Dear YCW,

I write to you from across a century, a voice echoing from the celebration of the 100th anniversary of the Young Christian Workers—back when we, like you now, carried the spirit of Cardijn in our bones and the fire of justice in our hearts.

Before I share the deeper message I carry, allow me to tell a small story.

My journey to the celebration venue in Belgium began in a rather ordinary way. I traveled with Aya, a young representative from YCW-Philippines. On our first flight, we were seated in the economy class—cramped, crowded, and surrounded by the usual inconveniences of travel. But after our layover, something unexpected happened. Our seats were upgraded to business class.

Suddenly, the world felt different—more spacious, more comfortable, more dignified. And though I wasn’t complaining about the first leg of the trip, I couldn’t help but realize: sometimes you don’t know what better looks like until you’ve experienced it. That flight became a parable—one I carry with me even now.

Because isn’t that what we dream for the young workers of the world? That they, too, may rise from cramped conditions to lives of dignity—not through luck or privilege, but through justice, solidarity, and collective struggle.

The centenary celebration was more than an event—it was a living tapestry woven with the stories, struggles, and hopes of delegates from Asia, Latin America, Africa, Europe, and beyond. There were young people, brimming with passion. There were adults—former and current members—whose wisdom deepened our conversations and reminded us that this movement spans generations.

There, in that sacred gathering, my 25 years in the movement found deeper meaning. I’ve spent decades walking with workers, joining actions, forming young leaders, opening eyes and hearts. But in that moment—surrounded by testimonies, warm smiles, and soul-baring stories—I felt something divine: we are not alone. Every struggle offered, every small sacrifice made, is etched not only in our own hearts but in the memory of the working class.

We spoke of many things—our own journeys as leaders, the pain of workers living in precarity, the injustices faced by women and migrants, the cries for climate justice, and the threats to peace and dignity in a world ever more controlled by technology and greed.

It’s sobering to realize that a century after Cardijn’s call, many of our stories are still marked by hardship. And yet, hope endures—fueled by victories, by awakenings, and by the unwavering commitment of YCW’s new leaders and communities.

The spirit of Cardijn lives on—not in marble statues or old slogans—but in your voices, in your laughter, in your refusal to accept things as they are.

One insight stayed with many of us:
The true celebration of YCW’s 100 years would not happen in Brussels. It begins after.
It begins every time one of you speaks truth to power. Every time you organize, resist, and believe.

And now, as you stand in the light of YCW’s 200th anniversary, I am sure none of us from the centenary can be with you in body. But know that in spirit, we are here. In your struggles, your songs, your tears and triumphs—we are here. We pray that your world has become kinder to young workers. That justice is no longer a dream but a lived reality.

And if by then the world has learned to truly honor the dignity of workers—if the young no longer inherit only suffering but hope—then let your celebration be a festival of triumph. A gathering not of the weary, but of the victorious.

So here is my last wish:
Never settle for the normal.

Don’t get used to cramped lives, or unjust systems. If you find yourselves in “economy class” conditions, fight not just for upgrades—but for a world where no one is left behind.

May your vision soar high—like that business class flight—and may the YCW continue to be a movement that carries the most ordinary workers to extraordinary heights.

For until there are no longer two worlds—one suffering, one feasting—our mission continues.

And when you gather for the tricentennial, may it be not a commemoration of struggle, but a celebration of justice fulfilled.

From the aisle of that airplane to the halls of the centenary in Brussels, Aya and I were just two travelers among many—two hearts among thousands. But like all of you, we believed in something bigger. We dared to dream of a world where every worker matter and is worth more than all the gold in the world…

And that dream, we now place in your hands.

With deep solidarity and boundless hope,
Arnel Adano- Philippines
YCW Centenary Delegate, 2025