I can’t make this stuff up.

     According to CathNews, Father Antonio Rungi of Mondragone, Italy (near Naples) is launching a beauty contest for nuns.

     A beauty contest for nuns.

     And, people wonder why I wrestle with faith.

     Apparently, Father Rungi is expecting at least a thousand nuns to compete in his “Sister Italia 2008” beauty contest. The contestants can be full members of an order or novices, but they must be between 18 and 40. The contest will first be hosted online, with hopes of it growing into a pageant similar to the Miss Italy contest, complete with interviews and parades. The priest draws the line, however, at the contestants wearing swimsuits and skimpy outfits. According to the story, Father Rungi feels the pageant will have a certain international flair; the nuns from Africa and Latin America are "really very, very pretty - the Brazilian girls above all."

     And, call me shallow or even cynical, but I get a gut feeling this is one of two things-- a scam or something that’s going to go terribly wrong in a hurry.

     If it’s a scam, it’s really crass in its exploitation. Let’s see. We’ve got old white guys who are unbreakably tied to one of the oldest old-boy systems in the world that affords them a life of luxury and ease. And, they’re saying to pretty 3^rd world girls who are desperate enough to do anything to get out of the poverty and misery that is incumbent to being born in a 3^rd world country, “Hi, sweetie. Send us pictures of you over the web, so it’ll be our little secret. If we like what we see, we can make your life a lot easier.”

     It’s the ecclesiastical cyber-version of “Candy, little girl?”

     But, if it’s not a scam, I see it taking a downward turn quickly.

     Human nature being what it is, competition would set in. The various orders would have a vested interest in winning the nun beauty contests (that still strikes me as an oxymoron), because everybody wants to be associated with a winner. Becoming a convent known as a beauty powerhouse would attract more girls. And, more girls entering Holy Orders would translate into more hands to work, which would translate into more wealth for the convent, which would mean a higher quality of life for all in the convent.

     And, thus, we could see the advent of the Super Nun.

     Just like the jocks in high school that were fawned over and got all the breaks, ambitious and growth-savvy mothers superior would start segregating the prettiest nuns from the general herd and grooming them for competition. While the ugly sisters would have to work in the bakery and hospital, the pretty nuns would spend their days working out in the gym with personal trainers and watching what they ate. They’d be candidates for plastic surgery and other beauty-enhancing treatments. The pretty nuns would soon have their own dorms and cooks and massage therapists and maids. There’d be photo shoots and magazine spreads. There’d be posters and calendars of “The Girls of St. Claire.”

     All in the name of recruitment.

     All in the name of increasing God’s Kingdom on Earth.

     It’s enough to make an anthropologist salivate.

     Funny, though, it’s not what I think of when I think of the only nun I ever had any significant interaction with. When I first converted to Catholicism, Sister Marian was attached to St. Therese of Lisieux Catholic Church, here in Cleveland. And, she totally redefined for me my understanding of the role of women in the faith community. She was in her sixties and beauty contests were the furthest thing from her mind. She never preached a sermon. She never led a Mass. She never administrated any of the sacraments. But, she was always there.

     If a class needed to be taught, she was there.

     If an extra hand was needed in the kitchen, she was there.

     If someone was burying a loved one, she was there.

     And, she was always looking for the person who had no one to sit with.

     For all of her wrinkles and all of her slightly out-of-fashion clothes, she will always be one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.

     And, I’m afraid Father Rungi might lose sight of that.

     TWH