Easter, Figolli, and Fig Trees – or How Malta Does Faith

One of the questions I get from business contacts more often than you’d expect is:

So, what’s Easter like in Malta?

The tone is always casual, like they’re trying to verify whether Malta is actually a country or just a rock somewhere south of Sicily with decent Wi-Fi.

After a bit of back-and-forth, they usually pivot into something like

Oh, right… I didn’t realize Malta’s such a melting pot of nations, languages, and faiths.

Which is code for:

Oops, I forgot Malta exists outside tax policy and gaming licenses.”

No worries. Let’s fix that!

Because yes, Malta is a melting pot. But also no, not in the way your global HR slide deck thinks. This unique blend, where ancient traditions comfortably sit alongside modern influences, extends to the business world. While English is widely spoken and international business practices are understood, building strong relationships often hinges on appreciating and respecting these cultural nuances. Understanding the importance of events like Easter, and the underlying values they represent, can be key to fostering trust and long-term partnerships. It’s less about transactional interactions and more about building connections within the community.

If you want to understand Malta, look no further than how it handles Roman Catholic Easter. And what that says about the island is a lot.

Let’s Start with Lent

We’re currently in Randan, the local term for Lent. It’s winding down now, getting ready to explode into the full technicolor Catholic finale this Sunday. You’ll know it’s Easter when bells start ringing like it’s V-E Day.

But before that? Passion processions. Everywhere. On Malta. On Gozo. You’ve got light installations outside the Presidential Palace in Valletta. In Rabat, they roll out a full replica of the Shroud of Turin – because when your island is mostly limestone and churches, you’ve got to keep the drama high.

There are Passion runs – the most enthusiastic ones in Birgu and Sanglea – where grown men run with statues of Christ like it’s the fourth quarter and they’re down by six. There’s a kid version too, which is less intense, but still loud. Think: children in best clothes sprinting behind the Risen Christ, waving flags, and screaming with joy. It’s religion, cardio, and chaos – all in one.

And then there’s the food.

Kwareżimal. Prinjolata. And Snails.

Malta takes its Easter treats seriously. Figolli – almond-filled pastry in the shape of hearts, lambs, or fish – are everywhere. It’s your reward for surviving Lent. But there’s also Kwareżimal – a medieval almond biscuit with no eggs or fat, made by people who take fasting very seriously. And Prinjolata, which is basically what happens when Carnival explodes into a dessert – a sugary, sticky mountain of whipped madness that makes Figolli look like health food.

Now, this is Malta. So of course Easter dinner includes lamb – roasted with potatoes, onions, dill. But let’s not forget the snails. Yes, snails. On Good Friday, which is meatless, Maltese still insist on some protein, so they go and collect snails. At dawn. By hand. It’s free, and so – technically – are the snails.

Rituals, Trees, and the Sound of Silence

On Holy Thursday, bonfires – called Ħġejjeġ – are lit in some villages across the islands. You might smell smoke in the distance or see a glow behind a chapel, but that’s rare sight more likely that someone is getting rid of excess waste paper accumulated by aggressive distributors of advertising leaflets. The original idea is symbolic: light, cleansing, the coming resurrection. Nevertheless it’s one of those fading traditions that still manages to hold the line… somehow…

You’ll also find people doing the Seven Churches Visitation – an old-school pilgrimage where people walk from church to church in contemplative silence. It’s one of the few moments in Malta where people are actually quiet… or just hope to a noisy car and do the same in style.

And the Judas Trees? They’re blooming right now – violet flowers everywhere!!! – because apparently, they’re ashamed a traitor once hung himself on one. (Don’t worry, we’ll circle back to that cheerful thought later.)

And if you’re lucky? You might catch someone singing għana, a style of improvised Maltese folk music that carries more soul than most modern pop albums. It’s not religious, but it’s spiritual – in the old-world sense.

Paola, Tolerance, and Gaddafi’s Mosque

Paola is one of those towns tourists ignore – to their loss. There’s a Neolithic monument – the Hypogeum. Nearby is Christ the King Parish, Malta’s largest church by volume, celebrating 100 years since construction began. Underneath the main square? WWII air raid shelters, now converted into underground Passion exhibitions. And everywhere else you look: Wirja – Passion displays – little installations of the crucifixion story, some moving, most kitschy, all sincere.

And if you stand in the square long enough, you’ll spot two things at once: the bell tower of the basilica… and the minaret of the Virgin Mary Mosque. Built not by the Prophet, but by Muammar Gaddafi, back in 1978 when Libyan oil money was buying influence and architecture across the Mediterranean. Say what you want, but it’s a hell of a visual for religious coexistence. This visible coexistence of cultures isn’t just a striking image; it speaks to a broader societal openness and tolerance that can be attractive to international businesses and investors – I know, I know, I hear you! There are some notable, vocal exceptions… like everywhere… But in general Malta’s ability to navigate its rich history and diverse present suggests a resilience and adaptability that can be beneficial for business!

Bread with Apostles and Economy

Let’s talk about Easter economics in Malta, a country that—true to form—is pulling a centuries-old balancing act between sacred ritual, hard-nosed pragmatism, and just enough chaos to make it all work.

A friend of mine grabbed the essentials: Qagħqa tal-Appostli, a braided bread ring crowned with twelve almonds, each representing one of the apostles (including Judas, because Malta doesn’t edit history), and Figolli, those joyful almond-filled pastries cut into the shapes of hearts, stars, fish, and everything in between. But here’s the kicker—they were bought from mil-Forn tal-Ħabs, the prison bakery. Yes, in Malta, even the corrections system contributes to the festivities. You want sacred pastry? Better queue up in front of a maximum-security facility. Welcome to the Mediterranean.

And while you’re there, good luck getting anything else done. Couriers are tearing through traffic on scooters like it’s Black Friday meets Pentecost. Deliveries are up. Tempers are flaring. Everyone’s eating. And the guy who still has energy to bake is either an con or a saint.

Meanwhile, construction sites slow just slightly, not because there’s a mandate, but because the entire island is caught in that seasonal twilight zone between full-speed development and total inertia. From December through April, Malta doesn’t operate on a linear calendar. It functions on what I’d call the ‘Island time + Multicultural holiday quota’ model. For businesses, this rhythm is crucial to understand, the calendar is punctuated by numerous public holidays and cultural events that can impact productivity and timelines. Smart SME owners and investors factor this into their planning, recognizing that flexibility and an understanding of these cycles are essential for smooth operations. This isn’t necessarily inefficiency; it’s a different prioritization that values community and tradition alongside economic activity. So, one minute, cranes are turning the skyline into Dubai Lite. The next, you’re in a stone village lit by candlelight and the ghost of a Bronze Age fertility goddess.

And speaking of fertility—eggs, figs, and snails. All over Easter celebrations, yes. But those aren’t just ingredients in your grandmother’s holy dessert lineup. These are artifacts. Traces of something older. Something tribal. Malta’s prehistoric people were stacking stones into temples when Stonehenge was just a chalk doodle. Those rituals didn’t die. They just put on a cassock and picked up a hymnbook. Christianized? Sure. Sanitized? Not really.

Today, the fig trees are leafing out, the meadows are punch-drunk green, and somewhere between liturgical procession and espresso break, Maltese tradition manages to stretch from prehistory to post-modernity without spilling the wine. Tourists are pouring in. The more adventurous are already swimming—never mind that the sea is still cold enough to curse your ancestors.. for locals anyway. And at the center of it all stands Malta—small, proud, overcaffeinated—holding six millennia of history in one hand… and pastizz in the other.

Because this is a country that remembers where it came from. It just also wants a bite of almond pastry while doing it.