“None of us can steer an intelligent course into the future without the guidance of the past,” Peter Steinfels wrote in the introduction to Commonweal Confronts the Century, a 1999 collection of pieces from the magazine’s first seventy-five years. The sensibilities of preceding generations of Commonweal editors, writers, and readers have always informed—and spiritually sustained—those that have followed. There is a perceptible throughline from that first issue in November 1924 to the one that you are reading now: the voice of the lay American Catholic who understands that our faith obligates us to engage with the world at large and equips us to wrestle honestly with our Church’s teachings and traditions. It’s a voice expressive of the belief that Catholicism and American democracy not only have a lot to say to each other, but also have a lot to offer each other: their virtues exist in a “healthy and fruitful tension,” as Michael Novak observed in his 1986 essay “Dissent in the Church.”
As we embark on our second century of publication, the future of the country, the Church, and indeed the world seems especially perilous. Russia is now in the third year of its war on Ukraine, and Vladimir Putin is making more explicit threats about using nuclear weapons. A year after the Hamas attacks, Israel has all but leveled Gaza, extended its military campaign to Lebanon, and arrived at the cusp of war with Iran. Climate change is transforming the planet before our eyes while hastening migration; those seeking safety and better lives beyond national borders are met with hatred and dehumanization. Across Europe, far-right political parties with roots in twentieth-century facism are ascendant. In the United States, a convicted criminal and would-be autocrat threatens to punish his political enemies and betray the country’s allies if he’s elected again as president.
Meanwhile, in Rome, the second session of the Synod on Synodality is underway. The aim of building “a Church that listens” is commendable, but the synod’s long rollout and bureaucratic detours have made it difficult to discern the details or measure progress. Of course, the fact that it is proceeding at all continues to rankle critics of Pope Francis. They are also offended by remarks he made in September recognizing the value of non-Christian traditions. They needn’t be. As Thomas Banchoff wrote on our website, Vatican II opened the door to acknowledging the value of other religions; moreover, “advancing a culture of encounter is both a Gospel imperative and a practical one” in a time of so many political and social divisions.
Those divisions are apparent everywhere, while opportunities for encounter seem increasingly elusive. Evolving technologies further contribute to isolation and loneliness. Artificial intelligence makes it easier to create and disseminate disinformation. Social-media algorithms reward sensationalism and heighten polarization. Public figures like Donald Trump, Elon Musk, and J. D. Vance exploit and widen these fissures by lying about the 2020 election, demonizing immigrants, and threatening that violence will ensue if their opponents win.
Meanwhile, religious disaffiliation continues to accelerate. Survey after survey, and ample anecdotal evidence, suggests that churches of many denominations are emptying and that fewer Americans are drawn to any faith tradition at all. Some are explicitly excluded; others understandably feel alienated by the actions and pronouncements of those in positions of religious authority.
Of course, every era has its share of difficulties and dilemmas. What does Commonweal offer at this moment? As an independent, lay-led journal of opinion and commentary, rooted in the Catholic intellectual tradition and the Church’s social teaching, we can both “think with the Church” (sentire cum ecclesia) and think with the world at large. We can also admit that people of faith bring their own doubts and uncertainties to the complex issues of our time. In his book The Afternoon of Christianity, the Czech priest and philosopher Tomáš Halík argues that Christianity is now at a pivotal point. He asks hopefully whether our religion could “inspire the formation of a political culture capable of transforming a chaotic polyphony into a moral climate of mutual respect, communication, and shared values.” That may seem a lot to ask. But if we agree with Halík that “the Church and its members have a responsibility to society as a whole,” then we can ask no less of ourselves and of each other.
Peter Steinfels has not only the first word of this issue, but also the Last Word. In between, we feature longtime contributors E. J. Dionne Jr., John T. McGreevy, and Paul Baumann, who reflect on Commonweal’s past and on what continues to make the magazine a source of intellectual and spiritual nourishment for so many. There are also essays and reviews on postliberalism (Eugene McCarraher), the Supreme Court (James T. Kloppenberg), culture-war Catholicism (Phil Klay), democracy (Samuel Moyn), and the art of translation (Alejandra Oliva). Paul J. Griffiths writes about death and resurrection, Rand Richards Cooper about the long shadow of World War II, Patricia Hampl about physical pain, Eve Tushnet about love and friendship, George Scialabba about Romanticism, and Dorothy Fortenberry about clutter. There are reviews of art (Clifford Thompson) and literature (Mary Gordon and Anthony Domestico), an interview with Denys Turner, fiction by Alice McDermott, and poems by Christian Wiman, Lawrence Joseph, Rosanna Warren, and Mary Jo Salter. An abundance truly worthy of a centennial celebration. All of it is a reminder of what Commonweal has been about since its first issue and a sign of our intentions for the years to come.
This article was published in Commonweal’s hundredth-anniversary issue, November 2024.
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