In a recent article, Ryan M. Reeves draws attention to a fascinating spectacle: young men appear to be embracing Orthodox Christianity in droves. As he identifies the growing hunger for stability and structure—byproducts of traditional masculine values, he highlights the definitive way in which Orthodoxy has been satisfying these cravings. As the bold ambiguity of Western culture mixes with the formless, “inoffensive faith” of modern Evangelicalism, we find among young men (Christian and non-Christian) a restless dissatisfaction leading to widespread conversion.
Having analyzed this phenomenon, Ryan goes on to propose a balanced call to action which grounds our relationship to masculinity in the person of Christ and in the Scriptures, rather than in the oscillating whims of passing generations. These insights are invaluable, and a critical reminder that the ongoing vitality of the church is tied to her reverence for the distinctiveness of God’s design. That being said, I confidently suspect that the hunger for traditional masculinity is not the only craving that has young men flocking to Orthodoxy.
A Worldview Badly Beaten
Orthodox Christian archpriest, Fr. Andrew Stephen Damick, told Justin Brierley in a recent interview, “One of the things that’s happened, especially in the last number of years, is that as Western society has rolled more and more in the direction of disenchantment, with a sense that the unseen world either doesn’t exist or is not accessible,…people have realized that they actually have a hunger for [enchantment].” He then goes on to claim, “One of the things that Orthodox Christianity has in particular is that we make the unseen very seen.”
Although I do not share many of Fr. Damick’s doctrinal convictions, he is absolutely right. When it comes to the nature of the world and our ability to interact with it, the collective consciousness of the present-day West has traveled far from the collective consciousness that produced the Scriptures.
Apart from its benefits, the Enlightenment era provoked a series of formidable blows to the prevailing view of the unseen identity of the world and to this day, that view remains seriously wounded. Let me illustrate. As a result of Enlightenment thought, a new paradigm for how “spiritual” reality relates to “physical” reality (if they actually relate at all…) has trickled down into the collective understanding of Western society. For the entirety of human history, we have understood ourselves to be spiritual-physical beings who possess the innate ability to interact at the same time spiritually and physically with the world. This basic paradigm was seriously wounded by certain Enlightenment instincts and we are seeing the effects of our negligence.
Unfortunately, the church has not come away unscathed. Of course, we did not fall for the conclusion “God is dead”—that was too obvious—but the separation of heaven and earth has found its way into Christian theology and practice through less conspicuous tactics. This brings us to the spectacle at hand.
Reimagining Life in a World that Lives
As it turns out, the desire to engage with an enchanted world is stitched into the fabric of our being. In this context, enchantment refers to the spiritual life that God mysteriously speaks into the physical world. As foreign as this has become to modern sensitivities, its rejection has only led to a strange type of cognitive dissonance where we fail to see and interact with the world according to its design. When we read in the Scriptures of stars who sing and stars who rebel, trees and seas and spirits who obey their Creator and those who do not, it is customary to filter out the strangeness through lenses of so-called “rationality.” Even as Christians, it is tempting to reduce these to mere artistic inventions or even to awkward and unscientific relics of ancient belief. But most of the time, the strangeness is simply ignored—overlooked for the truths that make sense to us logically and emotionally. After all, if “practical application” is going to hit home, it’s best to avoid major paradigm shifts.
It is no surprise that for many millennials and Gen-Z’ers, the allure of traditions that value aesthetics, ritual, and liturgy, is magnified by this cognitive dissonance—this uneasiness that comes from a mismatch of worldview and hard-wiring. Is there such a thing as sacred space? What about sacred time or stories or songs or relationships? If so, why are so many of us untrained to recognize them and enter in.
In stark contrast to the materialistic air that has permeated the West, the Orthodox traditions are teeming with practical ways to relate to an enchanted world. Walk into many Orthodox churches and you will be confronted immediately with sights, sounds, and smells intended to carry one’s spirit to unseen worlds. Broadly speaking, this is a way of life called sacramentalism. If we consider the world an enchanted place, alive in ways that transcend the naked eye, then sacramentalism provides a way to engage an enchanted world. Most of us are familiar with the sacraments of baptism and communion. Generally, we call these sacraments because the physical senses become mysteriously mingled with spiritual activity. Within Christian tradition, these are capital “S” Sacraments, but humans from the very beginning have recognized that our enchanted world presents us with small “s” sacramental opportunities at every turn. In other words, the sensory is a gateway to the spiritual.
I am not implying that those turning to Orthodoxy are primarily interested in the robes, the incense, or the icons. These are merely expressions of a mysteriously holistic way of approaching Christian living that appears to resolve the cognitive dissonance plaguing young men of the Evangelical world and Western society at large.
As we consider how to react to this movement and what wisdom calls for in response, I see two initial temptations:
1. It can be tempting to frame this as a denominational issue. Traditions and affiliations are certainly involved, but this is not the heart of the matter. Doctrinal distinctives are precious, especially in a world where ambiguity and imprecision are celebrated. But at the core, the issue at hand is a human issue—a body and spirit issue, and we should be diligent to frame it as such.
2. It can be tempting to chalk it all up to generational overreaction—like a pendulum moving back and forth from one extreme to another, never finding balance. There may be some truth to this, but we need to be wise in our assessment of the extremes. Hasty dismissal has never been the road to balance. What can we learn from these movements? How can we use them as opportunities to address our blind spots?
A Simple and Balanced Way Forward
Having spent considerable time in various parts of the Evangelical world, one thing is clear to me: as a whole, we still have Enlightenment wounds that need to be addressed. In contrast to our ancient and medieval Judeo-Christian ancestors, when we look up at the night sky, into a forest, or across a stormy sea, we check our imagination at the door. In fact, imagination itself has become largely synonymous with irrational child’s-play. Feasting is utilitarian and fasting is a health trend. God may not be dead, but for us, sacramental living has seen better days.
Recovering a historic, sacramental approach to engaging an enchanted world is a massive paradigm shift. No one should expect entire traditions of Christianity to pivot in a moment (and again, the issue is bigger than traditions). Instead, I propose that we begin taking small steps in the right direction. Let’s simply begin with the Word of God. If we are accustomed in our worship services, bible studies, and personal devotions to avoiding what appears ritualistic, strange, and at times, embarrassing, let’s step out of our comfort zone and embrace the uncomfortable. Let’s search for practical application in the mysterious and mine for truth in the unknown. Let’s develop a healthier relationship to ritual and ceremony, one that isn’t afraid of ritualism or ceremonialism.
And there is hope for us! The enchanted worldview of the biblical authors is only strange because of where we stand in history. We must remember that the enchanted worldview and the sacramental way of life is a Christian heritage, free from denominational boundaries. If our younger generations are craving ritual, ceremony, and sacrament, then let us learn to indulge them! And then, as we move from place to place, time to time, and thought to thought, building new relationships, preserving old ones, delighting in old stories and crafting new ones, let us begin to sound more like Jacob, who marveled, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven!” This is only a start, but a start in the right direction is more than half the battle.
