The procession with Baby Jesus is a staple of the traditional Maltese Christmas. The papier-mâché statue is brought out, cleaned up, put on its pedestal and taken around our villages, accompanied by the lantern-carrying children and the sweet singing of Christmas carols.

One cannot imagine a more idyllic scene of peace and joy.

However, this year, the Maltese Baby Jesus seems more akin to a warrior than to an innocuous and fragile newborn.

I am referring to the recent ‘war’ over the organisation of the traditional Christmas Eve procession by Catholic parishes and the tug of war between the parishes, the politicians and the health authorities.

One side was adamant on being allowed to continue this tradition unhampered while the other was ‘strangely’ wary of the health risks that such a manifestation could cause.

I say ‘strangely’ because the authorities’ initial inflexibility seemed disproportionate, especially when considering the seemingly laissez-faire attitude adopted with regard to other planned and unplanned events. It did seem to be an instance of two weights and two measures and those who aired their disapproval were right to do so.

The Baby Jesus war is, however, more complex and nuanced than it appears to be. If the local Church, in this case,  the parishes, chose to wage war over the Baby Jesus, then it should have been aware of the implications.

The Baby Jesus war was framed as a culture war, as a war between the Catholic faith and its ‘enemies’, in this case,  the politicians and the health authorities. Several voices fuelled the narrative that the Catholic faith was being discriminated against or, even worse, persecuted by these supposed enemies.

Unfortunately, this stinks of incoherence. The law of non-contradiction states that someone cannot be something and its opposite at the same time. Politicians cannot be simultaneously the Church’s best friend – where it is convenient to both – and the Church’s worst nemesis – where their views and actions are no longer convenient to the Church. It’s an either-or situation and the Church needs to pick one and stick to it.

In fighting for the papier-mâché statue of the Baby Jesus, the Church becomes itself like a papier-mâché statue- Carl Scerri

Furthermore, if the Church intends to wage a culture war, it must think wisely before it goes ahead with it. A culture war is a war between two different and clearly-defined identities: for example, between the values and principles of Catholic faith and secularism. One cannot wage a culture war if one does not have a clear identity, opposed to another identity perceived as being dangerous or wrong.

If the Church is going to start fighting culture wars, the natural question that arises is: what does the Maltese Church stand for? Why was it so vociferous over the Baby Jesus processions but much less so when it comes to fighting other, perhaps more important, wars?

I fear, and I hope that I am mistaken, that the Church no longer knows what it stands for.

In this light, the Baby Jesus procession is not a war of identity but, rather, a war of non-identity. We – and I use the first person because I am myself implicated – have lost our identity and, like a sinking man, are desperately clutching at the last remaining straw: our traditions.

I sincerely hope I am wrong.

One should not only choose one’s battles carefully but also think of the aftermath. The latest developments indicate that the parishes will be able to hold the processions. Tradition will be kept. Once again, the Church will prove itself to be the guardian of traditions.

But is this the kind of Church that Malta needs?

The fight for the Baby Jesus procession is counterproductive for the Church is inadvertently confirming a stereotype that already exists in our society. In fighting for a tradition, the Church is portraying itself as a tradition and people care about traditions only when the time comes – the rest of the year, they simply do not care.

In fighting for the papier-mâché statue of the Baby Jesus, the Church becomes itself like a papier-mâché statue: we wheel it out when we need it but then quickly put it back in darkness.

Is this how the Church sees its future?

Isaiah was right when he said that the Lord will go forth like a warrior (Is 42, 13): the battle is happening this Christmas in Malta. Unfortunately, we have probably picked the wrong battle.

Carl Scerri, Gozo priest and doctoral student at University of Oxford