The Lights, the Stories, the Shadows: Chronicles of WYD08, Part 1, by Christopher Ong

The lights, the stories, the shadows

Chronicles of WYD08, Part 1

By Christopher Ong

The author, on the far right in the photo, grew up in Legazpi City but moved with his family some years ago to Sydney, Australia. He has written a number of articles for Misyon. You may contact him at toffyboy232001@yahoo.com

As the lights dimmed, the credits rolled and our hour upon the stage was apparently all but over, the gravity of this experience was lost amongst the thousand musings that came to fore shortly afterward. It was hard to believe, but I had just been part of World Youth Day (WYD) 2008 with the Pope, right in my hometown, Sydney, Australia.

There are countless stories to tell. Which must be told and which must be left out and, among those that are chosen, which must be written about first? Even before I decide which should go down on paper, there is no doubt that the general effect of the whole thing far outweighs all others. A plethora of Catholics, from the world over, each gathered for the same reason, was truly a sight to behold. Nothing quite compares to seeing a great flock of people, different yet the same, silent yet deafening. There were four official languages but rest assured that a hundred were spoken throughout the entire event. It happened over one memorable week.

The people were awesome, the sense of unity so real you could almost touch it. The story, no, the fairy tale, ended on Sunday, 20 July, but the transcendental experience lives on. It is my earnest wish that everybody from all walks of life and all circumstances will truly feel the unforgettable rush that comes only with sharing WYD.

So It Began

The real start was way back in 2006, the year I returned home to Australia after thirteen years growing up in the Philippines. I first heard of it on a car ride when a relative announced that WYD 2008 would be held in the Emerald City, Sydney. As a then seventeen-year-young cynic who came from the relatively small-town atmosphere of Legazpi City, to say that I was ecstatic and bursting with excitement would be an understatement. For someone who couldn’t even get a chance to watch an exhibit by a top-flight Filipino artist, since Legazpi isn’t exactly a haven for celebrities of that magnitude, it was a dream come true. Never mind that it was an eon away or that I was new to Sydney. 

Ever since I first heard of WYDs, I decided that somehow, someway, someday, I would take part in one. So upon learning about a youth group in our parish, I had no qualms about joining. We met on the second Sunday of the month and I made some friends. During my time with them, we attended the WYD Activ8 Concert on Palm Sunday 2007. (Editor’s note: in years when there’s no international WYD it is held in Rome on Palm Sunday). There, I had a little foretaste of what to expect. I was even invited to MySpace, a massive social networking website, where they had a group. Then our family moved to Marrickville, a suburb of Sydney, and in terms of youth activity, it has never been the same since for me.

Of course, our new suburb also has a youth group (they meet every third Sunday of the month), but due to conflicting obligations and the lateness of the hour, I unfortunately failed to turn up at any one of the meetings. Despite this and other unforseen conditions, I managed to register as a pilgrim in June this year and pay the registration fee to take part in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have fun and celebrate the faith. I make it sound so easy but in truth it was not. I eventually made up my mind to join the Marrickville group, but not without considerable soul-searching. You see, my alma mater also had a youth group and they combined with another Sydney-based institution to form a much, much bigger group than the one I joined. In the end though, convenience won over loyalty. Sure, I would have very much liked to meet people from my own school and my heart was with them but eventually the fact remained that they were farther from where I lived than our parish was and I simply didn’t want to get involved in the rush-hour madness that can only be associated with a legion of pilgrims conquering the city’s transport system. At times it is impossible not to wonder about what could have happened or whether it would have made a difference. As to how big that could have been, I will never know. All uncertainties considered, I still had an awesome time and I’d do it again a million times over if only to relive it all.

When you registered as a pilgrim for WYD, you got a bag that had the official logo in the colors yellow, red and orange. In it is perhaps everything you’d need for the week. There was the Pilgrim Guide, a sort of handbook; the Liturgy Guide, where you’d find what to say during Mass; the Youth Festival Guide (more on that later); a raincoat, an aluminum mat, a torch (flashlight); a bandanna plastered with WYD08 in predominantly blue and white hues, a Compendium of the Catechesis of the Catholic Church and a McDonald’s VIP Card, your ticket to ‘wicked offers’. The bag has sentimental value for pilgrims now as it was our constant companion during the week-long festivities. It was also a marker of sorts, as it easily distinguished who was on the same boat and who was not. Aside from the bag, another fixture of the event was the flags carried by the pilgrims. Easily the most common sight was the Aussie flag, accompanied by chants of ‘Aussie, Aussie, Aussie’, while the crowd roared their approval by responding with ‘Oi, oi, oi.’ Also popular were the flags of Italy, Spain, Germany, Argentina and France.

To be continued.