Over the past generation, surveys, studies and anecdotal evidence have all shown that the Catholic Church—and Christian churches more broadly—are experiencing a measurable decline in their influence over the moral formation of young men.

Church attendance among young adults is far lower than among older generations. The Pew Research Center reports that only about a quarter of Americans in their 20s attend religious services monthly, compared with over 40 percent of seniors. Among Catholics, more young adults have left the church than have entered it. And in many parishes, the sacrament of confirmation effectively functions as a ritual of graduation from church life rather than of deeper integration into it.

At the same time, young men are reporting rising levels of loneliness and social disconnection. The American Perspectives Survey found that 15 percent of men report having no close friends—up sharply from prior decades. Participation in civic and voluntary associations has declined. Many young men are less embedded in deeply interconnected, intergenerational communities than in previous generations.

But this does not necessarily mean they are less religious. Rather, religious identity and moral language are being relocated. They are increasingly mediated online and are often intertwined with political identity.

Over half of Americans now listen to podcasts monthly, with higher rates among men. YouTube is used daily by a large majority of teens. And into this digital environment has stepped a constellation of influential voices—Andrew Tate, Jordan Peterson, Joe Rogan, the late Charlie Kirk and others—whose audiences are disproportionately young and male.

These media figures differ significantly from one another. But many share overlapping audiences, and many blend discussions of masculinity, cultural decline, hierarchy and Christianity with explicitly right-wing political narratives. In some corners of this ecosystem, that alignment becomes overtly “Christian nationalist.” We have seen influencers openly argue that the United States must become explicitly Christian in law and culture and that liberal democracy has failed. Some figures associated with this movement go so far as to describe democracy itself as incompatible with Christian order.

What we are witnessing, then, is not exactly secularization. It is a migration of moral authority—from parish, pastor and family (organic stable communities) to podcast hosts, algorithms and political entrepreneurs (elective and elusive communities without the bonds of mutual accountability).

Young men are still asking religious questions. They are drawn to biblical language, to order, to transcendence, to clarity. But the formation they are receiving in large doses is often detached from sacramental life and the long moral tradition of the church.

So the question before us is not whether young men care about faith or morality. Many clearly do.

If Christian language, identity and even nationalism are being reshaped in a largely unmoored digital marketplace that blends masculinity, grievance and politics, how should the Catholic Church respond?

The question is: If Christian language, identity and even nationalism are being reshaped in a largely unmoored digital marketplace that blends masculinity, grievance and politics, how should the Catholic Church respond? Four scholars—Patrick Gilger, S.J., Margaret Felice, Susan Bigelow Reynolds and Peter Nguyen, S.J.—offer their reflections in the linked articles, which are also listed below. These essays are adapted from a panel conversation organized by the McFarland Center for Religion, Ethics and Culture at the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Mass., on Feb. 26, 2026.

— Brent Howitt Otto, S.J.