Can personal struggle find space within everyday relationships? Can each person experience a connection in which they feel truly seen and taken seriously—or does mental illness inevitably trap people in social isolation?
We visited I SempreVivi, a volunteer association housed in the parish of San Pietro in Sala in Milan's Piazza Wagner. It welcomes people living with mental illness, but perhaps it is something more. We asked its founder, Don Domenico Storri, to explain.
How did the association develop within the parish community?
Like all the beautiful, simple things in life, it began naturally. The parish had people who spent time in the neighborhood and the youth center—but they were looked down on. They were labeled the "crazy ones." When I started studying psychology at the Catholic University, I began to pay special attention to them. I started talking with them, meeting them, spending time with them over panini at the bar in the youth center. Later, after I finished my degree with a thesis on mountain therapy, a few young volunteers and I decided to try something new. Eight years ago, we took a group to Macugnaga, up to the Zamboni refuge. There were three educators and four people living with mental illness.
That's where we started. We worked on two fronts at once. First, we built a team of young volunteers. At the same time, we began to open the parish's eyes. Slowly, we involved them in workshops about mental illness—which grew into full conferences with huge attendance. At these events, we asked the young people themselves to speak about what it means to live with mental illness. Parents shared what it's like to have a child struggling with their mental health. This opened hearts. The parish and the neighborhood completely changed how they saw people with mental illness.
Today, after eight years—five as a formal association—we welcome about sixty people living with mental illness. They are fully integrated with the youth center kids and their families. That's one of the most beautiful miracles of this work: turning an encounter into genuine shared life.
So real integration has taken root here.
Our association's real strength isn't what we do—the activities are fairly standard—but how we've tapped into the parish's own healing power. A parish is, at its heart, a network of relationships. I believe the way to heal psychiatric suffering is to place the person within a web of healthy relationships. And a parish is precisely that: a forge of relationships, a place where real rehabilitation can happen.
And you clearly see in all this the face of Jesus, an anchoring in the Gospel message.
You could call it new evangelization. For years now, we've run a Parents' School once a month—one group for parents of middle-school children, another for parents of teenagers. We tackle psychological topics, how to support your child's growth. Attendance is enormous. This is real evangelization, because our message and our educational approach honor human and spiritual values. Over time, I've seen how much people appreciate it. These meetings, which I lead with expert help, become times of encounter and deepening for me. We've also started family support groups right in the youth center.
What you're describing is true integration—you're not perceived as outsiders or guests. It seems a specific sensitivity has grown here, starting from a project of welcome but reaching everyone.
When parents see that the educational program genuinely serves their children and does real good, they open their hearts to welcome. The Parents' School has its own life now. People are grateful because we talk about their kids, but the conversation widens into reflection on what it means to be human.
Parents trust us because they know we're serious and committed. There's good care for both I SempreVivi and the youth center kids. A youth center works only when there's a stable educational presence—especially a priest who lives the relationships day to day. I think it matters to be with the young people and be the priest of the youth center. Parents know there's a priest, volunteers, educators, and the SempreVivi members too. But there's a whole web of people creating bridges, making real integration possible.
So young people still come to youth centers if they're truly places of education and encounter.
We're downtown Milan. At noon Mass, it's hard to squeeze in—so many kids and parents. We have almost a thousand children registered. Sure, it's not the youth center of thirty years ago, the small-town kind. Kids flow in and out because space is tight. But attendance is genuine. In summer, we take nearly four hundred children away. People need to have fun. The dimension of "play" in relationships matters.
What can a Christian do to be an instrument of the Gospel in daily life, in encounter with others?
We need to step down from dogmatism, which is one of the things that harms us most. The word "Christian" only comes alive when it's lived out in different situations, in the real world. We need flexibility without rigidity. We need to get off the pedestal. We need to stop building a Church for the few and open ourselves more to meeting the other. We need to know how far to go without losing our deep identity as Christians, but opening ourselves to welcome everyone. That's what Jesus did—step down and meet people.
A faith that's more incarnate, that becomes encounter and nearness.
Living faith within our humanity, without being scandalized. Where there is human suffering, there must always be profound respect and attention.
Thank you, Don Domenico, for your openness and generosity. And may the journey continue for you—and for all of us. Perhaps the possibility of living out the Gospel truly exists. Perhaps it only takes a dash of "madness" to work real wonders.
By Giovanni Vergani
Info: www.isemprevivi.org
Within parish life, people benefit from relationships that are spontaneous, varied, and authentic. Those living with mental illness participate fully in every dimension of parish life, especially the youth center: they work at the bar and cinema, they help lead the summer programs for kids, they attend group meetings and Sunday Mass, and they gather on the church steps to chat with no difficulty.
Another important part of their healing is the winter week organized through the youth center. About thirty people living with mental illness share the experience of snow, skiing, and snowshoeing with middle-school children, teenagers, and parents. The gift of these days comes in the evening meetings, when this mixed group comes together to talk and reflect on deep questions of existence. The young people, listening carefully to stories of suffering and fear—but also of strength and courage—from those labeled "crazy," shed every prejudice. (From Famiglia Oggi, no. 3/2012)