Archbishop Paul Cremona wooed people with his charismatic smile and reignited a sense of warmth towards the Church when he was nominated a year ago. Now the honeymoon is over, he speaks to Ariadne Massa about his concerns... and his penchant for drinking copious quantities of tea.

Mgr Cremona ambles down the regal, winding staircase of his new official residence in Attard, a welcoming smile at the ready and arms outstretched. He has a knack for making people feel at ease, and his amiable nature is one of the triggers that sparked the euphoria on the announcement that he would be taking over from Archbishop Joseph Mercieca, who led the Church for some 30 years.

It was a rare moment that unified Malta. Now that the red carpet has been put away, and the confetti of fresh flowers has wilted since his consecration as Archbishop of Malta last January 26, Mgr Cremona is finally settling into some form of routine.

He has only just moved into the newly refurbished building, which was previously the Apostolic Nunciature, two months ago. He left his 'family' at the Dominican convent in Sliema, to live with a new community made up of four other priests.

Sitting back into the brown leather armchair in his neat office, which he mostly uses to receive people and hold meetings, Mgr Cremona admits that he misses living in the religious community of Dominicans; though he did try to recreate the atmosphere of the convent, he feels it's somehow not the same.

He also misses having time to himself. He doesn't ask for much and hopes to one day reach a point where he can have an afternoon off. His body clock wakes him up at 4.45 a.m. every day. After prayers, he sometimes celebrates Mass at St Catherine's, an old people's home run by nuns across the road. Then he prepares a breakfast, consisting of two slices of buttered toast, before his driver picks him up to shuttle him to the Curia at 8.15 a.m. Then it's usually a whole day dedicated to administration, meetings and visits, with a brief stop for lunch, if he can fit it in.

Since he was catapulted into the limelight, his life suddenly became a whirlwind of visits, as everybody issued invitations to meet their new shepherd.

He has visited political parties, asylum seekers, prisoners, families, children, the elderly, businesses and schools. Did he feel that all these visits robbed him of the time he needed to start working towards taking the Church on a new journey?

"It was something new and everybody was inviting me. My presence was imperative to show that the Lord was with them. These were some of the most important moments this year. Some of my best encounters were with people in their homes, especially those who were suffering, sick or had disabled children," he says.

"Obviously, we have to balance the situation and things have to slow down a bit. However, I believe that the message got through that the Church is not an ogre," he adds.

Upon taking the helm, the life of the 62-year-old pastor changed instantly: "It's so full now, I feel I'm chasing time."

Mgr Cremona does not dwell on these matters for long as he feels grateful to be sharing this new experience. Since his Episcopal ordination, he has gained a reputation as 'the smiling archbishop'. Does he ever tire of this?

"No. First of all it's part of my character and it doesn't mean that you're always smiling inside... I feel spiritually close to Pope John XXIII and one of the things he said was that a smile is another person's right," he says with a wide smile, that accentuates the brown mark in the centre of his lower lip.

"No adult has asked me has ever asked me what that is, though children, in their sincerity, always ask. I don't know how it came about, but this mark suddenly appeared about 20 years ago and it kept growing for a while. Doctors assured me I have nothing to worry about," he adds in a cheery tone.

Throughout the interview, his uppermost priority is to be positive, and the second he senses that he may be sounding negative he rephrases the sentence.

Even when I joked that we should leave the person who showed up for the next appointment outside, so as to dedicate more time for the interview, Mgr Cremona is quick to jump to the visitor's defence.

Mgr Cremona is a man who does not attach himself to material goods and who literally lives by the adage that he accepts 'whatever the convent provides'. It's impossible to find out what his favourite dish is, because he does not really care what food is on the table. He dislikes fish, but if somebody serves it to him, he'll still eat it.

"When I was a novice I used to go home once a year. My mother would eagerly ask what I wanted so that she could prepare a special dish. I used to tell her, 'Whatever, I don't mind'. She would get upset and say, 'Whatever? When you come home just once a year!' I guess I got used to accepting whatever the convent provides. I was never fussy about food."

It's the same with tea; he loves his cuppa and can drink up to seven cups a day in between meals to stave off his hunger. However, he does not care whether it's Lipton or Tetley... He thinks it's actually Lion, but he does not choose it himself, and he's careful to avoid advertising a particular brand.

Though he chooses and reads several books related to his personal development, and the daily newspapers, when it comes to reading fiction he's not picky, as long as it's a good thriller.

Always an avid reader, who would devour two books a day as a young boy, Mgr Cremona doesn't have as much time now to dedicate to reading. If he does find a quiet moment, he'll read a page or two of fiction before he goes to sleep.

At the moment, a faded 1971 copy of War Head, by Walter Wager, rests on the bedside table. It was bought for him for about 46 euro cents (20 Maltese cents) from a bazaar some time ago. Taking a break from speaking about his personal life, Mgr Cremona momentarily stops the interview to greet the people who have been waiting outside.

His evening is packed with one meeting after another and he will only get a breather when he stops for dinner at 9.30 p.m.; it is the only time the five 'housemates' get together and share news of their day. After a 45-minute meeting with the Church's commission on the environment, Mgr Cremona continues the interview focusing on the past year, which gave him the chance to enter the lives of people and to understand the workings of the diocese and the parishes.

He believes the Church today has to compete with secularism, which is leaving no space for God, and robbing Christians of relishing a personal experience with the Lord and the time to truly mull over the meaning of life.

"We're being overwhelmed by too many things, such as the media that do not leave us any space to think about the values of life. Then when something bad happens, we turn to the Lord. Is there need for a crisis to occur for us to search for the Lord?"

Nowadays, life is too full and too fast, and the only way people can find God is to enter their inner self, but everybody is being bombarded by so many things, that this sometimes seemed impossible, he says.

He acknowledges that nowadays many Christians are comfortable with their life as long as they do not denounce the Lord, and Mgr Cremona is eager to reverse this trend and instil in people the true Christian message.

He is thankful that many people in Malta are still very religious, but sometimes this does not necessarily translate into living the Christian spirit, he maintains. He refers to the issue of illegal immigration, a subject which can divide opinion in the country.

"A Christian has to see the image of the Lord in every person, whatever colour or religion. That means loving and accepting them for what they are," he insists.

Mgr Cremona is fully aware of the political ramifications involved and the concerns of people who feel the island cannot cope with the influx, but he stresses that society should not view people as the problem.

"The number could be a problem, but never the people. Being a Christian is not just about going to Mass; that's religion and it's very important because it makes us a community. However, Christian faith means looking at people in the same way Christ did. Faced with the suffering of these people you cannot help but recognise that they need our help. We can help them and have to help them."

He also believes that any proposal mooted by politicians for a segregated bus service served only to promote apartheid, and did not embrace a Christian vision.

"I consider faith to be like a pair of spectacles: one looks at the world through the eyes of Christ," he says.

Faith is what led the Archbishop to enter the Dominican order at the age of 17 in 1962, and he has a special place in his heart for those who live their Christianity, despite the failings of humanity.

"Once, when I was a parish priest at Guardamangia, I was robbed of Lm3,000 (€6,988). Everybody naturally said they were sorry and hoped the robbers would get caught.

"However, there was one woman who stopped me and said, 'Look father I'm sorry for you, but I've even more sorry for them, because how can they repay the money? I'm really worried about their souls.' This was the most Christian thing I had heard."

Is this a rare trait these days?

"I think so," he starts off, instantly correcting himself and rephrasing the sentence to project a positive image. "Let's put it this way, reactions like this should be more common; we should be more prepared to forgive."

Reflecting on this and putting it in the context of marriage, he fears that nowadays love is exercised in a selfish manner and that marriage is seen as possessing somebody as opposed to giving oneself to that person. He takes it a step further and says that parents have an important role to play in this.

They have to teach their children from an early age to focus on giving, not just on receiving, giving space to others, and being able to say sorry if they made a mistake he advises.

"If we don't learn these things from an early age, then obviously no lasting relationship can really happen. We learn how to receive, but we're not learning how to give," he points out.

Mgr Cremona also feels strongly about giving children time and space, something he feels many youngsters are yearning for.

Careful to structure his thoughts so that he's not misunderstood, he urges parents not to give their children "the leftovers of their time".

"Parents need to know their children well and give them space. You can't just bring children into the world and then not give them the time. Even if they both work, parents have to put their heads together and establish what the child needs.

"We can't give the children leftovers, and sometimes that's what they're getting. I'm not blaming anybody, but sometimes this is the reality," he says.

Mgr Cremona recounts an experience when he was at the bedside of a sick woman, and there was a young girl, in her early teens, who kept referring to her as Ma.

"This woman was considerably older and I was baffled. It turned out this woman was her grandmother and she had brought her up.

Her mother was not present when she was growing up and the child could never call her Ma.

"If I bring a child into the world, what kind of values and time am I giving this child?

I can't just leave the child in front of the TV. I have to give the child something of myself."

Being a Christian, he says, is not easy and it means making sacrifices - it is not just about going to Mass on Sundays.

"It's something beyond that, it means returning home after Mass and living what you have heard and experienced in the Lord," he says, adding that one of his missions for the coming year will be to make the Church a more welcoming place to help people discover the 'treasure' - Christ.

"Our vision is to have a welcoming Church that concentrates on individuals, rather than structures," he concludes.