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.

A characteristic element of the Easter celebration in Malta is the traditional run with the Statue of the Risen Christ. This tradition has become practically synonymous during these processions, so much so that most of those present are eagerly awaiting the moment when, after the altar boys and the clergy have processed quite a way forward, those carrying the statue shoulder high begin their sprint, which has sometimes ended badly.

It is believed that behind this tradition there could be historical roots tied to the time of British rule when there was a time limit imposed on these processions and, to avoid being fined, the last part of the procession was completed with a sprint. It is certain that this tradition was well established by the first half of last century. And this is verified by the fact that the Regional Council of Malta in 1935 prohibited these runs with religious statues. However, after the Second World War, these traditional runs were resumed particularly in Cospicua and Vittoriosa, to which ecclesiastical authorities of the time turned a blind eye.

But for this run to become more than just an attraction and find its place in the procession, which is first and foremost a liturgical action, it is essential that this deeply ingrained Easter Sunday tradition is grounded theologically to reflect the core of what Easter really means. Without a doubt, the sprint is an expression of joy, not only the joy of being together and socialising, but above all the joy that the Good News of Christ’s Resurrection from the dead brings. This is the joy that can truly gather and unite us together.

Also, in Biblical accounts of the resurrection, we do accounts of people running not only to the tomb—who thus were still marked with the darkness of the Sabbath (See Jn 20:3-4)—but also running from the tomb after encountering the Risen Lord according to his command to make known this news. We find the women, notably Mary of Magdala, who ran to give the news of the Resurrection to the disciples (Mt 28:8; Lk 24:9). We find the disciples of Emmaus, who, upon realising they had spent the day with the Risen Lord, returned to Jerusalem to share the news (Lk 24:33). It is a run marked by a heart on fire (Lk 24:32) because, within their hearts, they are carrying the Lord to share him with others.

In life’s breathless run, may we carry the Lord in our hearts and, even if we feel weary, let us share his joy with our brothers and sisters—a joy that goes beyond the euphoria of the moment. It is a joy that irrupts into each moment of our existence, and thus can be experienced even in our daily struggles.

In our parish, we have a tradition of covering the statue of the infant Jesus with a purple veil on the feast of the Holy Innocent, which is celebrated on 28 December. The veil is a square drape according to the liturgical colour and used for covering the chalice—a liturgical norm which vanished almost completely. The purple colour symbolises the sorrow for the lost lives of these babies. In fact, until 1961, the liturgical colour for this feast was purple, eventually substituted with the red of the martyrs, as is still customary today.

In spite of the fact that this tradition has been going on for some time now, people are curious and ask why the infant Jesus is covered. Of course, the answer reply is: “Well, so that Herod won’t find him.” Although some of the people are intrigued, others think that you’re taking them for a ride—and they’re not completely mistaken.

This symbolic gesture somewhat reminds me of the babies’ stages of development when, at first, they still haven’t acquired the ability to understand that an object still exists even though it cannot be seen. And that is why, when we’re playing with very young babies, we sometimes hide our face or some toy and start asking, “Where is it, eh? Where did he go?” and they start turning their eyes around. But when you uncover your face or show them the toy, they immediately smile and laugh.

Surely, Herod was well beyond this stage of development scientifically know as object permanence, so much so that he killed a lot of people, including some of his own children to eliminate any presumed threat to his power.

Ma nafx intix se tgħattih il-Bambin jew le. Wara kollox, kulma hi tradizzjoni mingħajr l-ebda tifsira teoloġika profonda. Imma jalla ma tgħattihx f’ħajtek lil Ġesù, mhux għax tibża’ li l-Erodijiet ta’ żmienna jsibuh, imma għax tittama li ma jarakx tgħix ħajtek kif jogħġob lilek u mhux kif jogħġob lilu.

This tradition may be judged as ridiculous or just sweet. But I think that, like Herod who never managed to see Jesus, we too tend to act like babies without any sense of object permanence—in this case the sense of permanence of Jesus … when we go out of church and return back to our normal life, as if nothing has happened … when we don’t allow our conscientious to be enlightened by the Gospel and end up justifies anything … when we stop at our fascination with the infant Jesus and avoid looking at an adult Jesus who is assertive, servant and crucified, as though the babe of Betlehem and the crucified hanging outside the walls of Jerusalem aren’t the one and the same Son of God who became man to redeem us.

I don’t know if you’re going to cover up the statue of the infant Jesus or not. After all, it is just a tradition without any profound theological meaning. But I do hope for you and me that we don’t cover Jesus in our life, not out of fear from the many Herods of our times, but because we hope that He doesn’t see us living your life according to our likes and not according to his will.

In the Maltese language, the Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord is referred to as Lapsi. We also have places in Malta that bear this same name. the use of this word shows the influence of the Eastern Church in the development of the history of the Christian faith in Malta. The word ‘Lapsi’ derives from the Greek ἀνάληψις (análēpsis), which at times is used to describe this feast in the Eastern Churches. The word literally means “to be taken up,” and thus evokes the mystery of the Son’s return at the bosom of the Father.

Thus word is used only once in the New Testament, when Luke starts his narrative of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem—which forms the core of Luke’s storyline—writes:

When the days drew near for him to be received up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.

Luke 9:51

Although using different terminology, this discourse about Jesus’ departure is also found in the last supper speeches passed on to us in John’s Gospel. Although the news of his departure causes distress to the disciples, when he appears to them risen and ascends into heaven, the disciples are filled with joy:

Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and lifting up his hands he blessed them. While he blessed them, he parted from them, and was carried up into heaven. And they returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple blessing God. Luke 24:50-53

Therefore, it comes to no surprise that this is one of the traditional Maltese feasts which ended with a picnic by the sea and possible even a first swim. And Saint Leo the Great, in one of his sermons for this feast, explains the reason for rejoicing on this day because, not only Christ, but also our humanity was ‘taken up’:

And truly great and unspeakable was their cause for joy, when in the sight of the holy multitude, above the dignity of all heavenly creatures, the nature of mankind went up, to pass above the angels’ ranks and to rise beyond the archangels’ heights, and to have its uplifting limited by no elevation until, received to sit with the Eternal Father, it should be associated on the throne with his glory, to whose nature it was united in the Son.

Saint Leo the Great, Sermo de Ascensione, 2-4 (PL 54.395-396)