Seeing the other's soul

From prison to the suburbs: throughout its history, Sermig has always sought to transcend prejudices and labels to meet people with authenticity and sincerity.

We are inundated by the world of words as spectacle, words as insults, a raging torrent of discourse used to flatter, hurt, and entrap others.
And in this chaos, honesty, reflection, and those painful and thoughtful words that alone can carry weight, must find their way. But above all, we must return to letting silence speak, the silence capable of expressing itself through actions.

Throughout our history, our conscience has felt called into question many times.
In the early years of Sermig, we encountered the tragedy of prisons. As then, even today, the prison world is subject to little knowledge and easy prejudice. How often, in fact, are words carelessly thrown around by the media and social media that continually renew the sterile mechanism of classifications? We don't want to resign ourselves to the idea of ​​a place, a ward, for these so-called "categories" left passively awaiting the end, without the possibility of hope or redemption. Respecting human dignity means believing and imagining that there is always, for everyone, a chance at life.
Humanity, with its science and medicine, still has a thousand unexplored resources to discover or invent to rediscover itself, to find truth in itself and in the reality that surrounds us.
And faith and prayer, true, profound prayer, have not yet moved all the mountains... It is bitter to see how, too often, instead of addressing these crucial issues, humanity simply frees itself from them, setting them aside.
For us, prison has been an opportunity to rediscover the deepest roots of humanity, to return to the essence of who we truly are, to do away with titles, frills, and everything that prevents us from seeing ourselves in the soul. We've met so many... Nicola, Doretta, Barbara, and Pietro, lives that have entered our own, that have helped us understand the depths we can reach when left to ourselves, when our conscience is distorted, when our selfishness distorts the daily routine of encounters and relationships. In Palmi as in Porto Ferrario, we've tried to put ourselves in others' shoes, to implement with our commitment what our Constitution demands of us: making prison a place of re-education, at least for all those inmates who wish to change their lives. Certainly, providing care and education costs more than simply providing supervision. It costs to train staff, it costs to have specialists who know how to address problems, everything costs more. But this expense ultimately translates into savings for society. Working for the future is truly working for the present.

In more recent times, we have felt this need to return to the roots of humanity while living in the parishes entrusted to us by the Diocese of Turin: San Gioacchino and Maria Regina della Pace, located in Porta Palazzo and Barriera di Milano, neighborhoods sadly identified as places of drug dealing, degradation, and crime news. Through Father Andrea Bisacchi, Father Marco Vitale, and Father Alessandro Rossi, parish priests of these parishes, we wanted to write a letter to invite people to take a fresh look at those areas and especially at their inhabitants: "The situation is worsening—much, too quickly—and yet we are convinced that Turin can find a way to think about these neighborhoods not only in terms of fear, but of possible and very concrete paths for peaceful coexistence. There are glimmers of hope that we parish priests, without denying the great difficulties, are experiencing firsthand."
A few weeks earlier, Mahmood, 19, and Courage, 30, the father of a 3-year-old girl, were brutally murdered near the two communities. Many dismiss the situation, thinking the deaths were asking for it; others believe it doesn't concern us as long as it happens "between them." Then there are those who blame the institutions... Meanwhile, we note that those lost lives seem "invisible" to most, while the city continues to live with its contradictions as if nothing had happened.

Faced with fear and anxiety, but also indifference, we organized two prayer vigils to remember those who lost their lives and to try to find different responses to the fear we feel growing. Hundreds of very different people participated: Christians and Muslims, believers and non-believers, parishioners, neighborhood committees, associations, Italians and foreigners, friends and relatives of the young people who lost their lives, but also many, many people who didn't know them.
An important message: coming together for a pain that demands not to remain invisible, demands a gesture of kindness capable of recognizing us all as brothers and sisters. Again, Father Andrea, Father Marco, and Father Alessandro: "In those moments, we saw invisible lives become 'visible' in small gestures of kindness. We breathed the air of a Church with blurred boundaries, one that can help build bridges and welcome everyone, each in their diversity. Prayer became an opportunity to breathe this welcome and to cry together, to share our fears and not feel alone." Looking at those present, it was beautiful to walk for a few moments on a path of light, made of solidarity and sharing.

Guido Morganti
Focus
NP November 2025