Opus Dei was the pope's main response to changes in the modern world that were alarming for Christianity. In his apostolic message of 1995, the pope wrote: "Let us not allow Christ's Cross to be abolished, for if it is abolished, man will have neither roots nor prospects, he will be null and void. This is the lament of the end of the 20th century, the lament of Rome, Constantinople, and Moscow." This despairing call was dictated not only by the Christian world ceding positions to, for example, the missionary efforts of Islam, but simply because the world of profit and social injustice, which is immoral from the Christian standpoint, began to prevail.
A colleague of mine, writing about the death of John Paul II, said that the Russians would remember him as a fighter against communism. This is true. But if my fellow citizens knew a little more about the pontiff, they would remember him not only as a fighter against totalitarianism, but as also an equally consistent fighter for social justice.
While John Paul II was alive, the left wing of Catholicism developed, Liberation Theology, at the opposite pole from Opus Dei. I have met the man behind it, Padre Gutierrez from Peru, many times. Karol Wojtyla, who as a child dreamed of becoming a goalkeeper, and then an actor, also worked in a quarry. He learned all about social depths mean and the real weight of a pick axe. He thought that poverty had to be fought, although, naturally, not with Bolshevik methods.
Opus Dei helped the pope. Its founder Jose Maria Esgriva back in conservative Spain in 1928 advanced a fundamentally new interpretation of "holiness" - a major tenet of any church and religion. Esgriva argued anyone could claim and work for holiness and you did not have to enter a monastery, mortify the flesh or eat locusts to do so. Just the opposite. Escaping from temptation by barricading yourself in a cell is far easier than living in the real world, keeping your faith and integrity. Try, said Esgriva, being a saint in life, remaining a good family man, a businessman, or a lawyer. This doctrine, although developed by a Catholic, is quite applicable to modern Russia, and many other countries steeped in corruption and other vices.
While for most of his life Esgriva was a pariah, during John Paul II's lifetime the Opus Dei founder swiftly rose through the ranks, from the Vatican's enfant terrible to an officially recognized saint. The pope saw a new banner for the evangelization of the modern world.
The pope was, of course, perfectly aware that the path from a businessman or a lawyer to a saint is long and difficult, but what mattered was the first push along the way. During Wojtyla's life, the number of cardinals, bishops and mere clergymen in Opus Dei soared. When celebrating Trinity in 1991, for example, the pope ordained 61 clergymen, 20 of them from his best-liked diocese. It is not inconceivable that Opus Dei will attempt to place its supporter at the head of the Holy See during the current conclave. It could succeed.
Does any of this concern Russia? The answer is obvious: yes. Ideas have proven many times that they are material. And ideas do not recognize borders. This is particularly true given that Opus Dei was initially conceived as a "diocese without frontiers." We should not forget the past. It is anybody's guess who reared more atheists - communism or Voltaire. Both entered Russia on foreign passports.
Should we fear the ideological tenets of Opus Dei? I do not think so. There is no need to convert to Catholicism in a predominantly Orthodox country, just as there is no need in the 21st century to seek shelter in monasteries from the temptations of life. Yet to be decent, or at least try to be such, is not forbidden either to a businessman or a lawyer, or even a rich Russian.
So, this is another reason why it is a pity that Karol Wojtyla has passed away. What if his noble idea might have succeeded and led to something worthwhile?
