A few mornings ago, I read in my local paper how the “Millennials,” that new powerhouse generation born between the early 1980’s and early 2000’s (depending on whom you ask), is the most sought-after market. We want them to vote, to buy things, to watch media, and to revitalize our failing urban cores (Tim Swarens, “Sticking Millennials with the Bill, Indianapolis Star [October 30, 2014], A17).
But these so-called “Millennials” have been called many things; as Time Magazine journalist Joel Stein described, in a May 9, 2013 article, Millennials are “lazy, entitled, selfish, and shallow.” Whether or not this is true in any way is one point to argue, but the extent of difference across this wide swath of time also perplexes. In my perspective, as one born dangerously close to this undesirable age group, I see immense difference between the attitude and outlook of myself and the undergraduate students whom I teach (born in the mid-1990’s). They didn’t suffer through the New Kids on the Block, they didn’t watch the collapse of the Soviet Union, and many of them don’t remember the fall of the twin Towers.
But, what can we say about Millennials, new or old, and the Liturgy? First, pinpointing common denominators across these twenty years’ worth of children between 1980 and 2000 (let alone 2014) is challenging. My Millennial Roman Catholic students’ experience of memory begins after the 1990’s “Liturgy Wars,” and coincides with shifting preferences for worship practices and aesthetics. While practice at my Catholic grade school in the 1980’s suggested that felt, burlap, and pottery were normative materials for worship, my college students confidingly tell me that they are on the opposite apex of the aesthetic “pendulum swing.” While my exposure to Christian hymnody began with the paperback Glory and Praise (you know, the one with eagle flying into the sunset on the cover?), these younger Millennials can sing a full-throated Sanctus in the original language. While I have no youthful memory of prayer in front of the Blessed Sacrament outside the context of Holy Thursday, I frequently observe later Millennials routinely remaining, en masse, after Mass, to spend additional time in prayer.
Despite our differences in formation and in how we may evaluate our different contexts, I know that my Millennials and I can wholeheartedly agree that not everything that happened following the liturgical reforms which occurred after the Second Vatican Council was “wrong” or “bad.” We know that we are the beneficiaries of ready familiarity with the text of the Mass, with the lectionary, with involvement as lay ministers, and with church sanctuaries well-appointed for the appropriate liturgical season by a dedicated arts and environment committee.
But, I don’t think that I or my students have shaped our experiences of worship, either. Thus far, the experience of worship has been designed for Millennials, not by them. So, what do Millennials want when we come to worship? A lazy, self-focused, entitled and shallow experience of spirituality and prayer? Or something else?
Thom S. Rainer, Southern Baptist and co-author of the 2010 book, The Millennials, reports that Millennials “don’t think in the old worship war paradigm.” Rather, Millennials seek three main characteristics: they want music with “rich content,” seek “authenticity” in worship leaders and participants, and desire a “quality worship service.” Rainer also notes that Millennials are attracted to churches which “focus on teaching and preaching” and on outreach to the “community and the world.”
I could be wrong, but these attributes seem pretty universally attractive for worship—across generations and denominations. But, perhaps the heart of Rainer’s observation is that it is challenging and perhaps inaccurate to identify Millennials in neat black and white terms such as “traditionalist” or “progressive.” Embracing postmodernism (even if inadvertently), it seems that Millennials may want or desire to connect their faith experiences to culture and society, and are receptive to multiple strains of worship aesthetics—if these various aesthetics still yield rich content, quality, and authenticity. To that end, contemporary Christian praise music and Gregorian chant both could be good choices. Likewise, fervent full, conscious, and active participants at Mass could likewise deeply appreciate Eucharistic adoration following the celebration of the Sacrament. For those of us raised in stark “either-or” situations (where amount of appreciation of one aesthetic or another proves to be a sure litmus test for liberal or conservative identity), how could any Millennial—possibly—happily “walk the line” in this way?
In short, I don’t think we know yet what the Millennials want when we come to worship. In the meantime, though, it may be the duty, especially for teachers and practitioners of liturgy and worship, to expose Millennials to the breadth of variety of aesthetics and multiplicity of devotions inspired by Christian worship.
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