It’s a long story, but for some reason or other I’ve been to a record number of village feasts this year. I happen to think that feasts are the best vantage points for people-watching, and perfect copy fodder, so not for a minute did I complain.
In my opinion, you can get bored in a sleek posh bar (I know, I’ve been) but you can never be bored at a feast. There’s too much going on: the keenest villagers shouting praise in front of the statue; the village elders parading their best gold; the super-panty skirts worn by the village youngsters, the Very Serious faces of the band committee members as they walk, in sweltering heat in black suits, in front of the march, the girlfriends on high heels trotting by the side of their brass-band playing boyfriend; the sheer joy on people’s faces as they eat candyfloss; and the district politicians – all craning their necks, standing in strategic sports so they’re visible to all the villagers.
Village feasts are really all about tradition. They’re a version of Christmas in summer. In fact, apart from Christmas Day, the Paola feast is the only other day in the year when I get to meet up with all my cousins, aunts and uncles.
I love the fact that when you walk to the square, you see the same people year in, year out: you see everyone growing old, going through the stages of life – which is what gives it all a sense of community.
And then there is the chance to enjoy waves of crowd euphoria. “I always get goosebumps when I see people running up the church steps with the San Gejtanu statue,” said a friend of mine, who doesn’t otherwise care much for feasts. “It’s a moment when everyone shares the same anticipation, the vibe in the air is pulsating – and it reminds me of my childhood, so I find it very comforting,” she said.
So, of course, I am in complete disagreement with Gordon Vassallo, the spiritual guide who wrote in Times of Malta saying that we are “getting stuck in tradition” because of “exterior celebrations and rituals that are void of substance” which “choke off real spiritual vitality”.
He said: “Quite a few parish feasts’ exterior celebrations have clearly exceeded all boundaries of modesty, serving as a hold on uneducated fanatics and pique lovers.”
And he goes on to complain that our parish feasts’ exterior celebrations have become nothing more than “a collage of extravagant and intentionally pompous exhibit of banners and lights, a line-up of food kiosks providing mostly unhealthy food, loud fireworks late at night...”
Yes. So? If you go to any clubbing venue you will find a collage of extravagant lighting, ferociously loud music and a line-up of bars selling mostly unhealthy alcohol.
They are all usually tell-tale signs of a party. And if you don’t like this kind of partying, then stay away, but do not force others from joining.
As David Muscat said in a reply article, this has nothing to do with paganism, but it is all to do with the fact that “every healthy human being enjoys a good party. And what better way to celebrate something than to throw a party?”
I wish people would stop being such snobs about feasts
Jesus himself went to parties, wrote Fr Muscat. He talked about parties and he loved parties enough to decide to provide superlative wine in quantity when it ran out at a party.
“To build a community one does not do it by locking oneself up in solitary spirituality [but] to share one’s life with that of others, and this includes every aspect of human life, from the refined to the mundane, from the daily to the memorable… This is tradition, the acknowledgement that the lives of our ancestors, and their tastes, culture and ideas, are as essential a part of the community,” said Fr Muscat.
Last week a study funded by the European Commission under the Youth in Action programme revealed that as things stand, in 20 years’ time village feasts will be extinct. That would sadly be the end of village communal life.
I wish people would stop being such snobs about feasts. And I also wish people would stop saying: “Oh I’m not religious, I’m spiritual.” Which from what I can gather, simply means doing away with rituals.
But, alas, rituals are immensely important to human nature.
A friend was telling me the other day that he goes to Mass on Sunday because it is a ritual. “And for me, having some sort of ritual is important in my life. During Mass, I don’t pray, I don’t levitate, I don’t solve my problems. I go over work issues, I do my shopping list in my mind, I think about sex, and I plan what I’ll cook – but for that hour all is well with the world – because I’m sitting in my usual place in the pew, next to the usual people and everything is familiar and safe.”
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Twitter: @KrisChetcuti