Today I am in beautiful Wisla, a picturesque, mountain town with cute churches, rolling hills and a gorgeous hotel that had allowed us to rest, reconnect and rebuild our bodies. I finally have the chance to reflect on the vigil and final Mass of Wyd. The words of Fr Andrew came to mind as he once described this particular weekend as a Holy Mess and that is what it was.
It all began on the Friday night when we had to decide if one of our pilgrims could make the anticipated 15km walk to the site of the final mass. Some couldn't. This was heart breaking. WYD always knocks you for 6 at some point.
On the Saturday at were sent out on our 15km+ walk. There were times that we were filled with joy. Krakow is beautiful. Walking by the river there was a complete sense of calm. Then the crowds began to build. We were greeted by Polish locals and their magnificent cakes, just doing their bit for the pilgrims. Fr Tad bought supplies. Pilgrims stood in line for over an hour and a half to get food for their fellow pilgrims. Others carried water. Others got up early to secure our spot. All while our bright yellow, somewhat dorky, hats acted as a beacon amongst the swarms of pilgrims. I felt a sense of relief when we arrived to find the rest of our group.
During the candle lit vigil Pope Francis told us not to be couch potatoes, to live our lives to the full, to prayer for one another and to extend our hands in friendship. He was amazing. Somehow, on this night, amongst the mess, the slugs, the strange food parcels and the lumpy ground, I slept.
I awoke with the sun the next morning, feeling very feral, but contented. Then the temperature began to heat up. I know the gospel was about Zaccheus, but until I go back for a read, I have no idea what the Pope said. Pilgrims were dropping. Some groups left voluntarily, other pilgrims left on a stretcher. When mass ended it was clear that people were suffering. The plan was to walk until transport was found. For many groups, this never happened and they walked all the way home. The group I was with waited for the cool change and then began to walk. It was tough. A sea of pilgrims, some really struggling. We walked through a thunderstorm (2x), in muggy conditions, in sopping wet clothes. However, despite my fears and anxieties we worked together and we got there, arriving back at 8.30pm. An amazing shower, a brush of my teeth and a feeling a relief.
This was one of the Wyd moments you hear about. After reflecting on mercy all week, the pilgrims became the living embodiment of it. The first aiders. Those who fanned people. Pilgrims carrying extra bags for the sick. The encouragement and support. So many pilgrims putting others needed befitted their own. At this moment, we reflected the mercy of God.
I was so extremely proud of my pilgrims. I did things that I didn't think I could do. Amongst this holy mess we saw God in each other.
It all began on the Friday night when we had to decide if one of our pilgrims could make the anticipated 15km walk to the site of the final mass. Some couldn't. This was heart breaking. WYD always knocks you for 6 at some point.
On the Saturday at were sent out on our 15km+ walk. There were times that we were filled with joy. Krakow is beautiful. Walking by the river there was a complete sense of calm. Then the crowds began to build. We were greeted by Polish locals and their magnificent cakes, just doing their bit for the pilgrims. Fr Tad bought supplies. Pilgrims stood in line for over an hour and a half to get food for their fellow pilgrims. Others carried water. Others got up early to secure our spot. All while our bright yellow, somewhat dorky, hats acted as a beacon amongst the swarms of pilgrims. I felt a sense of relief when we arrived to find the rest of our group.
During the candle lit vigil Pope Francis told us not to be couch potatoes, to live our lives to the full, to prayer for one another and to extend our hands in friendship. He was amazing. Somehow, on this night, amongst the mess, the slugs, the strange food parcels and the lumpy ground, I slept.
I awoke with the sun the next morning, feeling very feral, but contented. Then the temperature began to heat up. I know the gospel was about Zaccheus, but until I go back for a read, I have no idea what the Pope said. Pilgrims were dropping. Some groups left voluntarily, other pilgrims left on a stretcher. When mass ended it was clear that people were suffering. The plan was to walk until transport was found. For many groups, this never happened and they walked all the way home. The group I was with waited for the cool change and then began to walk. It was tough. A sea of pilgrims, some really struggling. We walked through a thunderstorm (2x), in muggy conditions, in sopping wet clothes. However, despite my fears and anxieties we worked together and we got there, arriving back at 8.30pm. An amazing shower, a brush of my teeth and a feeling a relief.
This was one of the Wyd moments you hear about. After reflecting on mercy all week, the pilgrims became the living embodiment of it. The first aiders. Those who fanned people. Pilgrims carrying extra bags for the sick. The encouragement and support. So many pilgrims putting others needed befitted their own. At this moment, we reflected the mercy of God.
I was so extremely proud of my pilgrims. I did things that I didn't think I could do. Amongst this holy mess we saw God in each other.