Narrow the Road with Fr. John Girotti
By Fr. John Girotti | For On Mission
I am told that my last name in Italian means “little walk” or “to take a stroll.” It should come as no surprise, then, that I have a predilection for taking long walks in the beauty of God’s creation. My father, too, enjoys going for walks, and during his career, he had the blessing of being able to walk to work every day. His path led through a quiet neighborhood, a lush park, and finally across an empty tract of land rather blandly called “The County Grounds.” When I was young, I would sometimes join him on walks through these same fields that he knew so very well. It was on one of these strolls, when I was about 10, that I saw something that has stayed with me ever since.
Walking through the woods on a summer evening, my father and I came upon the ruins of three brick buildings. An ever-encroaching forest surrounded them. As little boys do, I ran ahead to investigate what remained. I noticed rusty iron bars on all the windows. I knew that this could not have been a jail, so I asked my father what exactly these buildings had been used for. He looked at me rather nervously and said that these abandoned buildings were where the county used to put people who, at the time, were considered to be incurable. He then quietly told me that it had been an insane asylum.
Over the years, the image of these buildings with iron bars, now long since demolished, has haunted me. Who were the people who lived there? Who were those who cared for them? Did anybody visit? Did anybody care? Over time, speaking with others, I have come to learn some of the answers.
The past 70 years have witnessed significant advances in psychology and our understanding of the human mind. Today, there are powerful medicines and successful therapies that can greatly assist those who suffer from mental illness. However, it was not always this way. Most of us cannot comprehend the anguish of those who had such struggles before there was any medicine or proper understanding. People were often committed to mental institutions and became wards of the state. The pain and the stigma, the abandonment and the rejection, must have been unbearable for many. And this happened in our own time.
I am fortunate not to struggle with mental illness, although I have ministered to many people who have. Some have described it to me as being lost in the woods, constantly searching for a way out. It is difficult to describe, I imagine, unless one has experienced it. In the Gospels, Jesus is often depicted as healing the sick — physically, spiritually, and mentally. In the increasing isolation and hopelessness of modern society, these same struggles will almost certainly increase. Our ministry in the Church must increasingly become attuned to those amongst us who often suffer silently, particularly from mental illness and its effects.
Today, all that remains of the buildings are a stone foundation and steps that lead to nowhere. The forest has completely taken over. It is a popular place for young adults to exercise, and many jog through the ruins with their dogs, unaware of what or who they are stepping on. Nearby, a sign marks the potter’s field cemetery where the remains of some of the residents of the asylum were buried in unmarked graves. And all is quiet and peaceful.
I am certain that those who worked in those buildings were often heroic and charitable. They did the best they could with the limited medical resources available at the time. Today, with the blessing of modern medicine, medication, and counseling, we have advanced greatly in the field of mental health. And yet, sadly, the stigma remains. We don’t forcibly put people behind iron bars in insane asylums anymore, but we often treat them in a similar way. That troubling image from a walk with my father on a summer evening many years ago reminds me that we have a long way to go.
Fr. John Girotti is vicar general and moderator of the curia for the Diocese of Green Bay.