Perhaps it was too much to expect that in his resignation speech last week, the former bishop of Limerick Donal Murray would finally accept his personal failings as so meticulously highlighted in the Murphy report.

While his departure represents a personal tragedy for this most eminent of men, he had been the episcopal equivalent of a dead man walking since the day when the report of the commission of investigation into the Dublin archdiocese came out.

Yet the manner of Murray's leaving – some 16 days after he claims to have decided to resign – spoke volumes about the way the church here continues to do its business.

His resignation speech, read out to massgoers and gathered clergy at St John's Cathedral in Limerick on Thursday, included the following passages, which are worth repeating:

"I have heard the views of many survivors, especially in the days following the publication of the Murphy report. Some expressed the wish that I should resign; others asked me not to do so... I asked the Holy Father to allow me to resign and to appoint a new bishop to the diocese because I believe that my presence will create difficulties for some of the survivors..."

Elsewhere, his statement is notable for its thoroughly predictable expressions of apology – but not culpability.

In his repeated attempts to downplay his role in the shameful cover-up of abuse during his time as an auxiliary bishop in Dublin, Murray continued to betray an unerring confidence in his own actions and abilities. This is despite the Murphy report's stark criticism of his "inexcusable" failure to reinvestigate the actions of paedophile priest Fr Thomas Naughton, who was coincidentally jailed for a second time for child sexual abuse at Wicklow Circuit Court last Wednesday, and plans to appeal this sentence.

The most telling aspect of the bishops' responses to the Murphy report is not the copious expressions of regret and words of concern for victims which have emanated from Maynooth and elsewhere.

It is the attitude of justification bordering on outright defiance which the other four bishops named in the report – Éamonn Walsh, Raymond Field, Martin Drennan and James Moriarty have displayed in the weeks since the report itself was published.

None appears willing to accept what abuse survivors have so eloquently argued: by their failure to act, they are in their own way just as culpable as others who actively covered up abuse.

The problem lies not just in what they did, but also in what they did not do to prevent child rape and molestation.

Perhaps the clearest example of this double-think approach came last Friday, following a heated meeting of Dublin's advisory Council of Priests, when Bishop Walsh indicated that he would be willing to resign.

But to do so would be an "injustice", he said, given that he has done nothing wrong in his handling of clerical child sex abuse cases.

Yet Walsh knows just as well as others that Murphy's report examined only the handling of allegations made against a sample of 46 priests out of 102 against whom complaints were made between 1975 and 2004.

Given this, it is by no means beyond the bounds of possibility that he, and indeed others who were not criticised in the report itself (never mind the sections which were omitted on foot of a High Court order) may well have had further questions to answer if its remit had been more extensive.

When you add to this the fact that a diocese-by-diocese inquiry along the lines of that which took place in Dublin and which is now taking place in Cloyne would likely throw up further criticisms of many of our current crop of bishops, the prospect that any of the current hierarchy could escape unscathed seems remote at best.

While some within the ranks of the senior clergy –most notably Dublin archbishop Diarmuid Martin – have shown a real determination to tackle the issue of child sexual abuse, others are far less forthcoming.

Serious questions also remain about the extent of progress which has been made in recent years when it comes to ensuring child abuse allegations made against an individual priest are automatically alerted to the authorities.

Public statements of reassurance from prominent individuals such as Martin, while welcome, have not served to quell anxieties among survivors, particularly after this newspaper reported recently that at least 19 out of out of 26 dioceses around the country are continuing to use priests as their designated child protection "delegates".

This means it is left to them to deal directly with potentially traumatised abuse victims rather than independently trained and appointed specialists in the area.

As we await further developments in the ongoing drama that is its response to the Murphy report, an adjustment to the present structures of the Catholic church is undoubtedly going to take place.

This may ultimately involve the removal of every member of the current (and ageing) bishops conference – either through enforced or early retirement in the coming years – and their replacement with forward-thinking, progressive individuals who are chosen by their flock.

In truth, such a seismic shift in the culture of the church seems highly unlikely, despite the attempts by the Vatican to suggest that Pope Benedict's forthcoming pastoral letter –whose significance will have passed most of the public by –will herald real movement.

Change may be coming to the Catholic church. But it is unlikely to be swift, and may not even be that extensive.