St. Pink the Recycler

Mary A. “Pink” Mullaney

Another busy week so I may not be able to post until the weekend again.

The eyes of faith behold a wonderful scene: that of a countless number of lay people, both women and men, busy at work in their daily life and activity, oftentimes far from view and quite unacclaimed by the world, unknown to the world’s great personages but nonetheless looked upon in love by the Father, untiring labourers who work in the Lord’s vineyard. Confident and steadfast through the power of God’s grace, these are the humble yet great builders of the Kingdom of God in history. — St. John Paul II

I am on a lifelong mission — God willing — to help, in a small way, to prepare the theological groundwork for ordinary, secular, world-loving lay men and women to be canonized en masse — or at least inscribed in some official ecclesiastical hagiography — before the close of the 21st century.

Married, single, single parents, divorced, annulled and remarried, widows and widowers, fathers and mothers, childless couples, lawyers, stockbrokers, janitors, fashion designers, actors, business men and women, doctors, maids, school teachers, janitors, principals, bankers, musicians, factory workers, gunnery sergeants, librarians, machine shop workers, architects, prison guards, manual laborers, accountants, nurses, CEO’s, physicists, counselors, police officers, mechanics, electricians, engineers, secretaries, carpet cleaners, the disabled, homebound elderly or bartenders who strive to love God with their whole heart, soul, mind and strength by loving their neighbor as themselves — especially the poor — quietly, consistently, imperfectly yet heroically. I list these intentionally because, over the 30 years I have actually been noticing, I have spotted people whom I have experienced as saints in every category listed — and many more.

Oh, speaking of bartenders. My wife and I know this 69 year old bartender who has bartended since he was “of age.” He’s a man of gritty, callous-handed, steely-willed faith. He put his children through Catholic school and college by working days, nights and weekends as a bartender. He has been with his wife for 45 years and serves as a philosopher-counselor to countless barroom patrons. He always has a smile to give, attended by some pithy piece of world-wise advice with a moral to it. Last time we saw him, he did us a real kindness. When I thanked him he shook his head and said, “Look son, the good Lord’s got me here to serve my fellow man. And in my line of work, He sends me lots of people down on their luck who need a lift, if you know what I mean. He blesses me, I bless them. That’s the way life’s supposed to work, right?”

When you’re around him, you just feel better about everything, never want to complain again but rather want to give your all.

Canonizing these would give us lots of specific names from that second unsung, singing group of Saints that the book of Revelation 7:9 mentions:

After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands.

Soteriologically speaking, “no one could count” makes me smile.

These seemingly nondescript, ordinary, mundane mystics may not ascend to God through the mansions of a contemplative flight that lifts them above the earth, but they do, day in and day out, descend with Him into the world, extending the mysteries of His earthly life. The laity grow deeper in their sublime union with Christ as He screams and cries as an infant; contributes, as a child and a young man, to the daily life of His family; grows in wisdom by studying hard; goes to synagogue every week and occasional pilgrimages to Jerusalem; becomes fully a part of the community life in His small hometown of Nazareth; works with His hands for 20+ years as an artisan; roams the highways and byways of Galilee and Judea; parties at weddings; climbs mountains to pray and reflect; dines with sinners, friends, benefactors and religious leaders; forms close friendships with men and women; contends directly with the darker side of local and empire politics; pays taxes; engages with pagans and heretical Jews and hyper-orthodox Jews; teaches and preaches and debates anyone willing; heals the sick; confronts injustice; feeds the hungry; fishes with His disciples; enjoys breakfast; takes a nap; struggles with temptation; flirts with exhaustion; suffers unspeakable pain; weeps and dances and laughs and sings and gets really angry. Loves.

And, according to John 21:25, these are only the tip of the iceberg! Jesus was a busy man, like us in all things but sin.

The laity, called by God to be “tightly bound up in all types of worldly affairs” (Vatican II), are the secular mystics of God’s descent into, and habitating within, the world He “so loves.”  Hidden everywhere in the world like leaven in dough, lay saints can best be spotted by their local shepherds, called in church lingo “secular” priests. These parish and chaplain voyeurs of lay holiness live in closest proximity to the “Church on the Front Lines,” the descriptor Ven. Pope Pius XII gave the laity. These priests, fascinated by lay holiness, are perfectly positioned to write hagiographies that can serve as an inspiration to the billion+ other Catholic lay men and women who long to see accessibly extreme models of the secular genius. These sainted Janes and Joes witness to a fully lived baptismal priesthood that wreaks havoc on sin and death, punching holes in the Font they were once thrust into — so that the whole earth, inundated by the re-creating mercy and love of God, might become an outpost of heaven.

A new baptismal priest, ready to consecrate the world!

So back in 2013, when I read the obituary of Mary “Pink” Mullaney, an 85 year old Wisconsite who left behind six children and 17 grandchildren, I thought (teaching in a seminary as I do): This should have been written by her parish priest! The obit could be the abstract at the beginning of his petition for her canonization.

A friend of mine sent her obit to me today, out of the blue, with the caption: “just rediscovered this. we need to open her cause for canonization. patron saint of the lay trash!” So, I say, let’s get on with it.

Mullaney, Mary A. “Pink” If you’re about to throw away an old pair of pantyhose, stop. Consider: Mary Agnes Mullaney (you probably knew her as “Pink”) who entered eternal life on Sunday, September 1, 2013. Her spirit is carried on by her six children, 17 grandchildren, three surviving siblings in New “Joisey”, and an extended family of relations and friends from every walk of life. We were blessed to learn many valuable lessons from Pink during her 85 years, among them: Never throw away old pantyhose. Use the old ones to tie gutters, child-proof cabinets, tie toilet flappers, or hang Christmas ornaments.

Also: If a possum takes up residence in your shed, grab a barbecue brush to coax him out. If he doesn’t leave, brush him for twenty minutes and let him stay. Let a dog (or two or three) share your bed. Say the rosary while you walk them. Go to church with a chicken sandwich in your purse. Cry at the consecration, every time. Give the chicken sandwich to your homeless friend after mass. Go to a nursing home and kiss everyone. When you learn someone’s name, share their patron saint’s story, and their feast day, so they can celebrate. Invite new friends to Thanksgiving dinner. If they are from another country and you have trouble understanding them, learn to “listen with an accent.” Never say mean things about anybody; they are “poor souls to pray for.”

Put picky-eating children in the box at the bottom of the laundry chute, tell them they are hungry lions in a cage, and feed them veggies through the slats. Correspond with the imprisoned and have lunch with the cognitively challenged. Do the Jumble every morning. Keep the car keys under the front seat so they don’t get lost. Make the car dance by lightly tapping the brakes to the beat of songs on the radio. Offer rides to people carrying a big load or caught in the rain or summer heat. Believe the hitchhiker you pick up who says he is a landscaper and his name is “Peat Moss.” Help anyone struggling to get their kids into a car or shopping cart or across a parking lot. Give to every charity that asks. Choose to believe the best about what they do with your money, no matter what your children say they discovered online. Allow the homeless to keep warm in your car while you are at Mass. Take magazines you’ve already read to your doctors’ office for others to enjoy. Do not tear off the mailing label, “Because if someone wants to contact me, that would be nice.”

In her lifetime, Pink made contact time after time. Those who’ve taken her lessons to heart will continue to ensure that a cold drink will be left for the overheated garbage collector and mail carrier, every baby will be kissed, every nursing home resident will be visited, the hungry will have a sandwich, the guest will have a warm bed and soft nightlight, and the encroaching possum will know the soothing sensation of a barbecue brush upon its back. Above all, Pink wrote – to everyone, about everything. You may read this and recall a letter from her that touched your heart, tickled your funny bone, or maybe made you say “huh?”

She is survived by her children and grandchildren whose photos she would share with prospective friends in the checkout line: Tim (wife Janice, children Timmy, Joey, T.J., Miki and Danny); Kevin (wife Kathy, children Kacey, Ryan, Jordan and Kevin); Jerry (wife Gita, children Nisha and Cathan); MaryAnne; Peter (wife Maria Jose, children Rodrigo and Paulo); and Meg (husband David Vartanian, children Peter, Lily, Jerry and Blase); siblings Anne, Helen, and Robert; and many in-laws, nieces, nephews, friends and family too numerous to list but not forgotten. Pink is reunited with her husband and favorite dance and political debate partner, Dr. Gerald L. Mullaney, and is predeceased by six siblings. Friends (and strangers she would love to have met) can visit with Pink’s family at the Feerick Funeral Home on Thursday, September 5, from 3 until 7 PM with prayer service at 6:45 PM. Mass of the Christian Burial will be celebrated at St. Monica’s Catholic Church in Whitefish Bay on Friday, September 6, at 3 PM. Dress comfortably with a splash of pink if you have it. In Pink’s memory donations may be made to Dominican High School, 120 E. Silver Spring Dr., Whitefish Bay, WI 53217, or Saint Monica Parish, 160 E. Silver Spring Dr., Whitefish Bay, WI 53217, or any charity that seeks to spread the Good News of Pink’s friend, Jesus. Valet Parking in front of the funeral home on Thursday.

P.S. Pope Francis loves these saints, and knows exactly who I’m talking about:

2 comments on “St. Pink the Recycler

  1. Jennifer says:

    Making me cry here… Thank you for helping me keep my head above water. I will wholeheartedly be praying for God to bless your mission.

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