Faith and Renewal at Farnborough: A Catholic Springtime
This last weekend I stood once again beneath the vaulted arches of St Michael’s Abbey in Farnborough, a place that has always stirred my soul. The Gregorian chant lingered in the incense-heavy air, sunlight poured through the stained glass, and I felt a wave of gratitude as the monks processed past.
I had come for Sunday Mass at the Abbey, while our Annual Summer Event of the New Horizons Club took place just nearby at the Aviator Hotel — the very same venue where, back in 2018, I had attended Perry Marshall’s mastermind group.
Back then, I was part of someone else’s circle, grateful to be included and eager to learn. This time, I returned with my own community at my side. The parallel struck me deeply: once a participant, now a host — and yet still with the same sense of gratitude for the people gathered and the paths that brought us together.
More than forty of us gathered, men and women from around the world, sharing fellowship, ideas, plans, and hopes — all while private jets roared overhead from nearby Farnborough Airport, a reminder of the modern world pressing at the monastery gates.
From Decline to Renewal
In 2018, when I first visited the Abbey, the monastic community was faithful but small — a few elderly figures holding the line of tradition in a world drifting ever further away.
This time, I was stunned. There are more monks now — many of them young.
After Mass, I spoke with the Abbot. He confirmed what my eyes already told me: vocations are increasing, not only here but across several religious orders in the U.K. In fact, some communities have reached such fullness that they had to close their doors to new applicants.
In my lifetime, I had never heard such words. For decades, the story was always decline: parishes shuttered, convents empty, monasteries crumbling into museums. And now? A turning tide.
The Benedictine Spirit
The monks at Farnborough are Benedictines, heirs to the Rule of St Benedict that shaped European civilization for over a millennium. In his Sunday homily, the Abbot reminded us of Benedict’s very first word to his monks: Asculta — listen.
This is not a passing remark. Asculta is the very first word of the Rule’s prologue, written in the 6th century by St Benedict of Nursia. It sets the tone for everything that follows: a life of attentiveness and obedience to God, to Scripture, and to the Abbot’s guidance.
The Rule itself is a “little rule for beginners,” a framework designed to help monks live a balanced and Christ-centered life. Prayer, manual labor, study, community, and moderation are woven together in a rhythm of glorifying God. And it all begins with listening.
How striking this is in our own time. In an age of noise, distraction, and relentless scrolling, to listen — truly listen — is countercultural. It is the first step toward spiritual renewal, whether in the cloister or outside it. Perhaps that is why vocations are flourishing again: young men and women, worn down by the emptiness of modern life, are rediscovering the peace that begins in silence.
Farnborough and the Bonaparte Legacy
Farnborough is not just any abbey. It carries with it the weight of history. Founded by Empress Eugénie, widow of Napoleon III, it was built as the resting place for the Bonapartes in exile. The imperial dead lie in its crypt — a reminder that even the mighty of this world must one day kneel before God.
And how fitting this parallel feels. The Bonapartes, cast out from their homeland, made England their place of belonging. In a similar way, many in our New Horizons Club are building lives abroad, sometimes by choice, sometimes by necessity. Exile is not only loss — it can also be the ground where belonging grows anew.
The Wider Picture
What I saw in Farnborough is not an isolated miracle. Look at the numbers.
In the United States, after decades of decline, Catholic conversions are surging again. Charts now show more people joining than leaving the Church — a reversal of trends that seemed irreversible only five years ago.
In France, a recent survey of catechumens revealed that 78% discovered or deepened their faith through social media. Young men are listening to Bishop Barron, Father Mike Schmitz, Edward Sri, Trent Horn — and finding in Catholicism what the world could not give them: truth, meaning, and belonging.
Here in Britain, Benedictine monasteries like Farnborough are filling with new vocations.
This is not nostalgia. It is renewal.
And Yet, in the German-Speaking World…
Contrast this with Germany, Austria, and Switzerland.
In Germany, the Catholic Church recorded 522,821 formal departures in 2022, the highest number ever. Total membership fell below 21.6 million — less than one-quarter of the population.
In Austria, more than 90,000 people left the Church in 2022, the highest figure since records began. Membership now stands at around 4.7 million, down from nearly 6 million in the 1970s.
In Switzerland, the Catholic Church reported around 34,000 departures in 2022, also a record. The Catholic share of the population has dropped below 33%, compared to nearly half fifty years ago.
Seminaries in these countries are empty. Parishes merge and close. Entire dioceses feel like they are winding down.
It breaks my heart. And yet, it also clarifies my mission.
My Business, My Calling
For years now, my work has been to help German speakers move abroad, build their Plan B, and reclaim their independence — from suffocating tax regimes, from stifling bureaucracy, from political decay.
But a Plan B is never only about money or passports. At its deepest level, it is about the soul.
When I see young men and women rediscovering the Catholic faith — in Farnborough, in Paris, in Dallas — I am reminded that what people truly seek is not only freedom from but also freedom for. Freedom for truth, for meaning, for a community that transcends the chaos of the age.
And sometimes, looking for spiritual renewal itself can be a reason to move abroad. If your faith community is dying, you face a choice: either rebuild it where you are, or join a thriving community elsewhere. For some, this means finding a monastery that is alive, or a parish filled with young families. It may even mean finding a spouse among them and raising children in an atmosphere of faith and hope. This is just as valid a motivation as lowering your taxes or escaping a surveillance state.
The Wound of Dating Culture
One cannot ignore another cultural factor: the collapse of dating culture in the West. Dating apps, casual hookups, endless choice without commitment — these have left many young people scarred, lonely, and searching for something deeper.
It is no accident that the revival is especially strong among young men. They are not finding love, purpose, or belonging in the world of Tinder and TikTok. But in the rhythm of Benedictine prayer, in the clarity of Catholic teaching, they find an anchor. A way to listen. A way to live.
And here again a parallel emerged for me. The Abbot spoke of men who found their vocation through social media after the pandemic. In my own, far humbler sphere, clients find me through YouTube and other platforms. They are not seeking the cloister, but they are seeking a vocation of another kind — the call to freedom, to live differently, to raise families in places where faith and hope are still alive.
A Conservative Catholic’s Hope
As a conservative Catholic, this renewal warms my heart more than I can express.
We live in times of upheaval: war in Europe, governments testing the limits of control, economies built on sand. But amid the uncertainty, there is a growing hunger for what is eternal. The monasteries filling again are not relics of the past; they are seeds of the future.
Standing in Farnborough, hearing the young voices join the ancient chant, I thought: perhaps this is how renewal begins. Not with a program or a policy, but with men and women kneeling in silence, offering their lives to God.
A Final Thought
The Bonapartes lie in the crypt below Farnborough, emperors reduced to dust. Above, in the choir, young Benedictine monks sing the praises of Christ. That is the real reversal of history.
And that is why, when I left the Abbey that Sunday, after a weekend of fellowship at the Aviator with the New Horizons Club, I felt a profound peace. Because even as we strategize about taxes, visas, and new lives abroad, I know there is something deeper guiding it all.
A Catholic springtime is dawning. And I, for one, am grateful to have witnessed its first blossoms.
