Too busy to pray? In Manila you can pay for your salvation

The road to salvation can be long and hard, particularly at the Quiapo church in Manila, where supplicants crawl to the altar on bare knees to pray to the Black Nazarene, a statue of Christ said to have miraculous powers.

Now, those disinclined to submit to such an ordeal have an alternative. They approach one of the "prayer ladies" attached to the church and ask her to intercede with God on their behalf, for a fee.

"Some people are too busy to pray, so they pay us to do it instead," said Rosie Magpoc, 66, who has been a prayer lady, or mandarasal, for three decades. "We pray for them to be forgiven their sins, or for a sick relative. We pray for their marital problems and for the souls of the deceased."

The majority of Filipinos are Roman Catholic, but the country, a former Spanish colony, has adopted its own distinctive brand of the religion.

The 16th-century Quiapo church, situated in a historic Manila neighbourhood, is the only one in the city where prayer ladies can be hired. The origins of the custom have been lost in the mists of time. Mrs Magpoc, one of a dozen mandarasals to be found there each day, inherited the "job" from her mother and grandmother.

Last Sunday the church was packed for the fifth of seven Masses, but not everyone braving the stiflingly hot interior was there to worship. Some went straight to the women sitting motionless on a row of plastic stools at the back. In low murmurs, they passed on their requests and then pressed a crumpled banknote into the mandarasal's hand.

Some Catholics deplore the notion of "rent-a-prayer" as an affront to piety. Others accept the women as legitimate intermediaries. In 1999, church administrators tried to move them into the adjacent square, where street hawkers sell candles, rosaries and obscure herbal remedies. The Bishop of Quiapo, Teodoro Buhain, decided to let them stay.

The women scribble down names and requests in a tattered notebook. The motives of their clients may be spiritual, but are often prosaic: to get a job, clinch a deal, persuade a philandering husband to return home.

The women have no religious training and are forbidden to solicit for custom. Most people give them about 20 pesos (20p). "If they have no money, we'll still pray for them," said Mrs Magpoc. "As long as I can buy two kilos of rice a week and a kilo of fish or meat, that's OK."

On Sunday her customers included Jasmin Bilote, 46, whose niece is seriously ill. "I pray myself, but if there's something important, I ask the mandarasal," she said. "It's like taking out extra insurance."