The kappillan of Malta

During my studies in Montreal, Canada, every time I said I was Maltese, people referred me to Nicholas Monsarrat's book The Kappillan of Malta. They knew very little else about our country but they had read the book and were impressed.

I had not read it till that time, so I dutifully borrowed a copy from a friend. Today, almost 30 years later, I only vaguely remember the story. However, I recall that it centred on a priest in war-torn Malta. He loved the people and shared their hopes, fears, anxieties and joys. They loved him in return and their mutual love and respect made them forget all his shortcomings.

I recently remembered this episode when the phrase the kappillan (parish priest) of Malta was being used in a very different sense. During the TV programme Dissett some weeks ago, the presenter, Reno Bugeja, asked whether Archbishop Paul Cremona is more akin to a glorified kappillan than an archbishop of Malta. The phrase - il-kappillan ta' Malta - was then being used in a derogatory manner.

Bugeja was echoing the sentiment present in certain sections of the Church, priests not excluded. The record so far of Mgr Cremona disappoints these critics. They say he has no vision and that he has brought about no radical change of Church structures and the key people who control them. They say he behaves more like a kappillan than an archbishop.

It is true that Mgr Cremona did not cause any earthquakes in the Curia or in the myriad institutions it has spawned. I am among those who would have liked him to implement radical change in his first 100 days. However, I now recognise that he did something much more important. He brought the Church closer to the people than anyone else did before him.

Perhaps it is not that Mgr Cremona has no vision but rather that his vision is different from that of his critics. Perhaps he is operating a different model of 'being Church' than that model to which his critics adhere. Instead of operating from a model based on a Church of structures, Mgr Cremona is operating from a model based on a Church of and for the people.

Mgr Cremona's critics believe the 'revolution' will only come after the structures are changed. On the contrary, Mgr Cremona believes what is more important is that people are loved and cared for, and feel it. This kind of attitude, much more than the attitude that glorifies structures, can lead people to the wonderful discovery that God is Love and that Jesus Christ communicated this love to us in the most wonderful way.

One example suffices. A friend of mine told me he twice had dinner with Mgr Cremona, and on both occasions he was eating with friends of his who live together without being married. Is it not eating with poġġuti - to use the negative term that many nies tas-sagristija would use? Is it not more revolutionary than turning Curia structures upside down?

There is a problem though. The Archbishop's vision has not been understood well enough by many in the Church, which also includes the core group of nostalgic Catholics about whom he spoke during the Synod. The communication of this vision is an urgent pastoral imperative.