Like Jesus With the Prostitutes. A Scarcely Known Activity of Leo When He Was Bishop in Peru

Pope Leo kno­ws the phe­no­me­non of migra­tion well, not only in the United States, whe­re his disa­gree­ment with the solu­tions adop­ted by Donald Trump is well kno­wn, but also in Peru, whe­re for eight years he was bishop of the dio­ce­se of Chiclayo (in the pho­to by Julio Reano for AP, whi­le cele­bra­ting the fea­st of Corpus Christi, in the city’s sta­dium).

In Peru the­re is a par­ti­cu­lar­ly mas­si­ve influx of migran­ts from Venezuela, among whom are many women for­ced into pro­sti­tu­tion. And to address this pro­blem, the then bishop Robert F. Prevost set up in the dio­ce­se a “Comisión de Movilidad Humana y Trata de Personas.”

Over the years of its acti­vi­ty, in the San Vicente de Paúl recep­tion cen­ter ope­ned on the outskirts of Chiclayo by the Commission toge­ther with the Vincentian Family and Caritas, more than 5,000 immi­gran­ts have found help and tem­po­ra­ry hospi­ta­li­ty.

But in addi­tion the­re was an acti­vi­ty aimed spe­ci­fi­cal­ly at women for­ced into pro­sti­tu­tion, to tear them away from bars and bro­thels, to offer them job oppor­tu­ni­ties, to help them regu­la­ri­ze their immi­gra­tion sta­tus, to assi­st them in their ill­nes­ses, to sup­port them in caring for their chil­dren. Prevost also held days of spi­ri­tual retreat with them, which were very well atten­ded. He cele­bra­ted Mass, heard con­fes­sions.

To this acti­vi­ty of the then bishop of Chiclayo, until now very lit­tle kno­wn outsi­de of what was his dio­ce­se, the Argentine new­spa­per “La Nación” dedi­ca­ted a report on May 17, with the byli­ne of María Nöllmann, who met on the dusty outskirts of Chiclayo, in her ado­be hou­se with tin roof, a mother with her two chil­dren, Silvia Teodolinda Vázquez, 52, who with “padre Rober” – as she fami­liar­ly cal­led him – shared five years of efforts in hel­ping pro­sti­tu­tes.

“The day I met ‘padre Rober’,” Silvia recoun­ts, “he told me some­thing beau­ti­ful. It was a work mee­ting. When it was over, he came up to me and, with his warm tone, said: ‘Silvia, I under­stand that this acti­vi­ty is very dif­fi­cult for you, becau­se of eve­ry­thing you expe­rien­ced as a young woman. I am so gra­te­ful for what you are doing for the­se girls, and I bless you.’ I felt very emo­tio­nal.”

Silvia, in fact, had also been a vic­tim of traf­fic­king. She had suf­fe­red the fir­st sexual abu­se from a nei­gh­bor when she was 11 years old. After that, the aggres­sor for­ced her to move to Lima, then to Piura, Trujillo, and Olmos, whe­re she was sexual­ly exploi­ted for years in bars and bro­thels.

“They took my docu­men­ts away. They for­ced me to call my fami­ly and say I was fine, that I was wor­king as a clea­ner in a hou­se, but it was a lie. I couldn’t lea­ve. They told me that if I left they would kill my mother. When my daughter was born, they star­ted tel­ling me that they would kill her too. I lived in fear,” she says in a low voi­ce, to keep from being heard by her chil­dren.

At the age of 22, she met a nun from Lima, Dora Fonseca. “She asked me, ‘Are you Silvia? You’re a pro­sti­tu­te, right?’ ‘Yes,’ I said. She asked me whe­re I wor­ked, and I gave her the address. But I never thought she would come. I was very sur­pri­sed that night when I saw her arri­ve at the bar, dres­sed in her habit. She said to me, ‘Daughter, we Sisters of Adoration have a hou­se in Chiclayo for tea­ching various tra­des to pro­sti­tu­tes’.”

“It took me a long time to stop; I was sca­red. But I did it. They saved me, and I will be eter­nal­ly gra­te­ful to them. They gave me clo­thes for my chil­dren, a job, and they hel­ped me build a roof for my hou­se. I will be eter­nal­ly gra­te­ful to them becau­se thanks to them I was able to move for­ward and beco­me the per­son I am today. They were my second mothers.”

Silvia wor­ked for more than 15 years with the Sisters of Adoration, hel­ping pro­sti­tu­tes. And it was pre­ci­se­ly throu­gh this acti­vi­ty that she met Prevost. It was 2017, and the then bishop of Chiclayo asked the nuns, and with them Silvia, to work toge­ther with the “Comisión de Movilidad Humana y Trata de Personas” that he had recen­tly crea­ted in the dio­ce­se.

“We coor­di­na­ted eve­ry­thing with him. He would arri­ve and we would talk with him, who at that time, for us, was the ‘padre­ci­to,’ the lit­tle father.”

“It’s tou­ching to see how many girls have mana­ged to chan­ge their lives. Two of them have ope­ned a beau­ty salon just around the cor­ner, and eve­ry time I pass by the­re I’m hap­py to see them.” She says at lea­st 30 women have been freed from sexual sla­ve­ry sin­ce the com­mis­sion began its efforts on their behalf.

The com­mis­sion, in fact, did not stop with Prevost’s depar­tu­re for Rome in 2023. “We are still wor­king. We are set­ting up trai­ning work­shops. We would like to give girls the free­dom to choo­se other types of work, to final­ly be free,” she says. “When I then lear­ned that ‘padre Rober’ had beco­me pope, I wept for joy.”

We do not know if Leo XIV has seen the report in “La Nación” about his acti­vi­ty in the dio­ce­se of Chiclayo.

Surely he kno­ws very well the­se words of Jesus: “Truly, I say to you, the tax col­lec­tors and the har­lo­ts go into the king­dom of God befo­re you. For John came to you in the way of righteou­sness, and you did not belie­ve him, but the tax col­lec­tors and the har­lo­ts belie­ved him; and even when you saw it, you did not after­ward repent and belie­ve him” (Matthew 21:31–32).

(Translated by Matthew Sherry: traduttore@hotmail.com)

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Sandro Magister is past “vati­ca­ni­sta” of the Italian wee­kly L’Espresso.
The late­st arti­cles in English of his blog Settimo Cielo are on this page.
But the full archi­ve of Settimo Cielo in English, from 2017 to today, is acces­si­ble.
As is the com­ple­te index of the blog www.chiesa, which pre­ce­ded it.