The English distrust the Work's Spanish ways

David Twiston Davies
The canonisation of St Josemaria Escriva in Rome last weekend signals official acceptance of Opus Dei; but it will serve no good to pretend that "the Work" does not arouse deep suspicion. Like the Benedictines, the Dominicans and the Jesuits, which each came into being to fulfil a specific need at a particular time, Opus seemed a disquieting and pushy arrival at the Curia from the middle1950s onwards; its aim of creating a body specifically for lay people, seeking holiness in the world, was startlingly new. It is. alas, a sad truth of human nature that success breeds jealousy, and the favour which Opus has received from the present Pope has not won it friends everywhere.
Much of Opus's trouble stems from its Spanish origins. There is a directness in the Spanish approach to life which is out of sympathy with the elliptical British. Escriva's dictum "an hour of study, for a modem apostle, is an hour of prayer" is an admirable axiom about prayer, but somehow the message it conveys about academic work has a rigour which seems slightly unEnglish.
The British do not have the antipathy for the Spanish which they feel towards the French. But they know much less of Spain; and Spain's burning ambition to take over Gibraltar, irrespective of Gibraltarians' wishes, only feeds distrust. An early instance of this difference in mindset occurred when St Ignatius of Loyola offered the services of his Jesuits to Cardinal Pole when he became the last Catholic Archbishop of Canterbury.
Aware of the suspicions of Philip of Spain who had just married Queen Mary, Pole turned them down and simply asked for their prayers.
Opus also has a suspicion of those who do not belong to its ranks, which derives from its foundation in that uneasy period before the Spanish Civil War. St Josemaria was frequently in danger from antiCatholic Communists.
For a time he hid in a lunatic asylum; once he offered to hear the confessions of strangers with him in a room while the authorities searched below, knowing that if found doing this he would have been certainly shot.
Members of "the Work" are noticeably discreet They make their contacts quietly. Invitations to a reception for a senior Opus prelate failed to give any clue as to what was involved. A young girl was invited to an Easter A-level revision course in Manchester without realising that it had been organised by Opus; when she said she was going on retreat at one of the great monasteries she was left with the feeling that this could never be a valuable alternative to Opus.
Opus has been making efforts in recent years to alleviate the rigour of its traditional discipline, including flagellation. But perhaps its greatest disadvantage is that it shows little sign of that obvious point of contact with British social life, a sense of humour though St Josemaria was not beyond cracking jokes on occasion.
Suspicions are already abat
ing, and will undoubtedly continue to do so; but it should be remembered that although the Jesuits were eventually accepted, they were involved in some bitter clashes with missioner members of other Orders during the penal centuries, and the word "jesuitical" has entered the language. As Opus becomes more confident, it can be expected to take a more relaxed approach to English life, while sticking to its ideals, as it becomes part of the multi-seamed fabric of Catholic life. "
The Work" is not the sole solution to the Church's current problems, but there is no doubt that it is badly needed.
David Twiston Davies works for The Daily Telegraph