We humans are self-interpretive animals. Part of who we are is who we take ourselves to be. We seriously constrict our freedom to think and act by misunderstanding our past and oversimplifying our present and future. This principle applies to individuals, societies, and cultures.

The Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor contends that the dominant interpretations of modernity are one-sided and incomplete—particularly the stories we tell of modern unbelief. According to the mainline story, it was the rise and advance of science and critical thinking that weakened Christianity in the West. In this familiar narrative, the empirical and critical spirit of modernity is incompatible with the demands of authentic faith. Taylor doesn’t agree. He argues that the principal obstacles to religious allegiance in the modern era are moral and spiritual, not epistemic. The modern scientific revolution was accompanied by a moral and cultural rejection of traditional hierarchies and Christian otherworldliness. The modern affirmation of ordinary life gave a new dignity to lay vocations. The growing demand for individual rights, for freedom of inquiry and expression, religious liberty, and respect for the primacy of conscience made traditional forms of social control appear repressive.

The Church’s entanglement in the ancien régime alienated friends of democracy; its passive acceptance of the injustices of industrial capitalism alienated large segments of the working class and their social and political allies. In our time, the halfhearted acceptance of women’s rights is a major barrier to the Church’s credibility and effectiveness.

A genuine renewal of Catholic Christianity should begin with a comprehensive and critical realism. We need to understand the decline of the Church, especially in Europe but also in the United States, where many former and present Catholics feel deeply estranged. Not all of this decline is attributable to the Church’s failures, of course. But credible renewal begins with repentance, with accepting responsibility for past errors and sins. Defensive apologetics will not be helpful.

There are three influential modern criticisms of Christianity whose polemical challenges still carry weight. They come from Karl Marx, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Sigmund Freud. Marx rejected Christianity as “the opium of the people.” He thought its emphasis on God demeaned human dignity, while its excessive emphasis on heaven weakened opposition to injustice on earth. Nietzsche claimed that the sources of Christian ethics were suspect; that the gospel of love was actually rooted in resentment and envy. And Freud believed that the religious mentality is infantile and regressive: that religious accounts of reality are unscientific, that religious ethics are unduly restrictive, and that religious hopes are illusory and vain.

All three of these thinkers (whom the French philosopher Paul Ricoeur called “the masters of suspicion”) assumed that a mature and healthy humanity would reject religion as an obstacle to development and growth. They were partly mistaken because they tended to confuse aberrant forms of religious belief and practice with the genuine article. But the aberrations were and continue to be real, even if exaggerated by Christianity’s critics then and now. The rhetorical force of their criticism resonates with everyone, believer and nonbeliever alike, who thinks that the Church remains complicit in systemic injustice, that it still belittles achievements it does not understand, and that it fosters immature ways of thinking and feeling.

When I say the Church, I mean us—the pilgrim people of God in history. It is we who are vulnerable to these failings, who commit these sins, who dishonor God by the images of the divine we project and defend. Yet we are called to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. The most powerful witness, for or against the gospel, remains the lives that we actually lead.

What would a Catholic Christianity faithful to the message of the gospel and the mission of redeeming the world be like?

• Our thought and speech would be realistic and critical; we would be as truthful as we can be in understanding ourselves, our past, and the complexity of the world that we serve.
• Genuinely repentant, we would not justify past failures, conceal present weaknesses, nor shrink from the challenges of conversion and change.
• Our understanding of the Church and the world would be deeply historical. The redemptive message of the gospel is constant, but it has to be proclaimed with fresh credibility to each culture and people in history.
• An ecumenical Church would treat everyone with dignity and respect. Without glossing over differences, its internal and external dialogues would be directed toward mutual understanding and, where possible, consensus in judgment. Continually learning and teaching, the Church would candidly acknowledge its limits as well as its strengths.
• The whole baggage of patriarchy would be abandoned. Women and men are equally created in God’s image, equally redeemed by Christ’s sacrifice, equally inspired by the Spirit, and equally called to the service of God in the world. All the ministries of the Church would be fully open to women.
• The principles of collegial governance and meaningful lay participation proclaimed in Vatican II would be fully implemented. The unifying role of the pope is consistent with a far less centralized, bureaucratic, and secretive manner of conducting the Church’s affairs than has prevailed for centuries. The Church’s internal practice must become a model of freedom and justice, if its prophetic ministry to the world is to be taken seriously.

If the Catholic Church becomes a credible agent of redemption and reconciliation, if it reveals by its discourse and practice that it truly is the living people of God, its ministry to the world will be deeply welcomed, for the 21st century needs the wisdom of the gospel, the courage of the early apostles, the compassion of the good Samaritan, and the abundant generosity of the prodigal father as much as any period in history.

Michael McCarthy, professor emeritus of philosophy at Vassar College, was a fellow at Boston College’s Lonergan Institute last semester. His essay is adapted from a talk delivered on June 18 at the institute’s 34th annual Lonergan workshop. The full talk will be published in Volume 20 of the Lonergan Workshop Journal, later this year. For more information consult the Lonergan Institute website.