The funeral in Xewkija

Yesterday I was supposed to spend the afternoon with Philip as he was going to take me around the island to some of the cemeteries that no longer have bus service. Unfortunately I had to cancel on him, but it was for a good reason – I went to a funeral instead.

Oddly, I found out about this funeral through the obituaries on www.timesofmalta.com . Obits are posted there but they are seldom for Gozo as it seems the readership of the paper is more Maltese with most Gozitans reading the Independent. It’s a decent paper though so I get the daily update for the Times sent to me via email. In any event, I thankfully checked the update on Friday and saw that there would be a funeral in Xewkija (pronounced “Shew-kee-ya”) on Saturday. I called and canceled on Philip who was understanding and said we could do it another day, reminding me that the entire month is for the dead. Thanks for the reminder Philip.

The buses to Xewkija do not run between noon and 5pm during the month of November. There is a bus to another village that drives past the Xewkija stop but the timing wasn’t right to take that one. So I walked the 45 minutes to the village though I admittedly overshot my destination because there was no “Xewkija Centre” sign to point the way inward. I made it there exactly on time, however, arriving with enough time to take in the magnitude of the village’s new rotunda. Completed in 1971 it took twenty years to build using mostly donations from locals and labor on the backs of the parishioners themselves. I took a quick walk around the church and as I came to the front again the priests were leaving to meet the coffin for the processional.

The woman who died was 85 and so I was half expecting the kind of turn out that had been at the first funeral – roughly 25 – 50. As I approached the procession meeting point I was immediately proven wrong as there were at least 50 people already waiting there. Thankfully there would be no worries on seating at San Gwann Battista church (St. John the Baptist) because the new rotunda can actually seat 4000 if necessary – that’s three times the size of the entire village. The church was set for a regular mass with 6 rows of pews that were quickly filled and I counted roughly 150 attendees.

The inside of the church was so breathtaking that it was hard to pay attention to the service. The white limestone shone in the sun that poured in from the rotunda windows. The dome is 256 feet and is apparently higher than the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. The round walls of the church host six larger than life paintings of St. John the Baptist, though the center painting behind the altar is reserved for the crucifixion of Jesus.

The mass was presided over by nine priests. According to Philip when we spoke at the last funeral, they may not all be from the same parish as priests from other communities will ask to be present if the deceased was someone they knew as well. One thing I noticed that was different about this particular mass was that the Lord’s Prayer was sung. It called to mind my own days at church on the occasions when the Lord’s Prayer would be sung to the warbles of the parishioners who would creak and croak the awkward tune. Unlike the Ave Maria that sounds so beautiful in song, singing the Lord’s Prayer just never did it for me.

After the mass I processed with everyone over to the cemetery. As we walked, many of the attendants peeled off, heading for their cars or to walk home. By the time we reached the cemetery there were maybe 40 of us to watch the coffin be placed in the tomb. The walls of the Xewkija Cemetery, like many of the churches in Gozo, are lined with a single row of white lights that were lit for the burial. The chapel too had a row of lights across the top and the doorway framed the figure of the priest while he gave a final blessing with water before the coffin was opened.

The coffin lowering proved difficult as the tomb was butted up against the cemetery wall on the lower level. The pall bearers had a heck of a time getting it into position and it actually got stuck on something. Thankfully the caretaker was on hand to assist and he came running over the tops of the tombs to help maneuver the coffin into place. Also, unlike the last burial which was in a brand new tomb that did not yet have a tombstone, this burial was underneath a pre-existing tombstone. This meant we all stood and watched as the caretaker not only put the limestone bricks in place like last time, but also spread the mortar in between and set the bricks entirely. Then, he and the pall bearers lifted the tombstone covering, sliding it carefully into place on top and the caretaker finished the act by sealing the sides to the ground. In the end, the time spent at the cemetery was exactly the same as the time spent in the church. Only about 25 people remained until the very end.

It was about 5:30 and the sky was not yet entirely dark with the clouds creating yet another breath taking sunset. The bright lights from the chapel mixed with the soft glow of the candles lit all over the tombs. Together they cast a calmingly serene light on the flowers that covered the tombs and I took a pause before leaving to take it all in. Looking just over the tomb and the cemetery wall you could see the lights of St. George’s and the Citadel off in the distance. It had been a windy day and as the sun departed the wind turned cold as it whipped around the cemetery. If sunsets weren’t fleeting I could’ve stayed there for an age watching it. It was the cold wind that finally shooed me away as if it were saying, “Go. It is time for the dead to rest in peace.”