aprotestantatworldyouthday2003
A Protestant at World Youth Day 2003
As published in The Carillon, the University of Regina student newspaper, August 2003
Who says a Protestant can’t have fun at a Catholic event? I joined hundreds of thousands of young people from across the globe at World Youth Day in Toronto this past July. The 22nd to the 29th were jam-packed with people, experiences, and events which I will remember the rest of my life.
Our beginning was interesting indeed. Hundreds of Regina Catholics made the pilgrimage to Toronto, some of us waiting on the same plane flight. Among them was my friend, Michael Tallon, who chatted with me on the way. A flight delay and crammed reservations meant shuttles stopped running from the Toronto airport. We had a brief sleep there, but the next morning we discovered our billeting location—an old school in Toronto. While it beat taking the train from Hamilton each day (as some Belgians had to do), the lack of showers gave us an unforgettable memory. The plywood unit with six shower heads outside was entirely fed by cold water.
We were still quite tired when we went to the opening mass at Exhibition Place, the site of most events. We decided it was better to sit just outside of the grounds and listen to the radio broadcast of the same event. I read a Catholic pro-life and pro-chastity paper while my friend caught a nap.
Crowds of people were everywhere at a wide range of interesting events. We were easily identifiable by our WYD transit passes and red backpacks (distributed to each pilgrim at registration time). Transit lineups were a daily part of WYD. Thousands of people were trying to get to the same place at the same time. But we were happy pilgrims for the most part, and the subways and busses were blessed with the rare joy of young people singing. One long wait had the amusing spectacle of South Africans yelling , “Aussie-Aussie-Aussie!” to which Australians replied, “Oy-oy-oy!”
Musical acts ran all day and ranged from good to outstanding. A highlight was Father Stan, the Franciscan Friar from New York City who does rap music. That is right—rap music. He rapped in English and in Spanish and played acoustic and electric guitar to boot. It was a memorable time when he invited his fellow Franciscans to join him on stage. I’d never seen a posse in gray habits before! Interestingly, his order had been the first to arrive at Ground Zero to do last rites and other ministry. We enjoyed a German choir that sung black gospel style, and a Weird-Al type who did Catholic parodies of pop songs. This made for a more interesting week, to say the least!
One of the deepest times of worship came one afternoon in St. Paul’s Parish, the oldest Catholic Church in Toronto. Here, we participated in Taize, a form of worship begun in the French community with the same name. In Taize, a single line is sung repeatedly while the music evolves in the background, sometimes accompanied by different lines sung at the same time. The parish was packed with youth, yet filled with a beautiful reverence. Songs were sung in Latin, French, Spanish, and English. Sometimes the Latin songs were infused with the most beauty, more evocative for the rich spiritual history of this ancient tongue.
Seeing the Pope was a huge highlight for most, myself included. He is arguably the most adulated man on earth, having a response from his children exceeding that of fans to rock stars. There was great emotion as the Popemobile drove through the center of the crowd. People laughed, cried, and snapped cameras as the Pontiff slowly rolled up to the platform. I saw him with my own eyes, yet from a great distance. No matter; large television screens helped everyone’s view as he addressed the cosmopolitan crowd.
On Saturday the 27th we took a pilgrimage to Downsview Lands, the site of the papal vigil that evening, and the large mass Sunday morning. We walked for seven kilometers on a sweltering summer day. Yet we were met by friendly Torontonians who greeted us along the way, sometimes spraying us with water, other times cheering pilgrims on. They lined every overpass bridge and watched the many thousands walk beneath them. I heard them responding with cheers to a pilgrim in front of me. Helpless to think of anything else original, I yelled, “I would like to announce the Saskatchewan Roughriders are going to win the Grey Cup this year!” Even this got enthusiastic cheers, though I’m not sure they believed me or that I believed myself!
We found a camping spot among the hundreds of thousands and remained there for most of our time at the site. The Pope gave a good message, warning youth about the false substitutes for happiness offered by the world, and encouraging them to live faithful to God. Despite the Pope’s request to sleep well, many of us stayed up until 2:30 am. After waiting an hour for pizza, the stand closed before we had a bite; we settled for Philly steak a short walk away. We also joined four circles of joyful pilgrims dancing around a lively 15-person band of string and percussion instruments. Elsewhere, Polish pilgrims ran with excitement, streaming their national flags behind them in a procession that must have led through much of the grounds. We joined them many minutes later as we tried to get a closer look at the stage from which the vigil was held.
We were awakened three hours after our heads hit the pillow. Intense rain poured down at 5:30 am, leaving people scrambling for shelter amidst intense winds. I joined some Philippinos under their tarp, as did many in our Regina group. The rain was short-lived and the sun licked all of our sleeping bags dry. Still, it led to us exchanging gifts and friendly conversation with our Philippino friends.
The mass itself was impressive. Eight hundred thousand worshippers in the presence of the Pope would have been enough. But the message was also quite good, mostly spoken in English. I desired to receive the Eucharist at this historic event, but being Protestant, I knew it wasn’t allowed. Nevertheless, I went forward to the server with my arms crossed, signifying I was either a non-Catholic, or a Catholic not in a state of grace. Such people can receive a blessing, but I got an extra-special blessing! I received the Eucharist itself, as the position of my arms was unnoticed by the server. I smiled and said, “I love you, Lord!”
“All good things come to an end,” they say. While that’s not always true, WYD did indeed have to conclude. After enjoying the CN tower that evening, we had our last sleep at the school and took the plane home the next day. While many of us needed rest, we returned glad we came. Thanks be to God for a great week!