Liturgy

Water

30/04/2026

Water plays an important role in the Easter Vigil. The solemn rite of its blessing takes place by lowering the Paschal candle once or three times into the font—the womb of Mother Church, given life by Christ so that new children may be born within her through Baptism.

Yet this water and its grace are not only for those baptised on that most holy night of the Church’s year. The water is sprinkled over the whole assembly after, with one voice, it renounces Satan and sin and renews its profession of faith in Christ. And, even for those who did not take part in the Vigil, or who may not even remember where the church door is … even for them there is water enough during these fifty days, as priests and deacons visit the homes and families of our parishes so that, through the sprinkling of water wherever they are welcomed, the peace of the Risen Christ and the freedom he brings may be shared.

What does the colour white represent?

22/04/2026

During Eastertide our churches are clothed in white, and the priest wears white vestments at Mass. In the mystery of Easter, what the prophet Isaiah foretold comes to pass: even if our sins are like scarlet and crimson, they become white as snow and wool … the wool of lambs, the colour of the Paschal Lamb. Even when Jesus was transfigured before Peter, James and his brother John, to show them who he truly was—the beloved Son in whom the Father has always delighted—the Evangelists tell us that his garments became “white as light” (Mt 17:2), of a “dazzling whiteness” (Lk 9:29), so much so that “no fuller on earth could bleach them so white” (Mk 9:3)—for this whiteness was a foretaste of the radiance of heaven (see Dan 12:3).

Yes, white continues to be used throughout the fifty days because, even if for us Maltese Easter can seem like the outing after the feast (ix-xalata), following Lent and Holy Week, in truth Easter is the feast. That is why we call it the Great Feast—the feast of feasts. And this holds for the whole of Eastertide, and for our entire life, because although it is woven of moments marked by sorrow and others filled with joy, as we are taught to sing, we carry within all this the white garment we received at Baptism. As a sign of our dignity as children of God, we are called to keep it unstained until eternal life.

The Light and the Paschal Candle

16/04/2026

During the Easter Vigil, the contrast between darkness and light is very striking: the church lies almost entirely in darkness and, suddenly, at the proclamation of the coming of Christ’s light and the glory of his Resurrection, the light is kindled. Yet before that appearance of brightness and radiance, the silence and darkness of Holy Saturday begin to be broken by the small flame of the Paschal candle—that tall candle, symbol of the Risen Christ—followed by the priest and the people. It is lit from the newly blessed fire outside the church and, for the first time, the acclamation is sung: “The light of Christ,” and we all reply, “Thanks be to God,” until we too light our small candles from the Paschal candle, so as to share in this holy light and follow Christ, for, as he himself told us: “He who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (Jn 8:12).

Therefore, if during these days you go to church to take part in Mass and see the Paschal candle lit, be assured that it is not by mistake, for it is Eastertide! Indeed, all the more so because, as Jesus himself promised us: “As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world” (Jn 9:5). And this so that, as the priest declares while lighting the Paschal candle: “May the light of Christ, who has risen in glory from the dead, dispel the darkness of our hearts and minds.”

The Octave of Easter

10/04/2026

Fifty! Because the Church does not begin preparing for the next Christmas and Holy Week on the day after Easter, but instead spends fifty days celebrating and delving ever more deeply into the mystery of our salvation, rejoicing in the new life we have gained in Christ through his resurrection from the dead.

But before the fifty comes the eight: the octave. Eight days, from Easter Sunday to the Second Sunday, because the celebration of Easter is so great and so important for us Christians that, for eight full days, the Church lives each day as though it were Easter Sunday. During the octave, each day we hear proclaimed one of the events found in the Gospels connected with the resurrection of Jesus, and at the same time we begin to be drawn into the spirit of how the first Christians started to live and celebrate this resurrection after the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

The Octave of Easter—not because we are “otto,” as the Maltese adage goes, but because we are truly as God wills us to be: reunited with him through the death and resurrection of Christ!

Why is Rose used on the Fourth Sunday of Lent?

13/03/2026

The liturgical colour used during Lent is purple, a sober color that recalls the penitential character of this season. But on the Fourth Sunday of Lent—halfway through the six weeks marked by sacrifice and the call to conversion—churches are dressed in pink. This Sunday, like Gaudete Sunday of Advent, is characterized by joy. Likewise, it takes the name of Lætáre Sunday because the entrance antiphon of the Mass for this Sunday begins with the words “Lætáre Jerúsalem”: “Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad for her, all you her friends; leap for joy, all you who shared her sorrow; so you will rejoice and be filled with her consolation,” taken and adapted from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah 66, 10-11.

Unlike the other days of Lent, as on solemnities, on this Sunday flowers can also be used on the altar (Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship, Circular Letter on the Preparation and Celebration of the Lord’s Passover, Paschales Solemnitatis, 16 January 1988, par. 25). Actually, the liturgical colour is not pink but rose—a shade of pink sometimes referred to as “old rose” in English. Despite it is characterized by light—in Year A, the Baptismal cycle—white is still not used because “it is not a cloudless sky we contemplate on this Sunday.” This light that leads us to see brings with it challenges and difficulties, as experienced by the blind man when he received the light of faith and was expelled from the synagogue by the Jews because he confessed his belief in Jesus who gave him light (see Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments, Homilical Directory, 2015, par. 73-74).

In the other liturgical years, the readings also revolve around this same theme of joy. In Year B we find ourselves in a scene of darkness: Nicodemus who goes to Jesus at night in the hope of obtaining some light. And even Jesus speaks again about light in a struggle with darkness:

“this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one who does evil hates the light, and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed. But he who does what is true comes to the light, that it may be clearly seen that his deeds have been wrought in God.”

John 3:19-21

But it is precisely in this account that we find one of the most powerful sentences found in the Gospels and which we can say summarizes the entire Good News: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16).

In Year C, we encounter a story of sorrow and joy of a family in which the son leaves far away but returns to the bosom of his father who has not stopped waiting for him, while the father also goes out to meet the eldest son who was unhappy with the treatment that the father gave his brother … both were dead and at that time were given the chance to rise again, they were lost—some far away and some in their own home—and now they could be found.

The Word of God during Lent

18/02/2026

During the Lenten season, the Church gives great importance to the Word of God, in the faith and hope that its proclamation will lead to conversion. We see this taking place in various ways, for example through Lenten retreats and sermons—offered in different formats according to circumstances—through devotional prayer that contemplates the mystery of Jesus’ Passion and Death for our redemption, and above all through the proclamation of the Word of God during the Liturgy.

If we consider the passages chosen by the Church to be read at Mass, we notice that there are not two weekday cycles for the First Reading (Year I and Year II). Instead, there is a single cycle in which the Old Testament reading is paired with a passage from the Gospel in order to address various themes connected with the spiritual importance of this liturgical season. Then, from the day after the Fourth Sunday of Lent, there is a semi-continuous reading of the Gospel according to Saint John, which leads us in a dramatic way towards the celebration of the Lord’s Passion.

On the Sundays, however, we still have the usual three-year cycle—Years A, B, and C. On the First and Second Sundays we always hear the accounts of the temptations in the desert and of the Transfiguration, taken from the Synoptic Gospels, according to the year in question. But on the three Sundays that follow, in Year A we find three Gospels connected with the celebration of the Scrutinies, which form part of the rites preceding the celebration of the Sacraments of Christian Initiation at the Easter Vigil. From the earliest centuries, for these Sundays the Church chose three accounts from the Holy Gospel according to Saint John through which both those who are preparing for Baptism and the community that will welcome the newly baptised are led more deeply into the heart of the mystery of these sacraments, by which we are united to Christ who died and rose again.

Therefore, as we are in Year A, on the Third Sunday we hear proclaimed the Gospel of the Samaritan woman, in which Christ is revealed as the living water; on the Fourth Sunday, the account of the man born blind, during which Christ shows himself as the true Light; and finally, on the Fifth Sunday, the account of the raising of Lazarus, as an image of how Christ grants new life through Baptism.

Why come we have 3 patron saints

06/02/2026

As you pass through the main gate of the city of Mdina, if you look back you will notice a relief with three figures carved into the bastions overlooking you: that of Saint Paul, of Saint Publius, and of Saint Agatha—the patron saints of Malta under whose protection our forefathers, with faith and wisdom, placed themselves and our land. Three saints whose memorials and feasts we have celebrated or will celebrate in these days: Saint Publius on 22 January, Saint Agatha on 5 February, and Saint Paul on the feast of his Conversion on 25 January and on the commemoration of his providential shipwreck on our shores on 10 February.

Three saints who, like us, lived on or set foot upon the rocky soil of our islands. Paul found himself here unexpectedly, and Publius, as prince of the island, welcomed him into his home—him and his companions who narrowly escaped drowning. Agatha too, for a time, found refuge on our islands after fleeing Sicily because of persecution. Yet, like Paul who continued his journey to Rome, Agatha did not remain here, but returned to Sicily and did not shrink from offering the ultimate sacrifice of her young life, so long as she might preserve the purity of her body and the love of her heart burning for you.

Three saints who, through deeply rooted traditions, watched over this rock as it struggled against the waves and freed it from what threatened it. We have accounts that show how, through the direct intervention of Saint Paul and Saint Agatha—whether by apparition or in a dream—the people were delivered from the edge of the Moorish sword in 1429 and, by a narrow escape, in 1551 after a prolonged Ottoman siege of Mdina.

Three saints who, even if today we may no longer seek them out as much or ask God for special graces through their intercession, still certainly have a powerful word to speak to us even now. Their actions, their perseverance to the very end, and their words—or their silence—still resound today despite the centuries that have passed. And even if we have lost trust in miracles, the concrete and resolute choices of these three saints can still free us today from the darkness of all that enslaves us and illuminate our faith and our identity. For identity does not come from logos or flags, but from the bond that unites people together, from a sense of belonging, from striving for the common good; from the gentleness and unity through which we feel at home with one another; from the gentle light of faith that has illuminated the dark nights and overcast days of our journey as a people throughout the years; from the stone, the thyme, the brine, and the rock in which this faith in you was planted, grew without its roots drying up, and bore fruit… and can continue to bear fruit, provided that we ourselves do not cast all this aside in order once again to embrace the idols of false gods—gods which, if in the time of Publius and Paul they had names and mythologies, today take the form of money, of excessive comfort that corrodes, of unrestrained indulgence and pleasure, and of selfishness. May we not find ourselves serving only ourselves and expecting everything to revolve around us and our small world, instead of recognising that it is you, the true Sun of Justice, towards whom we must turn to receive light, and that we must also have the strength to turn towards those upon whom your gracious shadow rests.

Advent and the Babylonian Exile: how are they related?

03/12/2025

The Season of Advent: A time of training in patience and hope, a time of preparation and waiting for the adventus, for the coming of the One desired by all the nations. A season which, before being a preparation for the celebration of Christmas, is a time that sets us in right disposition before God, rekindling the path for us if we have somewhat strayed from it, and reminding us also of the second coming of Christ at the end of time, and of the earnest and watchful expectation of the face-to-face encounter with Him who took on a human face like ours—fair and radiant because free of every stain of sin, yet who in the end became without form or comeliness to behold, precisely so that this renewed meeting with God might once more become possible for us.

If the liturgy and spirituality of Lent drink from the wellspring of the experience of the Jewish people in the Exodus—of bondage and deliverance from Egypt, of the forty years in the wilderness—leading to the celebration of Easter through the shedding of the blood of Him who was truly the Lamb of God, who alone could take away the sins of the world; in a similar way, above all through the prophecies taken from the Book of Isaiah, through various prayers and hymns, we may say that, during Advent, the Church as it were leads us through the experience of the exile in Babylon which occurred in the sixth century before Christ: an experience marked by God’s warnings through his prophets to turn back from evil ways so as to be spared the political consequences; by the shock which the exile itself brought with it; and by the hope of deliverance when the shifting powers in the East began to show that God truly would fulfil His promise that, after seventy years, the people would return to their land and rebuild the city of Jerusalem and the Temple.

In this particular liturgical season, the exile becomes an image of the human condition estranged from God because of sin, and in need of a Saviour and Redeemer to lead man back from the way of the desert to his own land—to the place where he is rightly set, at home with himself and with God. The prophecies and promises of the return from exile become an echo of the Messianic expectation that began to mark the people of the Old Covenant in the last centuries before the coming of Christ … an expectation into which each year we enter anew—first by reckoning with our life and our concrete circumstances, not in discouragement or fear but in hope and trust—so that we may again live the waiting for the Deliverer of Israel as though Jesus had not yet been born and we were yearningly awaiting the night of Christmas, that we may rejoice in his visitation from on high like the rising sun!

100 Years since the Establishment of the Feast of Christ the King

19/11/2025

This year’s celebration of the feast of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of All Creation, is the hundredth since it was established in 1925 by Pope Pius XI through the encyclical Quas Primas. The Pope decreed that this feast was to be celebrated throughout the whole world, every year, on the last Sunday of October, that is, the Sunday before the feast of All Saints. The Pope also ordered that, on this day each year, Christians should renew their consecration — and that of the whole world — to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

This feast was instituted at a time of turmoil across the world, sometimes as a consequence of the rejection of faith, both on a personal level and on a collective one. The context of the post-First World War, apart from the absence of lasting peace among peoples, was also marked by an accelerated process of secularisation—at times aggressive and harsh—which paved the way for extreme ideologies hostile to the ecclesial institution and which even led to an assault on the dignity of every human being, realities that degenerated and brought about yet another global conflict.

Against this political background, Pope Pius XI felt the need to emphasise strongly the sovereignty of Christ over the whole world and to remind all that no authority could be separated from God.

The Last Things: whoever thinks about them never sins …

06/11/2025

The solemn feast we celebrate to honour the merits of all God’s saints together, and the solemn commemoration of the faithful departed during the first two days of November, seem to set the tone and devotion of this month on the note of the reality of death and what comes after it. A symphony which reaches its conclusion with the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the whole of Creation—the One whom death will bring us to meet. Thus, the melody, though perhaps somewhat sombre, is one of hope and serenity, because we who believe know who truly awaits us at the end of this journey: Jesus Christ. It is not for nothing that in the hymn of praise Te Deum, the Church sings:

You will come, so we believe, as our Judge.

And so we ask of you: give help to your servants, whom you set free at the price of your precious blood.

Number them among your chosen ones in eternal glory.

In the Liturgy of the Hours, for the 8:00 a.m. hour, Saint George Preca asked the members of the society he founded to stop and meditate on the Last Things – that is, the final realities. A short, concise meditation, yet truly filled with meaning:

“It is certain that I shall die. When, I do not know. And only once. The moment I die, I shall be judged on all the deeds of my life, and the sentence given to me will surely be one of these two: either eternal joy or eternal suffering.”

Dun Ġorġ would also reflect on these last things, insisting that whoever thinks about them never sins—a phrase many of us probably remember from catechism classes in the M.U.S.E.U.M. groups.

As we continue to pray for our dear departed, that the Lord may soon welcome them into His eternal joy, may this also be a time for us to remember that we too must one day die and pass through all this. Yet, may we not allow this thought to lead us into circles of sadness or despair, but rather, during these weeks, let us renew our faith in our resurrection to life through Him who is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, and let our lives be renewed by this profession of faith.