By Ross Douthat
In March, my family and I traveled from Rome into the hills of southeastern Umbria to visit the town of Norcia and the monastery — now upgraded to an abbey; it has been elevated since our last visit — of St. Benedict on the Mountain, a group of Benedictine monks situated above a broad valley that was just starting to bloom with spring.
The monks of Norcia are, among their peers, quite well-known. They craft beer, they have a chant album, and they were featured in the Times in a report about their region’s recovery following the devastating 2016 earthquakes. They also play a significant role in Rod Dreher’s 2017 argument for Christian preservation and renewal, “The Benedict Option” — for good reasons, as Norcia is recognized as the birthplace of Western monasticism, the home of St. Benedict, the site where medieval Christendom arguably began.
Visiting here feels particularly meaningful in this specific time frame. Christianity in Europe, even in Catholic Italy, has been on a downward trend for decades, and in the aftermath of de-Christianization comes a wave of depopulation. The countryside surrounding the monastery is becoming deserted, with charming villas and ancient hill towns now abandoned — a trend worsened in Norcia by the aftermath of the earthquake but part of a wider pattern across an Italy that’s aging and having fewer children.
Yet, amidst this, a vibrant abbey thrives with its young monks, attracting pilgrims while its Benedictines recite the ancient Latin of the Roman church. It may not be the fall of the Roman Empire all over again, but there is an eerie resemblance, a similar feeling of decline and renewal.
Every Christmas, I attempt to write a piece on religion, and over the years, these columns have frequently revolved around themes of adversity, struggle, and decline. In an essay published last week about discovering God, my colleague David Brooks humorously remarks that “entering the church in 2013 was like investing in the stock market in 1929,” and a similar sentiment could be applied to becoming a Catholic newspaper columnist 15 years ago: Traditional religious institutions have faced scandals and fragmentation during my time at this publication — enduring an early 21st-century low tide, if not exactly a vast retreat.
This Christmas feels different. There’s statistical backing to suggest that the latest wave of secularization has reached some sort of boundary. Cultural indicators imply that secular liberalism is losing confidence in itself, that many yearn not just for religion’s moral compass but also its broader metaphysical perspectives, and that the case for religious belief might be receiving a fresh examination. Notre Dame de Paris has risen from its ashes. Earlier this year, I impulsively predicted a religious renaissance, and at the very least, I anticipate that religious dynamics in the later 2020s will differ from those of the 2010s.
However, different likely means genuinely different, not merely a return to former states. The last strongholds of previous eras, the old religious institutions, are expected to continue facing significant challenges.
For example, Catholic Poland, one of Europe’s few remaining centers of fervent national religion, appears to be taking the same de-Christianizing route as Ireland, Quebec, and Italy. The American Protestant Mainline isn’t poised for a revival, nor is an almost obsolete Anglicanism in Britain. Similarly, groups like the Southern Baptists and the Mormons, which were experiencing rapid growth a few decades ago and are now struggling, aren’t likely to suddenly bounce back or flourish again.
Instead, any resurgence is expected to be non-denominational, subcultural (think Latin Mass Catholics, converts to Eastern Orthodoxy, or community-focused Protestants), mystical, and of its own unique nature, with notable growth in areas where traditional faith has seldom thrived before (such as within the tech sector, for instance).
As part of my broader optimism about America’s future, I foresee that any rekindled religious fervor will radiate from the United States back to the older Christian traditions of Europe. (The abbey in Norcia serves as an example: The original Benedictines were a group of enterprising Americans whose community has since welcomed European members as well.)
I also expect a rigor that the aging religious establishments lacked in their decline. On our first evening above Norcia, we brought our children to Compline, the evening segment of the daily monastic routine. The prayers lasted about 20 minutes; it was delightful, and after dinner, one of the monks suggested I join them for the start of their daily cycle, Matins, which was planned for around 2:30 a.m.
Sure, I told myself, I can wake up, pray for 20 minutes, and then fall back into bed.
So I set my alarm and got up, shuffling to the chapel in the early hours …
… and nearly two hours of Latin prayers later, I stumbled back out into the starry Italian night, grateful to God for the experience, but also apprehensive that a genuine religious revival might not completely suit me.
Merry Christmas.
