Come home… and then what?

The new wave of Catholics and the test of our witness

By Fr Robert Christo

Vicar for Communications

The tide is rising. Across the world, and especially in the United States, there has been a noticeable swell of souls walking back home to the Catholic Church—the highest in decades. Even outlets like the New York Times have taken note.

In our Archdiocese too, according to the Office of Pastoral Planning and Development (OPPD), the increases are encouraging even with adult Baptism rising  by about 65 per cent since last year.

Some come limping; some come leaping; some come quietly like Nicodemus in the night. Some are joining spouses and children. But they are coming (back). Drawn by mystery. Hungry for meaning, depth, truth, and even sainthood. Thirsty for the sacraments. Looking for meaning in suffering. Tired of noise and the empty promises of secularism, searching for an authoritative Voice.

As St Augustine of Hippo once said, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” That restlessness is echoing again. In a culture of speed and superficiality, many are rediscovering silence, Eucharist, Confession, structure, authority, uninterrupted lineage, and rich tradition.

Even US Bishop Robert Barron notes that young people are seeking “a faith that makes demands,” not a watered-down spirituality.

So yes, it looks promising. The numbers look good. The optics look good. But here is the deeper question—are we ready? What will they meet? Cradle Catholics who have never seen a confessional stole? Lukewarm, routine attendance? Will they feel welcomed? Will they stay? Will we be a bridge—or a stumbling block?

This is not an indictment. It is a wake-up call to self-reflection.

When the nets are full

In Luke 5, when the disciples hauled in a miraculous catch, the nets began to tear. That image feels close. The Church is receiving a catch—converts, Gen Z, reverts, seekers, wounded hearts, ex-prisoners, young people, families—but are our nets strong enough?

Caribbean style—plenty could catch fish, but not everybody could clean, scale, cook, and serve it right. The danger is not the influx. The danger is what happens after.

Order of Christian Initiation of Adults (OCIA) programmes are growing. Baptisms and Confirmations are filled with energy. Retreats and pilgrimages light a fire. But too often, after the incense clears and the choir hushes, maxi stops, people are left standing like a fete finish—music done, lights off, everybody gone home.

One confirmand said it plain: “Father… you put we on a high… and then you drop we like a ripe breadfruit.” That is not just a complaint. That is a cry.

Scripture warns us. In Matthew 12, a spirit returns worse than before when there is no dwelling place. Formation without accompaniment is dangerous. Initiation without integration is incomplete.

The pew test

A convert walks into Mass. Who do they meet? A warm smile—or a cold shoulder,  ‘d look’? A welcoming hand—or a silent bench? A community—or people just attending a list of events?

St John Chrysostom said, “If you cannot find Christ in the beggar at the church door, you will not find Him in the chalice.”

Sometimes the stumbling block is not outside the church, but inside the pew and on the sanctuary.

We have good Catholics. Faithful Catholics. But are we formed Catholics? Are we missionary disciples? Or are we maintaining a system—attending, observing, fulfilling, but not extending?

This calls not for more programmes, but for authentic personal holiness.

From maintenance to mission

The shift must happen. The Church cannot remain in maintenance mode. The Gospel is not a museum piece. It is a fire. Acts 2 shows a Church devoted to fellowship, breaking of bread, prayer, and shared life. They accompanied one another.

In Trinidad and Tobago—they didn’t just ‘lime’, they journeyed. To be ready means forming people who can accompany others in brokenness. It means small communities in the neighbourhoods. Intentional follow-up. Mentorship. Spaces where questions are welcomed and wounds are acknowledged.

The prison door and the parish gate

One painful reality—some who meet Christ in prison cannot find a place in the parish. As a former prison chaplain, I met many who encountered Jesus behind bars. Hearts softened. Lives changed. They walked out of ‘Block 13’ hoping for a new beginning.

But when they reached the parish gate—it was a different story. In some cases, I had to turn to nearby evangelical communities to receive them, because we were not ready. And so, they drift.

Grace is at work everywhere, yes. But the question remains—why not us?

The Church, their Mother, struggled to make space at the table.

A Church that feels like home

The answer is not more activity. It is deeper conversion. We need Catholics who see, notice, and move. Ministries that say, “Come, sit here. Walk with us. Let us grow together.”

People are not looking for perfection. They are looking for belonging and support.

They have left noise for silence. Confusion for truth. Isolation for communion.

What will they find?

The final question

Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me?” and responds, “Feed my sheep” (Jn 21).

Not count them. Not admire them. Not post them.

Feed them. Walk with them. Stay with them.

Yes, the influx is real. The hunger is real. The grace is real. But the question echoes through every parish, pew, ministry: Are we ready? Or will the nets break… and the fish slip away?