He might not have seen it coming. He might have been doorstepped. But what the prime minister said about the proposed cafeteria on the portico of the basilica in Paola is anything but trivial. These are not the words of a regular Joe throwing his two cents worth while drinking his kafé bil-ħalib. Robert Abela is the prime minister of this country and the first spokesperson for our government. His words were not simply lacking in style but actually disconcerting.

Asked to give his opinion about the cafeteria saga, our prime minister outrightly declared that this application was a “non-starter”, expecting it to be withdrawn.

It seems to me, however, that no law is being broken and there is no risk for public order. Since when, therefore, what the Church decides to do, in its own property and according to the law, needs the blessing of the prime minister?  Why should he even feel concerned?

Here lies the crux of the whole debate. Malta is supposedly a modern democratic state. It ambitions to be secular, in intention and most often de facto.

And those times when it is not secular, it is not because we have Roman Catholicism written down in our constitution, but more fundamentally, because we still have not understood what it means to be secular.

One of the fundamental principles of a secular state is the separation of Church and State.

No Church can expect preferential treatment in a secular state, just as a secular state stays away from matters that are purely religious. The two institutions – Church and State – are independent from one another and avoid trespassing onto one another’s territory.

In Malta, there seems to be no problem understanding this principle when it comes to the role of the Church in politics. We do expect the Church not to interfere in what is clearly the State’s role. When it comes to debates about important changes in law, for example in questions related to life, sex and family, we expect the Church, or any other religious organisation, not to dictate its ‘medieval’ beliefs on the rest of the country.

It is the Catholic Church itself that should be most worried about Abela’s words

The Church should limit itself to the temple, the fanum. What happens outside, in the pro-fanum, is not the Church’s business.

But when the argument goes in the inverse direction, the approach that the State should adopt vis-à-vis the Church, the dividing line suddenly gets blurred.

We no longer know where to draw the line. And Abela’s words are a case in point.

These are not words that you would expect from the prime minister of a supposedly secular country. But perhaps Abela upholds the phrase ‘cuius regio, eius religio – whose reign, his religion’ (apologies for quoting it out of context). Religion is the extension of the power of those who govern. Unknowingly, this is what he is suggesting.

Or maybe knowingly. Abela’s faux pas is not simply the result of having been caught off guard. In a society where every institution has become, subtly or less so, an extension and a satellite of the government, where the government buys control and favour through sponsorships and endorsements, it comes as no surprise that the Church is seen as another malleable institution.

It is another extension of the government’s agenda, something on which the government pretends to have a say. ‘Whose reign, his religion’, just as it is his band club, his NGO, his klabb tal-boċċi, his cultural association.

In fairness, the Church is also partly at fault. Too often it has let its independence be taken away from it. The culture of ‘please’ and ‘grazzi ministru’ did not leave the Church untouched.

And there is always a price to be paid. Pecunia olet, money does smell, it does come with terms and conditions. There is a reason why rather than a Church for the voiceless, the Church has become itself voiceless.

It is the Catholic Church itself that should be most worried about Abela’s words. This is more than a debate about a cafeteria on the roof of a church.

From the Church’s standpoint, it is a debate about its future.

It is the beginning of the existential questions that the Church in Malta will have to ask. Is the Church going to be just a festa organiser, a vessel for the government to entertain the masses? Abela declared what is already obvious to many: the Church is the festa. The only noise that it is tolerated to make is that of petards and band marches in the middle of a hot summer. But from the next day and for the rest of the year, it is expected to remain quiet.

But I don’t envision a quiet Church. I rather wish to see a Church that has a vision, that has a voice, among those of others, in a state that is secular. I desire a Church that is independent, both in terms of finances and also in terms of opinion. That is why the cafeteria project is a step in the right direction. I’d happily drink a cup of tea in a Church like that. And for those that think that this is just a storm in a teacup, it is really a teacup that has started a storm.

Carl Scerri

The author is a priest and a doctoral student at the University of Oxford.