This is end stage spirituality.

If you’ve spent any time on the internet lately, you know that the “Spiritual but Not Religious” movement has finally hit its expiration date. It turns out that building a personal philosophy out of thrifted tarot cards, $40 rocks that “vibrate with abundance,” and a Pinterest board of cosmic vibes is about as structurally sound as a yurt made of wet napkins.

Gen Z has looked into the abyss of infinite, self-directed freedom and realized it’s just a giant, echoing room full of mirrors and people trying to sell you a subscription to a meditation app. They’re done. They’re jumping ship, and they’re landing directly in the arms of the Catholic Church.

For years, the “Spiritual but Not Religious” crowd was the reigning champion of being annoying at parties. It was a lifestyle built on the idea that you could be your own priest, your own god, and your own moral compass, provided that compass always pointed toward “whatever makes me feel okay right now.”

But here’s the problem, Spirituality without morality is a dead end. It’s a road that leads to a cul-de-sac of narcissism where the only commandment is Don’t Kill My Vibe. Eventually, you realize that a spirituality with no rules, no history, and no guy in a fancy hat telling you you’re wrong is just Extended Adolescence with Incense.

Out: Checking your horoscope to see if you should be a jerk to Steve, your mom’s boyfriend.

In: Two thousand years of tradition, terrifyingly beautiful cathedrals, and a clear set of instructions that don’t care if you’re “feeling it” today.

Gen Z grew up in a world of digital liquid. Everything is swipeable, temporary, and fake. Disposable. They were raised by the internet, a place where truth is whatever the loudest person says it is. After twenty years of that, a guy in a robe reading Latin from a book that hasn’t changed since the Roman Empire looks less like “oppression” and more like a Life Raft.

They aren’t looking for a “cool” church with a drum solo and a pastor with abs who wears distressed denim. They want the heavy stuff. They want the incense that smells like old secrets and the guilt that actually has a purpose. They’re searching for rooted, not modern. They’re searching for truth, not mood.

For many it’s stepping onto dry land for the first time after having been adrift their entire lives.

God help them. God help us all.