Packed into 510 square miles of the Archdiocese of Newark, New Jersey, are 3.2 million people living in communities that range from urban centers with median incomes of $50,000 to some of the nation’s wealthiest suburbs, where incomes are 10 times higher.

Because of historic waves of Irish and Italian immigrants and a more recent influx of Hispanics, the archdiocese estimates there are 1.2 million Catholics, one of the highest percentages in the country.

For much of the last century, the archdiocese enjoyed robust Mass attendance and full enrollment in its schools, before declines over the past 25 years forced parish mergers and school closures.

But this Easter season, 1,701 catechumens received the Sacraments of Initiation in the 211 parishes of the Archdiocese of Newark — up from 1,305 in 2025 — continuing a “hockey stick” trend that has seen a 72% increase since 2023.

“People are looking for something our modern world isn’t offering,” said Father Armand Mantia, who heads the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults for the archdiocese. “They realize something in their lives is not working. They want to be grounded in something of meaning and value. Our faith offers them something the world does not.”

Father Mantia said these new Catholics don’t fit a particular demographic. White, black, Hispanic, Asian, immigrants and American-born, rich and poor, they come from every corner of the archdiocese, making it a microcosm of the Catholic Church in America. 

“It’s not that we’re doing outreach to any specific community,” he said. “We haven’t found some secret formula. They’re just coming.”

The 97 people confirmed at Newark’s Sacred Heart Basilica last month by Bishop Manuel Cruz were mostly young adults and had origins in almost 20 countries. Mexicans, South and Central Americans, Filipinos, Indians, black and white Americans, and a family from Cameroon reflected the archdiocese’s rich cultural diversity. Many are immigrants laboring for a better life in America, like so many generations before. The Mass was said in English and Spanish.

A few miles away in Hoboken, St. Ann Parish welcomed 39 young adults into the faith. Their individual headshots, posted on two boards at the back of the church, looked like pages from a college yearbook. 

These rising professionals live in the new, amenity-rich apartment complexes that surround the 125-year-old parish — the kind with rooftop swimming pools, in-house gyms, and comfortable work and lounge spaces in the lobbies, where monthly rents average $3,500 for a one-bedroom.

These two groups are part of a broader worldwide phenomenon of young adults either returning to the Church, converting from other religions or discovering faith for the first time.

Major news outlets have covered this through a secular lens. A Wall Street Journal headline said, “Young New Yorkers Have a New Hot Spot: Sunday Mass,” with a subhead of “Gen Z is flocking to church for community, faith and dates thanks to meetup groups such as ‘Pizza to Pews’ and ‘Holy Girl Walk.’”

Stories that suggest social media is driving Catholicism’s recent popularity have it backwards.

If social media plays a role at all, it’s because the emptiness of its vast universe has these young adults searching for an anchor in the fast-moving stream of dopamine-boosting content.

“Our generation sees it around us: sports gambling and porn addiction and other social-media influences that aren’t aligned with the values I want for myself and my family,” said John Scully, 29, a member of the St. Ann catechumen class.

His classmate Alec Denison, 29, also cited those influences as “pulling me away from myself as a person,” as did Cedric Johnston, 27, who saw such “hypocrisy in the materialism” of social media aimed at young men that he stopped using it.

“I have a dream job, a good family and I’m about to propose,” Denison said as he explained his decision to delve into the faith. “But something didn’t feel right. I thought, ‘What am I missing?’”

“You begin to ask the question, ‘Why am I here?’” Johnston said. “I wanted to end the destructive processes. Part of it was my own sense of myself as the center of everything. I’m not. I had to let go of that and find humility. That’s when spirituality and faith became really real to me.”

Confirmed among the group of 97 at Sacred Heart, Richard Colon, 38, said he felt many in his generation were searching for meaningful direction.

“For myself, I felt a loss of direction,” he said. “Something was calling me here to find it.”

While the “meetup” narrative might apply to some new churchgoers, it ignores the serious commitment made by the catechumens to fully embrace the breadth of Catholic teaching, said Cheryl James, who directs the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults at St. Ann.

“They have to learn who Jesus is; they have to understand his teachings,” she said. “We challenge them to learn to live with Christ in their lives. This is not easy.”

James leads the students on a yearlong study of self-discovery and mystagogy, a deeper exploration of the sacraments and the mysteries of the faith. It is time-consuming; they meet twice weekly, on Thursday nights for an hour, then every Sunday morning for another 90 minutes, followed by Mass together. 

The course is demanding, introducing catechumens to Catholic doctrine, Scripture and the writings of the saints. They learn to incorporate prayer into daily practice and how to examine their conscience and make a good confession, all to find a path toward greater holiness.

Despite the rigors, James said only one person has dropped out in three years.

“Those that come are ready to learn and study,” James said. “They have opened their minds and hearts to see and feel the proof that God exists.”

Brenda Gotelli, 28, began her relationship with God during a 12-step program as a teenager.

“The ‘higher power’ concept in fellowship made me realize that God was real, he was there, and I could trust him to take care of me,” said Gotelli, before her confirmation at Sacred Heart. “For the past year, what I have studied made that belief even more real and stronger.” 

Allegra McMahon, 30, who is expecting her first child in August, said “gains in wisdom and maturity” led her to “know God is active in the world.”

She began her spiritual journey before she got married but “didn’t want to just check a box for the wedding.” Instead, she undertook the yearlong course at St. Ann.

“I wanted to allow myself the space and time to have the full spiritual experience,” she said.

Amanda Wolff, 38, who is engaged, was also drawn to the fuller program at St. Ann as her wedding to a Catholic man neared.

“I wanted to explore the larger meaning and get a deep understanding of the faith,” she said.

“It takes a large commitment to fully absorb all the information and understand what the faith is about,” said Scully, who is engaged and wants to raise his family aligned with Church teachings. 

“I can tell by the questions they ask that they’re interested in theological thinking,” said Capuchin Father Vincent Fortunato, who has served at St. Ann on and off since 2009. “They want to know a lot more, the whole spectrum and understanding of what the Catholic faith is.”

For some, that decision to search for deeper spirituality came in a moment of clarity after a series of life circumstances.

Alexandra Lee, 53, a cancer survivor and newest member of the St. Andrew Kim Church in Maplewood, New Jersey, wasn’t so much moved by her own mortality but the deaths of 159 young Koreans during the Halloween festival in Seoul in 2022.

“I wanted to hope there was a God for those kids. I wanted fairness,” she said. “I wanted to find God.”

A friend suggested she go to the all-Korean parish, and the sight of the congregation kneeling in prayer moved her in unexpected ways.

“The way they humbled themselves before God convinced me to learn more,” she said. “When they invited me to study, I was so grateful for their generosity, for the time they took with me.” 

During her studies, she experienced two moments when she felt “God is telling me he is here.”

The first came in an art class, when she began to mold clay on a pottery wheel. 

“I thought, ‘This is the way God felt when he created us.’”

The second came when she experienced what she described as the Blessed Mother calling to her just weeks before her reception in the Church.

“I felt her touching me,” Alexandra said. “I felt her peace.”

Peace is another common theme among the catechumens.

Maria Russo, 30, was raised in an evangelical church with a band and demonstrative sermons.

“When I walked into St. Ann, I loved the quiet. I fell in love with the holiness of the place.”

Sanzhar Lemay, 36, who was born in Kazakhstan under Soviet rule and grew up with no religion other than some knowledge of Islam from his grandmother, joined the St. Ann class, drawn by the church’s atmosphere.

“I came to Mass and I felt a sense of peace I haven’t felt before,” Lemay said. “I wanted to learn more.”

One fascinating aspect of the spike in new Catholics is how many came from other religious backgrounds. 

Among the Sacred Heart class were people with Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist and Jewish upbringings. The Hoboken group includes Presbyterians, Methodists and Lutherans. One of their instructors, Shyamoli Plassmann, came from a Hindu family and began her eight-year journey to Catholicism in 2003.

“They come to church and feel God is calling them to do something better in their lives,” said Sister Josefa Gonzalez, who instructs the catechumens at Sacred Heart. “Some tried other denominations but weren’t satisfied.”

The depth of the faith — and the way it transforms them — is the reward.

Two weeks before their confirmation, Cheryl James asked her class how becoming Catholic had changed them. 

“Our life is more spiritual,” said McMahon, who now prays before meals and other times with her husband. “To pray together like that, out loud, at first makes you feel vulnerable, but we’ve put faith at the center of our lives.”

Russo said she “invites the Holy Spirit into daily decisions.”

“I actively think in some circumstances, ‘Should I be kinder here? Should I be more patient here?’” she said. “I find peace in saying the Rosary and the Creed almost every day.”

“I think more about being a better person,” Johnston said, “and how to make more meaningful personal connections.”

For Lee, her new faith has brought her confidence to share her artistic gifts. She joined the “Joyful Noise” singing group at her church, designed a new logo and is looking for other creative ways to serve the Church.

“I don’t make money, but I make happiness,” she said. “Every day I wake up I think, ‘God has given everybody a new day, 24 hours, to make the world a better place. How can I do that today?’”