Vatican City – On July 28 and 29, hundreds of digital missionaries and Catholic influencers will arrive in the Vatican and in Rome for their Jubilee. The word “influencer” often provokes a smirk or a shrug. But what does it really mean?
This term refers to someone who, thanks to their visibility and credibility on digital platforms, can shape opinions, tastes, and behaviors. It’s not enough to have many followers: what defines a true influencer is the capacity to exert real influence, rooted in a relationship of trust with their audience. As sociologist Pierre Bourdieu highlighted, this is a form of power based on symbolic capital: a social recognition that does not derive from formal titles or authority, but from public legitimacy. However, psychologist Sherry Turkle warns that in environments designed to reward appearance, the risk is that of building a performative identity, shaped by approval rather than by personal truth.
This is precisely where the difference lies for those who call themselves Christian: the digital missionary cannot become merely a product of the algorithm. He is called to bring something to platforms dominated by numbers and market logic—something that cannot be measured in clicks: the Word. The Catholic influencer must be credible, not because he showcases himself, but because he transmits something greater: the Gospel.
A Mission Possible?
Beyond the labels—which at times risk flattening complexity—the issue is serious: is it possible to evangelize in the digital age without becoming enslaved by its mechanisms? The digital missionary has a new form, but not a new essence. The mandate remains the same: to proclaim Christ and the Gospel, without altering them to please the public. But today this announcement unfolds within unprecedented dynamics, where the logic of the “Good News” intertwines with the logic of engagement, followers, and the algorithm.
Moreover, there’s a fundamental aspect that cannot be overlooked: the humanity of the one who communicates the message. But this is nothing new. We often speak of the narcissism of those who post videos on social media, of their craving for visibility—and sometimes, it’s true. But is this phenomenon really exclusive to social networks? Is there not also a similar form of narcissism in certain preachers who, from the pulpit, posture and cultivate their public image? Is it not narcissism, too, to base everything on appearance rather than on authentic selfhood?
Sure, one might object that social media is by nature dominated by appearance. But are we certain the Church hasn’t long since learned—and at times promoted—a distorted narrative of reality, shaped to appear acceptable in the eyes of the community? How often have we dressed up the truth instead of proclaiming it plainly. Returning to the case of Cencini, discussed in recent days: who are the “non-structural homosexuals” if not those who, driven by an ambiguous and judgmental ecclesial culture, deny their identity both to themselves and the world? Let this be clear: Silere non possum has always argued that there is no need to flaunt one’s private life, whether it concerns sexual orientation or a passion for Thai cuisine. The real issue, however, is what we are doing as a community of believers. We are making people feel wrong, pushing them to hide, to deny themselves. And this is unacceptable. How many couples today live in precarious or unhappy relationships because—also due to illiterates like Cencini—young people don’t feel free to speak the truth about themselves, and end up building relationships based on lies or self-deception? How much suffering could have been avoided if we had chosen to propose a path of truth, instead of an ethics of appearance?
The Influencer’s Trap
The risk for influencers today is to become slaves to metrics, designing content just to boost numbers. It’s a system we ourselves experience. We’re often asked: “Why do you have so few followers on social media, even though your site is read by millions?” A natural question, considering the reality: Silere non possum is a frequent topic of discussion, both among priests and laypeople. It’s mentioned in parishes, seminaries, convents, clerical and religious groups.
Even when we denounce distorted behaviors - such as those of Gianpiero Palmieri - the resulting debate shows just how relevant the issues raised by Silere non possum are perceived. In many ecclesial contexts, people debate whether they agree or not with what we publish, and even the critical responses become for us a source of reflection. But on social media, there’s no like, no follow, no share. Our articles circulate from chat to chat, but few have the courage to speak out publicly. Why? Because the Church is a deeply judgmental environment, where appearance matters more than truth. People worry about seeming irreproachable, even at the cost of being crushed under a toxic system. We cling to image, even when we’re falling apart inside. Today, the Church increasingly resembles a social network: with tribal dynamics, cheerleading groups, binary logic. If you follow someone, you must agree with everything they say. If you like a post, you’re immediately labeled as “one of them.” If they see you talking to someone, then you must be their “source.” Even theological debate is reduced to this: not dialogue, but tribalism; not thought, but loyalty. We have lost the ability to dialogue with those who are different from us. And then we have “chocolate masters” like Cencini who talk about “otherness.” We only speak with those who approve of us, not with those who challenge us. And for a Christian—especially for a priest—this is a spiritual and ecclesial failure.
A New Pulpit, But with What Rules?
Marshall McLuhan once wrote: “The medium is the message.” And if it’s true that social media is the new Areopagus, it’s also true that these platforms are not neutral. Platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube are not simple showcases. They are designed spaces that capture attention and foster addiction, as studies by Jean M. Twenge and Jonathan Haidt show. The algorithm doesn’t reward truth, but rather what polarizes, stirs emotion, and holds the gaze. Even the missionary, without meaning to, risks adapting the Christian message to what performs better online.
That’s why Silere non possum is not among the pages that “get numbers.” To attract numbers, one must resort to clickbait titles, turn non-issues into scandals, reduce the Church to a string of backstories and exclusives. That’s not our style. We don’t want to chase the algorithm, but rather give voice to real needs, even when they don’t bring visibility. If there’s a topic among the clergy that deserves discussion, we address it—even if it won’t interest most laypeople. What matters is to remain free, without being dragged into the spiral of the easy click.
Many mental health experts—like psychiatrist Manfred Spitzer or psychologist Sherry Turkle—have warned against the danger of a “performative identity” constructed to please others while losing touch with one’s interiority. A risk that must be avoided. The digital missionary, if not vigilant, risks spending more time curating his image than cultivating his spiritual life. The same risk exists in parish life, and in our daily lives, before our communities.
The Temptation of the Spiritual Influencer
A missionary can become an influencer, but not every influencer is a missionary. The difference lies not in aesthetics or content, but in intention and interior formation. As Fr. Luigi Giussani reminded us, “Christianity is not a moral code, but an encounter.” Yet in the digital universe, the encounter is often filtered, distorted, reduced to a reaction.
Those who evangelize online are called to a difficult task: to inhabit platforms without being assimilated. Just as the Benedictine monks in the Middle Ages preserved the Word in manuscripts while the world was collapsing, today’s “digital monks” must safeguard the truth in a communication environment that refuses to be governed by success metrics.
Formation and Discernment: Two Key Words
This is why two words are essential: formation and discernment. Formation, because online evangelization cannot be improvised—it requires a solid theological, cultural, and psychological foundation. Discernment, because not everything that works is good, and not everything good will work. As Canadian theologian Bernard Lonergan suggests, true discernment comes from listening to what stirs the heart, not just to what gains approval.
A Mission to Live, Not to Perform
The digital missionary must ask himself daily: Am I communicating Christ, or just myself? Am I using digital tools to serve the Truth, or am I bending the truth to serve the tools? Am I seeking what is true, or what is pleasing? Am I more concerned with how I’m perceived, or with who I truly am before God?
In this discernment, we must not forget the recent Silere non possum feature on hate speech and verbal violence on social media. As we wrote, this too requires solid psychological formation, so as not to be sucked into a toxic cycle of anger, judgment, and manipulation. Let us remember a basic principle: when someone uses a word or argument against you to hurt you, they’re often revealing what matters deeply to them. Maybe it’s something they’ve experienced, something they carry, which they now project onto you. But what hurts them doesn’t necessarily belong to you. That’s why what is an insult or accusation to one, may bring peace to another. Putting yourself out there on social media also means accepting this: other people’s categories are not always our own. And if we are rooted in the truth of who we are, what others throw at us won’t stick. Because peace comes from knowing to Whom we belong, not from what others think of us.
So yes, it is possible to be credible witnesses even online. But only on one condition: not living for the network. The one who speaks about God, if he doesn’t first speak with God, risks speaking in vain. That is the difference between a preacher and a propagandist.
p.E.B.
Silere non possum