October took me through Southern Africa: Angola, South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe, Zambia. Everywhere, the same impression: young, vibrant, restless clubs. In the streets, in the markets, in our fraternities, there are many young faces, urgent questions, and energies that seek direction. A ferment that is not only demographic: it is existential, political, spiritual.
In Luanda, Angola, several young friars in formation expressed to me their different expectations on an evening of meeting, hot not only because of the climate. In Pretoria, a very young Jelani looked me straight in the eye: "Father, in my country 62% of young people cannot find work. What future can we hope for?" I didn't know what to answer. His question followed me throughout the journey.
So, I tried to look at the "Gen Z protests" that broke out in different parts of the world. I feel the danger of trivializing a deeper phenomenon. Young people are not angry about demographics: they are the first to lucidly perceive that the old order is at the end of the line. Far from apathetic, they show a growing protagonism, refusing to feel irrelevant.
In Pretoria, amid the sound of persistent rain and the crowded street in front of our church, Jelani, 20, told me again: "We pay for crises that we have not created." He's right, and it's not just in Africa. In Rome, Luca, in his 25s, angrily tells me that he and his friends are becoming adults in economies that no longer need their jobs.
They are not only asking for better material conditions: they want to be considered relevant actors, capable of influencing decisions. They want to count, to give an imprint to this century that they feel as being their own. In their voices there is not only contestation: there is the demand for a new pact between generations. This is also true for religious life.
These are the questions I ask myself and us adults: do we really know young people and do we meet them? Do we build structures designed by us for them, without ever listening to them and letting ourselves be changed by them?
In Harare and Lusaka, listening to our young friars, in Botswana meeting young people, I asked myself: when was the last time in my/your fraternity we made room for young people to say what they really think?
If they denounce an unjust world, a system that excludes them, ankylosed communities – what responsibility do we have who have built, maintained, perhaps even blessed this world?
Or do we continue to call them "youth issues" so as not to take them seriously?
St Francis of Assisi was Jelani's age when he began his research.
Perhaps young people today are telling us that the world we know is ending. Not because of catastrophism, but because they experience it on their skin.
The first step? Listening. Real listening, without an agenda. Create spaces where you can walk 'with' young people, not just 'for' them. They are not only asking for solutions: they are asking for recognition. I ask you: do you have a listening history with a young person? Share it with a sibling.
There are many Jelani to meet – and many stories to share.
