Sacred influencers. Nuns and priests are making waves on TV and social media, especially when they’re not praying

Put like that, it sounds like a hallucination. There are two priests imitating Benedetta Parodi, the Pope joining in with a TikTok trend, and two fake nuns praising Mary alongside a former punk diva who, a few decades ago, urged the public to rape her on the underground. This is no joke: it is a programme schedule. One that, across television and social media, is now giving more space than ever to priests and nuns from all over Italy. Not so much to evangelise viewers via the airwaves, but rather to entertain them with the pleasant jolt of the absurd, of embarrassment (or rather, ‘cringe’) and, why not, even of sincere tenderness. Ora et labora. But first, record it. One eye on the crucifix and the other fixed on the camera lens. Those who manage it carry on with their religious life without any particular upheaval. But it is difficult – so much so that there are even those who prefer to throw themselves wholeheartedly into the latter, and today – like Alberto Ravagnani – are dancing on Ballando con le stelle just a few months after taking their vows.

Before chef-priests and influencer-priests, the unwitting trailblazer for the cassock in 16:9 format was Sister Cristina. Her victory on the talent show The Voice, under the artistic guidance of rap icon and cannabis advocate J-ax, quickly made headlines around the world. So much so that the video of her first performance, in which she sang Alicia Keys’ ‘No One’, was the fourth most-viewed video on YouTube worldwide in 2014. The vocal range of the twenty-five-year-old nun was enough to make half the pop scene green with envy; the four judges were blown away, whilst other Ursulines went wild with joy behind the scenes. Sister Cristina’s rise through the television ranks (including appearances on private channels and singing competitions) culminated in a lucrative contract with Universal and global success. This was followed by a gold disc, guest appearances on American television and, in Italy, a stint as a contestant on Ballando. However, the habit began to feel increasingly restrictive, prompting her to bid farewell to the Ursulines, adopt the name on her health card (Cristina Scuccia) and take part in Isola dei famosi alongside, among others, the Jalisse. Even without her vows, former Sister Cristina continues to make a splash: members of the clergy stand out on screen, especially when they are not praying. And so the camera keeps rolling.

Not that it was off the air before, of course. On Tv2000, a television channel controlled by the Italian Bishops’ Conference, priests and nuns appear regularly. One of them, the Cistercian monk Don Domenico de Stradis, co-presented a cookery programme entitled ‘Quel che passa il convento’ for fourteen years. The programme fits squarely into the culinary programme format, with a mock kitchen set up in a television studio, numerous guests taking turns at the worktop, and the inclusion of “products for commercial purposes”. For the cameras, dishes based on ancient convent recipe books are cooked, all seasoned with brief spiritual reflections from the monk-gardener. The programme, which ended in 2024, was one of the channel’s longest-running and most popular shows, so much so that, together with “La Santa Messa”, it helped Tv2000 close out the spring of 2017 with a 12.3 per cent increase in audience share compared to the same period the previous year, ranking on a par with Italia 1. But for every programme that ends, even stronger ones emerge, on a channel that has even gone international. And this time, not in a studio. “Le ricette del convento” has been airing on the Food Network – Warner Bros. Discovery Italia’s culinary channel – since 2022 and already boasts nine series, over 60 episodes and even two bestselling cookbooks. The show is set in the austere kitchen of the Benedictine abbey of San Martino delle Scale in Sicily. At the hob are Father Salvatore and the elderly theologian Father Anselmo, who uses every carrot he slices as an opportunity to recount a personal anecdote or a story about his monastery. Both tinker with ingredients and large pots whilst wearing their cassocks, without even rolling up their sleeves. This has raised some concerns amongst social media users about the hygiene conditions in which the two monks cook, watched over by a statuette of Padre Pio placed in the corner of the room. In a monastery, however, substance is what counts; the important thing is that the dish adheres strictly to the ancient recipe book (here too) kept secret for centuries in the monastery’s drawers and only now made available online and in bookshops. No brands are in plain sight, no shots of sponsors; the oil is in an unmarked bottle. A third monk enters the scene. It is Father Riccardo, a theology student and the abbey’s ‘golden voice’: he doesn’t cook, he simply eats. As soon as the dish is ready, in every episode he emerges from the back of the kitchen singing ‘Add a place at the table, there’s one more friend’ – his battle cry – then tucks in and savours the fruits of others’ labour. On his second appearance, however, he strikes up a Latin chant, which Father Anselmo hastens to explain, detailing the occasions on which it is sung within the abbey. But not before reminding the audience that this and other recipes can be found in the book, shown in the foreground.

The Food Network, however, gets everyone cooking. Even those who usually sell cookware rather than using it, such as Giorgio Mastrota (‘Casa Mastrota’ is now in its second series), or fictional characters like the Weasley twins invented by J.K. Rowling – namely the British actors James and Oliver Phelps (‘Harry Potter: The Cake Wizards’). So why limit ourselves to monks? Over six series, “La cucina delle monache” (with just one book to its name, for now) has given four nuns the chance to take on the Sicilian male competition from Umbria, more precisely from the ancient Benedictine Monastery of Sant’Anna. Mother Noemi, the abbess, was once a promising basketball player, “but she chose to be an athlete of the Lord” (as she is introduced in the programme). Then there is Sister Debora, an architect and culinary expert; Sister Miriam, who, after four degrees, “discovered the true meaning of life only in the word of the Lord”; and finally the novice, Sister Eleonora, a psychology graduate. Here too, the ancient Benedictine recipe books are dusted off, but the presentation seems slightly more understated and at times subdued compared to the men’s version. No one enters the scene singing in Latin, but on the other hand, there are a few rolled-up sleeves for cooking.

On the Discovery channels, however, the convent is a recurring setting: not just a kitchen, but also a place of re-education. In this respect, the docu-reality show “Ti spedisco in convento” is nothing more than the clerical response to Rai 2’s “Collegio”. But here there are no fake teachers played by actors; instead, there are five real nuns who put young women – accustomed to excess, social media, parties and a frenetic pace of life – to the test with rules, prayers and monastic routines. No mobile phones, no extreme hairstyles, no consumerism. And whilst the original English version, “Bad Habits, Holy Orders”, on Channel 5 lasted for just one series, in Italy Discovery+ (and later Real Time) aired no fewer than three. A huge success underpinned, of course, not only by the results achieved on the small screen, but also on the very small screen. With official clips, memes and various parodies on social media, the programme racked up millions of interactions, including likes, views and comments. In the second series, the scene in which 20-year-old Nanda Alfi from Gallarate – sent to the convent – stripped naked in front of Sister Carolina, shouting “I’ll show you my boobs”, was picked up by newspapers and gossip sites, becoming one of the most talked-about and shared moments of the reality show. It is no coincidence that Alfi—already active on Instagram, TikTok and OnlyFans—was one of the most “social” contestants in the cast, whom she subsequently decided to leave amid controversy. Her mantra, however, remained in that convent, almost as if to represent the mindset of a sizeable proportion of young people: “One hundred thousand followers are more useful than a degree”. Behind the scenes, some observed a certain weariness amongst the nuns, almost as if they would have preferred to be doing something else rather than embarking on that television adventure, which was as curious as it was nerve-wracking. “Once filming was over, they told us they’d never expected so much commotion and noise inside their convent,” says someone who worked alongside them on set, speaking to Il Foglio. “They told us they’d agreed to do the programme because it suited them at the time, particularly in terms of visibility. But from the way they spoke about it, it seemed that, when all was said and done, it hadn’t been worth the effort.”

“Ti spedisco in convento” was not merely a television experiment but a treasure trove of clips, jokes and shocking moments designed to be shared, edited and re-edited. A reality show created for television, but experienced primarily on social media, where the clergy (both Italian and international) are no longer afraid to show their faces. It is no coincidence that in 2025, the Vatican launched the first ‘Jubilee of Catholic Influencers’, transforming likes, reels and stories into tools for mission work and calling on creators to ‘mend the nets’ of the digital world and the community. With a keen eye for the potential of social media, the Archbishop of Genoa, Marco Tasca, persuaded Father Roberto Fiscer (who has over 800,000 followers on TikTok and nearly 300,000 on Instagram) to leave the Church of the Santissima Annunziata del Chiappeto in Borgoratti and devote himself exclusively to communication and evangelisation through social media and new communication tools. A 50-year-old former DJ, Fiscer fills his followers’ feeds with passages from the Gospel, comedy sketches filmed at the altar, AI-generated posts and Catholic-inspired reworkings of the latest trends. He even taught one of these to Pope Leo XIV. The video in which Don Fiscer teaches Prevost to do the ‘6-7’ – a wildly viral, nonsensical dance move involving moving the hands up and down in alternation, as if bouncing two invisible balls – has gone viral around the world. Following that video, the Vicar of Christ on earth has replicated that gesture on other public occasions. This, too, it seems, is evangelisation. A mission that, until a few months ago, was also shared by the late Father Alberto Ravagnani, now in the spotlight on Rai 1’s Ballando con le stelle. This time, it was Milly Carlucci who had the foresight, recognising in the former priest the fuel needed to ignite the controversy and outrage required to make the programme – now in its twenty-first series – go viral. Ravagnani, who, now defrocked, flexes his muscles to his 300,000 Instagram followers (“Ho fatto pace con la mia carne, e sto da Dio”) left the priesthood shortly after the publication of his book, La scelta, which was later adapted into a stage play. The video in which he announced that he would no longer wear a priest’s collar has been viewed over two million times. But online, there are also those who, whilst dressing in secular clothes all day, don a nun’s habit solely and exclusively for the camera.

For those unaware that ‘VitaDaSuore’ is a social media project entirely fabricated by a film production company, Sister Paola and Sister Felicetta might seem like two harmless nuns with a passion for sport and panzerotti. They cook them in Ponte Sisto, Rome, whilst sitting by the phone with a microphone attached to their aprons. Following a major collaboration with a popular chain of motorway service stations, the nuns have recorded a song in collaboration with Jo Squillo. A singer-songwriter and television presenter who made her artistic debut in the 1980s with punk rock. Alongside her first hit, ‘Skizzo Skizzo’, came the track ‘Violentami’, in which she urges her partner to take advantage of her ‘on the metro’. Today, almost like a modern-day Claudia Koll, she can be found singing “Siamo figli di Maria” accompanied by two ‘nuns’ who aren’t actually nuns. Rather, they are two talented actresses starring in a major, viral transmedia marketing campaign that has catapulted two characters from “Tutte insieme all’Abbazia” – a film produced by the same production company as “VitaDaSuore” – onto social media. Given the social media success of the two nuns, developing a sequel would be the most logical step. After a run on Amazon Prime, the film arrived on Rai Play in January 2026, before landing on mainstream television (Rai 2) this summer. So we’re back where we started: on the small screen. Although they’ve been appearing on television for years, the public still seems unable to get used to seeing priests and nuns in front of the cameras – something they manage with increasing ease, programme after programme. One of them will be offered the chance to host the Sanremo Festival. They’ll turn it down because of difficulties in fitting it in with their other commitments, including Mass.