The convoy entered the Grand Harbour, but the siege is still ongoing. This time, it’s no longer against the Ottomans who sought to rid themselves of the Order of St John’s interference in their struggle for control of the Mediterranean, nor against the Axis who had the same objective. Nor is it against the French, trapped behind the fortifications built by our forefathers—so strong that not even their descendants could breach them.

Could it be that the convoy of values we asked Mary to bring us is beginning to arrive and be unloaded? Or has it ended up like the countless trucks loaded with food aid blocked from reaching the starving population of Gaza?

With my gaze fixed on the Grand Harbour, where so many events that shaped our country’s history unfolded, I find myself asking: who is the enemy besieging us today? From which siege do we hope Mary will deliver us and grant us victory? The aims and enemies of the past sieges I’ve mentioned were clear—we knew who they were and what they wanted. But who is the enemy today?

We Maltese are nothing without pika; it seems we cannot exist without an adversary, be it in politics, village festas, football or regatta, or rivalry with the neighbouring town or even our own neighbours within the same street or apartment block. And our island mentality often leads us to see threats and enemies everywhere.

We seem to need a siege—or at the very least, we feel surrounded. If nothing else, besieged by the sea, the salt, and the wind that erode our rocks and deposits the particles elsewhere, while other sediments arrive from afar, settling on our shores and leaving their mark … We are caught in a constant cycle of weathering and rebuilding sometimes in ways that may rob us of our identity and construct a new one, turning us into carbon copies of other nations. But we are Maltese!

So, what is the siege that threatens our identity? Could it be the siege on our faith and religion? If we’re honest with ourselves, we must admit that the greatest threat to our faith comes from within—from us forgetting what we truly believe in and who we truly are. That makes it easy to be swept along by the currents of the West or to fear the waves from the East and the southern winds from Africa…

Or, perhaps, it is the airstrike on the dignity of every human being, regardless of origin, gender, physical ability, social status, or beliefs? This remains as real today as it was in the concentration camps. And, through the media, we are witnessing in real time almost a replica of it. But within our shores, the enemy does not necessarily come from outside. Sometimes, we are the ones inflicting it upon our own people.

Isn’t it ironic that, from being a colony, we’ve adopted a colonial mindset—one that exploits from the comfort of our own homes? Pause for a moment and consider: where does the food you eat come from, the clothes you wear, or all the services you rely on when you can’t be bothered to move from the sofa? Then it becomes clear. Might Mary need to protect those who are suffering because of us—for whom we are the threat?

The greatest battles are fought on the walls of our hearts and minds. On one side, we need to be challenged by the Word of God; on the other, we are being attacked by ideologies that threaten our integrity, goodness, and authenticity. The consumption of advertised genuine Maltese products does not make us any more genuine or more Maltese. There are walls of pride and mistrust that need to be breached, and others we must be prepared to stand upon and fight to the last drop of blood, if necessary, so that no one who lives on these rocks is exploited, silenced, manipulated, or controlled in the expression of one’s faith, as if the practice of one’s beliefs could offend another’s, or as if preserving our culture can only happen by eliminating every other.

This rock at the crossroads of civilisations has certainly seen many sieges and enemy attacks, but it has also witnessed years of peace, during which pagans, Christians, Jews, and Muslims lived and worked together for the progress of all. And our Lady is not of sieges, but of Victories. If we turn to her, she will surely help us overcome our self-centredness, look into the mirror and see who we truly are, remind us of who we are called to be, and help us see the other as our brother—sharing in our common humanity—before we charge into battle once again.

As the Imnarja feast gets closer, I curiously searched for the meanings of the names of these great apostles of the Church. I searched for the meaning of their given names (those given by their parents during the rite of circumcision eight days after their birth, we must keep in mind that they were both Jews). I also searched the names given to them after they had met Jesus.

We will start with Simon Peter. The name Simon, a popular and common Jewish name, has the same root as the verb shama’, which means ‘to hear’. Therefore, his name is associated with hearing. While Peter in Latin or Cephas in Greek both mean stone or a large rock. Peter received this name from Christ after he had declared his faith in Jesus as the Messiah, Son of the Living God, He whom the people of God were awaiting. He also declared Jesus to be God himself who had drawn close to humanity. Peter received this name and his mission to be the rock because he was capable of hearing (Simon) what the Father had placed in his heart through the Holy Spirit.

We now turn to Saul, which is also the Jewish name of the first king of Israel. The people of Israel requested that they have an earthly king and not be guided directly by God through his Judges and prophets. The name Saul literally implies ‘asked for from God’ as though someone praying for or asking for something from God.

At the outset, Saul, despite the meaning of his name, was not open to asking God for guidance, but believed that he possessed the whole truth. He was sure of himself and certain that the Nazarene’s sect had to be destroyed. But upon his encounter with Jesus, he became Paul—Paulus in Latin means small or little—because in his encounter with the Risen Christ he recognised his insignificance and his nothingness, so much so that he no longer boasted of himself but boasted of the Cross of Christ.

The name we received in Baptism also says something about us, it provides us with a mission. It may do you well to find out the meaning of your name, it may help you to find your place in the world according to your state in life. But most importantly, because some names have absolutely no meaning apart from the senseless sound they make when pronounced, today’s feast invites us to embrace our humanity because it is through our humanity that God begins His work in us. Let us walk the path taken by these two apostles that led them to Christian maturity: let’s begin with listening (listening to the Word of God, listening to the words of our neighbour, listening to what is in our hearts) so that we can become living stones in the building of the Kingdom of God because we recognise what God is asking from us today, now, in our time. At this time, we must also stand before God and pray, beg and intercede for our world, our society and our Church in which we live and of which we are part of. Not with a sense of superiority as if we have all the answers, but humbly clinging to the truth, which is not ours but is Truth itself, Jesus Christ.

One very old tradition, which is still observed today, is the races held as part of the Imnarja celebrations on the feast of the Apostles Peter and Paul. These races were common in many of the local feast. These days, there are only horse races, but in the past, races were also held with donkeys, as well as races for children, men, and slaves. It seems that these races, which take place in the afternoon on the road that from is-Saqqajja (Rabat) leads to Siġġiewi—Triq it-Tiġrija, in English Racecourse Road—have always been of great importance to the public. The eighteenth-century historian Canon Aguis de Soldanis attests to this, when criticising the people for spending long hours in the sun when compared to the lack of patience they exhibited during liturgical celebrations. It is amazing how certain customs and attitudes haven’t changed much throughout the centuries!

At the end of the race, the Grandmaster would present flags—palijiet in Maltese—as prizes to the winners. Originally, these awards were distributed from a wooden pavilion at the end of Triq it-Tiġrija. Towards the last quarter of the seventeenth century, plans were drawn up to build a permanent structure. This pavilion was designed by Lorenzo Gafa and was completed in 1696.

Apart from this date, on its wall we also find an inscription in Latin which says: CUI LEGITIME CERTAVIT, referring to a verse from St Paul’s Second Letter to Timothy which states: “In a similar vein, no athlete can receive the winner’s crown unless he has competed according to the rules” (2 Tm 2:5). This is not the only time St Paul uses metaphors relating to athletic competitions to describe the Christian life. In the Letter to the Philippians, the end of the race is associated with the final goal of the Christian life: our final union with Christ (Phil 3:14). This is why he insists with the Corinthians that, if athletes strive for a prize that fades away, how much more should we struggle for that which we know cannot be taken from us and is never-ending (1 Cor 9:24-27).

May we also, in our race of life, not toil for things that do not last, but like St Paul live serenely, knowing that in all that we do we are fighting the good fight, running to finish the race, and keep the faith to the end (2 Tim 4:7).

While the cranium is chosen and favoured over the rest of the remains of the relics of a saint, complete skeletal remains were once obtained for the veneration of the faithful. Under several altars in our churches, we find preserved bones of numerous saints whom, although their names have been lost through the passage of time, we know that they existed in an environment in which they would have lived a life worthy of being raised to the honour of the altar, as well as meriting them the veneration of the faithful. In Scripture we find examples that help us understand the value of the bodies of those who cooperated with the salvific plan of God. In the Second Book of Kings, we read that a gang of robbers came upon a group of men who were burying a man. Out of fear these men threw the body in the tomb of the Prophet Elisha. When the man’s body came in contact with the bones of Elisha he came back to life (2 Kings 13:21).

The same did not happen when the protestants in northern Europe destroyed the relics of the saint that the Church had under her care. However, these churches did not stay without relics for long. When the Catacombs of ‘dei Giordani’ where discovered at Via Salaria in Parioli in 1578, various translations of relics of saints from Rome began anew to northern European countries ensuring that the Christians who inhabit that part of Europe would not be deprived of holy relics.

Locally, this practice had nothing to do with this. In Malta, this custom became more common between the 17^th and 18^th centuries. We find that in these two centuries no less than 24 relics of the saints were brought to Malta. For example, we find that the Inquisitor Ruffo sought permission from the Pope to obtain the relics of St Beninus for Vittoriosa, as well as the relics of St Victor for the Parish of Naxxar from the Inquisitor Giovanni Mancinforte.

The arrival of a saint’s relics meant grand celebrations: vigils and processions, fireworks and orchestral performances. The veneration of these relics was so strong that not only were earrings, rings and necklaces donated as in the case of St Consolata of the Discalced Carmelites in Cospicua, but in certain villages, children were also given the names of these saints at Baptism. We find for example that even in recent times in Ħaż-Żabbar the name of Felix and other derived names of St Felicianus, who’s relics are found in this locality, were given to children in his honour. In this particular case, a confraternity was also established in honour of St Felicianus with the aim of undertaking charitable initiatives.

Hallelujah, released in 1984, is perhaps the best-known song of the singer songwriter Leonard Cohen. But, unfortunately, we hardly think of him when we hear it. What most likely comes to mind is the animated movie Shrek as it helped popularise the song again in our time. Occasionally we hear this song’s refrain during Mass at the Gospel acclamation. This song is even sung in church during weddings, even though it is not a liturgical hymn. Worse than that, it is very difficult to reconcile the lyrics of this song in the context of the celebration of a Sacrament of Marriage. The first verse of this song mentions the adultery committed by David with Bathsheba (2 Samuel 11: 1-27) weaved with details of the story of Samson and Delilah (Judges 16: 4-22).

The ability of this Canadian artist is revealed in the way he managed in his lyrics to intertwine the erotic with the sacred, the profane with that which is most holy, without any blasphemous intent or ridicule of the Judeo-Christian religious traditions. Although he was of Jewish faith, he admired and appreciated Christ, to the extent that you would think he acknowledged him as the awaited Messiah!

Apart from music, lyrics and poems, Cohen wrote also novels in a similar vein. Although fascinating within a poetic framework, when it comes to prose it is too graphic and controversial. In one of his novels, Beautiful Loser, he gives a limited but concrete description of what is a saint. It is limited because there is no reference to God—perhaps because he did not feel the need to specify it, since it was self-evident for him. It is truly concrete because it is very human to describe a saint—a person who has succeeded in attaining holiness by being genuinely human—in the context of our messy and disordered reality. As we begin the month of November with the Solemnity of All Saints, it would not be a bad idea to take a look at the description below of what a Saint is without further explanations …

“What is a saint? A saint is someone who has achieved a remote human possibility. It is impossible to say what that possibility is. I think it has something to do with the energy of love. Contact with this energy results in the exercise of a kind of balance in the chaos of existence. A saint does not dissolve the chaos; if he did the world would have changed long ago. I do not think that a saint dissolves the chaos even for himself, for there is something arrogant and warlike in the notion of a man setting the universe in order. It is a kind of balance that is his glory. He rides the drifts like an escaped ski. His course is a caress of the hill. His track is a drawing of the snow in a moment of its particular arrangement with wind and rock. Something in him so loves the world that he gives himself to the laws of gravity and chance. Far from flying with the angels, he traces with the fidelity of a seismograph needle the state of the solid bloody landscape.”

Leonard Cohen, Beautiful Losers

Hail Mary, full of grace … Holy Mary, Mother of God … Amen. Hail Mary, full of grace … and meanwhile my mind drifts away and I can’t stop yawning! Providentially, I have my Rosary beads. Otherwise, I won’t know at which mystery I was on. But is my Rosary valid? I hope it is. After all, it is true that thoughts on what I still need to do and how to get things done come to mind while I pray the Rosary. But at least I had chosen to dedicate some time to stop and meditate on the mysteries of Jesus, in Our Lady’s company, while yawning because I feel at peace, cradled in the arms of our merciful Mother.

In all honesty, at times distractions are not the only problem because they, for the most part, come on their own and are beyond our control! Sometimes we don’t feel like praying. But in life, we undertake many things we don’t feel like doing because we understand their necessity and the commitment we took. Prayer is one of those things, and this type of prayer is valid because it is a sign of mature fidelity.

And when we have one of those days in which we feel irritable, this repetition begins to get on our nerves and feel bored … probably because we get caught up with the structure and the ‘correct’ emotions that we are supposed to have during prayer, rather than imitating Our Lady and simply gaze upon Jesus as she did.

However, when my mind is exhausted and cannot find peace, that monotonous repetition becomes my salvation because in certain situations we don’t even have the strength to pray. When our hearts feels heavy and our minds are racing the only prayer that we can pray is a chain of prayers that we know off by heart, that although we don’t give it much importance, because we feel that we’re not really praying, in truth we are holding on tightly to our Rosary beads that serve as a chain with the Cross serving as an anchor to keep us grounded despite the waves …

After all, neither God nor Our Lady require our eloquent and precise words; their hearts only wait for us to turn to them because prayer is not something we achieve ourselves through our own abilities. We can only make space for God to enter our hearts and nurture us. And maybe the monotony of the Rosary can be the only life belt that can keep us afloat … and the last mooring line is Our Lady, whom God sends us, so we won’t drown …

And in the meantime, we have arrived at the Hail Holy Queen and the Litany, just like the days of this month dedicated to the Holy Rosary can pass us by without even having prayed at least one decade each day to unite ourselves with Our Lady in prayer. And it is also possible that our lives suddenly become like our Rosary beads, mysteries that lead us deeper into the Gospel and Tradition, which in turn, gradually lead us to Heaven.