Hundreds of young Catholics came together for Knock's Summer Youth Festival last weekend, but organisers say the really hard part is trying to spread the faith back in their parishes, writes Rosita Boland
'WE CAN GIVE these young people a brilliant, high experience here, but it's useless if it's not followed up afterwards. It'd be like having a one-night stand with a fella - no good in the long term." It's day two of Knock's four-day Summer Youth Festival, and Ann Lee, the charismatic director of the shrine's youth ministry, is explaining why the momentum created by the festival needs to be sustained at local parish level once the delegates return home.
On my visit, there are about 300 people between the ages of 18 and 35 at the festival. Before the weekend is over, they will be joined by 267 more. It's breakfast time, and people are queuing in St John's Rest and Care Centre for tea and toast. This is the seventh year of the festival, which advertises itself with the line: "If the Electric Picnic is as alternative as you thought it gets, think again."
Over 1,000 people attended last year: as expected, numbers are down this year due to World Youth Day in Sydney, to which many Irish people travelled. "Living life to the full" is the theme of this year's event, and there is a packed programme of prayer, motivational workshops and talks, with music from Christian bands. The workshop titles include: Called to help the poor; Addiction disorders; Sex, love, relationships and Discovering our desires. Each parish has provided a free bus, and some also funded their delegates' €55 festival fee, which includes all meals and a sleeping mat in single-sex marquees.
For Merila Newell (21) from Dublin, this is her fourth festival. "The festival is like a retreat. And the idea of a retreat is getting away from your busy life." She says she was brought up in a strong Catholic family. "Everything in life goes back to your upbringing. Definitely the fact of my own Catholicism has to do with my upbringing."
Kathryn Doherty (31), from Nenagh, Co Tipperary is attending for the first time. "I read about it in the parish literature," she explains. "I came up to meet new people and pray. There are so many different accents here - from Northern Ireland and everywhere all over Ireland."
'I WANTED TO get in touch with God and stuff," says Dubliner Aoife Fox (21). "This festival isn't just about Mass. It's about music, and fun, and dancing and clapping, and you meet really nice people."
Ellen Hynes (18), from nearby Aghamore, regularly volunteers as a handmaiden at the shrine. "I help out at pilgrimage time, and there are very few young people doing that. The old people always tell me it's so nice to see a young person with faith." For Hynes, who has attended the festival several times, the best thing is that "everyone is willing to share their faith here. It's really open. Nobody has to hide it here."
"In the normal parish context, you don't get to talk to other young people about faith," explains James Leonard (30), from Newcastle, Co Down. "For our generation, it can be embarrassing to talk about your faith, because of the recent bad history of the church. You don't feel you have a voice. Where does faith fit into our modern culture? So it's important to come somewhere like this to recharge the batteries." "In your teenage year, you go through rebellion," offers James Gallagher (25), from Enniskillen, Co Fermanagh. "Or at least, I did. But now, I don't know what it would be like not to have my faith. To have somewhere like this to come and meet other young people with faith is really important."
First event on the programme after breakfast is prayer and praise in the main marquee with singer Rónán Johnston, who has worked as musical director on You're a Star. It's a bit like Christian karaoke. There are three large screens facing the audience, and each one flashes up the lyrics of the song, the chorus of which is "Breathe on these dry bones Lord." In between singing, Johnston speaks urgently to his audience.
"Don't sing to me - sing to Him," he commands. Everyone is on their feet, belting out the lyrics. "What would be an open position for you right now?" Johnston asks. "If you're in the foetal position right now, that's not good. Open up!" People start tentatively extending their arms, palms up, eyes closed. "Maybe you feel like you're dry right now, and maybe you feel like you'd like more of him." Some people near me start moaning. "If we are to survive in this world, we can't do it on our own. We need you, God. Please come. Please fill us!"
Next up is Fr Michael Paul Gallagher, a theologian from the Gregorian University in Rome. He tells the audience (now sitting down) that he wants to talk about "Faith and its friends - and some of its enemies." He refers obliquely to recent problems in the Irish Catholic Church. "The past wasn't oppressive; it was just the way things were. Not like the way newspapers portray it." In the dimness of the marquee, small lights start blinking: people are taking pictures of him on their mobile phones. "I don't want to scapegoat the media," Fr Gallagher announces. "But the media can be pretty unfriendly to faith at times."
Fr Gallagher goes on to talk at length about evangelism, every now and then contorting his body to pat himself on his own back when he comes up with a line he particularly likes. "Even though I shouldn't really, because I'm demonstrating the sin of pride," he laughs, and the audience chuckles along with him. "Evangelism is surprising people with a gift they didn't know they needed." He repeats this line several times, but not as often as another line, "Faith is a yes to a yes," he declaims, nodding his head for emphasis each time. "I can't give you young people a more simple definition of faith than that. Faith is a yes to a yes."
THERE'S QUITE A buzz of chat before the next event, which everyone has been talking about since breakfast. It's Christian mime, with Steve Murray, from Essex, and nobody is quite sure what to expect. What ensues is an extraordinary 15-minute routine, Watch the Lamb. It's loosely based on the fifth station of the cross; Simon of Cyrene carrying the cross. Through moonwalk and mime, Murray simulates pain, friendship, flogging, agony, and crucifixion. There's a background booming soundtrack of a Christian song, in which at one point, a Roman solider addresses Simon as "dude". Or maybe Simon addresses the solider as dude. It's a little difficult to keep track of who's who in the complex lyrics, but there's definitely a dude mentioned in there somewhere.
"Thank you Steve, that was gorgeous!" exclaims Lee after the performance, as she takes the mic to tell everyone it's now time for a break. "I'm so emotional now after seeing that, am I the only one?"
Over the tea-break, Murray, a Pentecostalist, talks about his Christian mime work. "God made me a mime artist because I'm not very good at explaining what I do." He's made a full-time living from Christian mime for the last 12 years by performing all over the world, and has a repertoire of 25 pieces. Given his extensive experience, what are the most common responses to his performances?
Murray smiles, and fiddles silently with his teaspoon for some moments. "I don't want to sound too puffed up, too proud of myself," he eventually confesses. "But the responses are very consistent. Most people respond with tears."
"It was a bit challenging at first," admits James Leonard of his reaction to the mime. He's sitting chatting at another table in the canteen. "It's not the type of thing you see too often. When he started doing the moonwalk, I was just looking at him, wondering where it was all going to go."
Ellen Hynes, however, "found it very moving, and was almost in tears at the end."
"Each to their own!" sighs Aisling Murphy (20), of Barefield, Co Clare, pursing her lips. "I wouldn't call that mime poignant. I definitely didn't get as much out of it as some others around me."
For Ann Lee and the youth ministry office at Knock, the ideal outcome of the festival is one where delegates return to their parishes and continue practising their faith with the support of their parish community. "These young people are all on fire now," says Lee. "When they go home they'll be mad to be doing something with their faith. They need support to help trying to spread the word. This is the first year we've linked in with every parish in Ireland to get the information out that we're having the festival, so we're hoping now to build on that support, to keep the momentum of faith going once the festival ends."