Why We’ve All Fallen For The Hot Priest

We’re hours away from the second series finale of Fleabag, and everyone’s wondering the same thing: what’s going to happen with the Hot Priest?

Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s comedy has catapulted Andrew Scott’s sweary, JLo-loving priest to national heartthrob status, but he’s not the only man of the cloth ringing our altar bells.

The Fleabag priest is the latest in a line of improbably young, handsome clergymen setting viewers’ pulses racing. Derry Girls has the swoon-worthy Father Peter, while Grantchester recently swapped out James Norton’s hunky vicar for Tom Brittney’s equally dishy one. And in the US, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend put forth the weed-smoking, basketball-playing Father Brah.

It’s a long way from Fathers Ted and Brown. As we reported last week, Google searches for ‘can priests get married?’ spiked 170% following the most recent Fleabag, indicating at least some of the population are rooting for a happy ending for the pair. But Catholic priests can’t get married, and must take a vow of celibacy, which makes their elevation to the object of our collective desire all the more unusual.

So why are we suddenly hot for preacher? The rise of the sexy priest comes at a time of marked church decline, and like Fleabag, many of those lusting are nonbelievers.

Take A Look At All The Best Moments Between Fleabag And The Hot Priest

One theory suggests Catholic priests represent the ultimate forbidden fruit: an approachable yet unobtainable ideal. The idea of violating celibacy still holds a transgressive power, 30 years after Madonna brought it into the mainstream with Like A Prayer. Even the title ‘Father’ is heavily loaded, as the priest notes when he tells Fleabag: “Fuck you calling me Father like it doesn't turn you on just to say it.”

“There is a sense of intrigue, and for some, there could be a challenge: what would it take to seduce this guy? It’s a sort of conquest,” says Hilda Burke, psychotherapist, couples counsellor and author of The Phone Addiction Workbook.

Sex and the City considered this (briefly) back in 2001 when Samantha fell for a strapping monk she dubbed ‘Friar Fuck’. Her attempts to lure him, however, with the promise of a splashy benefit (Donald Trump’s attendance guaranteed), and later, three cans of gourmet peas, were ineffective, and he remained a blissful fantasy.

Fleabag’s pursuit of the priest has been more successful, although their steamy kiss in the confession box left some viewers cold. Any discussion of priests’ sexuality is fraught given the harrowing history of clerical sexual abuse, and though Fleabag is a nonbeliever, the priest holds a position of trust. Waller-Bridge’s approach has been sensitive and complex, and in the penultimate episode, she repositioned their affair in Fleabag’s flat to place things back on her terms.

It’s not uncommon for young women to develop a crush on a fatherly authority figure, whether it’s a teacher, coach or parish priest. These usually harmless crushes offer a safe space to navigate feelings of lust — or in Fleabag’s case, to re-explore romance following a year of self-imposed isolation.

“If you’re used to interactions with men being ‘do they fancy me? Do I fancy them?’, it becomes very sexually transactional,” says Burke. “If that’s taken off the table, that can be very refreshing. If you feel someone is interested in you as a whole person and it’s not about sleeping with you, that paradoxically can be very attractive.”

She likens it to “erotic transference”, where clients end up fancying their therapists.

“Historically, priests served a similar role to what a therapist would do nowadays: you could rely on them for confidentiality, you could confess, clear whatever is on your mind. That can be quite intoxicating, and a person can develop this idealised perception — ‘they’re so understanding, they listen to me’ — because the priest isn’t offloading about his struggles. It’s all one-way,” she explains.

Of course, Fleabag chooses to cross that boundary, irreversibly shifting the power dynamic. And while you could dismiss it as merely a gripping point of tension in the storyline, the Hot Priest may have larger resonance for increasingly secular audiences.

In times of conflict, we often turn to people of faith, even if we reject their beliefs. Spirituality can be deeply transformative, and it carries its own mysterious charge, particularly in a hypersexualised age where the distance between priests and the surrounding culture is greater than ever.

Maybe in 2019, we’re more drawn to these reassuring emblems of security, stability and strength — and wouldn’t mind taking them home, either. “There is something, throughout culture, about priest figures holding things together, making some sense of times of crisis,” says theology professor Lisa Isherwood, of the University of Winchester. “That could be it for a lot of people. They’re not the dithering idiots of Father Ted.