NICOSIA — In a bold, desperate, and completely unhinged attempt to reverse declining attendance, the Orthodox Church of Cyprus has unveiled “Project Divine Comeback™”, a nationwide initiative to lure citizens back into churches using a cocktail of gimmicks, guilt, and pyrotechnics.

During a press conference held inside a half-full basilica (mostly journalists and one elderly woman who wandered in by accident), Archbishop Photios II declared that “modern problems require medieval solutions—plus lasers.” He then removed his mitre to reveal a Bluetooth headset and a custom cassock embroidered with the phrase #PrayHarder.

According to Church spokesmonk Brother Marios, “Faith isn’t dying, it’s just distracted.” With Netflix, frappé, and aggressive brunch culture pulling Cypriots away from Sunday services, the Church has chosen to fight fire with full-blown spectacle.

Starting next week, liturgies will feature incense cannons, specially installed near the entrance, which will blast latecomers with a cloud of sandalwood and divine confusion. The altar has been modified to rotate slowly for dramatic effect, while priests have been instructed to begin sermons with phrases like, “Yo, what would Jesus really do?”

Perhaps most controversially, every third hymn will now include a trap beat, composed by a monk who once DJ’d at a baptism in Ayia Napa.

For the youth, the Church is rolling out Confession Drive-Thrus, where parishioners can whisper sins into a glowing intercom, receive forgiveness through a speaker, and collect a complimentary bottle of sanctified water and a cheese bourekki. Those without vehicles may use the “Blessed Walk-Up” window, which promises shorter queues and a discreet forgiveness express lane.

Meanwhile, the Church has also announced the launch of “HolyTok”, a TikTok-based digital ministry featuring liturgical dance challenges, candle-lighting tutorials, and a series called Priest Reacts to Your Worst Decisions, starring Father Andreas and his trademark disapproving nod.

To boost donations, churches will now accept tap-to-give options, allowing worshippers to tithe via Apple Pay, card, or awkward nod at the deacon holding the basket. If none of that works, the Church will begin raffling off front-row pews, offering winners exclusive access to the “Blessed Pita of the Month Club.”

For Christmas and Easter, a select number of services will now include “Holy Water Splash Zones,” where attendees seated in the first three rows will be lightly spritzed by an acolyte wielding a silver water cannon shaped like a dove. The Church is also experimenting with “Guilt Flash Mobs” — spontaneous public blessings in malls, during which priests surround unsuspecting shoppers and chant “Come Home, Maria, God Misses You.”

Asked whether these methods risk cheapening sacred tradition, Archbishop Photios raised a brow and replied, “You know what cheapens tradition? Empty pews and another Sunday spent photographing pancakes.”

Early reactions from the public have been mixed. Some elders are calling the incense cannons “a bit much,” while a group of teens from Limassol described the rotating altar as “lowkey fire.” One grandmother who attended a test run said, “The lasers gave me vertigo, but I haven’t felt this holy since the Archbishop slapped me in 1972.”

The Church is confident, however. “We’ve survived empires, invasions, even VAT. We can survive this,” Brother Marios insisted, sipping a sugar-free frappé in the shape of a cross.

Plans are already underway to transform select church rooftops into sunset viewing platforms with optional vespers and soft ambient bouzouki. For those still hesitant, a final attempt is being made with the “Blessed Mystery Box” initiative — attend four services and receive a surprise spiritual gift, which may be a candle, a biscuit, or a handwritten quote from Saint Porphyrios that may or may not have been written by the Archbishop’s niece.

As of next month, church bells will be replaced in some areas by recorded messages from priests saying “Why aren’t you here, my child?” followed by a long, uncomfortable silence.

This article is satirical. The Orthodox Church remains holy, even if it hasn’t (yet) installed fog machines.