Religion

The history of Malta reads as one tragedy after another. This is a place in the sun where things happen to them, but never a place that determines what happens to other parts of the world. I sometimes wonder if this plays a part in the development and strength to this day of Catholicism.

The church bells ringing out from Sliema themselves were nothing new. Yet the playing of Ave Maria, on those church bells, every morning at 8am, was new. As was the Saint Joseph's Day holiday, which fell this year two days before Good Friday. And the tradition of many to try to visit seven churches on the Thursday evening before Good Friday.

My father and I visited the Mosta Dome and St John's Church, which were easily the most impressive churches I have visited. Four days after my Uncle was born in Żejtun in 1942, a bomb pierced the Mosta Dome, failing to explode, and a replica of this bomb sits in a back side room of the church. Both churches were testaments to the powerful, beautiful yet tormented artwork of which the Catholics are masters. These churches are grand, intimidating structures that impose this feeling of insignificance in the face of greatness.

Catholic imagery was absolutely everywhere throughout Malta, indeed partly because of the Easter timing. Many houses had crosses and other decoration on the front. A garage in Żabbar was decked out with stunning figurines and artwork. The Żabbar bomb shelter was decorated with Jesus themed statues. Every single bus we rode on had Jesus pictures or statues.

Yet the Jesus on the bus contrasts with the bus drivers, many of whom have a reputation for abusing people. A female cousin of my father's had been abused days before we arrived. During the week, we witnessed a 20-something male bus driver racially abuse an African passenger. My Aunt could understand enough to determine that the calm African gent had ended up on the bus because the number had changed, and that "black face" was among the Maltese diatribe delivered in response by the driver.

Swearing is an odd and curious area. It appears that swearing in English or Italian on television is acceptable but swearing in Maltese is taboo. Yet, compared to swearing in English, swearing in Maltese appears to be so varied, creative and complex that it could possibly by regarded as an art form. My father rattles off the naughty words his mother used to throw at him, to be informed by his cousins that those terms are innocuous.

There are certain religion linked social topics that are probably best avoided. One that I find particularly worrying is that divorce is illegal. I shudder to think of what this means for individuals trapped in extremely bad relationships, such as those involving violence. The ban may stop people leaving a marriage because of solar alignments, but is it perpetuating even worse situations? However, the status quo is entrenched.

Catholicism could also possibly be tied in with some of the strongest and most positive elements of Maltese society. The family, for example, is a strong and truly revered institution. There is a broad respect for family, and the elderly are particularly revered. Grieving appears open, honest and ongoing, while the memory of those before us is maintained, cherished and valued.

I can make no grand conclusions in relation to the exercise of religion within Malta. There is a fascinating mix of dedication and hypocrisy. There are aspects that verge on the positive and negative in Maltese society linked with religion. Any visit to Malta would be incomplete without visiting the stunning historical churches of Mosta and Valletta.

Inside the Mosta Dome (apologies for the low quality)