Inside Xagħra’s Jesus the Nazarene Feast: Gozo’s Moving Spring Spectacle

Village brass bands strike up a triumphant march at 7:30 a.m., fireworks crackle over Gozo’s earliest light, and the scent of freshly baked qagħaq tal-ħmira drifts through Xagħra’s narrow alleys. In an instant, the island’s second-largest village wakes up to its most cherished day: the feast of Jesus the Nazarene, a celebration that blends Mediterranean colour with deep-rooted village pride.

Held on the fifth Sunday of Lent—one week before Palm Sunday—the feast is unique in the Maltese islands. While most parishes honour their patron saints in summer, Xagħra turns spring into a tapestry of faith, folklore and community spirit. “It’s our identity,” says Marica Camilleri, president of the local committee. “We don’t wait for tourists; we celebrate for ourselves, and that sincerity is what draws people in.”

### Origins in stone and statue
The devotion dates back to 1840, when villagers commissioned a 90-centimetre wooden statue of the scourged Christ from Sicilian sculptor Petro Saj. Legend claims the statue arrived by boat during a storm; sailors vowed to deliver it safely only if the tempest calmed. Whether myth or miracle, the story cemented the icon’s place in local hearts. Today the statue rests inside the basilica of the Nativity of Our Lady, its glass eyes looking serenely over a baroque altar of gilded vines.

### The penitential sprint
Friday evening’s procession is the emotional crescendo. Barefoot men and women, known as Nazzareni, shuffle behind the statue on cobblestones strewn with petals and thyme. Dressed in purple habits, they carry 40-kg candle pyramids called ċandelori while a choir sings the haunting Stabat Mater. The climax comes at “Tal-Qadima”, an ancient olive grove where, according to oral history, early Christians once gathered in secret. Here the procession pauses; floodlights dim, and the only sound is the rustle of 2,000 people dropping to their knees in unison. Tourists expecting fireworks and fanfare often find themselves wiping away tears.

### Economic ripple in a quiet season
Spring is normally a shoulder month for Gozo, but the Nazarene feast packs farmhouses and boutique hotels. Xagħra’s restaurants report a 35% spike in weekend revenue, according to the Gozo Tourism Association. “We’re fully booked months ahead,” says Daniel Refalo, who converted his family’s 18th-century townhouse into four rental suites. “Guests come for the procession, but they stay for the village—Ta’ Kola windmill, Ġgantija, the limestone rooftops glowing at dusk.”

### Youth keep tradition alive
Worried that pageantry might fade, organisers launched the Nazzareni Youth Corps in 2018. Teenagers learn carpentry to restore processional pedestals, sew new purple robes, and even code the feast’s mobile app, which live-streams vespers for elderly shut-ins. “We Snapchat while sanding wood,” laughs 16-year-old trainee Naomi Saliba. “Heritage doesn’t have to be dusty.”

### COVID and comeback
Like every festa, 2020’s edition was cancelled just 48 hours before procession day. The statue was still paraded—once, silently, for a camera live-stream watched by 45,000 people. “It felt like mourning,” recalls basilica rector Fr. Joe Galea. This year, restrictions lifted, the committee reinstated all rituals. Village bands rehearsed an extra month, fireworks factories doubled their order of petards, and bakers churned out almond and honey rings called kwareżimal faster than ovens could cool.

### A feast that travels
Malta residents board the 6 a.m. Gozo Channel ferry just to secure a café vantage point. Some return every year without booking accommodation; they nap on friends’ sofas, shower at rambling farmhouses, and call it “Nazzareni couch-surfing.” Even expats fly in. “I’ve lived in Berlin for twelve years,” says photographer Kirsten Zahra, “but my suitcase is already packed for Xagħra. This feast reminds me what community feels like—no filters, no hashtags, just human heartbeat.”

### Conclusion
In a world addicted to novelty, the Jesus the Nazarene feast offers something radical: continuity. continuity of barefoot steps over thyme-scented stone, of grandmothers reciting the rosary beside Tik-Toking teens, of a tiny Sicilian statue still calming internal storms. Whether you’re a believer or simply believe in culture, Xagħra in spring proves that identity isn’t stored in museums—it walks, sings and occasionally kneels in the middle of the road at 10 p.m. on a Friday, inviting everyone to pause and feel part of something bigger than themselves.