Are the travails of Opus Dei terminal?

The scene is as grotesque as it is predictable: Opus Dei is having its foundations reshaped under the pretext of "Ad charisma tuendum," its dicastery changed, its bishop removed, its statutes have been demanded to be reformed for two years, and now that they have finally submitted a proposal to the Pope, they are publishing a "question and answer" article as if they were talking about changing the lyrics of the Work's hymn. But no, they are not taking away the "Long live the Father"; they are taking away the ground. And they continue to claim that what is falling on them is holy water. Even if it smells of something else.

Official source here.

In this statement updated on June 11, Opus Dei responds with its classic monotone and self-indulgent voice to questions that no one has asked: "Is it true that we have been given an ultimatum?" "No, no way, we've only presented the new Statutes after two years, a vacant See, and a new Pope, because we like the synodal and participatory process."

Of course, none of this prevents us from continuing to deny that there has been pressure, imposition, or even the slightest concession to the suspicion that Pope Francis wanted to reduce the Work's influence. The problem isn't the amputation, but the failure to apply anesthesia.

Congresses that don't congress

In April, an ordinary Congress was convened, which, due to the Pope's death, ended up being a "little Congress" to renew offices and bless what had already been decided by others. They tried to score a goal against Rome, and Leo summoned them on his first day in office, reminding them that they owed him some statutes.

The Prelate, by the way, met with Leo XIV and—according to the note—informed him of "the state of the Work." We imagine the scene: the Pope nodding gravely while looking at the papers, and the Prelate trying to convey enthusiasm for something that everyone knows is not a good idea. It's more than the final chapter of a carefully concealed surrender.

"Nothing's happening, we are just changing the legal framework and the spirit."

One of the gems of this text is the way it attempts to explain that the legal framework doesn't affect the lives of the faithful. Of course, of course. Because we all know that when an institution loses its original structure, changes dicastery, its head is denied episcopal rank, and is required to adopt new Statutes drafted under outside supervision... what doesn't change is the essential.

That is, they change your house, they fire you from your job, they assign you a legal guardian, and they tell you it's not that big a deal, that you're still you. And if that doesn't convince you, it's because you haven't fully understood the charism.

It's better to keep quiet.

Of course, the text clarifies that the changes will not be made public until the Pope approves them. In other words, we won't know what has been negotiated, conceded, or amended until there's nothing left to discuss. Transparency on demand. Or rather: Roman style.

Meanwhile, Opus Dei repeats its favorite refrain: obedience, fidelity, unity. As if repeating it would be enough to stop the tectonic shift under their feet. But fear not: the "charism" will remain intact, they say. Perhaps one day they will also continue to exist in the form of a private association of the faithful, but with the charism "intact."

At this point, it's clear that anyone who wants to defend the integrity of Opus Dei has two options: either acknowledge that they are being dismantled step by step from Rome, or continue playing the stupid game of "everything is fine." Without defending them—because they also bear their share of blame in the recent history of the Church—we at least won't be the cheerleaders for their institutional self-deception.

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