The journey that Joseph and a very pregnant Mary made to cross the Judean desert from Nazareth to Bethlehem was a very miserable one.

The Bible tends to give readers the impression that ancient travel was a breeze - arduous trips are amazingly described in half a sentence. However, a journey which today would take two hours by car, back then took about a week of uphill walking, in constant rain during the day and freezing temperatures at night.

Joseph and his spouse were of course not sponsored by The North Face – they had to make do with heavy woollen cloaks over long robes and stockings and some basic animal-skin shoes.

But it was not just the gruelling route which made the journey perilous. They had to beware of bandits too. Although Joseph and his wife did not have any, say, Bvlgari watches on them, bandits were ready to prey on even the most meagre of possessions. For this reason, the couple had to join other travellers on foot and hope for safety in numbers.

They also had to carry their own food for the whole journey – lots of dried bread and as much water as the donkey could carry. Just water. No wine. No Pétrus to mark the upcoming birthday of Baby Jesus.

When they got to Bethlehem, there was no €1,500 a night Dubai-style hotel room waiting for them. An overcrowded Bethlehem meant that even lodging at basic inns was unavailable and Joseph and Mary could only secure a place in a stable-cave, with the animals.

We’re used to Renaissance images of Joseph, Mary and the new-born Jesus surrounded by the most photogenically groomed camels, smiling cows, fluffy sheep and colourful peacocks. Since the stable was part of an inn, the only animals likely to be found in the stable where Jesus was born would have been the donkeys of other travellers, and perhaps a few scruffy sheep.

The cave – although offering respite from the weather – would most certainly have been cold, dirty and uncomfortable.

This is why we sing “Away in a manger/ No crib for a bed/ The little Lord Jesus / Lay down His sweet head/ Asleep on the hay”.

And this is why it’s important that we revisit the Nativity story every year. It is, in essence, the magic of Christmas.

Every year we’re given this opportunity to go back to basics – to remind ourselves that the joy and happiness do not come from material things, that life is not a show of glamour and glitter and that money is not the be all and end all.

I find myself musing about the Nativity story today because Joseph Muscat spent Christmas eve in Bethlehem, in the very grotto where it is said Jesus was born.

I thought this extremely interesting. Have you noticed how recently the first family has done away with New York and Dubai? These days it’s the Vatican and the Holy Land. Wherever next, I wonder? Lourdes?

I hope that during Mass in that grotto Muscat reflected on the past six years

In any case, I hope that during Mass in that grotto Muscat reflected on the past six years. Specifically, on his lies and his greed. And the blood of Daphne Caruana Galizia spilled on his watch.

Perhaps he realised on Christmas eve that he can no longer keep pretending that he’s one of the three kings leading Malta to the star of wonder. Maybe he came to accept the fact that he’s been nothing but Herod, responsible for the Massacre of the Innocents.

Maybe he reflected on how he allowed the assassination of a journalist to be plotted, according to evidence, in his office. And how he protected, nay praised, the conspirators over and over.

Hopefully he replayed in his mind how he gladly received gifts from one of the alleged masterminds, Yorgen Fenech and gladly received advice from the alleged other, Keith Schembri; and how he lied to the people who elected him, every single day of his life in office.

Hopefully, he contemplated on how Malta’s economy is at a standstill because of him, and how the country is being blacklisted by all. Maybe, he pondered on how he is massacring the future of our children by his very hold on office.

Maybe he thought about the fact that while his best friends were pocketing €5,000 a day, thousands of his citizens are having to be fed by foodbanks. And maybe he mulled over those 22 Serbian children who are waiting to be separated from their families and friends and deported back to their country because their parents are not “high-net-worth individuals” and this country only greets money launderers.

Possibly in that grotto, he realised that if Joseph and Mary had come knocking at the door of his inn, Muscat would have looked at his watch, smirked, and said “Don’t you know what time it is? I’m having a lavish party here.” And he’d have gone back to his corrupt friends and kept on drinking wine from the chalice of a soulless life.

But you know what? We don’t want any of that wine. We want our children to grow up on the values of the Nativity family and that’s our collective, determined resolution for 2020 – and no matter how arduous the journey, we’ll see it through.

On Monday, we suffered yet another national power cut. It lasted more than three hours. Clearly, contrary to what Muscat would have us believe, the entire country’s electricity is dependent on the interconnector.

Every time the interconnector pipe which links us to Sicily gets damaged, the entire country is plunged into darkness. The BWSC gas power plant and Yorgen Fenech’s Electrogas do not provide any power at all. I am no engineer but it’s obvious that:

We are getting cheap electricity through the interconnector from Italy but we’re not enjoying the savings;

We’re funding the Electrogas power station through our taxes – and in the process fattening up the pockets of Keith Schembri and Konrad Mizzi – when this is just a dummy booth.

Now we learnt that Muscat has accepted high-net-worth gifts from Yorgen Fenech, the former main owner of Electrogas Ltd, and one of the alleged masterminds in the assassination of Caruana Galizia, and even invited him to his birthday bash when he already knew Fenech was a suspect. I mean, what are these people?

And more specifically what on earth are the police waiting for to call in Muscat for interrogation? Or did he forget his phone in the Bethlehem grotto?

krischetcuti@gmail.com
Twitter: @krischetcuti