We have come of age in an era of pandemic, economic turmoil, war and climate change. No wonder so many of us have gone looking for reassurance
“I think I’m a catholic” aren’t words you expect to hear at a house party, but after the past few years I’ve given up expecting the normal. From a global pandemic to the rise of populism and the alarming spread of conflict, very little can surprise me. But this landscape of dramatic change has caused a tidal wave of doubt to hit my generation. A sense of deep uncertainty about the world around us has increased, and with it, an intuitive feeling that maybe there’s something more.
Recent figures have shown that Gen Z are finding God, or at least buying more Bibles than previous generations. Spirituality and the belief in a higher power is a growing phenomenon among people who are 18-24 (although a recent episode of the BBC’s “More of Less” programme challenged the view that numbers are rising).
But what is certainly true is that my age cohort has grown up in a period of chaos and confusion. First Covid brought uncertainty. Then we had to face economic crisis, political instability and ecological disaster. Our formative years have been nothing but “unprecedented times”. It seems my generation is now looking for direction.
Enter the Catholic Church. With swinging incense and a written book of life advice, organised religion and interest in a higher power is back. Gen Z are more open to faith than their parent’s generation, with only 13% of those under 25 identifying as atheist compared to 25% of those aged 45 to 60. One recent statistic suggested that from 2018 to 2024, Gen Z church attendance had quadrupled, and it gained huge attention in the press and on social media.
Even though that claim is now contested – it does seem exaggerated – it still suggests a trend towards the church. In the wake of so much uncertainty, young people are seeking radical solutions. During a conversation about the failings of democracy and the ever-impending doom ushered in by populism, one friend calmly announced that, possessing little hope in the current political situation, she was resorting to supernatural forces to intervene. Her answer to the failings of the world became prayer. I admired her courageous belief.
My generation has a reputation for being liberal and woke, two things that perhaps stand in contrast to a church that bans contraception. But in many ways the Catholic church has demonstrated concern for issues close to my generation’s heart: the late Pope Francis took his name from Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of ecology; and he spoke of the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, calling for peace and access for aid.
While the church’s position on same-sex marriage has not shifted, Francis was more open, welcoming the blessing of same-sex marriages and civil unions. As one catholic friend called him, “Papa Franky” was respected by even some of my staunchest atheist friends.
While not without faults, Francis showed a more inclusive side of the Catholic church than many young people had seen before. Friends who had previously felt shunned suddenly felt they could be accepted in the pews. It seems my generation are particularly in need of companionship: 73% of Gen Z feel lonely some or all the time. Many are looking for human connection and the feeling that they are part of something bigger than themselves.
But it’s not only the social aspect that’s drawing in young people. “It does drama like no one else,” one protestant friend admitted. “It’s just sexier – if you can even say that about a church”. Part of the allure is the mystery of it all, that and the decadence of golden ceilings and swanky altar pieces, though smaller local Catholic churches can be somewhat less grand.
But the grandeur of the Vatican was exploited in Edward Berger’s film Conclave, which certainly caught a lot of people’s attention. But then came the actual conclave. When the white smoke was released I was lounging in a park with a friend, who insisted that we rush back to her flat to watch the result unfold. During those few days where cardinals were sequestered, social media was awash with papal rumour, I was invited to two – two – watch parties of conclave-related films: Conclave; and The Two Popes.
And when pope Leo was finally revealed, there was an optimistic surge among my friends that here was a leader of global standing to combat the toxic influence of Trump, and the self-serving take on christianity popular on the US hard right. In an age where political leaders seem to speak more falsehoods than truths, a moral leader who appeals to justice is deeply appealing.
Having been raised in the Anglican church, I can’t help pondering the success of the catholics over other denominations. Two thirds of Gen Z christians are catholic over protestant. It seems hard to believe that’s down to doctrinal differences.
Having come of age during a time of great upheaval, perhaps it’s understandable that my generation is drawn to the certainties of the Catholic church. There’s also something to be said for the fact that we’ve grown up in a post-truth world, where we’ve pulled apart a lot of binary truths and traditional approaches to morality and ethics. But having pulled it apart, it seems people are looking for a point of reference from which to rebuild.
But then there’s the elephant in the room: my generation’s more progressive, liberal views and the historically conservative position of the Vatican. These two things sit in uneasy tension. Having pestered a liberal catholic friend who also had experience of going to Protestant church, she pointed out that Protestant churches had splintered into so many different sub-denominations that you had to pick a side and subscribe to its doctrinal basis accordingly. But in the Catholic church of 2bn people, there’s bound to be disagreement. So long as you’re not excommunicated you can find your place in it somewhere.
I’m not catholic and don’t think I ever will be. Yet even I can admire the beauty of catholic churches, and the faith that inspired artists throughout the ages to create masterpieces both architecturally and in paintings.
Even if you don’t agree with everything the new Pope Leo XIV has to say or preach, you can’t help but admire the fact that he knows what he believes, and that he stands up for it as well. For my generation, one that’s known nothing but confusion and disorder, that’s very attractive.