Satan can cite scripture for his own ends. It takes a senior Catholic cleric, however, to cite the faith of the faithful as evidence of the Irish people’s betrayal of true Christianity. Yet this is what happened last weekend when Michael Neary, archbishop of Tuam, issued a statement condemning pilgrims for gathering at Knock in the hope of seeing a Marian apparition.

Blithely ignoring his role as a supernatural propagandist, not least through his promotion of claims that the Virgin Mary literally materialised at Knock in 1879, the archbishop summoned the gall to question the rationality of the thousands who’ve visited the Mayo village over the past month in the belief that she is about to make a comeback appearance. It’s not healthy, Neary warned, “to be looking for extraordinary phenomena”.

We live in what some religious individuals would call apocalyptic times. Like all service industries, the God trade is experiencing upheaval, and competition between retail brands is increasingly cut-throat. For the once dominant Catholic church, the economic outlook is especially dismal, given its dwindling customer base and the ongoing PR disaster caused by abuse scandals. Under such circumstances, it must be maddening for the hierarchy to watch punters pledging allegiance to upstarts such as Joe Coleman, the freelance mystic responsible for the resurgence of attention on Knock.

A self-styled visionary, who claims he regularly entertains the Virgin Mary at his Ballyfermot home, Coleman has predicted several Marian apparitions at the Mayo shrine, the latest of which was scheduled for yesterday. Though no actual sightings have been confirmed, some people who attended on the appointed dates said that they saw the sun “dancing in the sky”. Word of this has spread via the internet.

Hence Archbishop Neary’s panicky intervention. Unfortunately for him, however, his dismissal of the latter-day Knock visions as superstitious bunkum is doomed to backfire. Incapable of offering a single credible distinction between the 1879 apparition and recent hallucinations, he simply chooses to attack the worshippers. The 1879 visionaries, he insisted, were “humble, honest people”, inviting unavoidable conclusions about what the church thinks of their modern counterparts. This was a strategic blunder.

Commentators who say Ireland is witnessing a revival of the mass hysteria that marked the “moving statues” outbreak of mid-1980s are half right.

There are obvious similarities between the summer of 1985 — the nadir of a period of national depression during which thousands were gripped by the delusion that religious sculptures had become mobile — and these recent months, in which people have seen “miracles” including the appearance of Our Lady in a Limerick tree stump.

Then, as now, deep recession and high unemployment seem to have awakened in some a child-like craving for signs and messages from beyond the clouds. However, there’s one crucial respect in which the religious mania of the mid-1980s differs from its contemporary equivalent. Today, the Catholic Church simply cannot afford to be beaten at what it justifiably regards as its own game.

In the 1980s, the clergy adopted a neutral stance regarding the authenticity of the moving statues. In fact, many bishops saw any increase in devotion as good for their business. This is no longer the case.

Even though Knock is a Catholic shrine, the recent gatherings on its precincts have not been official Catholic events. Coleman has informed his followers that, while Our Lady is angry with everybody, she is furious with the leaders of clerical Catholicism and is threatening to “rock the foundations of the church”.

Far from heralding a return to traditional faith, what’s happening in Knock looks more like a potentially damaging rebellion by what’s left of the church’s most fervent believers. Archbishop Neary may sense holy war in the air but he’s committed a fatal error by shooting his own side in the foot.

Those who can should turn up to teach

There is no problem within the teaching profession that the teachers’ lobby cannot present as a conspiracy against them. Take the news that, last year, 2,000 retired teachers were hired to provide sickness or maternity cover.

Virtually all media coverage of this story centred on claims that giving substitute work to the retired, already in receipt of generous pensions, is unfair to jobless graduates. There’s clearly an anomaly here, and newly qualified teachers invaded the airwaves last week to bemoan their plight with an organised ferocity that shows they’ve learned much from their elders.

However, the manufactured fuss was disproportionate. The much greater scandal is surely the high level of absenteeism among teachers and the refusal of full-timers to provide in-house cover for colleagues.

Irrespective of the ages of the substitutes, the state shouldn’t have to pay two teachers to take one class.

Nama’s fee-for-all won’t aid taxpayers

Contrary to what you may have heard, the National Asset Management Agency (Nama) is not simply a lavish bail-out for bankers and developers. On closer inspection, it emerges that the agency is to become a state-funded bonanza for auctioneers, valuers, lawyers and accountants as well.

Of all the jaw-dropping facts disclosed in the Dail committee hearings on the Nama legislation, it was the details of the professional fees to which we will be subjected that caused the most persistent lockjaw. The draft Nama business plan reveals that the agency will fork out an estimated €2.64 billion in fees over its projected 10-year lifespan. However, finance minister Brian Lenihan stressed this was an “indicative” figure, so the ultimate tally could be higher.

Public suspicion that Nama is an enormous scam at the citizenry’s expense looks more well-founded by the day. The so-called “only game in town” is apparently rigged, and it’s the little guy who gets fleeced.

One to calm the nerves

The Little Book of Calm was a publishing sensation. Mattie McGrath is perfectly placed to produce a follow-up aimed specifically at motorists: The Little Book of Boozy Cruising.

There’s an undeniable Zen wisdom to McGrath’s claim that drinking alcohol can relax “people who’re jumpy on the road or nervous”.

No doubt, he could come up with plenty more of these tipsy tips.

Suggested example: why not turn off your headlights when driving at night on rural roads? For the nervous driver, after all, nothing’s scarier than the sight of a tree coming straight at you.

Shocking state of affairs

Not since Bob Dylan plugged in a guitar at the Newport Folk Festival has the combination of electricity and traditional music proved so controversial. John O’Connor, proprietor of Custy’s folk music store in Ennis, has won plaudits and criticism for installing a device that administers electric shocks to late-night revellers who use his shop-front as a urinal. Sparks have been flying, and some flies have been sparking, since the device went “live” last weekend.

While O’Connor deserves praise for his creativity, however, it’s no surprise that it was a seasoned folkie who devised this ingenious scheme. Trad fans, after all, have always understood the unique power of a sharp toot on the flute.

Times Recommends

• Tehran cannot live up to its rhetoric
• The new unicycle that will ‘change the world’
• We cannot wish away Iran’s bomb