A Special Report on the Rainbow XXV Conference

A Taste of Rainbow XXV
Volume 2 Issue 3 January 2007
A Taste of Rainbow XXV

    It was probably about eight o’clock in the morning when the bus first pulled into the Marriott Hotel on Saturday, January 20th. I walked outside and was first bombarded by a freezing cold wind that whipped cheerfully through the street, and then awed by the sight of the Renaissance Center. It was huge—it seemed to go up forever. Then there was the sun coming up over the Detroit River, which was also a beautiful sight to behold.
    I had been talked into coming by my religion teacher. This weekend there was something called “Rainbow XXV”. It was an annual Catholic conference held by the Catholic Youth Organization only for Catholic high school students in the Archdiocese of Detroit. About 2,000 people were expected to arrive for this particular conference. The theme was “Seek the Son”.
    I must’ve looked somewhat like a dazed animal as I dragged myself into the Marriott—I was none too awake at that time of the morning, and the circular architecture of the building was a little too much for my brain to process at such a tender hour. I was greeted by two exuberant youths, probably of about college age, yelling “WELCOME TO RAINBOW!” from a balcony some way above me. The day progressed much like that, as my youth group and I were directed from one spiral hallway to another and high-fived by the CYO staff when we happened to pass by them.
    Sooner or later we made into the “Renaissance Ballroom” and had our first official welcome and gathering. A band, Who Do You Say I Am, played a few songs. The current scene, a dark, misty room that seemed to stretch on for a block with a band playing various songs onstage, was quite different from one that I had kept close at heart since the Trailblazers 2006 pilgrimage: a small, airy church dripping in sunlight with Jesus displayed in a gold monstrance on the altar as some American pilgrims quietly sang “Tantum ergo sacramentum…”.  
    Mr. Chris Padgett, a middle-aged man, came onstage for the first talk. He spoke for about an hour of God’s immense love for each and every human soul. Not only that, but he clarified that love is not what is portrayed on the media nowadays—the romance scenes in popular movies today don’t contain love at all, just self-gratification—true love is being willing to sacrifice yourself for another person. He did it in such a clever way, though, that his audience was somewhat tricked into paying attention. From the way he launched into his talk and the hilarious anecdote he used delve into the subject (his first date with the woman who became his wife), it seemed as if at first his lecture wasn’t going to do with anything that deep at all.
    Then, after some more music, we were set free to wander the halls and eventually drift into whatever lecture we had previously signed up for. I ended up going to “Making a Difference with Jesus”.
    The speaker was an older man with graying hair who started off his talk by saying “With children I only expect about ten seconds of their attention… with you, my guess is that I will get… oh, seven, ten minutes.” He paused as laughter rippled around the room and meaningful glances were exchanged between friends. “You don’t want to have me talk for longer than that, do you? So I’ll keep the part where I’m yapping short.”
    True to his word, he only spoke for around ten minutes and then pushed the group into several activities. The first was an icebreaker, where the attendant was encouraged to talk with someone he/she has never met before about a leader in his/her life. I met up with a friendly young woman and briefly told the story of Perrito, which I will save for a later date to tell in The Compass (stay tuned).
    After this quick introduction, he had us share our stories out loud, to the entire group, if we wanted. As we talked he wrote down on a board the qualities of the leader we spoke of. And then things became interesting.
    “Now, I’m only going to give these directions twice. I will not clarify them, so don’t bother asking me any questions. We’re going to do an activity now, and I want you all to squat, like this, on the floor, with about oh, half an arm’s length between you and everybody else.” He demonstrated and then stood up again. His audience exchanged startled and wary glances. “With your eyes closed. When you feel a touch, stand up, but keep your eyes closed. When you feel another touch, open your eyes. That’s all, and I won’t be more specific. I’ll narrate to you as you wait.”
    We crouched down, closed our eyes, and listened. He spoke to us about all those who would give a lot to be well enough to feel the pain we were now feeling—people without a leg, perhaps, who couldn’t crouch down at all, perhaps people without eyes who could never see. How would we reach out to them? What about all those with emotional pain? How should we reach out to them? How had Jesus reached out to the lepers and outcasts of His time?
    As he spoke he wound his way slowly through the crowd and touched people on the shoulder. I was one of the later ones to be touched and in the meantime was left wondering if perhaps I was doing something wrong and therefore was not being picked. I was eventually picked to stand, and saw that there were people squatting still. Can’t he come and touch them? I glanced over and considered asking him to touch a girl at my left—she looked like she was in pain—but decided not to interrupt his speech.
    At the end of the activity he asked us how it felt to be squatting that long (“painful” was the reply), and then dropped the bombshell. “Did any of you,” he asked and looked around at us, “touch a person next to you to have them stand up?”
    One boy did. He looked to be around seventeen, and had  black hair that fell around his head. The speaker’s face lit up. “Who?”
    “Him.” The boy replied and pointed towards another teen. The speaker asked him another question—“Do you know him at all?”—to which he replied “No”.
    “What made you do that?”
    The young man silently considered his reply before speaking. “Well, I thought about the way you made such a big deal about us not being able to ask you to clarify what you meant and figured that you wanted us to touch another person. You never said anything about having you, personally being the one that touches us, you just said that we needed to feel a touch.”
    He’s smart.
I thought to myself. I didn’t even think of touching another person.
    The speaker nodded, but made no comment. “And how many of you,” he asked and turned around slowly so that the whole room could see him, “thought of touching another person but didn’t do it?”  Half the hands in the room went up. “Why?” he asked and pointed at random to one of the persons with their hands up.
    “Well, I didn’t want to disrupt your talk. I didn’t know if we were allowed to or not.”
    “And for those of you left squatting, what did it feel like? Yes, you… Helen?”
    “Umm, I was wondering whether or not I did something wrong, since I wasn’t being picked.”
    He nodded. “Alright, and what about those of you who were standing most of the time? What did it feel like? Did you feel superior to the people squatting?”
    He called on someone who replied to the affirmative. He then called on the same boy who had spoken before—the only one of us that thought and dared to touch someone else. “I thought the opposite,” he replied and seemed a little insulted at the suggestion, “I thought that I shouldn’t be standing when all those other people were still squatting, and that I could handle the pain and would trade places with them if I could.”
    The speaker nodded and left the primary message of the exercise carefully unsaid.
    The lecture over, the youths at the conference were given the next few hours to have lunch, pop into various other optional talks, and stop by the tables that several organizations had rented out for the conference. I took a hand at passing out fliers for Trailblazers and attempting to sell some hand-made rosaries to raise funds for underprivileged pilgrims.
    Fr. Ward himself showed up to help pass out information, and was greeted enthusiastically by the young man from the talk before—the one who had reached out and touched the person next to him. Fr. Ward introduced me to him—he was a former Trailblazer and had been with the group to World Youth Day.
    Hah! No wonder!
I crowed mentally and shook his hand cheerfully.
    Later on, I attended a talk on the Underground Church in China. A seminarian, Joseph Liu, was giving the lecture. It was only a half hour long, and optional. The line to enter into the room reached down the entire balcony and formed about fifteen minutes before the door even opened before his talk. Once he began to speak the teens hung on his every word as he gave a history on what the Church had done for and in China, starting with apostolic times and then moving forward.
    He spoke in simple and frank terms about what it was like for Catholics in the past twenty years or so—of how they had been put in prison, and even executed by the communist government for Christ.
    The government’s plans to wipe out Catholics did not come near to working. As it has been proven throughout history, Christianity only grows stronger under persecution. The government loosened the restrictions slightly, but he told us quietly that for those Catholics that refuse to compromise their faith, imprisonment and death was still a threat and a possible outcome for their lives.
    “And do you know how many priests there are in my home diocese in China?” He asked us after saying all this. We didn’t.
    “Over two hundred.”
    “So I am going to ask you all to pray,” he said in conclusion, “for the Underground Church in China, and for all the priests and Catholics there. Also for me.” The group clapped for him as loudly as we could and for as long as we could, until our hands started to feel sore.
    As the day progressed I marveled how, when I came, I had been expecting, at the most,  to endure the day. What had actually happened, though, was that I got far more out of the conference than what I had even attempted to put in.
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