A special place with special energy
Trip Start
Sep 12, 2006
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56
100
Trip End
Sep 08, 2008
Mosta,
Malta
Thursday, September 13, 2007
During the Second World War, Malta was heavily bombed by the Italians and Germans, and on the afternoon of the 9th of June 1942, three bombs struck the Mosta Dome whilst a congregation of about 300 were hearing mass inside. Two of the bombs bounced off the dome, and landed in the town square without exploding. The third pierced the dome, bounced off a wall and rolled across the floor of the church. No one was hurt, and the bomb failed to detonate.
I arrived in Mosta at 1.30pm, but as seemed to be the usual case for me in Malta, I hadn't previously looked up the opening times, and found myself with a 90 minute wait. To occupy my time, I went for a walk about 2.5km from the centre of town in the hope of having a look at the Mosta Fort, part of the Victoria Lines. These fortifications were built by the British in the late 19th century, fearing a possible invasion from the north. Following the directions in my guidebook, I found the fort easily enough, however a barbed wire fence lined the road to the entrance, which was blocked by a boom gate. I figured this wasn't a tourist attraction, and when three huge dogs started barking and running down the road towards me I decided that I really didn't care about the fort all that much and headed back.
When I finally entered the Dome at 3pm, I felt a really special energy inside the place. The interior was a stunning blue, gold and white, and even though I'd been inside some pretty amazing churches during my time in Europe, nothing compared to what I felt here. It's very difficult to describe an energy like this, but rather something that has to be felt I think.
I had a look around the interior for a while, noticing the missing paint on the dome which marked where the bomb had come through, before finding the small entrance to the sacristy where a replica of the bomb that pierced the dome was kept. As I looked at it, and it was quite big, I couldn't help but think there simply must have been some divine intervention on that day for the bomb not to hurt anyone. As I was thinking this, a sunburnt middle aged English woman, very typical of the type of tourist that visits Malta, said to her husband, "Some people think it was a miracle. I just think it was a faulty bomb!" Faulty bomb or not, something special happened that day because not a single person was hurt amongst so many terrible things happening at the time, and I think the woman showed some disrespect prattling on in her English manner in a church sacristy with a number of Maltese people around. Nevertheless, I was glad I made it to the Dome, another place my mum had told me about, and the energy I felt when I was inside was really something. The stress over what had happened at work was forgotten.
