We had a family priest, back in the days when there were such things. No matter what parish he was in, anywhere in the country, he would visit us from time to time. When he went on vacation, my Dad lent him his car. He did our family marriages, baptisms and burials. He was one of the holiest, most scrupulous priests I ever met. He would not allow himself to be in our house if only my Mom were home, even though there never would have been a problem. I would have to accompany her to pick him up at the airport. He was old school, old Church.
But he drank like a fish and smoked like a chimney. I never thought less of him for it. I took up smoking as a teenager, but quit smoking over 30 years ago, for purely selfish reasons. But my thought is that if you are holy person and headed for heaven, smoking will get you there quicker!