Ben Christenson was raised Anglican through and through — church every Sunday, a religious school, and Christian camp every summer. But Christenson, 27 of Fairfax, Virginia, always found himself longing for a more traditional faith.
“The hard thing about growing up in my church is that there was a lot of change even in my lifetime,” he told The Post. “I realized that there really was no way to stop the change.”
He watched as traditions went to the wayside: the robed choir was swapped out for a worship band, lines were blurred on female ordination, and long-held stances on LGBT issues shifted.
“All of that stuff was basically fungible, which gave me a sense that the theological commitments are kind of fungible, too,” he said.
So Christenson began exploring other denominations in college and landed on perhaps the most traditional of all: Orthodox Christianity. In 2022, at the age of 25, he converted.
“It seems to me like the mainline denominations are hemorrhaging people,” he said. “If you still are serious about being a Christian now that there isn’t really as much social status tied up in it, and you want something that has some heft to it, there’s more of an awareness of Orthodoxy than there used to be.”
Christenson, who works as a fundraiser for nonprofits, attends Saint Mary’s Orthodox Church in Falls Church, Virginia.
Conversion means that he now must frequently attend confession, pray proscribed prayers, and endure extreme fasting, sometimes over forty day stretches. Weekly services are also highly ritualized and regimented, and can last up to two hours.
But he says he takes great comfort in the 2,000 year history of each tradition: “There is a sense of structure, of continuity… It’s the exact same. It hasn’t changed. It’s not going to change.”
“I think there are a lot of Protestants who want a more traditional, grounded, historical faith, and I think for young people especially it makes sense because so much else in our life is changing all the time.”
Ben’s story isn’t just anecdotal. As more and more Protestant churches unfurl pride flags and Black Lives Matter banners in front of their gates, young men are trending towards more traditional forms of worship.
A survey of Orthodox churches around the country found that parishes saw a 78% increase in converts in 2022, compared with pre-pandemic levels in 2019. And, while historically men and women converted in equal numbers, vastly more men have joined the church since 2020.
Father Josiah Trenham has led Saint Andrew’s Orthodox Church in Riverside, California, for nearly three decades — and he’s noticed a swift uptick in interest: “The last four to five years have been a massive uptick. It’s showing no sign of tapering off. If anything, it’s increasing still… It’s happening massively in untold numbers all over the country.”
Trenham’s church has 1,000 active participants, and, although recent converts in his congregation have been split roughly evenly between men and women, he agrees most Orthodox churches around the country are gaining far more men.
“The feminization of non-Orthodox forms of Christianity in America has been in high gear for decades,” Trenham explained.
He points to the fact the vast majority of attendees at most Christian churches are female, and many services are accordingly dominated by emotional songs, swaying, uplifted hands, and eyes closed in ecstasy.
“Men are much less comfortable [in those settings], and they have voted with their feet, which is why they’re minorities in these forms of worship,” he said. “Our worship forms are very traditional and very masculine.”
“Feminized” worship is exactly what pushed Elijah Wee Sit, a 17-year-old from Toronto, to explore Orthodoxy.
“Christianity in North America has become extremely emotional,” Wee Sit, who was raised Evangelical, told The Post. “Going to Evangelical worship services, I found it to be like emotionally driven rock concerts, with the lifting up of the hands.”
The 12th grader says he was attracted to Orthodoxy because it is more traditional and masculine. He especially appreciates the challenge and the discipline required to adhere to intense prayer and intense fasting.
“The thing that really appealed to me about Orthodoxy is how static it was and how steadfast it is,” he said. “I generally do prefer something that is more traditional and really has that ancient feel to it.”
He’s presently taking catechism classes and plans to officially convert in the new year — before he even graduates high school.
His father, an immigrant from the Philippines, initially had some “reservations” but is supportive and drives him 25 minutes every Sunday so he can attend St. George Orthodox Church.
“Modern Christianity… has become very watered down,” Wee Sit said. “People go to church on Sunday, they sing a few songs, they listen to an hour-long sermon that seems more like a TED talk, and then they go home, and they just go on with their lives.”
Zachary Porcu, 36, is a catechist at Trenham’s church — meaning he helps teach incoming members about the faith. He says there’s currently more than 100 people in classes waiting to be baptized, and that there’s always “a little clique of young men” among them.
In recent years, he’s seen the internet as a major driver: “Internet Orthodoxy is a recognized phenomenon… We get people who come in all the time who are like, ‘I was on the internet arguing with people, and I discovered Orthodoxy and I found your church.’”
Porcu, a theology professor who converted at age 24, understands why his faith is appealing to young men: “Orthodoxy is a call to adventure because it asks you to fast, to pray, to do all these physical things, to do this journey of self-improvement that I think can be contextualized into a very masculine, appealing dimension.”
Psychologist and author Jordan Peterson, who has developed a massive following among young men, told The Post he’s noticed a growing number of Gen Z boys like Elijah trending towards Orthodoxy — in part, he theorizes, because tradition makes it unquestionable.
“Unlike a Protestant service which is much more dependent on the preacher, you can’t criticize an Orthodox service. It’s like going to a ballet and saying, like, ‘What’s going on here?’ Well, that’s a stupid question,” Peterson told The Post.
“[A ballet is] the same thing as an Orthodox ceremony. It’s ritualized. It’s a dance. And it’s not the words only. It’s the words in the architecture, in the images, in the history. And you’re participating in it.”
Bailey Mullins, 26, grew up Baptist in South Carolina.
He began to have questions about religion in high school and college — when he noticed many mainline denominations were getting “co-opted by politics,” fracturing into conservative and liberal branches, and getting distracted by cultural debates like LGBTQ issues.
A religion course with a professor who was an Orthodox Christian inspired him to attend his first liturgy at age 21. He converted two years later.
“I wanted to be somewhere that was stable and that wasn’t going to change,” he told The Post. “It felt very ancient, and that was not something I’d experienced elsewhere.”
Mullins, a graphic designer, now lives in Alexandria, Tennessee. He says more young men are finding Orthodoxy because the religion is, in and of itself, masculine.
“One might say Orthodoxy itself is more masculine, especially when compared to the more feminized forms of Christianity that exist today where the emphasis is on emotional experience, feeling good, and appealing to the self,” he said.
“Orthodoxy isn’t about us, it’s about God, and I think young people today can intuitively sense that out. We know when we’re being pandered to.”
He attends Saint Peter’s Orthodox Church, which he says is mostly filled with young converts like him, who also want to feel a sense of stability in a chaotic world.
“Everything’s changing. Protestant churches are changing. The Catholic church is changing. The culture is changing. The government is changing.
“People want something that is historic and not going to change. They want something that’s stable and sound and is not built on sand.”
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