The Loyola Community Bids Farewell to Fr. Joe Michini '59
The superhero genre relies on a few main ingredients: individual with extraordinary gifts, some form of evil (often the inverse to the former), and a series of destructive action sequences that result in the inevitable victory. While the stunning CGI-driven tapestries of explosions, collapsing buildings, and universe-altering plot twists break records at the box office, they seldom slow down enough to provide a glimpse into what really motivates the hero.
The origin story gives us some insight—experiments gone right (Captain America), field trips gone wrong (Spider-Man), and birthright and destiny collide (Black Panther). What makes the telling of the origin story so interesting is not just the series of events that propelled the ordinary human to “super” status, but also how they discovered their gifts and harnessed them for good, eventually planting themselves somewhere in between an extraordinary sense of moral high ground and just about anything that stands in their way. It’s a recipe that results in someone easy to root for.
The best origin stories are the ones where the hero struggles along the way, shows some sign of weakness, and triumphs while avoiding any self-promoting celebrity fanfare. This is one of those.
Joseph Michini arrived at Loyola in the fall of 1955 after attending St. Dominic’s in Hamilton. Raised with one sister in a middle-class neighborhood, the cost of attending the private Jesuit school would be a stretch for his parents, but the reputation it held within the city as an academic powerhouse meant the sacrifices would be worth it.
He won’t hesitate to tell you how grateful he was for the commitment his parents made. Loyola, after all, was where he wanted to be. However, he will also tell you that his experience didn’t always match expectations. A self-described nerd who preferred working on the newspaper and yearbook over sports, he admits to feeling on the outside at times. His saving graces were the few excellent friendships with classmates he made and especially the priests and scholastics he befriended over the course of his four years. His interactions with them impressed him so much, that he decided he wanted to be one of them. And why not? They used their gifts for the good of others and had a clear sense of right from wrong with a view on social justice well ahead of its time. They were, in the eyes of a young man, easy to root for.
After graduating from Loyola in 1959, he entered the Jesuits with nine others from his class. He got to the novitiate in Wernersville, PA, and found himself among 60 other young men with the same aspiration. His formation and subsequent assignments took him to Fordham Prep in the Bronx, Weston Jesuit School in Cambridge, MA, Gonzaga College High School in D.C., and eventually to St. Joseph’s Preparatory School in Philadelphia.
When his phone rang in 2000, the voice on the other end of the line belonged to the Assistant to the Provincial. He informed Michini that he was going to be assigned to Loyola Blakefield in Towson, Maryland. You can imagine his “I know the place” response.
Fr. Joe arrived in 2001 and happily plunged into his role as Loyola’s Director of Campus Ministry. It was a homecoming of sorts, but a lot had changed. He had been in ministry since 1975 and had already played a crucial role in evolving the campus ministry offerings in a high school setting. He was also now able to do for others what had been done for him. He started his tenure at Blakefield with the mission that no student should fall through the cracks by his ministering with the motto that God granted us one mouth and two ears, so listening was the most important instrument in understanding the lives of the students. He took a few pages from his St. Joe’s Prep playbook, having an open-door policy for all students and faculty and ensuring that retreats were a part of every students’ experience at Loyola, and he never looked back.
In the midst of his final year at Loyola, he had a group of frequent visitors to his office in Burk Hall, the same faces each day at about the same time. He thought the group could benefit from doubling in size, so he told each boy that their price of admission upon their next visit would be to simply bring a friend. An awkward silence flooded the room, and then they all broke out into laughter—a simultaneous acknowledgment that they were already among the only friends they had, and that Fr. Joe was the social glue that held them together.
Talking about himself is not Fr. Joe’s strong suit, which is thankfully why origin stories don’t rely on first-person narration. His dad relayed stories about his grandfather who worked as a tailor in Wilmington. He was considered among the best at his craft, and many of his clients were affluent men. They would be delivered by their chauffeur and come into his shop to be fitted and wait on adjustments. But the chauffeur never waited in the car, as was customary for many. He was always invited in, and the humble tailor, dutiful chauffeur, and well-bred customer shared a drink and made conversation. Fr. Joe recalls this as an important lesson for him about respecting the inner person, rather than solely relying on the external. His father provided the same example, always respecting and making friends with people high and low on the social measuring stick.
During his time at Loyola, Fr. Joe has inspired countless Dons and colleagues. When you spoke with him, he always made sure that you knew you were talking with a human being with “clay feet,” just like everyone else, but who also happened to be a Jesuit priest. He made it possible for you to say what was on your mind, showed you the importance of humility, and let his sense of humor (and yours) shine through. That’s the kind of relationship that brings balance and makes room for listening. That’s why he’s so easy to root for.
Fr. Joe will still be helping part-time with orientation into Jesuit history and pedagogy with faculty at Loyola University Maryland, but his legacy here will forever remain etched upon our hearts. We wish him the best of luck on his new adventure, and thank him for the love and humility he has shown our Dons and our community over the years. In March, he was awarded the 2018 Rev. Joseph M. Kelley, SJ, Medal, the highest honor bestowed upon a Loyola Blakefield alumnus. View highlights from the event here.
The origin story gives us some insight—experiments gone right (Captain America), field trips gone wrong (Spider-Man), and birthright and destiny collide (Black Panther). What makes the telling of the origin story so interesting is not just the series of events that propelled the ordinary human to “super” status, but also how they discovered their gifts and harnessed them for good, eventually planting themselves somewhere in between an extraordinary sense of moral high ground and just about anything that stands in their way. It’s a recipe that results in someone easy to root for.
The best origin stories are the ones where the hero struggles along the way, shows some sign of weakness, and triumphs while avoiding any self-promoting celebrity fanfare. This is one of those.
Joseph Michini arrived at Loyola in the fall of 1955 after attending St. Dominic’s in Hamilton. Raised with one sister in a middle-class neighborhood, the cost of attending the private Jesuit school would be a stretch for his parents, but the reputation it held within the city as an academic powerhouse meant the sacrifices would be worth it.
He won’t hesitate to tell you how grateful he was for the commitment his parents made. Loyola, after all, was where he wanted to be. However, he will also tell you that his experience didn’t always match expectations. A self-described nerd who preferred working on the newspaper and yearbook over sports, he admits to feeling on the outside at times. His saving graces were the few excellent friendships with classmates he made and especially the priests and scholastics he befriended over the course of his four years. His interactions with them impressed him so much, that he decided he wanted to be one of them. And why not? They used their gifts for the good of others and had a clear sense of right from wrong with a view on social justice well ahead of its time. They were, in the eyes of a young man, easy to root for.
After graduating from Loyola in 1959, he entered the Jesuits with nine others from his class. He got to the novitiate in Wernersville, PA, and found himself among 60 other young men with the same aspiration. His formation and subsequent assignments took him to Fordham Prep in the Bronx, Weston Jesuit School in Cambridge, MA, Gonzaga College High School in D.C., and eventually to St. Joseph’s Preparatory School in Philadelphia.
When his phone rang in 2000, the voice on the other end of the line belonged to the Assistant to the Provincial. He informed Michini that he was going to be assigned to Loyola Blakefield in Towson, Maryland. You can imagine his “I know the place” response.
Fr. Joe arrived in 2001 and happily plunged into his role as Loyola’s Director of Campus Ministry. It was a homecoming of sorts, but a lot had changed. He had been in ministry since 1975 and had already played a crucial role in evolving the campus ministry offerings in a high school setting. He was also now able to do for others what had been done for him. He started his tenure at Blakefield with the mission that no student should fall through the cracks by his ministering with the motto that God granted us one mouth and two ears, so listening was the most important instrument in understanding the lives of the students. He took a few pages from his St. Joe’s Prep playbook, having an open-door policy for all students and faculty and ensuring that retreats were a part of every students’ experience at Loyola, and he never looked back.
In the midst of his final year at Loyola, he had a group of frequent visitors to his office in Burk Hall, the same faces each day at about the same time. He thought the group could benefit from doubling in size, so he told each boy that their price of admission upon their next visit would be to simply bring a friend. An awkward silence flooded the room, and then they all broke out into laughter—a simultaneous acknowledgment that they were already among the only friends they had, and that Fr. Joe was the social glue that held them together.
Talking about himself is not Fr. Joe’s strong suit, which is thankfully why origin stories don’t rely on first-person narration. His dad relayed stories about his grandfather who worked as a tailor in Wilmington. He was considered among the best at his craft, and many of his clients were affluent men. They would be delivered by their chauffeur and come into his shop to be fitted and wait on adjustments. But the chauffeur never waited in the car, as was customary for many. He was always invited in, and the humble tailor, dutiful chauffeur, and well-bred customer shared a drink and made conversation. Fr. Joe recalls this as an important lesson for him about respecting the inner person, rather than solely relying on the external. His father provided the same example, always respecting and making friends with people high and low on the social measuring stick.
During his time at Loyola, Fr. Joe has inspired countless Dons and colleagues. When you spoke with him, he always made sure that you knew you were talking with a human being with “clay feet,” just like everyone else, but who also happened to be a Jesuit priest. He made it possible for you to say what was on your mind, showed you the importance of humility, and let his sense of humor (and yours) shine through. That’s the kind of relationship that brings balance and makes room for listening. That’s why he’s so easy to root for.
Fr. Joe will still be helping part-time with orientation into Jesuit history and pedagogy with faculty at Loyola University Maryland, but his legacy here will forever remain etched upon our hearts. We wish him the best of luck on his new adventure, and thank him for the love and humility he has shown our Dons and our community over the years. In March, he was awarded the 2018 Rev. Joseph M. Kelley, SJ, Medal, the highest honor bestowed upon a Loyola Blakefield alumnus. View highlights from the event here.
