If you attend a Roman Catholic mass in the baroque cathedral of St. John in Valletta, Malta, your senses are immediately greeted by the familiar trappings of European Christianity. You see Latin iconography, smell the incense common to Rome, and observe rituals that have defined the Western Church for centuries. Yet, when the priest begins the liturgy, and the congregation responds, something strikes the ear of the uninitiated listener as distinct, perhaps even paradoxical.

They are praying to Alla.

For visitors aware that “Allah” is the Arabic word for God, primarily associated with Islam, this can be a startling realization. How did a devoutly Catholic island nation, deeply embedded in European history and the Crusades, come to refer to the Christian Deity by a Semitic name? The answer lies not in theology, but in the fascinating, winding path of linguistics. The story of Maltese is the story of unlikelihood—a language that held onto its Semitic soul while wearing a European coat.

The Survivor: From Siculo-Arabic to Maltese

To understand why Maltese Catholics pray to Alla, we must look at the genetic makeup of the language itself. Maltese is a descendant of Siculo-Arabic, an extinct variety of Arabic that was spoken in Sicily and Malta between the 9th and 12th centuries. Following the Arab conquest of Malta in 870 AD, the islands were repopulated, and an Arabic dialect became the vernacular.

However, history took a sharp turn. The Normans conquered Malta in 1090, gradually re-Christianizing the islands. Over the next few centuries, Malta was cut off from the Arab world and brought into the political and cultural orbit of Europe (specifically Sicily, then the Knights of St. John, and later the British Empire).

Usually, when a culture changes religion and political allegiance so drastically, the language follows suit. Yet, the Maltese vernacular survived. While it absorbed massive amounts of vocabulary from Sicilian, Italian, and English (the Romance and Germanic stratums), the grammatical skeleton and basic vocabulary remained stubbornly Semitic. Today, Maltese holds the unique distinction of being the only Semitic language written in the Latin script and the only Semitic official language of the European Union.

The Etymology of the Divine

The word Alla in Maltese is a direct cognate of the Arabic Allah. From a purely linguistic standpoint, the word predates Islam. It is derived from the contraction of al-ilāh, meaning “The God.” It shares the same Proto-Semitic roots as the Hebrew Elohim and the Aramaic Elaha (the language spoken by Jesus).

When the Maltese remained Christian (or converted back) following the Norman conquest, they did not discard their language. They simply applied their existing vocabulary to their Christian faith. This is a phenomenon known as a linguistic “fossil.” The theological concept changed—referring to the Trinitarian God of Christianity—but the signifier remained the same.

It is worth noting that this is not unique to Malta; millions of Arabic-speaking Christians in Egypt, Lebanon, Syria, and Palestine also pray to Allah. However, Malta is unique because it is a Western, European culture doing so, entirely cut off from the modern Arabosphere.

Lent, Easter, and Semantic Shifts

The survival of Semitic roots in Maltese linguistic history is most evident in its religious terminology. While the structural hierarchy of the Church adopted Latin terms (priests, bishops, and the Vatican), the visceral, spiritual life of the people retained Semitic descriptors.

Here are a few compelling examples of how Maltese intertwined Islamic-Arabic linguistic roots with Christian practices:

• Randan (Lent): The Maltese word for the 40 days of Christian fasting is Randan. This is etymologically derived from Ramadan, the Muslim holy month of fasting. The word shifted in meaning to apply to the Christian equivalent.
• Għid (Easter): Residents refer to distinct holidays as an Għid. This comes from the Arabic Eid (festival). In Malta, l-Għid il-Kbir (The Big Festival) refers to Easter Sunday.
• Quddiesa (Mass): The word for the Catholic Mass is derived from the Semitic root Q-D-S, meaning “holy” (related to Al-Quds, the Arabic name for Jerusalem).
• Tqarbin (Holy Communion): This word comes from the root Q-R-B, implying closeness or approach. It is cognate with the Arabic Qurban and the Hebrew Korban, referring to offerings or sacrifice.

The Stratification of Holy Vocabulary

Linguists often study Maltese to see how loanwords interact with native vocabulary. Interestingly, there is a distinct split in religious terminology known as suppletion.

Generally, words describing God, basic prayer, and the heart are Semitic. Words describing the institution, the hierarchy, and complex theological dogmas are Romance (Italian/Latin). For example:

• God: Alla (Semitic)
• Heaven: Ġenna (Semitic – cognate with Jannah)
• Hell: Infern (Romance) — though Jahannam exists in older texts, Infern is standard.
• Sacrament: Sagrament (Romance)
• Angel: Anġlu (Romance)
• Saint: Qaddis (Semitic)

This mix reflects the history of the Maltese people. They prayed to God using the simple language of the home (Semitic), but they were governed by a Church that operated in Latin and Italian.

Everyday Expressions: The Presence of ‘Alla’ in Idioms

The word Alla is woven deeply into the fabric of daily Maltese life, far beyond the church walls. If you walk the streets of Birkirkara or Marsaxlokk, you will hear the word constantly, used in ways that mirror the fatalism and faith found across the Mediterranean.

When hoping for a future outcome, a Maltese speaker says “Jekk Alla jrid” (If God wills it). This is the exact linguistic equivalent of the Arabic “Inshallah”, yet it is used with a distinctly European cultural inflection.

Other common phrases include:

• Alla jbierek (God bless) – often said to ward off the “evil eye” when praising a child.
• Ħaġa tal-iskantament (A thing of amazement) – The word skantament is Romance, but the structure is Semitic.
• Alla ma jħallasx bin-nhar ta’ Ġimgħa (God does not pay on Fridays) – An idiom meaning that karma might be delayed, but it is inevitable.

A Language of Connection

The fact that Maltese Catholics pray to Alla is a testament to the resilience of language. High culture, conquerors, and decrees tried to Latinize the island completely, and while they succeeded in culture and script, the tongue of the people refused to let go of its roots.

For the linguistics enthusiast, Maltese serves as a living bridge between East and West. It reminds us that “God” is a concept that transcends linguistic boundaries. Whether addressed as Dieu, Dio, God, or Alla, the language reflects the history of the speaker, preserving the footprints of every civilization that has stepped onto the rocky shores of Malta.

So, the next time you hear the church bells ring over the Grand Harbour, remember that the prayers being whispered inside are a linguistic miracle—a harmonization of Semitic sound and Latin faith that exists nowhere else on Earth.