Ryan Camaratta was raised Catholic but "fell away from the church" as a young man.
At 14, he developed an opiate addiction. He experienced years of homelessness and incarceration.
"I turned to blaming God, displacing that blame — you know, said it was God's fault, didn't take any responsibility," Camaratta said. "I held under that skewed perspective for a while."
Now 31 and seven years sober, Camaratta is scheduled to be confirmed as Catholic this Easter weekend at St. John the Evangelist Church in Pittston, continuing the journey of faith where he left off as a teen.
"It's the start of the rest of my life, the rest of my journey," said Camaratta, who is among hundreds of people on track to join the church this Easter in the Diocese of Scranton.
"It's the start of a deeper spiritual life," Camaratta said.
Part of a national trend
The total number of people joining the church in the 11-county Diocese of Scranton this year is 312, diocesan spokesman Eric Deabill said, up from 207 in 2025.
They include 175 Christians who have already been baptized, known as “candidates,” and 137 people who have not been baptized, called “catechumens.”
Scranton's experience echoes trends nationwide.
The National Catholic Register (NCR) newspaper last week reported that "Many U.S. dioceses are expecting heavy increases in people joining the Catholic Church at Easter 2026, including some with record highs."
Seventy-one, or 40% of U.S. dioceses, responded to NCR's survey. Sixty-six of them said they were expecting increases this year, "in many cases, significant ones."
Three of the biggest spikes were in Pennsylvania dioceses, NCR reported — Altoona-Johnstown (84%), Harrisburg (77%) and Philadelphia (60%). Though not included in NCR's list, Scranton's number of converts is up nearly 51% this year.
The trend is widespread and — NCR and other sources are finding — not a one-year blip.
The Archdiocese of Newark, N.J., is seeing a 30% increase in new Catholics this year and a 72% increase since 2023, NJ.com reported, with conversions on the rise since shortly after the COVID-19 pandemic.
The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette in October reported that at Pittsburgh’s college campuses, the number of practicing Catholics has "swelled" since the pandemic.
And the Washington Post this week reported on the rise in Catholicism among Gen Z men.
The Scranton Diocese doesn't break down new Catholics according to age, only distinguishing between adults (102) and youths (35) in the catechumen category.
Bambera: 'Not by chance'
Scranton Bishop Joseph Bambera reflected on the trend during Tuesday's Chrism Mass at St. Peter's Cathedral, during which holy oils used in different sacraments are blessed for the year to come.
“This year, in a phenomenon sweeping the Church in our land, well over 300 men and women from our parishes will be baptized and received into full communion in the Church," Bambera said.
"They’re being led to communion and discipleship not by chance, but by the power of God working in families, in friends, and particularly in and through the life and ministry of your parishes,” he said.
Bambera also talked about the rise in new Catholics in his Easter message, in which the bishop reflected on approaching Holy Week and Easter "with our world engulfed by war and suffering."
"These catechumens and candidates — our relatives, neighbors and friends — will join with catechumens and candidates from around the world in numbers that we have not experienced in years to publicly profess their faith in Jesus Christ and to assume their place with us in Jesus’ body, the Church," Bambera said.
'It's like a big family'
Matt Rosencrans, a catechumen at St. John the Evangelist, also was among those preparing to publicly profess their faith at the Pittston parish this weekend.
"Sometimes you almost feel scared to talk about religion these days," said Rosencrans, 37, who said that growing up he was "a little bit nervous or afraid to openly ask" about the subject.
He found comfort in being able to talk freely and ask questions in his new parish, and especially in his Order of Christian Initiation of Adults (OCIA) classes, as the process for preparing new Catholics is known.
"It's like a big family, it's one big community," he said.
Like Camaratta, Rosencrans said his path to Catholicism has taken twists and turns.
"I didn't grow up religious. I was given away by my mother at a young age, separated from my brother. I didn't see him again, from the year when I was six years old until I gave his eulogy when I was 30 years old," Rosencrans said.
He talked about that loss with a deacon at St. John's when joining the OCIA class.
"When he passed, I was 200, almost 300 miles away, and I felt something. I was working in a restaurant. I felt cold, and to feel freezing cold in a restaurant, you know, is not normal, right? I went on break about 15 minutes later, and I looked at my phone. I saw my uncle called me. I knew exactly what the call was gonna say: 'Matt, your brother passed,'" he recalled.
"Looking back and reflecting, I feel like there is some kind of presence or some kind of guardian angel, or maybe even part of my own brother's spirit with me, even though we were separated," Rosencrans said. "Religion's always been there for me, in a way, but not traditionally."
Things became clearer in the past year.
A close friend in the Harrisburg area converted to Catholicism, "and it all just kind of clicked," Rosencrans said. "He said, 'Matt, maybe you might have just finally hit your calling.'"
"And ever since then, I've been on a good path. A lot of different things in my life have changed for the better," Rosencrans said.
A 'cradle Catholic' returns
Carlie Craven of Dupont describes herself as a “cradle Catholic” who was baptized into the faith and received First Communion.
"And then, shortly after my first Holy Communion, my parents got divorced. We stopped going to church, and I didn't receive confirmation," Craven, 36, said.
"And then, you know, as a teenager from divorced parents, I ended up actually renouncing my faith. I became an atheist for a few years," she said.
Also an OCIA candidate at St. John the Evangelist, Craven described the path that led her back to Catholicism.
As a pre-med student in college, she found that studying science drew her to deeper questions about life and faith.
She picked up a book called "Proof of Heaven" by Dr. Eben Alexander, a neurosurgeon and former atheist who recounted a near-death experience.
"That experience brought him to God. So after I read that book, not long after, he actually came to speak at my school," Craven said, adding that she was then inspired to start going to church again.
Craven attended non-denominational churches, but found her questions weren't answered, "so I eventually stopped going."
Two or three years ago, she started listening to "The Bible in a Year" podcast by the Rev. Mike Schmitz, a Catholic priest.
"That kind of just made so much more sense than I had ever heard it make," Craven said.
"So I started doing a lot of my own research, I started reading a lot, listening to other podcasts on what the church teaches. And so I always say I kind of had, like an intellectual conversion back to the Catholic Church," she said.
In the meantime, Craven took a job as a Physician Assistant at the Wilkes-Barre VA Medical Center, where she often attended Mass said by Rev. Michael Kloton.
"So I always say it's like the two Father Mikes — between Father Mike here and Father Mike Schmidt — they eventually led me to going to my local church and joining OCIA," Craven said.
Craven has another person who has been guiding her through the process — her mother-in-law, who is also her sponsor.
"She's the most holy woman I know, and the kindest person I know. So she kind of helped lead me back, too, because I want to be like her," Craven said.
'A place where I really want to be'
Camaratta, a self-described "history nerd," has found spiritual guidance and inspiration in studying church history.
St. Augustine of Hippo, an early father of the church, has become one of his role models.
"He was, for lack of a better word, I guess, a carouser. Didn't live the most morally ethical life, and he was very forthcoming about that," Camaratta said.
Augustine famously converted to Catholicism in his 30s, in the year 386, after saying he heard the voice of a child say, "take up and read," which he interpreted to mean the Bible.
"It felt so similar to the experience I had while incarcerated," Camaratta said, realizing that only through God could he change his life.
"And I kind of feel like Augustine is saying the same thing," he said.
Camaratta now works in the substance use treatment field, and he talks about his experiences at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.
He's also found a spiritual home among the members of his new parish.
"How good it felt to be surrounded by people on the same path, and I don't necessarily mean the same path as just OCIA classes either," he said. "Just, you know, [to] belong to a parish, a community of people. We are Christ's church. It's not just the building."
Camaratta admitted feeling a little bit of nervousness ahead of his spiritual moment on Holy Saturday night.
"To say I'm excited is an understatement. There's a lot of nervous energy around it," he said.
"That's the human aspect of it — am I gonna, you know, say and do the right things? There's gonna be a ton of people there. You know what I mean? That's definitely nerve-wracking," he said.
"But ultimately, it's — I don't want to say the end of the long path, it's like the mid-point of the long path. I've come to a place where I really want to be."
