Opus Dei: Monsters, Dupes, and Slaves?

One comes away from reading Gareth Gore’s new book, snidely titled Opus, in need of a shower. And not because of the supposed revelations in the book, but rather because of the malevolence that Gore ladles out on every page. Equal dollops of malevolence and duplicity. 

First, consider duplicity. The touchstone of most of the book, alongside Gore’s intense dislike of St. Josemaria Escriva, is how a cabal of Opus Dei members called—get this—the Syndicate took over and stole hundreds of millions from one of the largest banks in Spain in order to feather the bed of St. Josemaria Escriva and fund Escriva’s master plan to take over the Church and the world. This led to the eventual collapse of Banco Popular. Gore never explains why a supposedly greedy St. Josemaria and his secret cabal would want to kill the golden goose. 

Gore conducted dozens of interviews with family and friends of Banco Popular chief executive Luis Valls-Taberner, a member of Opus Dei. After spending hundreds of pages trashing Valls-Taberner, the always oily Gore actually thanks the family members for their cooperation. He “sincerely hopes they don’t read the book as a condemnation of Luis.” One wonders if the family would have spoken to Gore had they known the purpose of the book was to sully the reputation of Valls-Taberner. 

A number of Opus Dei members gave interviews to Gore, including Brian Finnerty and Jack Valero, spokesmen of Opus Dei in the United States and the United Kingdom. He also interviewed Fr. Tom Bohlin, who had been the vicar of Opus Dei in America. These are smart and savvy men. In the acknowledgement he says, “I hope they recognize that my approach to it and all our interactions have been at all times professional, driven by nothing other than a desire to understand the truth.” You may be tempted, as I am, to believe that Gore lied to them about his real intentions.

As for Gore’s malevolence, there is nothing that St. Josemaria did or said that Gore does not portray in a negative, even wicked, light. He oddly criticizes Josemaria for giving religious formation classes to women rather than somehow getting involved in the Spanish Civil War.  As for Gore’s malevolence, there is nothing that St. Josemaria did or said that Gore does not portray in a negative, even wicked, light.Tweet This

Escriva wanted money to establish a student residence at the local university. For this, he told his followers, “We must make the Father-God dizzy with our pleadings.” This prayer is deeply suspicious to Gore, who sees only evil. However, from then to now, Opus Dei residences on college campuses have been a godsend to thousands of students around the world.

Gore quotes St. Josemaria, “People who don’t belong to the Work don’t have the spirit of Opus Dei,” which is not remarkable because there is a unique “spirit of Opus Dei.” But then Gore claims Escriva said, “Nor do they have the grace of God.” The hatred of Escriva is very deep here for Gore to actually believe the saint said people outside of Opus Dei do not have the grace of God. 

Gore’s essential malevolence divides Opus Dei into three parts: monsters, dupes, and slaves. 

The monsters are the numeraries, those who work in the world but live in community, dedicated to lives of apostolic celibacy. They make themselves fully available to advance the mission of Opus Dei, which is nothing more than bringing others closer to God in their everyday lives. 

The dupes are those sorry, misled supernumeraries who are likely married and working in the world. They receive spiritual direction from the numeraries, take the Opus Dei message to family and friends, and empty their bank accounts for the numeraries. Gore says they are Escriva’s militia sent to “infiltrate” every stratum of society. To be sure, Opus Dei members are at every level of society; they do not “infiltrate.” But “infiltrate” sounds sinister for Gore’s purposes.

Finally, there are the slaves. And this is the most heartbreaking part of the book. Numerary assistants are women who—through choice—live totally hidden lives of service, dedicated to finding Christ in their everyday work, creating a family atmosphere in the residences where numeraries live. Gore says they are slaves and that many of them are the victims of human trafficking. This is a monstrous charge against the most amazing and dedicated women. 

Numerary assistants give classes to young women on the home arts: how to chop, sauce, baste, roast, sauté, how to set a table, how to fold napkins, the proper way to clean, and, through their example and spiritual direction, how to live close to Christ. In poor areas, numerary assistants teach these skills to poor girls so that they may find jobs. Some of these young women find they have a calling to join Opus Dei. Some of them from Argentina are now claiming coercion and that they were moved from country to country, hence the absurd claim of human trafficking. Opus Dei in Argentina categorically denies these charges. 

There have been misunderstandings and attacks against Opus Dei from the very beginning. Gore writes about the early days in Madrid, where there were charges of brainwashing and even torture in Opus Dei centers. 

Modern man sees an intense religious commitment by a layman and they think “priest” or “nun.” We understand those vocations and can see them; they wear uniforms that identify them. But this Opus Dei thing? They do not wear anything that tells us who they are—no unique clothes, no badges, not even any lapel pins—therefore, they are secretive, and that can only mean evil. According to Gore, numeraries live in “lodges,” not centers or residences. “Lodges” sounds faintly sinister.  

At its heartlessness, Gore’s book is an attack on the numeraries. They are evil manipulators of men and women and children and society. Their sole mission is to take over the Church and the world and line Opus Dei’s pockets. They are friendless phonies who badger, coerce, and threaten with hellfire. Gore has met some bitter former members through social media. 

It is a fact that some people make choices they are not happy with. People divorce, sometimes bitterly and publicly, and they sue. People join religious orders and then leave unhappily. They look back at what they see as wasted lives and are angry. They go public. Some people join the Church and then leave and spend their lives attacking the Church. This sometimes bitter regret at life’s choices happens in all walks of life and undoubtedly has happened in Opus Dei. In this case, it has become a line of attack for the likes of Gore and others who hate this quite remarkable and divine institution that has led hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, to lives of holiness and sanctity.