"He didn't boast, he didn't give lessons in humility or service. In fact, he didn't talk much. He just did it. Bishop Robert Prevost led by example."

Prevost in Chiclayo, the American Bishop who spoke little but did a lot

Friends and collaborators, both inside and outside the diocese, review the eight years the new Pope spent in the Peruvian city. They remember a calm, conciliatory, yet efficient and decisive man.

It was common to see him on the city streets driving his van, going himself to the market to buy food for the rest of the deacons. Or changing a tire in the mud and water on one of his many trips, lasting up to three hours, to communities deep in the Andes, even during the torrential rainy season. He also regularly rolled up his sleeves before big business to raise money, for example, for oxygen plants during the pandemic. He didn't boast, he didn't give lessons in humility or service. In fact, he didn't talk much. He just did it. Bishop Robert Prevost led by example.

In Chiclayo, he raised eyebrows; they weren't quite used to it. The American priest had arrived in this northern Peruvian city as head of the diocese. He acted more like an office manager than the missionary he originally was. And they were even more surprised when, a few months after arriving, at the beginning of 2015, Pope Francis appointed him bishop. Prevost continued to speak little, listen a lot, and drive to the supermarket, visiting the 50 parishes in his diocese—with a population of 1.2 million—persuading businessmen and politicians to raise money and social assistance, while also donning his stole in remote villages to celebrate Masses, confirmations, or continue to hear confessions face-to-face with his parishioners.

His collaborators in the diocese and those close to him describe him over the years as someone very calm, collected, who speaks only the minimum. But when he makes a decision, he executes it. A silent but efficient leader with experience and a deft hand in dealing with different types of people.

Janinna Sesa worked side by side with him as director of Cáritas Chiclayo (2015-2024). “He wasn't the bishop who stayed in the office, but the one who put on his boots and helmet to reach the most inaccessible places and deliver humanitarian aid. He set an example for the other priests to also get their shoes dirty. He never had a driver. At first, we were afraid that he would travel difficult roads alone. But driving gave him a complete knowledge of the region and the opportunity to reach out to the faithful,” she says at an NGO office a few blocks from the bishopric.

The two milestones in the Bishop's direct and effective management were two emergencies: the floods caused by El Niño and COVID-19. Faced with rivers overflowing due to the rains, the bishop arrived in the most affected villages wearing rubber boots and knee-deep in water. He arranged for housing units for the victims, tons of food, and mattresses. And during the pandemic, he managed to raise almost $400,000 (€355,000) in a couple of weeks under the banner of "oxygen for hope." Chiclayo was among the cities with the worst spikes in infection, and many people began to die. Prevost's oxygen saved many lives. "We Chiclayanos will never forget that," adds Sesa. She herself became infected, was hospitalized near the Intensive Care Unit, and was saved by the bishop's oxygen.

“I want priests like Pope Francis”

When he was appointed bishop, Prevost visited the diocese's parishes one by one to tell his team what he wanted and ask what they needed. With the parish priest of Íllimoo, he was very clear: “I want priests like Pope Francis,” says Father Félix Fiestas, head of this small town (population 3,000) north of the capital, famous for its terrible floods. “He told us that we had to accompany the people in their suffering and help them with whatever we could. He was a very humane bishop; he put himself in the people's shoes. He came here many times to help us with the water,” Fiestas recounted to a group of townspeople preparing to march through the streets to celebrate Prevost's appointment.

The last time he visited Íllimo was in the spring of 2023, a few months before his departure for Rome, following the passage of Cyclone Yaku, which destroyed more than 500 homes and left the town without electricity or drinking water for two weeks. It all started at seven in the morning, and barely two hours later, the bishop was there. Once again, he was alone. Without security, without equipment. Neighbors remember him wearing rubber boots and distributing red bags of food.

Prevost's attitude was not only unusual for a high-ranking church official. In Chiclayo, he broke with a decades-long tradition of Opus Dei bishops. His three predecessors were from the ultra-conservative institution, far removed from the principles of this Augustinian missionary, marked by his order's vows of poverty, dedicated to spiritual life, study, and vocation to others. Not surprisingly, Prevost holds degrees in Mathematics, Philosophy, and Theology, and a doctorate in Canon Law. Reverend Fidel Purisaca Vigil is one of the Diocese's veterans. He has been here since 1987 and acknowledges that he "represented a change. He was a very balanced, respectful, and efficient bishop; he knew how and with whom to deal when something needed to be done."

His conciliatory, dialoguing style, while still establishing his own doctrinal line within the Church's divisions, is also setting the tone during his first days as Pope and head of state of the Vatican. His decision to take the name of Leo XIV is another clue in that direction. José Luis Pérez Guadalupe, theologian and former Minister of the Interior, recalls that “Leo XIII formally initiated the Social Doctrine of the Church with the encyclical Rerum Novarum. He was called the worker pope because he defended workers during the Industrial Revolution. He was a great pope in times of change. That Prevost took his name speaks volumes about the turbulent times we live in. His conciliatory spirit and message of peace are vital amid threats of total war in the world.”

The open wound of thousands of cases of sexual abuse within the Church has also been one of the irremediable issues on Prevost's agenda. At the end of his term as bishop of Chiclayo, allegations of abuse by three underage novices by a priest of the Diocese surfaced. According to several sources, both inside and outside the Church, Prevost took action and partially removed the accused priest. He referred the case to Rome, and after several exchanges of information, the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith closed the investigation. Just a few weeks later, Pope Francis sent Prevost back to Rome with a very powerful position: head of all the bishops.

The case heated up again a few months ago, when Francis's health was beginning to foreshadow the campaign for his succession. Various media outlets linked to the Sodalicio, an influential far-right congregation created in Peru in the 1970s and dissolved last year by Francis, began airing accusations of a cover-up. The accusations have been denied by the Vatican and the Bishop of Chiclayo. Monsignor Edison Farfán has not denied that the three complainants were victims, but he did maintain that Prevost diligently complied with the process. “But we must understand that the Church has its processes. The truth will always prevail over evil,” he said this week at a press conference.

For Paola Ugaz, one of the journalists who exposed the sewers of the Sodalitium—child abuse, corruption, fraud—in 2015 with her book Half Monks, Half Soldiers, this is a campaign of poisoning and harassment against Prevost at a time when his candidacy had a chance of coming to power. “They have law firms focused on creating these mudslinging wars, seeking to attack and destroy their adversaries,” Ugaz said by phone from Rome. She herself has been a victim of this persecution. She raised the issue with Pope Francis. And Prevost was one of only five members of the diocese who showed their support. “His leadership was key in shutting down the group. He combines three very important elements: his political experience in the Roman Curia, his vocation for the poor, and his American identity.”

Although Prevost also holds Peruvian nationality, a decision that was half voluntary, half obligatory due to bureaucratic reasons, in order to access the position of bishop in the country. These two cultural souls were very present in his daily life in Chiclayo and sometimes united in a particular syncretism. The bishopric's workers remember him, for example, celebrating Independence Day or Halloween on the building's rooftop. There were American flags and skull-shaped pumpkins. But also Peruvian Creole music, and, for lunch, dry goat meat or ceviche with corn tortillas. Magaly Castillo, the bishopric's cook for the past five years, recalls that "there were even times he would cook and teach me recipes." Some mornings, the gringo bishop of Chiclayo would wake up craving pancakes and go down to the kitchen to make himself some pancakes for breakfast.

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