Michael Barbara was born in Kirkop on April 8, 1868, and was baptised the next day, as was customary at the time.

His parents, Giovanni Barbara and Rosanna Montebello, hailed from the nearby village of Gudja.

Giovanni and Rosanna were married in 1860 when they were 18 and 15 years old, respectively. They settled in Kirkop after Rosanna’s father purchased two large houses in the village for his two daughters. Rosanna and Giovanni’s family resided in the house opposite the church, which is now the seat of St Leonard’s Band Club, while Anna, Rosanna’s sister, occupied the adjacent house, which was later bequeathed to the Sisters of the Sacred Heart.

The couple had five children: Ġuseppa, Grazia, Carmelo, Michael and Leonard.

Leonard, who became a doctor of law before entering priesthood, tragically died at the age of 23 from heat exhaustion a few months before his ordination, that is before he could celebrate his first mass. This tragedy was compounded when both Giovanni and their son Carmel passed away within a few months of each other. Among the siblings, only Josephine married.

Fr Barbara with his parents and sisters.

A dedicated scholar

Michael was a dedicated scholar, completing his studies at the Archbishop’s Seminary where he distinguished himself as one of the best in his class. He was ordained a priest on May 23, 1891. Throughout his life, Barbara was renowned as an authoritative speaker, a skilled orator, a translator and a dedicated priest.                                         

His career was marked by his significant contributions to the church and his community. He was highly respected for his teachings in Latin language and literature, as well as moral theology. His expertise led to his appointment as an examiner for the clergy and elected parish priests. As a preacher, he was acclaimed for his eloquence in both Italian and Maltese. He was fluent in Latin and loved to write poems adhering to Catullus’s classical method.

Later in life, Barbara was nominated monsignor-in-waiting to Mgr Alfredo Mifsud, a relative of the then prime minister, Sir Ugo Mifsud. Unfortunately, after Mgr Mifsud died, the title was not bestowed on Barbara but someone else, a miscarriage of justice that profoundly affected Barbara.

This disappointment led to a severe mental breakdown and a rapid decline in his health. He passed away on July 3, 1924, at the age of 56. It seems that the title of monsignor was not bestowed during his lifetime and given to him after his demise; such is life’s irony.

Malta’s national poet penned a poignant poem, in which he laments the injustices of the world and the tragic fate of his dear friend

His close friend and confidante, Mgr Carmelo [Dun Karm] Psaila, Malta’s national poet, penned a poignant poem titled Lil Kanarin Tieghi (To My Canary), in which he laments the injustices of the world and the tragic fate of his dear friend, believed to be Barbara.

The poet says “thorns and gills remain in the absence of my friend, the one who with unconditional love could bear with me, alas preceded me to the grave”. These verses reflect the sincere friendship between the two professors who used to teach students at the seminary. It reflects the poet’s sorrow and emotional turmoil that followed Barbara’s untimely death.

As a priest, Barbara used to help the village vicar in his duties, and, for a short time, he acted as secretary of St Joseph’s lay confraternity. He delivered countless sermons and panegyrics during feast days around the island. The Malta e Sue Dipendenze newspaper of October 8, 1903 had words of praise and congratulations for Barbara’s eloquent speech on the Laferla Cross (Salib tal-Għolja) inauguration, in Siġġiewi.

‘Enduring legacy’

As we commemorate the centenary of Barbara’s death, it is fitting to remember not only his contributions to the Church and his community but also the personal struggles he endured. His life and legacy continue to be a testament to his dedication, resilience and profound impact on those who knew him and those who came to know of him through his enduring legacy.

An anecdote has been passed orally through the small community of Kirkop over the years. On the funeral day of Barbara, July 4, 1924, Archpriest Joseph Barbara, an old and wily person, was so infuriated by the untimely death of his friend that he wanted to send a subtle message to the bishop.

As the bishop set foot on the church’s doorstep, he was aghast that the parish priest was dressed in red, and the church was draped in red instead of black damask, marking mourning. When the bishop asked the parish priest what was happening, the parish priest, with a sardonic smile, told him “Your grace is the most knowledgeable of what is happening!” and the bishop hurried away.

The Mdina Cathedral and Kirkop parish church tombstones.

Although a tombstone marks his resting place at Mdina cathedral, his mortal remains are found on the left side of the front apse, under Our Lady of Rosary niche, in the parish church of Kirkop.

In 1966, to commemorate the centenary of his birth, the parishioners of Kirkop organised a requiem mass, where the parish church was packed like sardines. Mgr J. G. Ghigo was the master celebrant and made an eloquent panegyric extolling the virtues of Barbara. I was 10 years old and an altar boy and still remember this event vividly.

The village choir, under the direction of Benedict Farrugia, accompanied and, afterwards, to commemorate this event, a marble plaque was inaugurated on his family’s facade in Kirkop Square (nowadays the seat of St Leonard’s Band Club). A small memento of the occasion with Barbara’s picture was distributed to the congregation.

A memento distributed to Kirkop residents on his 40th death anniversary in 1966.

The wording on the marble plaque reads:

“In this house was born, lived and died Mons. Michael Barbara 1868-1924, professor of Latin and dogmatics, priests’ examiner, too popular a preacher – The villagers of Kirkop, 27th January, 1966.”

Barbara, a revered yet relatively unknown scholar of Latin and dogmatics, dedicated his life to the pursuit of knowledge and the nurturing of young minds. Despite his significant contributions to the field, his work often went unrecognised outside of a small circle of dedicated academics and friends.  His profound love for the subject and his passionate teaching left an indelible mark on those fortunate enough to encounter his brilliance.

Tragically, he passed away, heartbroken by an act of incivility that starkly contrasted with his teachings. Though nearly forgotten by the broader academic community, his legacy endures through the countless students he inspired, a quiet testament to a life devoted to the religious dogmatics of his times.

On the centenary of his passing, I salute the memory of my compatriot. May his name resonate deeply in our village and his memory never be forgotten.