Part 3 of 4
Terracina: Salta di FondiOne day Monsignor Escriva called us to say that there was a house in Terracina that met the basic needs of the students of the Roman College of Holy Cross during the summer vacation where they could be close to the beach. He told us there was a small administration but that, unfortunately, it was not suitable (no conviene) that we go swimming, although we could go for walks and "wet our feet." We should offer it up to God for the Work that our brothers might be holy.
There was not to be a regular administration in Terracina for the moment. Accordingly, the Father had resolved that his sister Carmen who was going to Rome could be in Terracina with one of us, for example, Enrica Botella, until the house that Opus Dei had acquired for Carmen and their brother Santiago was ready. He added that eventually the house would be for the Work. He told us that it was necessary to begin to clean that house even before the workers entered, because it was very dirty. He had decided that Encarnita and I accompanied by Dora and Rosalia should go, but that absolutely nobody in the house had to know about it.
Tia CarmenWe were delighted at this sign of confidence from Monsignor Escriva, since nobody knew that Tia (aunt) Carmen [8] was coming to live in Rome and absolutely nobody was aware that a house was being readied for her and Santiago. The house was on the Via degli Scipioni.
At noon Don Alvaro and the Father called to tell us which afternoons we could go. The house was a villa in a lovely residential area, and we all thought that once clean, it would be very pretty. There were four of us and each one of us attacked one sector. It was quite a battle. The house was so filthy that I remember perfectly how I had to grasp a kitchen knife with both hands to scrape the tiles of the walls of a bathroom. There was a laminated layer of grime. It was unbelievable. Several months were spent on this initial cleaning, until the workers began to come. So, we went to clean Sunday mornings. I recall that one Sunday morning Monsignor Escriva and Don Alvaro came to see us and brought assorted pastries and snacks. Obviously the Father had purchased them in a bakery. Our jubilation was extreme, naturally. From time to time we saw Javi, an extremely young numerary, gilding ceilings. Javi customarily accompanied the workers to our house and was characteristically unpleasant. Years later, this youth became the Father's secretary and custos. [9] On August 7, 1955, he was ordained a priest. When Monsignor Escriva gave us the news, I remember we made a gesture almost of repugnance. Monsignor Escriva knew through Rosalia that Javi was not well regarded by any of the women numeraries. Shortly after his ordination, Monsignor informed us that that afternoon "Don Javier" would direct our meditation. This priest was Father Javier Echevarria. He was named vicar general of the Opus Dei Prelature in 1982 and elected prelate of Opus Dei on April 21, 1994, after Bishop del Portillo's death on March 23, 1994.
Tia Carmen was in Terracina for several months during which a number of numeraries accompanied her. Encarnita spent more than a month there. When Tia Carmen's house was finally remodeled and redecorated, they brought her and Santiago to live in Rome. They had two servants recruited by the region of Italy and a dog named El Chato.
Once Tia Carmen was installed in Rome, the Father designated a few female numeraries to visit her, so that she would always have company every afternoon. Only Encarnita Ortega and Maria Jose Monterde went from Villa Sacchetti. From the Italian region Mary Altozano, Mary Carmen Sanchez Marino, and another person whom I no longer recall, usually went. It surprised me that I could not go to her house after having struggled with all the cleaning. It surprised her, too. One day she asked me: "Tell me why you can't come to my house." I answered honestly: "Tia Carmen, they haven't told me to go." When I asked if I could go, they said that the Father hadn't said anything. She made a gesture as if to say "What a bother!" and added: "I don't understand it, after you suffered through the cleaning." I laughed and let the matter die.
Tia Carmen and I got along very well. When she came to our house for lunch from time to time, she seemed smothered by people who kept kissing her and taking her by the arm. I always believed that this obsequiousness annoyed her. She and I had simple, short conversations. She felt very uncomfortable outside Spain. Although her house was very pretty, at rock bottom it was like being in a gilded cage. She could not do what she wanted, because her whole life was directly or indirectly mapped out by the Father. Yet, Monsignor Escriva did not go to see her very often, and when he went, conversation was not easy. Encarnita, who was present at more than one of these visits, told us that it was very uncomfortable to witness the silences that prevailed between Tia Carmen and the Father.
Commenting about one of these visits, Monsignor Escriva told us that one day when he went to see her, Carmen was fairly disagreeable and he remarked:
"Well, to everybody I am the Founder and president general of Opus Dei, and for you, who am I? Some nut?" [10]Tia Carmen retorted aggressively: "That's right, some nut." Monsignor Escriva recounted this with amusement, even laughing.
I had not known Tia Carmen in the early days of Diego de Leon. I only met her in Lagasca after making my admission. Since Carmen and Santiago had no house of their own, for a long time they lived at Diego de Leon, where there were a couple of rooms for them. There are former Opus Dei male numeraries who do not have fond memories of Carmen's stay at Diego de Leon in the sense that they were all in some degree obliged to court her as the Father's sister.
I saw Santiago a couple of times in Villa Sacchetti at lunch, because it must have been the Father's birthday or some festivity, but I do remember him from our brief conversations as a very different personality from Monsignor Escriva in the sense that he seemed much more straightforward to me.
Personally, I always felt sorry for Carmen and Santiago because it seemed to me that they lived in a fish bowl. They didn't belong to Opus Dei and yet their lives depended on the Work. On the one hand, Monsignor Escriva made a show of being distant toward his siblings. On the other, on the grounds that they gave him all they owned to start Opus Dei -- something of which I have never seen proof and which was never explained in detail to us -- he gave them the royal treatment. Monsignor Escriva provided them with a splendid house under the pretext that when they left Rome or died the house would be turned over to the Work. He established the tradition that on Carmen's and Santiago's saints days, birthdays, Christmas, and so forth, all the regions would send them presents, which were not mere trifles. We gave with pleasure, but they got exceptional treatment solely by dint of being the Founder's sister and brother. Thus, we were greatly surprised in Venezuela, when a note arrived saying that henceforth no more presents would be sent to Santiago. (Tia Carmen had already died.) Later we found out that Santiago was about to get married.
What is not true is what Andres Vazquez de Prada, one of the official Opus Dei biographers of Jose Maria Escriva, narrates about Tia Carmen in his book, when he describes how the Father's siblings went to live in Rome: "Santiago had been working in the legal profession for some time. Nor did Carmen change her occupation. She was available to help at times in matters that were not especially pleasant. When bank negotiations had to be undertaken, the Founder's sister got up her courage; she put on her finest apparel and went to get loans. The truth is that without much collateral, they greeted her with courtesy to be sure, with a 'Come in, countess.' And she overcame the obstacles." [11] If Tia Carmen were alive, she would say to Andres Vazquez de Prada with all the frankness that characterized her, that he was inventing a fairy tale, and would laugh in his face. That description is false, first, because neither Carmen nor Santiago were involved in financial affairs of the Work. Second, because Carmen did not speak Italian nor did she know any banker. Third, because although I truly loved her, I cannot say she "looked like a countess."
What Carmen did do was to embroider blouses for some of us. She embroidered very well and she enjoyed it. Like any woman her age, she also liked to chat and not be left alone. She very much liked plants and had a green thumb. I would joke with her saying that she could get a flower from a dry stick, because sometimes walking along the street, she would cut a twig that protruded from a grill, plant it in her house, and get flourishing growth.
More than once some of us would go with Tia Carmen to have an iced coffee. She loved to invite us or accede to our request that she invite us to a coffee shop.
She didn't like changes. She hated to see new faces.
In 1956, when I told her that the Father had said I was going to Venezuela, she came to lunch, and gripping my arm, said to me in a low voice: "But where is my brother's head? Now that you manage everything that has to do with the press and all is going so well, he sends you to Venezuela. He's crazy!" "Don't say that, Tia Carmen," I pleaded. "It's hard for me to go, but the Father has his reasons."
She would shake her head without being convinced.
When a numerary from the Women's Branch central advisory would leave for another country, it was the custom to have her picture taken to be left at the house.
Since I disliked going to the photographer, I asked Tia Carmen to accompany me. She agreed. As we talked along by the Tritone she asked me what I wanted her to give me as a souvenir. "Two things," I said. "First the rosary you use every day, second, that you have a picture taken too, and give it to me."
She looked at me with a very peculiar smile and said: "All right. But it will have to be taken now, just the way I am, because I'm not coming another day."
At the house, I had been given the address of a photographer in that very street, but when I arrived it seemed to me that it was not the sort of place to bring Tia Carmen, so I decided on the spot to go to Luxardo nearby, a very good photographer, who took good pictures of both of us. One of my pictures stayed in Rome, and they told me to take two copies to Venezuela. Oddly, these pictures of Tia Carmen are those that remained officially in Opus Dei for posterity, since she died the following year, on June 20,1957, and I am speaking of an episode at the end of September 1956.
She forgot to give me the rosary, but assured me that she would send it before I left Rome. She did. It was a very pretty rosary with silver filigree. For the sake of clarification, I should mention that the only gifts a member of Opus Dei can keep forever, for which no superior can ever ask, are those given by the Father or by Tia Carmen. However, Mercedes Morado, in a fit of rage, took it from me in May 1966, and never returned it.
I was deeply affected by Tia Carmen's death. We knew she was seriously ill, because they informed all the regions that she had cancer. When I returned to Rome in October 1965, I went to visit her grave, which, by the way, could not be in a more inconvenient spot. I questioned Lourdes Toranzo, who had been with her in her last illness. Lourdes told me that Tia Carmen said again and again that she wanted to die in Spain, but that Monsignor Escriva would not permit it, and -- Lourdes went on -- they kept telling her she would stay in Rome and that she should offer it up for the Father and for the Work. Finally after much insistence, she agreed.
"It was horrible," Lourdes told me, "because she did not want to stay and it was terribly difficult to convince her."
The scenes that Lourdes Toranzo described in Rome with such naturalness remained etched in my mind. It made me wonder why Monsignor Escriva had been so stubborn. Why did he want to rule even over the life of his family and even refuse the wishes of a dying person. I could. never understand that cruelty and over the years I still do not understand. Does this not contradict what Vazquez de Prada assures us that Monsignor repeated [12] and that I too heard him say insistently: "I am a friend of freedom because it is a gift of God, because it is a right of the human person ... ?" Carmen did not deserve to be kept from dying where she wished.
Women's Branch Central Government
The Opus Dei Women's Branch central government is called the Asesoria, a term translated into English as advisory, and its members advisors. This central government was initially headquartered in an apartment at 20, Juan Bravo Street in Madrid.
In 1953 Monsignor Escriva was deeply alarmed because he sensed that the central secretary, Rosario de Orbegozo, was deforming the spirit of Opus Dei, and that the young Opus Dei numerary women who composed the central government, under her sway, were acquiring a deformed spirit, especially in regard to the unity of Opus Dei. This danger he saw not only in the central government where the assessors dealt with the ecclesiastical assistants for the Women's Branch, the general secretary, and the central priest secretary, but also in the regional Spanish government, whose directress at that time was Maria Teresa Arnau.
It is important to keep in mind that Monsignor Escriva's understanding of unity was monolithic. No divergence from his opinion was allowed. Dialogue does not exist in Opus Dei. You do things because they are done "just so." "Just so" means that everything is carried out according to rescripts, notes, and instructions sent by the Father. No one with "good spirit" dares to deviate a fraction of an inch when the Father gives suggestions. The problem is not exactly fear of disobedience, but a lack of unity. Everything is always based on the claim that "God wants things thus." This monolithic spirit was so imbued in every member that not to live in the Work conforming to the manner indicated by the Father would have been a serious breach against unity.
To strengthen this unity, therefore, Monsignor Escriva decided that some members of the women's government, including Marisa Sanchez de Movellan, Maria Teresa Arnau, Lourdes Toranzo, and Pilar Salcedo, come to Rome as simple numeraries. As those in positions of authorities were transferred, the vacant positions were filled with others whom the Father carefully selected.
Every time one of these numeraries arrived, she had a private conversation with Encarnita Ortega by order of Monsignor Escriva. The session lasted for hours and sometimes for days. We would have had to be deaf and blind to not hear the newly arrived person sob and then see her with red eyes. Frequently, she was requested to write down the matters where she did not measure up to the unity of the Work.
Although we did not know the topic of these conversations, months later, we found out, because Encarnita herself commented on them to those of us who formed the central advisory, explaining that "it was providential" that those numeraries had come to Rome and that the scoldings were necessary "to cut off the evil at the root." By evil, of course, is understood "lack of unity."
We must have repressed any questions we had about this procedure, reassuring ourselves that it was necessary to preserve unity. Today I am forced to recognize that it has an alarming resemblance to Stalin's tactics when he required party members to confess errors of "wrong interpretations" of Communist dogma. Making those persons feel guilty created a kind of dependence on the source of truth -- in our case, Encarnita and Monsignor Escriva.
One could fill books on the topic of Opus Dei unity. In Opus Dei the theme of unity is relevant under any heading. It is discussed so frequently because it is considered the treasure of the Work. The chapter entitled "To Love Unity" in the Opus Dei book Cuadernos [13] hammers away insistently in every paragraph. "We must love the Work with passion. One of the clearest indications of this affection is to love its unity, which is its very life. Because where there is no unity, there is decomposition and death." You must "care for, watch over the unity of the Work, and be ready to defend it from any attack, if that should occur." One could never criticize, much less contradict, Monsignor Escriva, because that would have meant lack of unity. The same doctrine is applied to the counselors in the countries where Opus Dei operates. The regional directress, in principle, ought to accept the approach expressed by any of the ecclesiastical assistants, either counselor or regional priest secretary, lest she be on the brink of a fault against unity.
Clearly, Encarnita was the woman numerary "with the best spirit" in the Work and, further, the one who "enjoyed the Father's complete confidence." There was a halo of sainthood around Monsignor Escriva. All his old articles of clothing from handkerchiefs to underwear were kept, and it was "an enormous piece of luck" for one of us to get anything that the Founder had used. For example, I still have a pair of very unusual desk scissors that he used until one of the points broke. Curiously, out of habit, I had them in my study until one day, a Dominican friend, Friar Jose Ramon Lopez de la Osa, who was spending some time in Santa Barbara, criticized those scissors. I said to him reproachfully: "Don't insult the scissors that used to belong to Monsignor Escriva." No more than three days had elapsed when he appeared at my house and deposited genuine paper scissors on my desk saying, "You can throw out the 'blessed' [he used a different word] scissors of the Founder."
Toward the end of the summer of 1953, Monsignor Escriva called all the numerary women including the auxiliaries to the kitchen of Villa Sacchetti. Don Alvaro del Portillo was with him. When he was assured that absolutely everyone who lived in the house was there, he said he had a very important announcement to make. It was so silent you could have heard a needle drop.
Monsignor Escriva informed us that he had been planning for a long time to have the Women's Branch central government "close by" (cerquica) to be able to govern in a coordinated fashion. Accordingly, in agreement with Don Alvaro, they had decided that from that day on the Women's Branch central advisory would be established in Rome. He was going to tell us who the new superiors were. The list was as follows:
Directress of Central Government -- Encarnita Ortega
Secretary of the Central Government -- Marisa Sanchez de Movellan
Vice Secretary of St. Michael -- Maria del Carmen Tapia
Vice Secretary of St. Gabriel -- Maria Jose Monterde
Vice Secretary of St. Raphael -- Lourdes Toranzo
Prefect of Studies -- Pilar Salcedo
Prefect of Servants -- Gabriela Duelaud
Delegate for Spain -- Maria Luisa Moreno de Vega
Delegate for Italy -- Maria del Carmen Tapia
Procurator -- Catherine Bardinet
The surprise was indescribable. None of us expected this. He said to me personally:
"We are giving you two jobs so that you can carry the weight better like a good little donkey."
He also announced that as Encarnita would now be the central directress, Begona Mujica, a numerary from Bilbao who had been in the central government in Spain and had arrived a few months earlier at the Villa Sacchetti administration, would now direct that administration. The directress of the region of Spain would be Crucita Taberner.
This central advisory, together with Monsignor Escriva, the Father, Father Antonio Perez-Tenessa as the priest secretary general, Don Alvaro del Portillo as procurator general, Father Jose Maria Hernandez-Garnica as priest central secretary, formed the worldwide central government for the Opus Dei Women's Branch.
Both Monsignor Escriva (who also belonged to the general council or Men's Branch central government) and the other priests who were part of the central advisory all had a full vote and some of them a veto. The only one of them who resided in Rome, besides Monsignor Escriva, was Alvaro del Portillo. The others continued in Spain where the general council for the Opus Dei Men's Branch was still located.
According to Opus Dei's Constitutions, responsibilities of these posts are as follows: the central advisory directress under the guidance of the president general and the central priest secretary devotes her efforts to the overall leadership of the Women's Branch.
The secretary of the central advisory distributes tasks among the vice secretaries and other government members and supervises the faithful fulfillment of their obligations. She replaces the central secretary (or directress) in case of absence or incapacity, and prepares the official minutes of the central advisory meetings.
The vice secretary of St. Michael has responsibility for the formation of all Opus Dei female numeraries and associates in any country where there are members of the Work as well as to further any activity related to these members.
The vice secretary of St. Gabriel has responsibility for everything that concerns supernumeraries and cooperators worldwide, both their formation and activities.
The vice secretary of St. Raphael has as her charge the apostolate and proselytism of young people in all Opus Dei houses worldwide as well as to further any kind of activity that leads to an increase in vocations or work with youth.
The prefect of studies has charge of all those matters that refer to education, whether spiritual or intellectual, of ordinary numerary women.
The prefect of servants has charge of the religious and professional formation of servant numeraries.
The delegates' mission is to study problems of their respective regions. They represent the country within the central advisory and in the regional governments they rank immediately after the regional directress and have a vote and veto power in the respective women's regional advisory.
Every five years, the central procurator must inspect the account books of every region herself or by representative, in order to correct any defects and faithfully implement norms set out by the institute's general administration. Each quarter she will receive from the regional procurators statements of accounts, which must be submitted to the scrutiny of the central directress and the advisory. The term of these positions is five years.
To facilitate understanding of the government of Opus Dei, I include a diagram on the following page.
OPUS DEI CENTRAL, REGIONAL, AND LOCAL GOVERNMENTSDuring all the years in which I was part of the Opus Dei government, it was officially collegial but in practice acted at the pleasure of the Founder. To put it more politely, the government was a "directed democracy." Let me give an example: Monsignor Escriva decided that it was necessary to give major impetus to the region of Colombia and that it would be good to send one of the numeraries then on the central advisory. Summoning Encarnita and myself, he asked us how we felt about assigning Pilar Salcedo to Colombia as regional directress to replace Josefina de Miguel, who had begun the foundation of Opus Dei women in that country. Although Pilar Salcedo then held the position of prefect of studies on the central advisory, we immediately answered that it seemed a very good idea to us.
On the spot Monsignor Escriva had us call Pilar to the Villa dining room. When Pilar appeared, the Father spoke to her very affectionately, saying that he wanted her to take on the important task of regional directress for Colombia, but that it was up to her to decide. He overwhelmed her with all kinds of flattery: "You know, daughter, what confidence I have in you," "I know you will do good work there, because you have spent time close to me and know how deeply the Father loves his daughters." Pilar turned red at the news, but was deeply moved by "the confidence the Father was placing in her." Naturally, she agreed to go to Colombia. Monsignor Escriva immediately called a meeting of the central advisory for that afternoon "to tell the others." When the whole central government gathered with Monsignor Escriva and Don Alvaro del Portillo in the Villa Vecchia dining room, the Father said that he had called us together to let us know that Pilar Salcedo would leave for Colombia in a few days. Praising that country, Monsignor Escriva pronounced a sentence that became famous within Opus Dei over the years: "Colombia, my daughter, is the country of emeralds. But the best emeralds are my daughters, if they are faithful to me" (si me son fieles). It is worth stressing that when Monsignor Escriva spoke about fidelity, he frequently used sentences such as "If you are faithful to me," "Be faithful to me." That is to say, I never heard him say, "Be faithful to the church." He always seemed to be more concerned with fidelity to himself than what was due God.
Returning to the story of Pilar Salcedo's departure for Colombia, Monsignor Escriva added jokingly that he wanted an emerald "to use as a paperweight," and he suggested how large a stone he would like by a gesture of his hand. If my memory serves me, I believe I heard that years later they sent him the desired gem from Colombia.
Obviously, the government was not authentically collegial. In a collegial system, Monsignor Escriva would have proposed that a numerary from the central government be sent to another country, giving an opportunity for everyone to ponder the pros and cons. Since Opus Dei claims that its members have the freedom to accept or refuse to go to a country which is not their own, he would have given the interested party at least a week to reflect on the proposed new assignment. A subsequent full meeting of the advisory ought to have had at least a consultative vote to express their judgment. But that is not how things were done in this case, nor when the Father sent Maria Jose Monterde as directress to Mexico, Gabriela Duclaud as directress to the United States, Lourdes Toranzo as directress to Italy, or myself as directress to Venezuela.
Government at the Father's pleasure is based on number 328 of Opus Dei's Constitutions. "The Father has power over all the regions, centers, and each member and possession of the institute, which power is to be exercised according to the Constitutions." [14] Before meetings we were alerted to those matters in which Monsignor Escriva had a preference. There was voting, of course, but mostly on the issue of the permanent incorporation of a member, whether numerary or auxiliary; votes were taken on very few other issues. While a member of the central advisory, I never witnessed a single case of disagreement with the Father; I wonder what would have happened if someone had said "no" to one of his suggestions. The truth is that we spontaneously repressed possible questions, because we believed that raising an objection would have been a fault against unity.
Since the advisors' house was not completed, the government meetings took place in the Villa Vecchia dining room. This dining room was familiarly called "the Father's dining room." It was never remodeled and retained the style of the original villa. It had two large windows that opened onto the garden, called Garden of the Villa Vecchia, and two doors, one of black wood which opened on to the villa vestibule, and the other, upholstered to muffle sounds, led to the administration pantry. In the center was a refectory table which could seat fourteen or fifteen persons, two armchairs and a number of high-backed chairs similarly upholstered in "cardinal" red velvet.
There were no drapes or curtains on the Villa Vecchia windows, because the windows were mostly of leaded glass. The small pieces of glass cast pretty refractions into the rooms.
Until the Montagnola, as the central assessors' house was called, was finished, the new assessors continued to live in rooms in Villa Sacchetti. Our cleaning duties were unaltered. The only novelty is that we spent less time in the ironing room and instead worked on what Maria Luisa Moreno de Vega and I previously had done and which was now divided among all of us as a function of government, since we were all major superiors.
For many months we had two rooms in Villa Sacchetti for our work as assessors. One was the same secretarial room that Maria Luisa Moreno de Vega and I had used and that Encarnita Ortega and Marisa Sanchez de Movellan now used. The other was opposite the secretarial room and had been the bedroom of a numerary. There were two tables in the room where most of us worked. One was of normal height and the other very low. The only other furnishing was some chairs. It was uncomfortable to work at the tables because we all had to share them, but we made no mention of our discomfort.
Every morning, once Encarnita and Marisa had read the mail from abroad, they gave each of us the letters from the country that corresponded with her, plus a note to guide us in our response. Included, naturally, were the letters directed personally to the Father.
Encarnita frequently entered our room when she needed to comment on something, ask our opinion, or give us instructions.
Monsignor Escriva frequently came to this work room with Don Alvaro and would talk to us about the spirit of Opus Dei. His greatest concern was to impart the spirit of unity as an indispensable foundation for "good spirit." This refrain may fatigue the reader, but it was the nucleus of Monsignor Escriva's doctrine regarding the internal functioning of Opus Dei. He spoke about apostolate in very general terms: "We have to carry our salt and our light to all souls." He mentioned Jesus Christ, but as preamble to speaking about Opus Dei. On the few occasions he spoke about the church, he mentioned the work Alvaro del Portillo or Salvador Canals did for the church, but he frequently conveyed the impression of the Vatican's lack of comprehension of Opus Dei. If he spoke of the Society of Jesus for any reason, he always referred to the Jesuits as "the usual ones" (los de siempre). When Monsignor Escriva was photographed with the Jesuit General Father Arrupe, the picture appeared in the Madrid daily ABC with the cupola of St. Peters in the background. Monsignor Escriva was not openly pleased, except that it showed that the Jesuits had to take Opus Dei seriously. Those were not his words, but the context made it plain. [15]
On one of those visits to the office, he remarked: "I prefer a thousand times that one of my daughters should die without receiving the sacraments, rather than that they should be administered to her by a Jesuit."
Frequently he talked to us about cleaning and especially about cleaning his room. He insisted that his room was simply a kind of corridor, which was true in a way. His office, however, was not simply a corridor, nor was the room where he ordered that special glass cases be constructed to keep all the donkeys and at a later stage ducks that men and women numeraries from all over the world sent him as presents. The collection was picturesque and varied. It was based on the story that one day he prayed to the Lord: "I am a poor mangy donkey" and heard an answer from heaven saying,
"A donkey was my throne in Jerusalem." Hence, on occasion when he gave someone his photograph, he would inscribe "Ut iumentum" (Like a donkey). During the time that Alvaro del Portillo was Opus Dei prelate he continued the practice. There is no word yet on what the current prelate, Javier Echevarria, will do. Ducks were collected on the basis of Escriva's saying that as ducks plunge their ducklings into the water to make them learn how to swim, he sent his daughters and sons to do things they had never done before.
With one expression or another, he implied very clearly that the church was indispensable, but inefficacious. He was absolutely convinced that Opus Dei was above the church, in sanctity, in doctrinal preparation, and in everything. When he spoke to us about the priests of Opus Dei, he would tell us they were "his crown."
During these visits, he would leave us with the essential points of Opus Dei doctrine and repeated to us many times: "The women who come after you will envy your having known me."
Opus Dei regulations clearly establish that women do not maintain friendship with any priest. However, when it was useful for public relations, he would make exceptions. For example, with relative frequency he used to send Maria Jose Monterde, who was from Zaragoza, to visit Monsignor Pedro Altabella, also from Zaragoza, who lived in Rome and had a position in the Vatican. Not only did she go to see him, but each month she took a copy of the Women's Branch internal publication called Noticias. The strange thing was that these inconsistencies seemed natural to us because they came from the Father and nobody dared to contradict him.
Monsignor Escriva's many and often conflicting demands made it difficult to live in his house. A more serious inconsistency had to do with his attitude toward the servant numeraries. On the one hand, he required that we treat "our little sisters, the servants" with special care and to never leave them alone. Yet, on the other hand, he never gave them more than a few minutes of his time when visiting the ironing room, and always in the form of teaching doctrine. Whereas he loved to have get-togethers with the students of the Roman College of the Holy Cross, I never remember Monsignor Escriva coming on a regular basis to have get-togethers with the servants, quite possibly because he was bored and didn't know how to speak with them. So, I am astonished when Opus Dei biographers praise Monsignor Escriva's dealings with people of modest station in life, stressing his occasional visits to the favelas on his trips to Latin American countries.
Monsignor Escriva established a protocol on how to receive visits to the house in Rome, how meals should be served and so forth. The goal was to impress the guests and encourage their future activity in Opus Dei in their country. On the occasion of the visit by a bishop, the Father told Encarnita and me that we should prepare a good meal because the bishop enjoyed eating very much. The Father's exact phrase was, "Daughters, give him enough to eat until he can touch the food with his fingers," and saying this he opened his mouth, inserting his fingers.
Unquestionably, Monsignor Escriva wanted Opus Dei to be viewed as universal, but all its vocations were Spaniards except in Mexico and a little group in Ireland, without counting one Frenchwoman who was in Rome, and one Japanese woman who spent a short time in Villa Sacchetti, but who abandoned Opus Dei after having lived in an Opus Dei administration in Spain. To demonstrate this universality to bishops who visited the house, the administration would be notified that no Spaniard should be in the Gallery of the Madonna through which the visitor was to pass with Monsignor Escriva. They would station the few available non-Spanish women in strategic places, so that when the Father came by with that dignitary, Monsignor Escriva would introduce them saying, "This daughter is French. Catherine, my daughter, may God bless you." Or, "this other daughter is Mexican. Gabriela, God bless you," and so forth.
Monsignor Escriva wanted a Mexican, Gabriela Duclos, and a Frenchwoman, Catherine Bardinet, on the central advisory, simply to give the group a bit of color, but never assigned them any responsible work nor did he consult them. He had innate suspicion of anything that was not Spanish, and therefore surrounded himself with Spaniards in key posts. That was obvious. Even nowadays the majority of Opus Dei key government positions are held by Spaniards.
Encarnita had to make a trip to visit the European countries where the Work existed. Of course, she took the Mexican Gabriela Duclos to demonstrate in Europe and especially in Spain the Work's universality, despite the extremely expensive visa fee that Mexicans then had to pay to visit Spain. Besides, Gabriela was very docile toward her and was not going to cause any difficulties on the trip.
The Opus Dei secretary general, Antonio Perez-Tenessa, had told Escriva that the Spanish region would meet the payments due for the construction in Rome, and he never failed for many years. However, at some point during 1954-56, the financial problem of the Villa Tevere construction was resolved thanks to the contractor Castelli, a friend of Don Alvaro. In some way that was never explained to us, Castelli arranged things so that Don Alvaro did not always have to be preoccupied with the construction. In fact, thanks to this gentleman the construction was brought to completion. Naturally, Opus Dei reciprocated to this person who had behaved so well toward Don Alvaro. We only found out about this when a son of the Castelli family made his first communion. Don Alvaro celebrated the Mass in the Opus Dei central house. Monsignor Escriva requested that the women prepare a sumptuous breakfast in the new dining room at the Roman College of the Holy Cross. The maids appeared in impeccable black uniforms with white gloves. The breakfast was served on the best silver. We supervised every minute detail. "That man deserves everything," the Father insisted, referring to Castelli the contractor.
These stories show that my stay in Rome coincided with the foundational period of Opus Dei. I experienced the entire government reorganization, was present as the buildings grew day by day, and heard the Father instruct us as the first female numeraries under his wing. I witnessed unique events in the life of Opus Dei: the arrival at the Rome headquarters of the first numeraries and numerary servants from Mexico, the United States, Ireland, Argentina, Uruguay, and so forth; the Opus Dei silver jubilee; the foundation of the Roman College of Santa Maria; the establishment of the printing press; and almost daily contact with the Founder, Monsignor Escriva.
Our government activity, consequently, was not just to legislate but to clear the ground for future numeraries.
Monsignor Escriva used to call us many Sunday mornings, when there were no workers, to visit the construction site of the Retreat House with him and Don Alvaro. The Retreat House was to be the provisional site of the Roman College of the Holy Cross. I recall that on a few Sundays we went with Monsignor Escriva alone. Since we were generally cleaning at that time and we wore the required white house coats, he told us to take them off out of discretion, so as not to attract the attention of neighbors who might see us.
We were able to get to know the new buildings that later on we would have to clean.
There are many stories from our visits to the construction site. I will limit myself to a few. One of them concerned the water. Apparently, the neighbors registered formal complaints to municipal authorities, because our house with so many residents had a water consumption superior to that allotted per dwelling in the neighborhood.
I do not know how they solved the problem, but years later I found out that the Roman College of the Holy Cross or more exactly the Retreat House, where the students of the Roman College of the Holy Cross lived, had its own unregistered well.
On another occasion and in relation to the same construction, Monsignor Escriva told us in confidence that Opus Dei was about to recover the down payment for Villa Tevere. The Father told us that along with the only money he had, the former owners were given "a handful of coins" that came from his mother, with the request that the coins be kept. I subsequently heard from a very reliable source that: "One day in the Roman College of the Holy Cross, Monsignor Escriva brought out a number of ten-dollar gold pieces called eagles, which have the approximate size of dimes. Naturally, they are now worth much more than ten dollars. They were inside a cloth bag, and there is no doubt about their existence, because we touched them under the watchful eye of one of the priests who was with Monsignor Escriva. Monsignor Escriva told us that there were ten thousand dollars, that is, a thousand eagles (although he did not mention the name of the coin). He explained that they had served as a kind of security for the loan for the purchase of the villa and the land. He also said they were his mother's dowry. They had managed to pay the debt and had recovered the coins."
The story does not square with Monsignor Escriva's tale of how his family had given to Opus Dei their entire fortune, nor how those golden coins were kept throughout the Spanish Civil War.
On other occasions Monsignor Escriva used our visits to tell us about the Work. More than once he remarked about women's lack of sincerity and complained about how complicated they are: "You are like onions. However many layers they take away from you, there is always another one." Referring to the foundation of the Women's Branch, he used to tell us that he had not wanted women in Opus Dei and that in some very early Opus Dei document he had written: "a difference between Opus Dei and other forms of life of dedication is that it will not have women." He would add to this: "I didn't want you. I didn't want women in the Work. You can truly say it was from God." He would continue: "I began the Mass without knowing anything, and I ended by knowing everything."
Truly the zenith of my fanaticism in Opus Dei was during my stay in Rome and as a member of the central government of the Women's Branch.
On one hand, I undertook my duties with a deep sense of responsibility. On the other, I was very drastic in my first years in the government and very harsh in my judgments, especially toward the numeraries and superiors of the region of Italy.