Whenever I find myself in a place with a wide view of Malta’s rural and urban landscapes, a recurring thought crosses my mind: these tiny rocks, like boats battling against the waves, could well be seen as one vast church parvis or property surrounding a church. It’s often said that there are as many churches and chapels scattered across our land as there are days in the year. While I doubt anyone has ever truly counted them, the saying likely isn’t far from the truth — probably there may even be more.
Churches dominate the skylines of our cities and villages. They blend beautifully with the plants, trees, and cobblestone walls so typical of our countryside. Their presence is a powerful testament to the central role that Catholic faith has played — and continues to play — in our culture.
Of course, not everything about our religious traditions is pious or serene. Some village feasts feature curious and even un-Christian rivalries — as when two factions compete over which Madonna holds greater prestige, or when Mary and Joseph appear to have “divorced” due to local tribal divides. These humorous, and sometimes absurd, episodes reflect our national tendency toward partisanship — whether in politics, football, or religion. Yet these quirks coexist with a deep and rich spiritual heritage that reveals the heart of our culture.
Indeed, the very word culture comes from the Latin cultus (worship) and cultivatio (cultivation of the land). Our traditions bring both meanings to life: faith and hard work, spirit and soil, intertwined.
A quick glance through any Maltese history textbook, reveals how religion has been woven into every era of our past — even long before the arrival of Christianity. From megalithic temples to catacombs and tombs, from fortified bastions to statues in street niches, and from sculptures of the souls in purgatory to elaborate church façades — everywhere you turn, you see traces of the sacred.
This makes Malta not only an ideal destination for religious tourism, but also a place of true pilgrimage. With a millennia-old Christian tradition rooted in the shipwreck of St. Paul in 60 AD, our islands boast Paleo-Christian burial sites, troglodyte churches, and countless artistic and precious treasures even in the smallest of chapels. In every street corner and custom, we see echoes of the hope that our ancestors placed in God — a hope that is still very much alive even through simple and everyday things.
All year round, but especially during Lent, Holy Week, and the summer festa season, our towns and villages come alive with processions and the veneration of relics. The solemn procession with the statue of Our Lady of Sorrows, the dramatic Good Friday processions, and the joyful Easter celebrations with the l-Irxoxt statue offer cathartic experiences that renew faith, strengthen hope, and bring people together. These moments are not only prayerful but also communal, full of joy, reflection, and a shared sense of purpose.
The village festa, with all its ancient rituals and colourful celebrations, is more than just a traditional celebration. It is an opportunity to share stories and struggles, to celebrate life in all its messy, beautiful complexity. With probably more people gathered than for political rallies, it’s a chance to reunite with friends and family, to share stories and struggles, to celebrate life itself.
In a way, our daily struggles — the traffic, the heat, the pressures of a hectic life — are themselves a kind of pilgrimage that rushes through main roads and alleys alike. We may sometimes seem petty or suspicious, a side-effect of our island mentality. But we are resilient. The salt in the air, the relentless sun — called “ix-xemx ħanina,” the merciful sun, by our national poet Dun Karm Psaila — even when it feels anything but merciful -- these shape our spirit. They remind us that we are a people who persevere. We keep walking — not aimlessly, but with hope, toward something greater, maybe even toward heaven itself.
After all, isn’t this all-encompassing church parvis mentioned above the stage where the drama of life unfolds? Birth and death, marriage and family feuds, laughter and prayer, gossip and reconciliation, a small quibble that escalates within minutes to a fully-fledged argument that defuses as quickly, perhaps with the help of a pint of local beer -- nothing tastes as good — these all play out in our town centers. Maybe we’re not as spiritual as we once were, but no one can say we lack spirit — whether divine or, occasionally, a bit more spirited in other ways.
If you’d like to join us on this daily pilgrimage of hope, you are more than welcome. Especially during this Jubilee Year, many sanctuaries and churches are waiting to be discovered. Graces can be found in quiet moments — a whispered prayer, a flickering candle, a word of comfort from a priest or an elderly local who are ready to listen. On an island, there’s nowhere to hide from God. He’s not only omnipresent in the metaphysical sense: He’s in our blasphemies, in our blessings and everyday words filled with hope. And maybe, just maybe, even the gossip can lead more people to prayer. Some burdens feel hopeless. But we are an island that does not lose hope. We never stop walking.
Though no priest would ever give such a penance in confession, a pilgrimage on foot to Mellieħa, at the northernmost point of the island, takes you through a wrought-iron gate beneath an arch inscribed with words from Psalm 22 — ”In thee our fathers trusted; they trusted, and thou didst deliver them” — in both Latin and Maltese. In Ħaż-Żabbar, the altarpiece of Our Lady of Graces shows her squeezing her breast, pouring the milk of divine mercy onto the chains of a slave seeking freedom. In the stark, emaciated body of the crucified Christ at Mdina’s Cathedral or Valletta’s Ta’ Ġieżu Church, we see both the raw vulnerability of God and the promise of shelter in His open wounds.
And here, no one walks alone. Not just because we’re crowded, but because ir-Redentur — the statue of Christ crushed to the ground under the weight of the cross — venerated in Senglea and in many other churches, pushes himself forward to walk with us, making sure we don’t get lost, but arrive safely home.
And where is home, if not where our love is?
In the coming months, the Archdiocese of Malta will continue hosting a series of celebrations as part of the Jubilee calendar. Stay updated by clicking here. Meanwhile, the Vicariate for Evangelization, through its website beHOLD.mt, has prepared a series of reflections that blend traditional elements of Christian pilgrimage with local customs and the Maltese landscape. These reflections are gathered in a symbolic “Pilgrim’s Pouch,” offering everything one needs to embark on a meaningful spiritual journey.
