Faith, Power, and Abuse: Rethinking Obedience in the Catholic Church. A Latin American Case Study with a Focus on Peru

1 Introduction

Throughout Christian history, obedience has been a cornerstone of religious life, often regarded as a key virtue for communal harmony and spiritual discipline. Saint Benedict, founder of European monasticism, begins his rule with an exhortation to listen and obey: “Listen carefully, my son, to the master’s instructions, and attend to them with the ear of your heart. […] The labor of obedience will bring you back to Him [God] from whom you had drifted through the sloth of disobedience”.^[1] The Latin word for obedience (oboedire) derives from “audire,” meaning “to listen.” The one who obeys listens and applies instructions. Saint Benedict inherited monasticism from Saint Pachomius, who after a failed first attempt, established strict discipline for communal life and thus created the model for stable Christian congregations.^[2]

Obedience remains the foundational pillar of religious life, even with the addition of chastity and poverty in the Middle Ages. Dom Dysmas de Lassus, General Superior of the Carthusians, describes obedience as “the cornerstone of religious life”.^[3] However, when examined critically, the conventional reference of obedience as mere submission reveals troubling implications. Obedience can devolve into a mechanism for consolidating power and suppressing dissent, contributing to cycles of abuse and eroding trust within the Christian community. However, as Michelle Becka points out, “not every use of power is an abuse. In asymmetrical relationships, the more powerful can also help to increase agency of the less powerful through empowerment”.^[4] No doubt, monastic leaders considered obedience as a way to spiritually empower an eager disciple or apprentice. The recent uncovering of power and spiritual abuses forces us to question the legitimacy of an obedience that does not produce empowerment but servility. Most specialists stress that the crisis is not a matter of a few perverse individuals but of a systemic disfunction in the institution.^[5] Referring to the general acceptation of the diagnostic within the scientific community, Daniel Bogner speaks of an “hermeneutical turning-point”.^[6] Moreover, although it is impossible to fathom the extension of the phenomenon, recent historical research demonstrates that the ecclesial institution has been facing the issue for centuries.^[7]

We argue that the interpretation of obedience as submission understood in its literal meaning is one of the ingredients at the core of the abuse system. We intend to show that a contextual critical reading should be undertaken and would eventually give some orientations for the necessary corrections of the legal ecclesial organization and its cultural expressions.

This article aims to address certain aspects of these complex issues by providing insights based on research into abuses in Latin American ecclesial contexts. Those findings mainly drawn from interviews of victims are contrasted with documents from the Catholic Magisterium following the Second Vatican Council, particularly two apostolic exhortations by Popes Paul VI and John Paul II, and the 2008 Instruction The Service of Authority and Obedience, published by the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life (CICSAL). The Instruction traces the centrality of obedience in religious life, referencing Saint Benedict, Saint Ignatius, Saint Augustine, and Saint Francis. Although Pope Francis has not issued specific documents on religious life, he dedicated the year 2014–2015 to consecrated life, encouraging reflection on memory and discernment within religious communities.

2 The Oxymoron of Obedience: A Path to Freedom in Religious Life

In a paradoxical way, obedience is conceived as a path to freedom and liberation. Paul VI states in Evangelica Testificatio:^[8] “The Council includes among the benefits of the religious state ‘liberty strengthened by obedience’ (Lumen Gentium, n. 43).”

Similarly, the Instruction emphasizes in its introduction that “obedience to the providential will of the Father,” “as a prophetic anticipation of the same earthly life of Jesus,” “frees from slavery,” comparing the process of obedience to the exodus.^[9] In this document, the theme of freedom recurs as a leitmotif, with the word “free” appearing 18 times and “freedom” 23 times. Pope Francis, in his 2018 homily on consecrated life, echoes this perspective: “Consecrated life chooses humble obedience as the greater freedom.”^[10]

The apparent oxymoron is resolved by equating obedience to a religious superior with obedience to Christ. The Instruction cites this lapidary statement from Saint Ignatius’s Constitutions: “Genuine obedience considers not the person to whom it is offered but Him for whose sake it is offered: and if it is exercised for the sake of our Creator and Lord alone, then it is the very Lord of everyone who is obeyed”.^[11]

In religious communities, obedience is imbued with a sacred dimension: the superior, regardless of personal qualities, embodies Christ’s authority: he should thus be obeyed as if he were Christ. The Instruction offers no criteria for selection, trusting that the congregation rules, communal election and the founder’s charisma would channel the Holy Spirit.

Obedience, in some key texts from the tradition, appears to represent a value in itself. The Instruction quotes Saint Augustine, who “reminds us that the one who obeys always fulfils the will of God, not because the command of the authority necessarily conforms to the divine will, but because it is the will of God that is obeyed by the one who is in charge”.^[12] Undoubtedly, beyond the human process involved, the individual in charge is presumed to be God’s choice. Canon Law approaches obedience from a similar perspective: “The evangelical counsel of obedience, undertaken in a spirit of faith and love in the following of Christ obedient unto death, requires the submission of the will to legitimate superiors, who stand in the place of God, when they command according to the proper constitutions”.^[13]

Superiors must be obeyed as a legitimate representative of Christ, regardless of personal abilities or qualities, as long as they act within the scope of their authority. In Canon Law, obedience is articulated in extreme terms, although no direct reference is made to the tradition of obedience “perinde ac cadaver” (in the manner of a corpse). Nonetheless, with different vocabulary, the tradition persists. The phrase “submission of the will” represents an unusual expression in such a context, entailing a surrender of autonomy.

3 From the Submission of the Will to Potential Abuses

As Henry Donneaud mentions, obedience is essentially a social virtue that allows individuals to participate in the functioning of society and contribute to the common good.^[14] In the Christian context, obedience to superiors has deep roots in a strong traditional current present in the later texts of the New Testament. In Paul’s pastoral letters and Peter’s letters, all written during a period marked by tensions with imperial authorities and challenges of integration into Roman society, Christians are urged to obey their leaders, as they are ultimately appointed by God. This form of conformity, although criticized at times, continues to serve as a guiding framework of civic Christian morality. In Christian communities, submission must be understood as part of the foundation and operational structure of the Church institution.

The theological perspective that underpins the norm of communal obedience is intricately linked to Augustine’s conception of the clerical order and sacraments, particularly as these were developed during his controversy with the Donatists. Augustine argues that the presence of Christ in the religious superior and liturgical celebrant validates their role, thus diminishing the ethical and spiritual qualities of these figures as ultimately irrelevant.

Christoph Theobald’s reflections on the “thought-provoking confusion” between the Sacred and the Holy shed light on the inherent risks of this veiled assimilation.^[15] Commenting on Hans Joas’s The Power of the Sacred (2023), Theobald critiques Joas for failing to clearly distinguish between these two concepts. While this article does not delve into Joas’s analysis of the Axial Age – deemed tangential to our purpose – it focuses instead on what Theobald identifies as the “secular confusion” between the Sacred and Holiness.

In ancient Greek, eros – an expression of the ‘sacred’ – embodies a force capable of expanding, reaching, and even “contaminating” other beings or entities. The ‘sacred’ often embodies what Rudolf Otto described as the tremendum, a profound mixture of attraction and dread when encountering the ganz andere (the wholly other) – a presence beyond human comprehension.^[16] On the other hand, agios, meaning holy, refers to an ethical dimension tied to regulated conduct. Within the strict monotheism of biblical thought, these two dimensions overlap. God’s power and wrath – often embodying the tremendum in unsettling and seemingly irrational ways – coexist with the concept of God as thrice holy, the ultimate standard of justice and moral order.

In relation to obedience, the identification of the superior with Christ highlights the deep-seated sacred dimension involved in the position.^[17] The superior is perceived as belonging to an ontologically different and unreachable realm, asserting dominance over the ordinary member of the community. This division is emphasized when the superior is a priest and the member is a lay brother or sister.^[18] Clericalism further amplifies this gulf. Therefore, since superiors, whether priests or not, are imbued with a sacred aura, they are regarded as models of virtue, worthy of respect, emulation, and imitation.

Religious communities have to be understood as a substructure governed by similar principles as the ones at work in the ecclesial institution. To designate the structure of power at work in the Church, in general, James Keenan coined the expression ‘Hierarchalism’ (Keenan 2018). Within his own dominion, the superior of a congregation, the priest, the bishop and ultimately the Pope accumulate, with nuances, the three realms of powers, executive, legislative and judiciary that are usually ideally divided in democratic societies.^[19] The monarchical type of authority is justified by the divine origin of power and by the assimilation of superiors in the Church hierarchy with Christ. The traditional ecclesiology based on the contrast between “rulers and ruled”, “teachers and learners”, “celebrants and attendees”, established by Leon XIII has still to be reconsidered and transformed.^[20]

Obedience in Catholic communities reveals various ambiguities and a lack of clear distinctions. These include: superiors “standing in the place of God” (what are the boundaries between God and the superiors?); the “submission of the will” of community members (how can we reconcile submission with liberation and empowerment, the ultimate goal of religious communities?); the concept of a “legitimate superior” (the abuse crisis has shown that the criteria for legitimacy are far from clear); and the confusion between sacredness and holiness (the superior, as an Alter Christus, is associated with the Sacred, yet as a legitimate authority figure, the superior is expected to manage the community ethically and effectively).

4 Obedience and New Movements

The Carthusian superior, Dom Dysmas, argues that new communities are more permissive of abuses of power than well-established ones.^[21] Indeed, the recent wave of abuse revelations has involved several new movements, many of whose founders or inner-circle members face accusations of inappropriate behavior. In new movements, the founder by endorsing the role of a religious superior as expressed in the Magisterium Documents concentrates power. Since the rules and boundaries are not yet settled, the founder, often a very charismatic individual, may achieve absolute power, holding overlapping roles, as a leader, a legislator and judge. Relying on the theology of superiors, he may act as a monarch.^[22] In this context, obedience is over-exalted, becoming the community’s central value. Several groups adopt the motto: “he/she who obeys, never errs”.^[23] In the Peruvian context, in 1971, Luis Figari founded the Sodalitium of Christian Life (hereinafter Sodalicio) and two feminine branches, the Marian Community of Reconciliation and the Servants of the Plan of God.^[24] The institute, recognized as a lay Apostolic Society by Pope John Paul II in 1997, was at its peak present in 25 countries and boasted thousands of members. After several decades of questionable growth and complaints from survivors, Pope Francis dissolved it in 2025. As victims testify, Figari became the untouchable cornerstone of the community, subjecting members to a would-be military discipline inspired by the Falange of the Spanish dictator Franco. To instill unquestioning obedience, members were ordered to perform seemingly irrational tasks, such as counting beans or piling stones. Failure to comply resulted in humiliation, physical exertion, and other punitive challenges.^[25] Novices, secluded from their families, endured emotional and physical deprivation, leaving them with little capacity to assess their circumstances. This dynamic embodies what Jason Slone refers to as “theological incorrectness”: in environments devoid of the intellectual autonomy characteristic of experts, beliefs and practices that diverge too sharply from cognitively intuitive frameworks are prone to distortion, ultimately strengthening submission rather than encouraging critical engagement.^[26]

Juan Bautista Duhau addresses the crisis of abuses in new movements.^[27] After the Second Vatican Council, the Church as well as congregations sought to uncover their roots and actualize their theology in response to modern social evolution. In this context, the notion of community charisma was developed, meant to express the purpose of each congregation as initially stated by the founders. The theology of charisma considers that a purpose is divinely given to founders of congregations. The community has thus to assume the charisma and embody it, bearing numerous fruits.

However, the notion of charisma is marked by ambiguities that reinforce the founder’s extraordinary position. Charisma refers both to personal qualities and the guiding principles of a religious community. This confusion impinges on evaluating newly formed congregations. Several unscrupulous individuals, among them, Figari have taken advantage of this situation. The Cardinal theologian, Mons. Carlos Castillo, covering the salient moments of the Sodalicio, contended that “in the Sodalicio, there is no charism”.^[28] The “theology of reconciliation”, the so-called official basis of the association’s charisma, was no more, so he said, than a misleading screen designed to cover up political and financial plans. It is worth mentioning that, at its peak, the fortune of the Sodalicio – built, among other sources, on cemetery businesses and investments in the real estate and industrial sectors – has been assessed at around a billion dollars.^[29] Figari’s association, officially conceived as an alternative to Liberation Theology, thrived at a time when several members of the Hierarchy, in line with the national and international political climate, feared potential connections between Liberation Theology and the communist agenda in Latin America.^[30] Taking advantage of the political circumstances that kept him uncontrolled, inwardly, Figari justified his despotic authority by a literal interpretation of obedience as submission, quoting the very texts from the Magisterium. Thus, the Sodalicio developed sectarian features that remained skillfully concealed and went unquestioned. In this light, the Gospel “bearing fruits” principle was misinterpreted as an illusory sign of holiness: “By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thorn-bushes, or figs from thistles?” (Mt 7:16). The mistake lay in reducing this principle to a mere numerical criterion, equating religious fruits solely with the number of vocations.^[31] A charismatic leader like Figari may attract novices for reasons unrelated to genuine spiritual pursuit.

The perversions arising from extreme obedience and distorted religious notions are numerous. Marcial Maciel, founder of the Legionaries of Christ, embodied most vices denounced in Catholic teachings. Other founders likewise demonstrated remarkable abilities for manipulation and abuse.^[32] Charismatic figures such as Jean Vanier and others engaged in false mysticism.^[33]

5 Obedience and Traditional Congregations

Dom Dysmas argues that in well-structured, historically established religious orders, corrective measures are long-standing and generally effective in controlling deviant leaders.^[34] These measures include canonical visits, financial oversight, and regular rotation of elected superiors, all designed to minimize personal discretionary power. However, Dysmas notes that while these elements do not prevent abuses entirely, their impact is typically localized to specific communities, without affecting the wider institution. Notably, to avoid entrenched power unbalance, Pope Francis emphasizes the importance of renewal in leadership positions, particularly the role of general superiors, as one of the first steps to reorganize new religious movements. In some cases, such as the Bose Community, the founder’s position lasted for decades, with succession often controlled by the founder’s inner circle.

In addition to these structural elements, traditional congregations prioritize formation processes. Novice masters and mistresses are specifically prepared to assume their roles, and many countries have national Conferences of Religious that offer courses addressing the challenges of communal life. These courses often include workshops on emotional and sexual discipline.^[35] Church documents highlight the importance of supervising the mental and emotional well-being of superiors. Pope John Paul II stressed the significance of continuous formation for all consecrated members, particularly superiors, to ensure healthy spiritual leadership.^[36]

Dysmas’ assertion about the limited reach of deviant leaders raises several pertinent questions: What is the true impact of these harmful figures? Is their influence confined to local communities, or does it affect the entire institution? This question becomes more relevant when considering that, since Dysmas’ book was first published in 2020, multiple cases of abuse in well-established orders have come to light, suggesting that “no ecclesial context seems to be immune” to these crises.^[37]

In Latin America, the well-documented case of Spanish Jesuit Alfonso Pedrajas – Father Pica – who gained public attention in 2023 illustrates the broader consequences of such abuses.^[38] Pica was stationed in South America, overseeing an ostensibly successful social project serving extremely poor children, particularly in Bolivia. The public revelation of his crimes, following the discovery of his personal diary, reveals not just his inner moral turmoil but also the systemic cover-ups that enabled his abuses to persist unchecked. His diary mentions the sexual abuse of at least 85 children. Although some of his superiors and colleagues were aware of Pica’s crimes through his confessions and victims’ complaints, they turned a blind eye on it, asked Pica to stop sinning and let him go back to the boarding school. Pica complied and went back to the boarding school but could not keep his instincts at bay. This testimony, in the first person, shows the many misunderstandings of the clergy when confronted with sexual crimes. Apart from ignorance of the psychological resorts of the human mind, the testimony demonstrates the shortcomings of an indiscriminate use of the sixth commandment to evaluate sexual crimes, as Lucetta Scaraffia points out.^[39] The interpretation of Pica’s perverse practices as mere sins absolved both Pica and his superiors from their responsibilities toward the victims, the necessary reorganization of the boarding school structure, and ultimately, a reassessment of ecclesial sexual discipline. Pica’s story, with its neocolonial undertones, sparked a scandal that reverberated across Europe and within the Society of Jesus. His case, and that of his Jesuit community, is not an exception – similar abuses and practices of coverup have emerged in most traditional congregations, causing widespread devastation.^[40] Contrary to Dismass’ theory, even within well-organized traditional congregations, such abuses cannot be confined to local contexts; they expose the systemic dysfunctions embedded within certain ecclesial structures.

6 Overcoming the Abuse Crisis: Submission within Boundaries and/or Accountability

In the norms elaborated by the Holy See, the requirement of obedience as submission is nuanced. In the Instruction, following a long development on due obedience and the obligations of superiors, the document focuses on “objections of conscience”.^[41] With reference to Paul VI’s document Evangelica Testificatio, the Instruction discusses the exceptional circumstances in which the call stemming from conscience may supersede the order from the superior. In addition to genuine discernment, the Instruction encourages the subordinate to seek mediation within the community. Both documents stress that the objection of conscience should be considered as a last resort.

The perspective of the Instruction reveals some flaws. The objection of conscience is validated when there is “an order manifestly contrary to the laws of God or the constitutions of the institute, or one involving a serious and certain evil”.^[42] However, most abuses involve a grooming process that amounts to a colonization of conscience.^[43] The grooming process may span months or even years. Several testimonial books trace the tormented path that leads from deceitful attraction to complete submission. The perpetrator identifies a victim and exploits their potential weakness, often selecting an individual undergoing a crisis or one who is isolated, ensuring that the abuser’s actions remain hidden. Noteworthily, as some scholars have pointed out,^[44] the notion of “vulnerable adult” introduced in the Motu Propio by Pope Francis, Vos Estis Lux Mundi is problematic.^[45] All human beings are marked by vulnerabilities that emerge during their lifespan. The grooming process gradually transforms an often idealistic and self-assured – perhaps overly confident – individual into a servile figure.

Initially, the abuser accompanies the potential victim, making him/her feel recognized, valued, and even loved. Once an emotional bond of dependence is established, the abuse occurs, leading to great confusion in the victim, who struggles to comprehend or verbalize an incredible betrayal by Christ “in persona”. As Ianire Angulo has shown, the trauma is so profound that there is often no language to describe it.^[46] Moreover, the perpetrator manipulates religious texts. By using a literal interpretation of religious texts, he supplants God’s voice and speaks in His Name. Although the arguments may vary according to cultural and social contexts, the pattern of abuses is strikingly similar. In the analysis of the mystical and sexual abuses perpetrated by Jean Vanier and the brother Philippe,^[47] one of the victims expresses: “Due to their total consecration to God, [these priests and religious figures] could only be seen as blameless and holy individuals.” Azul, a woman from a Peruvian shantytown, who was abused in her childhood by a foreign priest, recalls some of the expressions of her abuser: “Everything is normal”; “What we are doing is good; it is part of the process, so that your alma may find peace”; “God agrees with those things, He likes them”.^[48] These destructive and perverse words, coming from a would-be sacred authority, explain why most victims lose their moral compass and may never recover any spiritual interest.^[49] As Richard Lennan has pointed out, the identification of the authority or the priest with Christ produces a backlash affecting the victim’s relationship with the Church as a whole and, ultimately, with God.^[50] Depending on the depth of the trauma, victims may turn their back on the Church, become agnostic, or seek spirituality in other environments. In Latin America, victims are likely to find solace in Protestant or Pentecostal churches.

Although, in the long run, there might be a reaction from the victims, the objection of conscience cannot be considered the cornerstone for the revelation and subsequent incrimination of perpetrators. The mechanism of abuses of conscience requires further research. As Samuel Fernández suggests, the incorporation of this notion into Canon Law should be considered.^[51]

Other avenues have been explored to tackle the crisis. One of them, at the basis of most prevention protocols, comes from the adoption of good practices developed in secular institutions. In this sense, the Second Vatican Council initiated a process of renewal within the Church that could help resolve the issue. The council considered the opportunity and feasibility of openness to secular knowledge and practices to address its internal issues. This process has led to a reevaluation of the Church’s position and to a recognition of the importance of incorporating insights from various disciplines, such as psychology, sociology, medicine, law, economics, and accounting. Before the crisis, the Church had already begun incorporating scientific data to craft a diagnosis for contemporary challenges, particularly through its social doctrine. Recently, to restore its legitimacy marred by scandals and improve its capacity to prevent abuses, the Church has increasingly turned to secular practices and protocols developed by other institutions.^[52]

In secularized countries with strong traditions of democracy and accountability, the implementation of transparent governance measures has produced positive results, such as greater judicial oversight, increased awareness in communities, and psychological training for seminarians. These measures have proven effective, especially to reduce sexual abuses perpetrated on minors.^[53] Some odd cases keep springing up, but most are transferred to civil justice without much delay. However, these positive developments should not overshadow the ongoing challenges, particularly in regions where impunity remains deeply entrenched, as seen in the Sodalicio affair. Cases of abuse persist, with perpetrators leveraging financial incentives or strong ties to local authorities to evade justice.

Nonetheless, in general, prevention protocols are not the panacea and when inadequately applied, they may yield negative side-effects. Michelle Becka mentions that by keeping physical and emotional distance with fraught children (or even adults), leaders or people in a position of authority overdo the norms and thus miss the whole purpose of establishing a Christian community based on care for each other. She states: “Prevention measures must not become blind actionism intended to show “we are doing something” but doing nothing to change the causes”.^[54]

In the global South, in particular in Peru, prevention protocols face several challenges. In urban areas where some formal rules of transparency are applied, protocols may be implemented, however there are many other areas functioning in an informal way. In those surroundings, the Church may impose certain norms, but they would not be understood straightforwardly by the population. Moreover, protocols should be adapted to each cultural context.^[55] More investigations are required to understand the dynamic of abuses in situ. If in countries from the Northern Hemisphere, we only know the tip of the iceberg,^[56] in most Latin American countries, with the exception of Chile, the cases that have come out correspond mainly to a few mediatic stories.^[57]

Abuses of power and conscience among adults are much more difficult to identify and therefore to prevent. Abuses occur in a context of asymmetrical relations. Frequently, especially in the initial phases of the conversion process, the borderline between spiritual guidance and abuse is very thin. As Fernández points out, the focus on child abuse protocols has not fully addressed these other forms of abuse, which remain prevalent in many religious contexts.^[58] Secular know-how, especially related with psychology, could make an important contribution.

However, considering the way certain Catholic leaders find inspiration in secular discipline such as coaching and marketing to attract vocations, Gilles Routhier criticizes the illusory appeal of those technical tools that may turn out to distort the very purpose of religious life. Although Routhier does not focus on the design of prevention protocols, his reflections may be applied to all processes involving incautious adoption of technical tools. Psychological expertise, sound administrative principles and transparency are undoubtedly necessary, but they should be inserted in the ecclesial organization without losing sight of the Church raison d’être. Routhier referring to Congar, contends that we should “choose a reform and a renewal rooted in an inner spiritual element”.^[59]

7 Reconsidering Obedience in an Historical and Cultural Perspective

Skillfully designed prevention protocols can help establish boundaries to prevent sexual abuse and provide certificates of compliance, but they do not address the systemic potential for abuse embedded in certain ecclesial structures. In his reflections on the necessary ecclesial reforms, Routhier argues that the institution harbors “structures of sin that foster [individual] sin”.^[60] He further explains that these structures operate not only at the level of institutional roles but also within mental frameworks (denkformen), such as patriarchal thought patterns and the belief in Western cultural superiority, as well as in the norms that shape interpersonal relationships. Alongside many others, Routhier advocates for a deep cultural transformation. Shifts in mentality occur gradually, yet crises often disrupt entrenched habits and open opportunities for structural reengineering.^[61] The trauma caused by the abuse scandals has shaken the entire institution, drawing comparisons to the reformation crisis in the sixteenth century.^[62]

The core of consecrated life, a radical sequela Christi, has remained constant since early monastic figures such as Pachomius and Benedict of Nursia, with a few variations in its expressions. The concept of obedience is grounded in the intra-Trinity relationship, wherein Christ’s obedience to the Father exemplifies the submission expected of nuns and friars. In the same radical way that Christ obeys confidently his Father and renounces his own will, nuns and friars are meant to give their “whole lives usque ad mortem in their superiors’ hands”.^[63] The motif of the intra-trinity obedience is mentioned and discussed at length in most documents previous to Pope Francis pontificate. A reconsideration of “evangelical obedience” as outlined in Canon Law thus entails a redefinition of the sequela Christi and, ultimately, the sequela sanctorum.

Reflecting on the Church’s purpose and the Christian way of life, Edward Schillebeeckx developed the concept of “proportional identity.” He argues that the norm of faith is not found in Jesus’ words and actions alone but in how he engaged with his historical context. According to the Belgian theologian Edward Schillebeeckx, believers today should not merely replicate Jesus’ words and actions but rather engage with their own historical context in the same way that he did.^[64] The notion of obedience as submission is rooted in a cultural context that has changed drastically. Approaching obedience through Schillebeeckx’s concept of proportional identity requires an understanding of historical context and textual criticism. The literal reading still prevalent in many religious communities should be replaced by a systematic discernment of the relevance of traditional practices. In this context, an attitude of self-criticism and openness to transformation is essential for a meaningful ecclesial renewal.^[65]

Dom Dysmas, reflecting on the work of Saint Benedict and the early days of monasticism, emphasizes that obedience has been historically shaped by social and cultural contexts.^[66] The Rule of Saint Benedict, for example, presents the abbot as a Roman paterfamilias, a paternalistic figure with absolute power over the community. Christianity did not abolish social hierarchies but sought to reform governance structures from within. Saint Paul’s letter to Philemon illustrates this by urging Onesimus’s master to treat him as a “brother in Christ” while still maintaining the master-slave relationship. Monasticism, as initially established, blended with the social norms of its time, resulting in a hierarchical structure.

The model of consecrated life has remained relatively stable over time, as evidenced by the enduring ideal of obedience ac cadaver, which continues to be upheld by many religious congregations.^[67] Furthermore, the biographies of religious founders are often interpreted literally, which has contributed to a rigid understanding of obedience and religious life. These texts were not written as modern documentary reports, but were meant to offer moral exemplars of holy living, shaped by the cultural and canonical norms of their time. Most of these hagiographical documents aimed at convincing contemporaries of the holiness of certain individuals.

Renewed research on the lives of saints and founders calls for a reconsideration of Yves Congar’s appeal to return to Christianity’s sources to reform ecclesial institutions.^[68] While Congar’s movement, alongside other 20th-century theologians, led to valuable transformations in liturgy and communal norms, the reform of religious communities based on the lives of saints has proven more complex. Hagiographical texts, initially crafted to support canonization efforts, were written in contexts vastly different from ours. Congar later acknowledged the multifaceted nature of Christian tradition, emphasizing that it involves both organic assimilation and the discernment of permanence versus temporality, which requires a communal, holistic process.^[69]

The case of Saint Rosa of Lima highlights this tension. Traditional accounts of her life, heavily influenced by Baroque spirituality and colonial dynamics, focus on her self-imposed mortifications, often distorting her life’s complexity and obscuring the broader social context of her time. However, modern historical research, grounded in archival documentation, offers a more nuanced understanding of Rosa as a leader with discernment, maturity, and a deep commitment to social justice. Her letters, brief yet profound, reveal her respect for spiritual guides while demonstrating independence in decision-making. She was particularly moved by the suffering of Indigenous people during the early stages of the Spanish Conquista,^[70] which led her to engage mystically with their struggles. This aspect of her life transcends acts of personal asceticism and underscores her empathy and awareness of social injustices. Recent scholarship positions Rosa as a figure whose life should be seen as both exemplary and contextually grounded, with an emphasis on resilience, leadership, and ethical responsibility.

In contrast, hagiographic texts like The Little Flowers of St. Francis – Fioretti di San Francesco – risk distorting the radical nature of Saint Francis’s spirituality. While the Fioretti romanticizes Francis’s life, focusing on his humility and obedience, these depictions often reduce his radical critique of social and ecclesiastical structures to a series of endearing anecdotes. One well-known example from the Fioretti shows Brother Masseo testing Francis’s humility by asking him to spin in circles before entering a town. Francis’s compliance is portrayed as the ideal form of obedience, but this episode risks trivializing obedience by framing it as a mechanical or performative act rather than a deep, relational response to divine will. The historical Francis, however, understood obedience as a mature and dynamic response to divine inspiration, one that required critical discernment and a challenge to the prevailing structures of his time.^[71] It is not that the hagiographic genre is inherently problematic, but rather that when taken out of context or overly simplified, it risks missing the profound, transformative aspects of his spirituality.

From the perspective of proportional identity, historical research has revealed additional dimensions of the lives of certain saints. While their extreme asceticism may appear morbid to modern sensibilities, it was not asceticism for its own sake, but rather a means of sharing in and uniting with the suffering of their contemporaries. In this context, figures like Rosa of Lima gain significance for Liberation Theology, as her suffering and solidarity with the marginalized resonate with the theology’s focus on the plight of the oppressed. Similarly, Francis of Assisi, patron saint of ecology, has inspired environmental and social activists. However, these interpretations, particularly in the case of Rosa, remain underexplored, with literal readings still prevailing. In such cases, the model of sequela Christi through sequela sanctorum can sometimes justify extreme obedience, which may involve sacrifices and penances that stray from healthy spirituality, potentially distorting psychological well-being.

8 Obedience as a Painful Sacrifice

Literal readings imply a hidden orientation, with certain passages or expressions from the Bible or hagiographic texts being highlighted by skillful leaders while others are ignored. In the Sodalicio case, the fatal distortions go beyond Figari’s perverted narcissism and fascist convictions. The Sodalicio has to be understood as a byproduct of certain Christian conceptions that permeate the Peruvian, and, more broadly, Latin American culture. The acceptation and exaltation of extreme and painful mortification was justified by a Sequela Christi based on a theological understanding of Christ’s sufferings. At the core of this issue lies an interpretation of the motifs of Christ’s passion, which has recently become a source of intense debate.^[72]

The interpretation of Christ’s passion in terms of sacrifice dates back to the efforts of early Christian groups to make sense of Jesus’s traumatic and likely unexpected death. As the Messiah, prophet, or charismatic leader, his disciples had hoped for the expulsion of the Roman invaders and the restauration of the Israel/Juda state. From an exegetical perspective, Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler illustrate how the high priest’s sacrificial atonement, which involved the use of blood in purification rituals, served as a model for Christ’s passion.^[73] Other biblical texts, such as Isaiah’s songs of the Suffering Servant, Psalm 22, and the lamb sacrifice for Passover, have further supported this interpretation. As Levine and Brettler emphasize, those texts were not among the most discussed in Jewish literature. This approach, which shifted the focus from Christ’s teachings to his tormented agony, has significantly influenced the development of Christian theology. Despite recent criticisms, this perspective has persisted, with the postconciliar liturgy maintaining the sacrificial bias while integrating other dimensions of Jesus’s teachings.^[74]

The sacrificial approach to religious life ties into a punitive dimension associated with a negative view of human nature. The Bible recurrently portrays humanity’s inclination toward unruly actions and sin. Original sin, a distinctively Christian construct, was famously interpreted by Augustine, who, drawing on Pauline epistles, argued that human nature was fundamentally flawed.^[75] This concept suggests that original sin is inherited from the common ancestor Adam and manifests as a stain or genetic marker.^[76] In religious communities, obedience as submission is presented as a mean of controlling the perceived selfish inclinations of human nature. This view of inherent human perversity has shaped Christian tradition, influencing the rigor of religious discipline. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states: “Suffering, a consequence of original sin, acquires a new meaning; it becomes a participation in the saving work of Jesus”.^[77]

As Jean Delumeau’s analysis shows, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the exaltation of suffering reached such an epitome that it was perceived as the privileged means of atonement, and thus the most valuable endeavor in striving to achieve Christ-like configuration.^[78] With these characteristics, the first evangelization in Latin America took shape. According to Manuel Marzal,^[79] due to a series of factors – including the acute and chronic shortage of clergy, geographical remoteness, and the precariousness of internal communications – the contributions of the first evangelization in Peru remained largely intact until the late twentieth century. Furthermore, until recently, the Peruvian models of holiness were exclusively linked to this baroque period. Saint Rosa and Saint Martin of Porres, to name the most celebrated, are known for their self-mortification, including frequent flagellations. Saint Rosa’s famous maxim, “apart from the cross, there is no other ladder by which we can reach heaven,” is quoted in the 1992 Catechism of the Catholic Church. In the Peruvian context, cultural circumstances reinforced the Christian sacrificial approach, thereby enabling the Sodalicio to flourish.

Additionally, the ideal of perfection as a religious personal endeavor resonated with the military structure of the Sodalicio. This ideal consequently contributed to a lingering sense of inadequacy. Most testimonies highlight the constant pressure to emulate the model of holiness set by the superior. Abuses are rooted in this feeling of unworthiness, which in turn fosters a correlative exaltation of the superior. In the case of the Sodalicio, the ideal of perfection was expressed in terms of physical strength and ascetism. As scholars have noted, the ideal of perfection has its roots in the Greek and Roman cultural background.^[80] There are various ways to understand this pursuit of perfection as referenced in Paul’s letter. The imagery drawn from recognized models of pagan society is particularly revealing. Paul compares Christian conversion and life’s endeavor to the strict training adopted by athletes to deserve the laurel crown of the winner in stadium competition. George Karamanolis, focusing on ancient philosophy and early Christian authors, highlights parallels in the pursuit of perfection.^[81] Early Christians shared the pagan notion of the human end as the highest good and adopted Platonic and Stoic strategies to discuss it from a cosmic and theological perspective. However, pagan philosophers and Christian thinkers differ in their conception of the ultimate human end. For Christians, God created the world as a “reflection of God’s goodness, beneficence, and rationality […] because he wanted to help humans attain their final end, to attain perfection, that is, to become like God”.^[82] The ideal of perfection inherited from pagan philosophy and supported by a few New Testament references, permeated monasticism^[83] and, consequently, the subsequent development of religious orders. The quest for self-achievement, though not a negative goal per se, represents an alluring ideal that renders obedience as submission appealing. In this cultural context, the disciplined young members of the Sodalicio left a favorable impression. However, beneath the surface, the combination of mortification and ideals of perfection proved fatal. At least half of the Servants of the Plan of God, the feminine branch, were treated for depression or other related illnesses.

9 Conclusions

The paradoxical nature of obedience in religious life – viewed simultaneously as a path to liberation and as an act of submission to authority – reveals deep tensions within ecclesial structures. While obedience is seen as fulfilling God’s will through the intermediary of religious superiors, it often blurs the lines between divine and human authority, creating potential for abuses of power. In new religious movements, where leaders often wield unchecked authority, obedience can become the central tenet, suppressing critical thought and fostering environments ripe for exploitation.

Moreover, the safeguards in place within established religious orders, such as canonical visits and financial oversight, fail to address the systemic dysfunctions that allow abuses to persist, even in well-structured institutions. While these mechanisms are designed to prevent the consolidation of power in individual leaders, they often prove insufficient in preventing widespread harm. The systemic cover-ups expose the deeper flaws in the ecclesial framework, challenging the assumption that deviant behavior is confined to isolated communities. These revelations urge a fundamental reevaluation of how religious authority, obedience, and accountability are understood within both traditional and newly founded religious movements.^[84]

The need for ecclesial reform, particularly concerning the theological and practical dimensions of obedience, demands a critical and forward-thinking approach. As mentioned above, using Routhier’s framework, the Church, as an institution, is shaped by structural elements that perpetuate individual sin. These patterns extend beyond hierarchical figures, influencing deeper, often hidden aspects of thought and social norms. Key structures, including patriarchal mindsets and the theological belief in self-imposed sacrifice as virtuous, must be scrutinized.

We have argued that the traditional view of obedience as mere submission must be revisited, as evidence shows it can foster abuses of power and conscience. While accountability and transparency achieved through technical expertise imported from secular fields, may help delineate boundaries and reduce impunity, such protocols are not a panacea. They risk remaining superficial and fail to address deeper systemic issues. Perverse submission is justified through the literal reading of hagiographical documents and certain biblical passages, which, over the centuries, have fostered theological ideas that, though culturally ingrained, deviate from the evangelical message and enable manipulation by skillful leaders. A rigorous reinterpretation of religious narratives, employing historical and text-critical methods, should be pursued. It would help to question prejudices and thus could open a spiritual renewal.

The case of the Sodalicio reveals that growth is no guarantee of a spiritually sound community. The fruits may be numerous yet of poor quality. Apparent rapid growth should also be questioned – not only due to the founder’s manipulative abilities but because the community may too easily align with prevailing social values. The Sodalicio exalted mortification and perfection, qualities highly esteemed in society, presenting an arduous yet seemingly comprehensible path to sainthood – one that ultimately misled members and left them in a state of abandonment.

On the occasion of the presentation of Pope Francis’ Letter on the Renewal of Church History – issued November 11, 2024 – , reflecting on its significance, Andrea Riccardi quoted a maxim attributed to Yves Congar: “L’histoire sauvera la théologie.” (History will save theology).^[85] We wholeheartedly embrace this perspective.