Some Reflections on World Youth Day in Lisbon | Algunas Reflexiones Sobre la Jornada Mundial de la Juventud en Lisboa

Since returning to the States from World Youth Day in Lisbon, I've been pummeled with questions. Genuinely sincere questions I believe, especially from people who've never been. How was it? Who did you meet? What did you eat? What moved you the most? Did you come back changed? I find myself struggling to answer sometimes because WYD is such a multi-sensory experience that is impossible to summarize in only a few words. Still, I would have to say that two events stand out in my mind: The Opening Mass and the Welcome Ceremony for Pope Francis. Ironically, these were the two events that I didn't attend during my last World Youth Day experience in Krakow, so maybe that had something to do with it.

In a nutshell, one lives each WYD differently and this was especially true given that I went with a group organized by the Augustinians of the Assumption (a male Catholic religious order) this time around versus traveling solo the first time. There are pros and cons to both, but however one lives WYD, it is at its heart (and suppose to be) a communal experience. So, that means the unexpected is bound to happen. Like traveling to Sintra, a town northwest of Lisbon (because WYD wouldn't officially start until that evening) and probably one of the most picturesque towns I have ever visited with cobblestone streets and alleyways that wind upward and around a hilly terrain and lead you to the most quaint little nooks straight out of a lonely planet guide. Needless to say, we arrived late to the Opening Mass at Parque Eduardo VII that Tuesday evening, but which resulted in us making friends with a really cool Latvian guy along the way. When we finally got there, before us lay an ocean of pilgrims from around the world and we waded into it until we could wade no more and listened to (and participated in) the rest of the Mass. Witnessing thousands of young people coming together to have an encounter with each other and with Jesus was something quite powerful. But what stayed with me afterwards (besides Jesus) were the voices that read the Prayers of the Faithful, each in a different language. 

After Mass, we were determined to get a better view of the stage from which bands continued to play music throughout the evening. We sort of hunkered down at the plaza at the far end of the park and we people-watched the rest of the evening. Seeing so many groups from around the world, waving flags from their respective countries (or from states/regions within their respective countries) left me in an awestruck trance. It was one of those moments where I think I was honestly experiencing awe, in every sense of the word. It had something to do with the fact that here, in this place, thousands of young Catholics had gathered from around the world to have an encounter with God and with each other. It was like catholicity manifesting itself really and truly in an explosion of colors, chants, singing and exhilaration. Flags waved enthusiastically against the sky that was slowly turning from blue to orange and all of a sudden I wanted to know where everyone had traveled from. How did you get here? What lands did you traverse? What languages did you have to speak? What language do you speak? What brought you here? I wanted to do the questioning. And I did! Mostly asking, "where is that flag from?!" A group of Bangladeshi pilgrims took me in as they were dancing and chanting while their bishop joined in as well, clapping with the biggest smile on his face. It might sound weird, but after that experience, I now have this unending desire to study vexillology (the study of the history, symbolism and usage of flags, or, by extension, any interest in flags in general). I want to know the flag(s) of every country/region on God's green earth! 

This feeling surfaced again Thursday evening when we welcomed Pope Francis, but with more intensity. We waded through the crowds again after marching from Sebastião station. We were hoping to meet up with the rest of our group, but they had closed off the main passage way which in the end was fortunate for us, because otherwise we would not have seen Pope Francis close up! In fact, I didn't think I would see him at all, but we did and he was only a few feet in font of us as he passed by in his popemobile. It was emotionally overwhelming. We were literally rubbing shoulders and bumping heads with a group of Spaniards that surrounded us as we all shouted enthusiastically with them: "¡Esta es la juventud del papa!" ("We are the youth of the Pope!" which, admittedly, sounds kind of awkward in English, but not so in Spanish). And so we were! We were there supporting him, cheering him on, standing in solidarity with him for all that he has done so far and in celebration of a faith that connects us all together.

After he arrived on the main stage, a series of musical numbers incorporating dance and prayer fed this feeling of interconnectedness, which intensified during the performance of Mariza, one of Portugal's most iconic Fado singers. But the culminating moment of the afternoon was when Pope Francis reflected on who is a part of the Church. He said that in the Church there is room for ¡TODOS, TODOS, TODOS! (EVERYONE, EVERYONE, EVERYONE!). He repeated this about three times which set off a ripple effect among the waves of youth who cheered in unison ¡TODOS, TODOS, TODOS! Tears came to my eyes and I was filled with a feeling of sheer awe. Days later it would come to my mind that what the Pope said that day is what I yearned to hear many years ago. Intellectually, I know that I and all of us belong in the Church, but there is something about physically hearing the Pope utter those words with his own voice which produces a feeling of consolation and affirmation that is hard to experience by only reading those words in text. It was as if I were in one of those many scenes in the Gospels where the crowds have gathered around Jesus to hear him speak. As I think about now, is it any wonder that we call the Pope the Vicar of Christ? It really was something special to share that experience with so many people, but especially wonderful to have shared it with with my friend, Angela, and my twin brother, Alex.

I expected something similar to happen the next day, but things didn't go as planned. Or, maybe something similar did happen, but in a different way. Let me explain. We missed the Via Crucis that was held on Friday night because we spent the afternoon on a beach near Cascais and left later than anticipated. Truth be told, it was a beautiful beach, the water almost crystal clear and seeing how the waves were lapping at the rocks next to it was something that drove me to contemplation. Ironically, I did not miss the Stations of the Cross during the last World Youth Day. It was, during that experience, the most moving. So I wanted Alex and Angela to experience it, but perhaps what we needed at that time was to experience God through nature. And, in fact, we had several moments of contemplation and relaxation that afternoon. It was another one of those experiences where what we wanted to happen, didn't happen the way we wanted, but it was what we needed (to prepare us for what was in store the next day....).

The next big event on our itinerary, the Saturday Evening Vigil, was, in a few words, stressful and physically demanding (which, let's be honest, physical endurance is a requirement if we are to call it a pilgrimage). So, a lack of planning, but also a lack of information lead us to believe that we needed to reach Tejo Park at a certain time....when we could have reached it in the evening with less stress. Again, let me explain. Its tradition to camp out on a huge expanse of land the night of the Saturday vigil and then one wakes up to the sounds of ethereal music for the Sunday Missioning Mass. I don't know the figures for previous WYDs, but in Lisbon there were estimated to be 1.5 million pilgrims from around the world, so just imagine all of them convening on an area about 200 acres with only four main access points. It was madness and the heat, the lack of personnel/volunteers, the luggage weighing on our bodies, people smoking,....it was, mejor dicho, a recipe for chaos, so we decided to camp out, literally, on the roundabout that was next to one of the main access points. I mean, it was a pretty big roundabout with trees and about one hundred other pilgrims thought it was a good idea as well. Besides, it wouldn't be that much of a transition from what we had been sleeping on the entire week which had been the gym floor of a school. So, if you are thinking about doing a WYD pilgrimage in the future, know that some physical endurance is usually required, especially if you are traveling with a group.

But, you know what? And even though I dislike using the phrase, I have to say sometimes things happen for a reason. If we hadn't left when we did, with all our luggage weighing against our physical bodies...we wouldn't have met the incredible Élodie from France who has been to 5 World Youth Days and after her first one, decided she'd travel solo. This time around she was pressing a huge reset button after having spent the last three years (or was it five?) in New Zealand. WYD was the perfect way of entering into a new chapter she said. 

Nor would we have seen Pope Francis again (or for Angela, the first time, since she wasn't able to see him at Parque Eduardo) who zoomed passed us on the roundabout in a white sedan along with his entourage of security personnel toward the main stage at Tejo park where he would celebrate the vigil. 

But as I continue to reflect on WYD....several themes seem to have colored our experience, but the one that permeated most of them was hospitality. Even before we arrived in Lisbon, during our week of preparation in Alicante, an atmosphere of hospitality was in the air thanks to the French Assumptionist brothers who had organized and executed everything with such zeal. A separate blog could be written about our time there, but suffice it to say that it was a time of prayer and fellowship that we carried into Lisbon. And once in Lisbon, I think about our mornings at the school and the café that we would frequent in order to caffeinate ourselves (the school didn't provide coffee). It was one of those hidden apartment building cafés and the owner, Tia, was one of the most wonderful people we met in Lisbon. Through our respective Spanish and Portuguese we were able to communicate and I was surprised at how much Portuguese I was able to understand (which I could also write a separate blog about). 

Brother Blair made a comment one morning about how hers was also a ministry. She was ministering to pilgrims through her enthusiastic welcome every morning, her attentiveness to our immediate physical need (coffee), her advice on how to navigate the city, and her sharing of personal anecdotes. Being there allowed us to slow down a bit amidst the desire to rush through the day. It struck me as a bit ironic given that the theme of World Youth Day was "Go with haste". Mary obviously went with haste to tell Elizabeth the Good News that had flooded her life, but I think "go with haste" is also meant to convey a certain energy, a Holy Spirit-given pulse that imbues all of our actions, regardless of what one is actually doing...

Lisbon's history is a testament to hospitality. During World War II the city was a major gateway for refugees leaving for the U.S. and other countries across the Atlantic, especially for Jews fleeing Nazi Germany. Its location as mainland Europe's eastern-most capital city, one on the water where the Tagus river and the Atlantic Ocean meet surely contributed to this role. The city's beauty is also an invitation to distract your mind from all that worries in life. Its white cobblestone streets are lined with gorgeous tile-roofed buildings as well as churches of every architectural style which are interrupted by the occasional archway-adorned plaza. This is why I would describe Lisbon as beautifully decadent. 

What makes the city even more mesmerizing is the fact that it is a city of the New World and the Old world. What I mean is that even before World Youth Day, Lisbon was already a melting pot of different races, ethnicities, and languages. It was already a city of immigrants. So, one might say that over the centuries Lisbon has actually become more "catholic" in the literal sense of the word. "Catholic" comes from the Greek words katha (about/concerning) and holos (the whole), so its literal translation is "concerning the whole"; which means all of us. The Church concerns all of us at the end of the day. It is this identity that I believe Pope Francis was and is trying to recover....and which he made evident on the day of his arrival to Lisbon: "¡TODOS, TODOS, TODOS!"

Pope Francis has also said that one never leaves a pilgrimage the same. In Let Us Dream, he writes that a pilgrim is "one who decenters and so can transcend. She goes out from herself, opens herself to a new horizon, and when she comes home she is no longer the same, and so her home won't be the same" (135). 

I think I can say with confidence that I didn't come back home the same from World Youth Day. Both physically and spiritually. I definitely lost some weight walking up and down Lisbon's streets, but in terms of how I've changed spiritually, I think I'm still trying to put that into words as I write. One thing I am sure of is that I have a renewed understanding of who I am and what I believe. I'm part of a mosaic of people that shares a common home, where we are constantly moving...where we are all journeying toward God whether we realize it or not....where each one of us is called to offer -with haste- what we can with what we have, to make the journey an easy yoke and the burden light for our fellow pilgrims -ALL of them.

Abundant blessings,

Carlitos