During the feast of Santa Marija in Gozo, Cardinal Mario Grech delivered a homily that deserves not only our attention but our collective examination of conscience. As Pontifical Legate and Secretary General of the Synod, his role is global, but his words cut close to home: Mary, he said, calls us to "awake from the sleep of apathy."
It is a powerful phrase, one that shines an uncomfortable light on where we stand as a nation. Apathy and indifference are not abstract vices. They are the daily habits of a society that prefers to look away, that shields itself from discomfort, and that too often allows injustice to fester under the cover of silence. Cardinal Grech's warning is not poetic piety; it is a diagnosis of our civic life.
He illustrated the contradiction starkly. While our villages erupt with fireworks, in Gaza and Ukraine bombs are tearing through families. While we gather around tables heavy with food and drink, others beg for a drop of water. These comparisons sting, and they should. It is not that feast days and celebration are wrong, but that they too often mask a deeper moral slumber. We indulge, we cheer, we clap - and we forget. Or worse, we never even pause to notice.
The Cardinal pressed further, warning against becoming like the proverbial three monkeys who "neither see, nor hear, nor speak". How many of us recognise ourselves in that parable? How often do we scroll past suffering, dismiss corruption as "the usual," or excuse ourselves from speaking up because "it won't make a difference"? We live in a culture where comfort is prioritised over conscience, where the greatest sin is to disturb the peace of mind of those who would rather not be confronted with unpleasant truths.
But apathy is not only a personal failure; it is cultivated by the very structures that govern us. For years, Malta has been steadily trained in indifference by a government that normalises wrongdoing. Scandal after scandal has erupted, from the sale of citizenship to the abuse of public contracts, from environmental degradation to the weakening of institutions. Yet accountability remains elusive. The powerful are shielded, the corrupt are rewarded, and those who demand justice are treated as troublemakers. This is the culture of impunity that Cardinal Grech indirectly pointed to - a culture that deadens conscience and teaches people to shrug rather than resist.
The effect is corrosive. Citizens begin to believe that protest is futile, that justice is selective, that nothing changes. And so indifference takes root, not because people are inherently cold, but because the system persuades them that caring is useless. This is the most dangerous victory of impunity: it does not only protect the guilty, it numbs the innocent.
The Cardinal's homily also touched on suffering in its more intimate forms. In a society increasingly intolerant of weakness, illness, and vulnerability, the sick and the elderly are often treated as burdens. Solutions are sought not in solidarity and care, but in quick fixes that make suffering disappear from view. Compassion, he lamented, is seen as too costly. The same logic applies to migration, poverty, and homelessness. Rather than walk alongside those who suffer, we prefer policies that erase them from our sight - out of sight, out of mind, and out of conscience.
Equally urgent was his reference to "ecological mourning". Our landscape, once the pride of our islands, is being devoured by greed, concrete, and reckless exploitation. Each stretch of coastline sacrificed, each valley scarred, is a theft from future generations. And yet, here again, indifference reigns. Too many shrug and accept environmental destruction as inevitable, while government permits and policies fuel the devastation. Our children will inherit not just polluted air and degraded land, but also the cynicism of adults who looked away.
What then does it mean to "awake from the sleep of apathy"? It means refusing to be the three monkeys. It means opening our eyes to corruption, opening our ears to the cries of the vulnerable, and opening our mouths to speak truth even when it is unpopular. It means recognising that silence in the face of wrongdoing - whether in war, politics, or daily life - is complicity.
For Malta, awakening must also mean demanding more of those who govern. Celebrations and slogans cannot disguise a culture that rewards loyalty over merit, power over justice, and impunity over accountability. A country that celebrates its feasts with splendour but tolerates corruption at its core is a country betraying its own values. If our faith, our traditions, and our national pride mean anything, they must compel us to act differently.
As Cardinal Grech reminded us through the words of Saint Paul: "The hour has come for you to awake from sleep." The hour is now - not tomorrow, not after the next scandal, not after the next election.
If we continue to see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil, then we will have surrendered not only our conscience but also our future. We cannot afford to remain asleep in apathy. To do so would be to betray our faith, our values, and our humanity.