Father John Armitage is an incredibly busy man. His church, St Margaret’s Parish, welcomed a staggering 5,000 people across 20 masses in Holy Week.
Church attendance across all Christian denominations has been in decline across England and Wales, with the latest figures from the Office for National Statistics describing both as “minority Christian countries”. But that national reality has been inverted in Canning Town, east London, where St Margaret’s first opened its doors in 1866.
The church hosts mass in English, Romanian and Latin, averaging more than 800 worshippers a week. The chapel upstairs, originally built to handle overflow, regularly livestreams services to those who cannot find a seat. “The narrative has always been that nobody goes to church,” Armitage says. “It’s a narrative that needs to be adjusted, if not changed.”
Recent polling by the Bible Society and YouGov points to a quiet resurgence in church attendance across the UK, particularly among young people in Roman Catholic communities. The figures go against the long-held assumption that secularity is on the rise, especially among the young.
“Since Sunday, I’ve had three people phone up to say they want to be Catholics. Completely out of the blue,” Armitage says, adding that the pattern is not unique to their church. Others have continued pouring into the church following the news of Pope Francis’s death.
Georgia Clarke, the director of youth ministry at St Elizabeth of Portugal RC Church in Richmond, said her parish had four adult converts this Easter alone: two former Protestants, one former Muslim, and one with no religious background. “All under 35,” she says. Her youth ministry began in 2020 with six teenagers. Now more than 100 young people attend regularly.
Clarke suggests this is down to the fact her parish was inspired by Pope Francis to move away from a traditional, classroom-style model towards a more relational approach to teaching the faith. She says people often jokingly describe confirmation as the “exit sacrament”, where those young people are not seen until they get married. Now, about 80–90% of teens stay connected to the church after confirmation through weekly meet-ups, mentoring and retreats, where discussions range from climate anxiety to getting into university.
She adds that it is not just young people – overall mass attendance at Easter jumped from 560 in 2023 to 760 this year. “We had people pouring out of the church in every single side chapel you can imagine. The chairs were being run up and down the stairs to seat more people. People were looking in from the street. It was incredible. I’ve honestly never seen anything like it.”
Teresa Carvalho, the Evangelisation coordinator for the Diocese of Westminster, says her parish in Forest Gate had 1,000 people from Saturday night to Sunday night. “People are giving church a try, or something has drawn them back again,” she says. “People are coming with whatever their question is … What will take it over the line for many people is how God breaks into their life.”
Many cautioned that this increase is likely to be small, and concentrated in England’s urban centres, where waves of immigration from Catholic-majority countries such as the Philippines, Nigeria, Poland and many countries in Latin America have had a noticeable effect on parish congregations. But they were keen to point out that it is not just demographic changes. Several church members also spoke of a notable number of Britons, both white, and second- or third-generation ethnic minorities, who are converting to the faith.
Elena Attfield, 29, converted in her early 20s after growing up in a Protestant household. Her husband and many of her friends are also young adult converts. When she first attended young Catholic gatherings in 2017, the majority of attendees were “cradle Catholics”, who are those born into the faith. “Now if I go to a young adult gathering it seems as if most of the people there are converts so I do believe there is some kind of revival happening.”
Gabriel Diai, 33, is a leading member of St Margaret’s youth group, which has experienced notable growth among 25- to 35-year-olds. “The package once was you find a job, get married and you’re going to be happy, but that’s not the system any more,” he says.
About 30-35 people meet once every fortnight, Diai explains, many of whom are drawn to Armitage’s sermons. On a rainy Wednesday morning, just under 40 people attended morning mass at 9.30am, where Armitage preached that transformation begins not with belief, but with acts of love, particularly towards the stranger in need. This message resonates deeply with east London, which has long been one of the country’s main points of arrival.
Diai added: “One of the key things Father John talks about is self-forgiveness and how a lot of people struggle with that. Whether they made a mistake … you’re still someone that’s loved.”
Theresa Alessandro, who is based in Leicester and hosts a podcast about ordinary Catholics and their faith journeys, said many of her guests spoke about “finding truth in the church” and wondered if it is a reaction to “a kind of post-truth world where it’s hard to know what to hang on to”.
She has also observed that younger guests are often surprisingly well-read, exploring Catholic writers and scripture in depth before choosing to commit. “They’ve really looked into it and felt confident that they found something here.”
Diai agreed. “A lot of friends of mine have Bible studies in people’s houses. So that’s ammunition and curiosity to take things further.”
What draws them in? Diai didn’t hesitate before answering. “There’s nothing new. We’re all experiencing life, but we’ve got the anecdotes and stories of people who’ve lived in worse situations than the present.
“It’s your faith and your relationship with God that’s ultimately going to drive your motivation, your hope, your resilience.”