In contrast to the United States of America, always a cauldron of religious passions with a constant movement of believers from one church or religious tradition to another, Europe has always offered, especially for Catholicism, a simpler and more predictable religious landscape. There was one main way to get in – infant baptism – and one way out – leaving the practice, if not the faith altogether, without looking for something else. 

Secularization turned on its head the medieval adage “extra Ecclesiam, nulla salus” (outside the Church there is no salvation). Modern Europe’s version was: “Leave the church and don’t look for anything else.” Modern Catholicism found an equilibrium: All salvation comes through the Church, even if some individuals don’t fully belong to it. 

The principle “ecclesia supplet” (the Church herself supplies, or compensates, for any formal deficiency) had a wide range of applications: those leaving the Church could count on “vicarious religion,” the notion of religion performed by an active minority but on behalf of a much larger number, who (implicitly at least) not only understand but approve of what the minority is doing. 

This is now changing. If it is not quite an American “Great Awakening,” significant and increasing numbers of people in Europe are converting to Catholicism. In France in the 1980s and 1990s, there were approximately 2,000 to 2,500 adult baptisms every year. In 2020 there were 5,700 baptisms but that jumped to almost 18,000 for Easter 2025. 

There are signs of a similar revival in other countries, such as Great Britain, Ireland, Germany and Austria. The trend is much less significant in southern European countries such as Italy and Spain. Young adults (18-25 years old) make up a significant portion of new catechumens, with a growing number of young males, as sociologist Grace Davie pointed out at a lecture in Vienna in July. 

This movement constitutes, in some sense, a second wave of new disruptive forces that have rattled the ecclesiastical, and ecclesial, system of European Catholicism based on diocesan and parish structures. The first wave, led by lay movements that emerged after the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965), began in the late 1960s and early 1970s. It’s not yet clear how the two waves are interacting; that is, how many of the new Catholics approach the church via a new movement or if these new Catholics form a movement in itself.

The number of adult baptisms in Europe still cannot make up for the loss of Catholics leaving the Church every year; that exodus is most visible in Germany but is happening elsewhere. But it’s a sign of something new. It may not change the percentage of Catholics in European countries, which has been declining in the historical cradles of the Church in the old continent. But it could change the internal composition of the Church in significant ways. This is particularly true in tiny Catholic churches in regions like Scandinavia, where even a small number of new members coming in has a deep impact on the theological, doctrinal, and even liturgical orientations of these European churches located far from Rome, on the “peripheries” as Francis would have said. (And he backed up his words by visiting Scandinavia in 2016). 

There are a variety of social and cultural factors leading these adults to the Catholic Church: migration patterns; a response to the growing presence of non-Christian religions and non-Catholics in Western European countries; crossing confessional borders from, for example, a liberal Protestantism to a doctrinally more stable Catholicism; a general sense of cultural anxiety which finds consolation in the idea that “Rome is home.” 

But there is also a spiritual and religious impulse in these conversions that has not found a response in mainstream theological reflection in Europe, nor a contribution to understanding and helping to shape this emerging dynamic. In Italy, an article published during the summer by a prominent Norwegian convert from Protestantism to Catholicism, Andreas Masvie, sparked an interesting debate in the newspapers and social media. This sort of thing is old news in America but it is a new issue for the European Catholic theological establishment. 

From the ecclesial point of view, that is, the relations among different members and authorities in the Church, this phenomenon is creating diverse reactions. There is the relief, if not enthusiasm, of bishops and clergy, and the joy of many fellow Catholics, who (finally!) see new members in local communities where the average age is old and getting older fast. What seems to be different from the previous wave sparked by the new lay movements is the lack of visible tensions with the pre-existing faithful, or what the Anglosphere likes to call “cradle Catholics” (I am not sure an equivalent term exists in the languages of continental Europe. It certainly does not exist in Italian). In the 1980s there were cardinals talking openly about the new movements threatening to create “parallel churches”. Thanks to the support of John Paul II and then Benedict XVI, the new movements resisted that challenge.

This movement of adults joining the Catholic Church is different: it seems to be more integrated into the venerable diocesan and parish system, it does not come with a particular “brand”, and it’s clearly looking for a doctrinal and liturgical stability that is often at odds with mainstream post-Vatican II Catholicism in Europe. What is new, compared to the time of the pontificates of Paul VI (1963-1978) and John Paul II (1978-2005) is the rise of a liturgical traditionalism which is appealing for a number of converts. The appeal seems more aesthetic than intended to mount a direct attack against Vatican II. 

The long-term question is ecclesiological, that is, how this changes our ecclesiology, our thinking about the church. Vatican II provides the theological foundations for an ecclesial community to encounter this phenomenon: the role of Scripture and tradition, the liturgy, approaches to the church and world of our time, an emphasis on mission and evangelization. 

However, Vatican II developed its ecclesiology at the service of a largely pre-existing ecclesiastical system. This is becoming clear to the leaders of the Church, beginning with the new pope. During a question-and-answer session at the conclusion of his audience with newly appointed bishops in the Synod Hall at the Vatican, on September 11, Leo XIV admitted that the spiritual lives of young people aren’t being fulfilled in the “typical experiences of our parishes.” 

To be fruitful this new movement must travel along a two-way street. “Cradle Catholics” in Europe are called to discover why these new members decided to join the church. What is the relationship between the thirst for deeper spiritual life and all the other social, cultural, and political appeals that have more to do with the importation of American “culture wars” to Europe? At the same time, new adult members are joining a church that has become the favorite battlefield for all kinds of religious and political ideologues yet has to maintain a basic level of internal cohesion – not to mention the need to stay in good ecumenical relations with other churches and Christian communities. How do they bring fresh enthusiasm without exacerbating existing tensions?

American Catholics have more experience with all this than European Catholics, and the European church has to learn quickly. There are new patterns of believing and belonging in the old continent, a new kind of fruit of the American religious soft power from which many Europeans naively think the old continent is immune. Not anymore.

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Massimo Faggioli is a professor of Historical and Contemporary Ecclesiology in the Loyola Institute at Trinity College Dublin. He is co-editor of "The Oxford Handbook of Vatican II” and his most recent book is “Theology and Catholic Higher Education: Beyond Our Identity Crisis” (Orbis Books).