The Ribbon that Led Us to the PAX Community – Sarah and Dan Mulholland
Sarah’s Story: In the fall of 1984, I read an article in the Washington Post that literally changed my life. It was about an event being planned for August 1985 to tie a ribbon around the Pentagon as a “gentle reminder of things we do not want to see destroyed in a nuclear war.” The event, timed to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, was the brainchild of a Colorado grandmother, Justine Merritt. Since the Pentagon is in Arlington, the event was being coordinated by a local entity I had never heard of – the Center for New Creation, which, it turned out, was right down the street from where I lived. So, I went to an introductory meeting . . .
At that meeting I met Joan Urbanczyk, Marie Dennis and Margaret Schellenberg, the directors of the Center. As I got more involved with the planning for The Ribbon (as the event was called) I met others, including Elise Siebentritt, Marilu MacCarthy and Joe Nangle, and gradually began to hear about PAX. I think it was Elise who first said, well why don’t you come and check it out? So, I did.
I could go on for pages, but the short version is that the results of being introduced to PAX included my becoming Catholic (Justine became my godmother), marrying Dan, and getting deeply involved with the Secular Franciscan Order. Not to mention getting to know so many people who are actively living their faith and serving as amazing examples to the world of what being Christian means.
Now that we live in central Oregon, I think I appreciate PAX even more. Our parish out here is far from the nurturing model of church that PAX is. But that is OK. I know PAX exists. And I know that PAX people are not alone in the struggle to be faithful (as Mother Teresa is credited with saying, “we are called to be faithful, not successful.”) I am grateful beyond words for PAX and look forward to celebrating many more anniversaries.
Dan’s Story: I first heard about PAX from Sarah, who decided after the Ribbon experience to start taking “Catholic lessons” from Kevin Queally, of the Third Order Regular of St. Francis (TOR). He had also been part of the Ribbon. Sarah had started going to this small Catholic community in McLean called PAX on Sundays. My first reaction was, “At least they’re not ‘Baptist Lessons’”; I knew where the Catholics were coming from, as I was a cradle Catholic and had gone through Catholic grade school and high school, but I stopped attending Mass before Vatican II took place.
When Sarah told me she might become a nun, I said, “I think that will change our relationship!” But it got me thinking that if we did get married and Sarah became Catholic, how would that work. I didn’t feel it was good if one partner was religious and the other wasn’t, but then how would I feel about going back to Church after 24 years? The only way to find out was to try it; I had heard some good things had come out of Vatican II.
When I first asked Sarah to take me along to PAX with her, she refused, as it was “her thing.” But I persisted, and on December 8th, 1985 I went to PAX. They met in a school cafeteria with pandas on one wall and hot dogs on the other, and the chairs were in a semi-circle around a makeshift altar with backdrops. I thought “this is cool,” a sort of “Lilies of the Field”-type church. Jim Hug, SJ, the celebrant that day, gave a nice homily (or sermon as I was used to calling them).
At the Offertory, I found I still knew the words to the Creed by heart, but I started getting choked up saying them and I didn’t know why. Then people got out of their chairs and gathered around the altar. As I joined the crowd, I started openly crying, and I still didn’t know why. I vividly remember details from that moment; at the Sign of Peace, Lou Rosso was the first person I saw. Looking around I realized that these people were here to celebrate the Mass; they weren’t here because they had to be, which was one of the reasons I had left the Church years ago.
I walked out of Mass that day and my world was different, brighter, like looking through new glasses. I had a week of having different revelations about myself and having my life fall in place. I remember being at a stop light as the sun was going down and thinking, “You dummy, all these years you argued about the existence of God; you can’t know God in your head, only in your heart”! I understood why community was so important, as each of us has an understanding of God that we all need to hear about and fit in with our understandings. This came home to me the first time I Mass planned and realized that other people had a very different interpretation of the readings than I did, but I couldn’t say theirs was wrong; it broadened my understanding of those readings from hearing them.
I felt God had, for some reason I’ll never know, yanked me back into the Church; I hadn’t wanted it, and hadn’t expected much to come out of my visit to PAX that fateful day. But it was a day that changed my life and Sarah’s life forever. Sarah and I were married at PAX on October 4th, 1986. Thank you, PAX.
As the Franciscans say, peace and all good,
Dan Mulholland.