What subjects, if any, should be off limits for comedians? For Jimmy Carr, Ricky Gervais and particularly Dave Chappelle, the answer appears to be “nothing”. But for the rest of us (because, while I’m hardly in the their league, I am, for my sins, a comedian as well as a vicar) the golden rule is “Punch up, not down”. In other words, it’s OK to mock the powerful but laughing at any minority group, as old-school comics such as Bernard Manning used to do, is a form of bullying. By that logic, God, the most powerful being in the universe, is a legitimate target for humour. Pope Francis himself said as much last week. In an address to a gathering of comic luminaries (which included Whoopi Goldberg, Chris Rock and Gervais’s former writing partner Stephen Merchant), he said that laughing at God is not blasphemy. I wonder what he’d make of Jim Jefferies’ “God is drunk at a party” routine? “I think it would be really great, if you could all sing songs about me.” Personally, I think it’s brilliant but I suspect that many of my parishioners would be appalled by it; even the ones who like Life of Brian. Of course, that was famously denounced as blasphemous when it was released in the 70s, but the Pythons were always clear that their issues were with Christ’s followers, not the man himself. As Terry Jones said, we’ve spent 2,000 years killing each other because we couldn’t agree on what our leader said about peace and love. I don’t talk about the Spanish Inquisition in my set (nobody would expect that!) but I do poke fun at my own church which most audiences – the vast majority of whom are happy atheists – seem to enjoy. The punters may never have met a bishop, but we’ve all had a boss who was both pompous and incompetent. To be clear, I’m not referring to my current Mother in God, Rose Hudson-Wilkin, and, while she’s never seen my act, I’m sure that she would approve of it. Particularly the parts in which I confront racism, homophobia and just the overwhelming middle-classness of the Church of England. I’d like to think that Jesus would approve too; because “punching up” isn’t just good comedy practice, it’s a Christian value. Think of Mary’s famous rallying cry in Luke’s Gospel: “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly.” But surely laughing at God himself (or herself) is different? Obviously, I don’t do that. Indeed, I can’t say anything on stage that might constitute “behaviour unbecoming of a clerk in holy orders”. Although, I am quite proud of the fact that I manage to get in both satanism and hanging out with adult film actors in a way that hasn’t generated any complaints – so far. But I’ve seen other comics do material that would, undoubtedly, “offend the religious feelings of believers”, which the pope urged his audience to try to avoid. I once had to follow someone whose big finish was acting out performing a sex act on Jesus. I didn’t find that particularly funny because, unlike the Jefferies bit, it seemed designed simply to shock rather than to make any actual point. However, it was an absolute gift to me: all I had to do was walk on wearing my clerical collar and a confused expression and the audience were in stitches before I’d even started. So, what exactly does Francis have in mind when he says that laughing at God is OK? He likened it to “playing and joking with the people we love” and, as someone who tries my best to love God, it’s reassuring to have that blessing from the highest ecclesiastical authority. But atheist comedians, such as the woman I mentioned above, hardly need permission to do what they’ve happily been doing for years anyway. So, in her own, obscene way, Jesus-sex-act-lady was punching up and the sort of Christians who would be most offended by her act are unlikely ever to see it. They probably don’t go to comedy clubs and, if she ever makes it to Live at the Apollo, she’d almost certainly have to cut that bit. As to God’s own feelings about all this: a central tenet of the Christian faith is that the son of God gave up the glory of heaven for a shameful death on a Roman cross. From which he unconditionally pardoned his executioners. So it seems that he’s not that bothered about being laughed at, even in a spiteful way. Meanwhile, I know from my own experience that God has a great sense of humour because it was he who inspired my stage name – Ravi Holy – and, thus, my signature joke that if I’d been a Pentecostal minister, as I nearly was, I would have been pastor Ravioli. Ravi Holy is the vicar of Wye in Kent, and a standup comedian