Malta Rings in Mercy: Bells, Bikes and TikTok Verses Mark September 7 Religious Surge

Religious quotes and news – September 7, 2025
Valletta wakes up on a Sunday that feels almost pre-ordained. The bells of St John’s Co-Cathedral ring at 6.05 a.m., echoing Archbishop Charles Scicluna’s midnight tweet: “Let the bells tell the world that mercy is still louder than thunder.” Within minutes the line is shared 1,700 times, topping even the Prime Minister’s post about the new Gozo ferry discount. Across the harbour, the muezzin’s call in Paola weaves between the peals, a gentle reminder that Malta’s soundscape—like its soul—has always been polyphonic.

At 7.30 a.m. the first pilgrims reach the Ta’ Pinu basilica in Gozo. This year’s “Bike-to-Mary” charity ride, organised by the Għawdex Youth Network, has swollen to 1,200 cyclists, twice last year’s number. As they lean bikes against the limestone wall, Fr Joe Micallef greets them with today’s Gospel one-liner: “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” He tells Hot Malta that the quote feels tailor-made for a generation “terrified of climate anxiety and rent prices.” Riders receive a reusable water flask stamped with the verse; by noon #KelmaTajba is trending on Maltese TikTok, paired with drone shots of the basilica framed by wheat fields turning gold.

Back in Valletta, the Oratory of St Francis is hosting an interfaith panel on AI and ethics. Imam Mohammed El-Sadi, Rabbi Reuven Ohana and Fr Claude Mangion share the stage beneath Caravaggio’s skeletal “St Jerome”. Rabbi Ohana opens with an adapted Talmudic warning: “Do not trust yourself until the day you die—and now, until the day your algorithm dies.” The audience of 250, mostly university students, bursts into appreciative laughter. Imam El-Sadi responds with a Qur’anic verse on the sanctity of knowledge: “Over every possessor of knowledge is one more knowing.” By the time Fr Mangion quotes Pope Francis’ 2024 encyclical “Antiqua et Nova” (“guard tech with ancient wisdom”), the livestream has 18,000 viewers, a record for the archdiocese.

Outside, the traditional Żejtun brass band marches up Republic Street rehearsing “Ave Maria” for tonight’s torchlight procession. Shopkeepers wave from doorways, some clutching takeaway pastizzi. The procession, cancelled during COVID, is back with a twist: LED torches instead of paraffin to honour this year’s Laudato Si’ theme. “We’re keeping the flame, losing the fumes,” jokes bandmaster Etienne Bezzina, whose 14-year-old daughter plays the flugelhorn. The quote on the back of tonight’s programme is from Maltese mystic St George Preca: “Carry the light, become the light.” Vendors report selling 4,000 copies by 11 a.m., raising funds for Dar tal-Providenza.

At midday news breaks that the Vatican has officially recognised the 19th-century Gozitan visionary Marija Adeodata Pisani as a Doctor of the Church—the first Maltese ever granted the title. Archbishop Scicluna’s voice cracks during a live TVM interview: “Her diaries tell us that holiness is not escape but engagement.” Within an hour, the Domus Pacis guest house in Rabat announces it is already fully booked for December retreats themed around her writings. Local restaurants launch a “Doctor of Charity” platter—ftira topped with Gozitan honey and almonds—promising €1 per sale to mental-health charities, a nod to Pisani’s advocacy for “holy cheerfulness”.

Evening Mass at the Rotunda of Mosta draws 3,500 faithful, spilling onto the parvis where giant screens glow beneath the dome that once survived a WWII bomb. Tonight’s homily by Fr George Grima centres on another Pisani quote newly painted on the dome’s interior rim: “Prayer is not a spare wheel, it is the steering wheel.” Worshippers leave clutching prayer cards printed on recycled paper; volunteers from the Malta Girl Guides stand ready to guide tourists to shuttle buses running on biodiesel.

By 10 p.m. the torchlight procession reaches the Upper Barrakka Gardens, overlooking a Grand Harbour shimmering with cruise-ship lights. Archbishop Scicluna leads a decade of the rosary in Maltese, English and Arabic. Fireworks spell out the single word “IMHABBA” (love). As the smoke clears, the crowd falls silent. For a heartbeat, the only sound is the sea slapping against centuries-old bastions. Then someone starts singing “Għanja tal-Madonna”, and 4,000 voices join in, proving that in Malta the sacred is never merely quoted—it is sung, cycled, marched, tweeted and, above all, lived.