Church of St Paul’s Shipwreck
To see ourselves as others see us
Fear not, I don’t intend to bang on about Malta ad nauseam. In fact this is only my second, destined to be last, post on the subject.
But one thing struck me forcibly during our stay there. The friendliness and kindness of the people. Car drivers would stop – with a smile! – in the street to let pedestrians cross safely. Passengers would walk the length of the bus to give a perfect stranger with a troublesome cough, a soothing pastille. Shop keepers would run along to a bus stop to advise tourists of the right place to wait. The list of kindly acts we saw is too long to enumerate.
And it seems the Maltese have been famous for this for centuries as this church commemorates. 
The apostle Paul is said to have been shipwrecked on the north coast of the island (Acts 28: 1-11) – although because of maritime knowledge today, some experts doubt the actual location of his grounding. But the locals believe it big time, and Paul is their patron saint. They have statues and churches and roads and catacombs and bays and all sorts named after him.
One surprisingly understated chapel-like Church of St Paul’s Shipwreck in St Paul’s Bay is reputed to mark the site on which Paul and Luke kindled the physical and spiritual fire amongst the people they met when their ship ran aground here during his last journey to Rome. There are embossed plaques telling the story of the shipwreck in pictures and words on the outside of this building.
And one point struck me forcibly: The natives showed us unusual kindness.
The story goes that it was raining and cold when the mariners arrived, so the islanders built a fire to warm them. Paul gathered wood to help fuel it and a poisonous snake, driven out of cover by the heat, fastened on his hand. The islanders took this as a sign: he was a criminal trying to escape justice. Paul however shook the snake off into the fire and carried on as normal. The people watched with bated breath expecting him to swell up, fall down dead – something dramatic. When nothing happened they did a complete about turn and hailed him as a god.
Publius was the chief official on the island at the time and there are lots of references to him too, even today. In the biblical account he welcomed Paul and Luke into his home and entertained them well for three days. We visited a Roman villa from the first century in Rabat and it was obviously a very grand affair with wonderful statues and columns and mosaics. Paul in return healed Publius’ sick father of dysentery. This, not surprisingly, opened the floodgates: the rest of the sick folk on the island poured in looking for a cure. And were healed.
For three months the apostle stayed on Malta, and tradition has it that he declined to stay in sumptuous ease, preferring a cave (St Paul’s grotto) and simplicity instead. 
Whatever, the people ‘honoured them‘ and sent them on their way with lots of provisions when they were ready to sail on. Leaving good feeling on both sides.
This friendliness was palpable everywhere we went on Malta and it made me wonder: How would we on our island be perceived? In our towns? During a disaster? On a miserable wet day? In our homes?