Deacon Joe Codespoti and his lovely wife Theresa baptize our son Anthony in 2010.
Photo: Monica "Mona" Rico
It’s been nearly five years now since my dear friend, mentor, and spiritual director Joe Codespoti passed. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about his teachings or words of wisdom. To me, he was like Rocky’s confidant, Mickey—always teaching, encouraging, and challenging me to do better, to be better.
I met Deacon Joe Codespoti through the Cursillo movement 24 years ago. For nearly a decade, he was my spiritual director and one of the holiest men I’ve ever known. Joe had a unique way of challenging us—sometimes using crazy antics, even a few choice words—but his devotion to Christian study, including reading and living the Bible, was unwavering.
More than anything, Joe loved each of us, he loved this movement, and most importantly, he adored Jesus.
He didn’t just know God’s Word—he lived and breathed it. And with an infectious passion, he inspired others to do the same. Joe changed the way I viewed the Bible. He changed the way I viewed life. He challenged me to know Jesus more deeply, to build a stronger relationship with Him by incorporating His Word into my life’s plan.
One of Joe’s simplest yet most profound lessons was this: Before taking our first step each morning, we should thank God and tell Him we love Him. Every single day.
Joe lived the Bible.
At one point, he asked me to accompany him on his prison ministry. I thought, I can do that. At the time, I was studying clinical psychology at Purdue and fascinated by the human mind. I wasn’t thrilled about meeting him at 5:30 a.m., but I was honored to be part of ministering to men who had made mistakes—men I assumed had found faith after time spent reflecting.
I was exorbitantly wrong.
These weren’t just men who had stumbled in life. These were hardened criminals in maximum security facilities. Not all, but many. Their presence was intimidating—threatening, even. Their body language was unsettling. Some looked downright menacing.
All Joe told me beforehand was, "Don’t show fear. They’ll sense it."
It took everything not to look at him and in my best Different Strokes’ Arnold Jackson impersonation blurt, “What’s you talkin’ about Willis?”
I was scared out of my mind.
Walking into one facility, we passed through glass enclosures where inmates in red jumpsuits—professional degenerates,as Joe put it—stared through the walls. Joe leaned over and whispered, Dame, those are the guys on Skid Row. Don’t make eye contact.
They’re mean.
There were some definite Silence of the Lambs vibes going on.
I don’t get rattled easily, but I stand before you today to say—I was terrified.
But you know who wasn’t?
Joe Codespoti.
With unwavering faith, Joe shared the Lord’s Word with these prisoners. He asked me to do the same. He gave them books and pamphlets, led discussions, and answered their questions as if they were children preparing for their Bible camp. He believed in their ability to love Jesus. He served them communion. He read the Good News with them.
I wish I could tell you I had Joe’s courage, that I walked with him every step of the way after those first visits. But the truth is, I was petrified every time I stepped through those bars, every time I heard the buzzers reminding me that these were men who had embraced murder, rape, and assault as part of their past.
I remember one prisoner telling Joe that he hoped he never got out—because behind bars, he couldn’t hurt anyone, and his mind had finally found some kind of peace.
Joe taught me that the Bible isn’t just a book—it’s a game plan. A living testament filled with stories of those who experienced Jesus, His compassion, His leadership. And to truly know Him, we must study Him. We must long to learn more. We must always develop our character.
My time in prison ministry didn’t last long. But my time with Joe changed me. It deepened my relationship with God. It taught me that our faith unites us—no matter who we are, where we’ve been, or where we’re going.
Joe was Christ to those men. And I was beside him, learning. Studying.
We are all on a journey. And no matter what path we walk, God’s love for us is overwhelming. Joe reminded me that even though society has deemed unworthy, we are still deeply loved by our Father.
And whether we seek Him or not—He is always seeking us.
Even in our darkest moments.
Damian Rico is the director of marketing and community relations for Hospice of the Calumet Area. The opinions are the writer's.
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