My Brother Joe, My Hero

Somewhere along the way, Joe discovered The Sacred Heart Father’s, an order that accepted men with “late vocations.” He entered their seminary in Hales Corners, Wisconsin sometime in the late 1960’s. Ordinated in 1971, he redoubled his commitment to work with the less fortunate, those in need, those neglected by society.

Sometime in the mid-70’s, Joe accepted a position as the Chaplin at the Indiana State Prison in Michigan City, Indiana. Established in 1860, Indiana State Prison is a maximum-security facility that houses in excess of 2200 men.

Like the damp chapel in Niagara Falls, the old musty prison was no place for a man with really bad asthma. But Joe could not be dissuaded from working there. He actually petitioned the State to live in the prison, but was turned down. Instead he lived at rectory in downtown Michigan City and spent most of every day in the prison working with the inmates.

Joe’s commitment to those he worked with through the years went way beyond what would be considered the norm. He cared deeply about others, especially those whose whom most of society considers the “misfits” – – the poor, the neglected, the sickly, the mentally ill, the imprisoned. He had a profound belief that each person, no matter what their circumstances, is entitled to dignity and to be given the opportunity to better themselves. Joe worked tirelessly to provide the tools for improvement to each of the individuals with whom he worked.

Importantly to me, Joe was a wonderful big brother. As a girl, I remember riding on the handlebars of his bike and his gentle reminders to study more. As he grew older, he enjoyed classical music but absolutely loved show tunes. He brought my parents their first stereo. One of my fondest memories is of Joe sitting in a rocking chair in the living room rocking and listening to the likes of South Pacific, Oklahoma, My Fair Lady, etc., etc., etc. But his all time favorite was West Side Story, perhaps because it represented his life. When Joe listened to his music so did we. As a result, to this day, I love those old show songs and win every trivia question related to them.

Show tunes weren’t the only thing Joe introduced me to. I had just turned 18 when we visited my Uncle Johnny and Aunt Mary in Younkers, New York. One day Joe took Jackie and me on the train into Manhattan to see the sights. We ended the day at a bar in Greenwich Village. It was the 60’s and he took us down steep stairs into a basement, smoke-filled bar with some great live folk music. He then brought me my first legal drink – a whisky sour.

Shortly before Joe went into the hospital for the final time, Bob and I drove up to Michigan City to take him to dinner. I knew he had been getting worse and was worried about him and wanted to see him. We picked him up at the rectory and drove to Skip’s Steak House on the Red Arrow Highway, a favorite of his. He had what he always had, a rib-eye steak, backed potato, spinach and a dry Rob Roy on the rocks. Well, maybe two Rob Roys. He philosophized about life, about good versus evil and challenged our beliefs. He loved to do that. He was always trying to delve deeper into the meaning of life and the universe. But I could tell he was very, very sick. He struggled to breath all night. He went in the hospital a week later.

Joe suffered for almost four months before he died. By the time his end approached, we all knew it was inevitable – but it didn’t make it any easier. We all pretty much lived at the hospital most of the summer and were all with him as he took his final breath. Sometime the previous spring, Joe gave Arthur a letter to us that he wanted read after his death. As we stood over his body in tears, Art pulled out the letter and read:

“I have spent my life working in the town. Pray that my work may be successful. Pray for the men, women and children pushed aside by society. Pray for the ones that we dare call criminals, delinquents, mentally ill, deviated in any way. Pray for the poor, and pray for you and I who could have done better, could have done so much more. There is more rust on any of us than we would care to take with us to God. I have attempted to live so that I might die wearing out, not rusting out. Pray that I was successful and know in the deepest part of your heart that I will be praying for you.
Till we meet again,
Signed, Rev. Joseph P. Murphy, SCJ, MSW, M.Div, MA

I said:
“let me work in the fields.”

Christ said:
“no, work in the town.”

I said:
“there are no flowers there.

He said:
No flowers . . but a crown.”

I said:
“But the sky is dark and there is nothing but noise and din.”

Christ wept as He answered back:
“there is more,” He said, “there is sin.”

I said:
“I shall miss mist ha light and my friends will miss me, they say.”

Christ answered:
“Choose tonight …
If I shall miss you, or they.”

Joe had a profound effect on me and the way I live my life. I hope those of you reading this brief story of Joe will take the strong message of love, respect and acceptance he sends – – – and live it out in your life.

Eileen Donnersberger, January 29, 2019

EDIT STORY

jeffie, June 06, 2020

He was and is a beautiful person in every way.

Doris McArdle, June 07, 2020

EDIT COMMENT

Doris has thanked Eileen for this story. This story has also been seen by Justin, Dave, Bujee, Mark, Joe, Bart, jeffie, and Linda.

THANK EILEEN FOR THIS STORY

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