measures the always painful hiatus that separates every partial incarnation fo creative charity from its absolute realization, and who knows further that his loftiest achievements, which are at best only provisional, can be changed into even more redoubtable obstracles in the path fo the final realization of charity--this experience of the cross within human creativity knows no limits....

Conversely, for the same Christian who knows the transcendent value of the "love of God poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit," the work most unrewarding from the human viewpoint, when it is th eoccasion for an act of pure charity, may perahsp become more luminous than the most glorious human achievements.

Whatever the task at which he labors, the Christian "in the world" must, therefore, believe that he is collaborating in the coming of the Kingdom of God. But he must believe at the same time that the achievements which at first seem the most brilliant may reveal themselves as the most fragile and even the most deceptive, just as he must be convinced that the failures whihc seem the most irremediable eneter in to the plan of God and its infallible realization. It is here that he finds his cross, the cross which is his own: not aside from his work, but deeply within it. (168-171)
Granted, the state of the Church has been lamentable for a while, though undoubtedly some dioceses have been better than others. But how many of our faithful have been exposed to the spiritual teachings of Christianity? Whether it be the separation of spiritual theology from moral theology in the university, or the perception by many that moral theology and (the Church's moral teachings) was legalistic, one sees the gradual loss of understanding of the spiritual things in many parts of the Church. Those who claim that St. Josemaría Escrivá anticipated the universal call to holiness in Lumen Gentium are merely ignorant of Catholic tradition and history, and why exactly the Church is always in need of continual reform. This teaching had been obscured in the minds of many over the centuries, but it was never completely forgotten, as various bishops, spiritual masters and theologians (like Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, O.P.) took pains to point out.

In their mind, he had a great influence--not a surprising judgment on the part of Opus Dei members, who look at the growth and global presence of what is now a personal prelature. And so how was St. Josemaría Escrivá able to reach out to so many? Through a movement that was able to cross the boundaries of dioceses--a band-aid solution, because bishops were unable to produce the results entailed by the duties of their office. If bishops taught the faithful what they really needed to know about Christian morality and spirituality, would something like Opus Dei really be necessary? I don't think so. In fact, the danger with any movement is that it can lead to a cultish mentality, severing the connection between the faithful and the bishop, between the faithful and the life of the local Church, especially as it is concretized in their parish. Hence, the repeated statements by both the Church (and affirmed by the leadership and priests of Opus Dei) that movements and the dioceses are to have a healthy relationship to one another, and so on.

But if the core teachings and message are nothing other than the Christian message, is there really anything new under the sun? When we look at Opus Dei's evenings of recollections and retreats, we see the use of modern spiritual exercises and devotions, especially paraliturgical devotions. (Whether the practice of meditation in modern Catholic spirituality really differs from that practiced by monks and so on, I will leave unexamined for now.) While they emphasize frequent reception of communion and attendance of Mass, it is not clear to me that fostering an authentic liturgical spirituality is part of the charism of Opus Dei priests. I do not doubt that individual priests may encourage those under their spiritual direction to pray the liturgy of the hours, but I do not believe that it is a prominent or "official" part of their formation. Should the liturgy of the hours completely replace other forms of prayer and practices? No--the latter can certainly supplement the liturgy of the hours. But, the question is whether one has an integrated liturgical spirituality or if it is merely one part of a fragmented prayer life.

I will be surprised if someone in the future were to write about Opus Dei spirituality being a new, separate school. In many ways, there is only one spirituality, in so far as there is one source, the Holy Spirit. Everyone is called to be an athlete of God. But this one spirituality can take many forms, as our roles differ; nonetheless there should be certain core elements--not only reception of the sacraments, but I believe a liturgical spirituality.

See also Jordan Aumann's work on spirituality, Louis Bouyer's book on liturgical piety.

Finally, there is the question or whether all forms of work are morally defensible. There are some acts which are intrinsically incompatible with the love of God--fornication, for example. Similarly, there are forms of work which cannot be sanctified, such as prostitution or robbery. Now if an organization or practice is in some way disordered (as it often is the case in our contemporary capitalistic society), can my involvement in that organization or work be completely free from disorder? Even if I am not responsible from the evil to which my work contributes, should my conscience not be nagging me instead of reassuring me that everything is all right, since I am in the state of grace? If we are unaware of the evils that are present due to a lack of social justice, should we not, as active participants in our community, learn more, and abstain from materially cooperating with those who are responsible for those evils when possible? If there is any group which should be catechizing the faithful on the social teachings of the Church, it should be Opus Dei. But I don't see this being done. We should be questioning our assumptions about the economy and our practices and arrangements. The difficulty of finding answers should lead us to put our trust in God, and not in those deemed to be authorities by the world, and to begin to seek answers in the teachings of the Church, instead of worldly wisdoms (like liberalism).

The message of Opus Dei
More documents about Opus Dei
Opus Dei files.

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