Bogota: In the heart of southern Bogotá, the once-thriving neighborhood of San Bernardo has transformed into a landscape of poverty, addiction, and abandonment. What was once a modest middle-class area is now one of Colombia’s most visible epicenters of drug abuse and homelessness. Yet, amid its broken streets, two priests are rewriting the story of despair with compassion, courage, and faith.
At the center of this mission stands Fr. Juan Felipe Quevedo, a young parish priest whose commitment to the marginalized has made him a beacon of hope for the forgotten. A few months ago, he was joined by Fr. Carlos “Charly” Olivero, an Argentine priest renowned for his ministry among the slum communities of Buenos Aires. Together, they serve at the Our Lady of Sorrows Parish, where they have become voices for those who have none.
San Bernardo’s descent into crisis began decades ago, shaped by mass evictions and urban redevelopment that pushed thousands of poor families from nearby neighborhoods into its narrow lanes. What followed was an overwhelming concentration of poverty, addiction, and violence.
“In the second half of the 20th century, Bogotá underwent profound demographic changes that reshaped the city,” explains Fr. Quevedo. “Neighborhoods like San Bernardo were left burdened with deep social wounds.”
The streets today bear the scars of that neglect. Piles of garbage line alleyways, drug peddlers operate openly, and the cries of the addicted echo through the night. Police patrols are routine, yet their presence offers little sense of safety.
“There’s been a sharp increase in the number of homeless people,” says Fr. Quevedo. “Social conflicts have deepened. Families are leaving, schools are emptying, and crime has taken root. People live with fear instead of community.”
Locals now refer to the neighborhood simply as “Sanber” a name that has become synonymous with exclusion and despair.
For Fr. Charly, whose ministry is shaped by the “Familia Grande Hogar de Cristo” movement founded by Argentina’s Curas Villeros (slum priests), the mission in San Bernardo feels both familiar and daunting. “In Buenos Aires, I saw poverty,” he says, “but what I see here is something more profound a sense of complete abandonment. A study suggests nearly 5,000 homeless people live in this one neighborhood. It’s overwhelming.”
Yet, the two priests refuse to surrender to hopelessness. Instead, they see in each person a reflection of Christ’s wounded face. “When we distribute food, people come running,” says Fr. Charly. “They’re starving not just for bread, but for dignity. And this is where our work begins.”
Their approach is simple yet transformative: mercy before judgment, presence before programs. The parish has become a place where anyone no matter how lost can find a meal, a word of comfort, and a sense of belonging.
“Our task isn’t to replace the state,” says Fr. Quevedo. “It’s to build bridges to remind the community that those living on the streets are our brothers and sisters. Hope begins when we recognize our shared humanity.”
For him, Christian hope is not naïve optimism but a radical act of faith. “Hope is not an escape from reality,” he says. “It’s a force that transforms reality. Christ walks among us in San Bernardo not ashamed of our wounds, but ready to heal them. No abyss is deeper than mercy.”
This vision is slowly taking shape through a new community project. The initiative provides a safe space where people can wash, receive medical care, share a meal, and if they wish begin the journey away from addiction. It is also a space for reconciliation, where longtime residents can meet the homeless not as threats but as neighbors.
“When a community opens its doors to those who suffer,” reflects Fr. Charly, “it grows. It discovers Jesus in new ways and receives His blessing.”
In the midst of the chaos, the parish stands as a sign of quiet resistance a testament that mercy can bloom even in places of despair.
San Bernardo remains a neighborhood on the margins, but in the compassion of its priests and parishioners, a new story is being written one where despair meets mercy, and mercy gives birth to hope.
As evening falls and the streets of “Sanber” grow dim, the bells of Our Lady of Sorrows continue to ring calling the forgotten home, and reminding Bogotá that no one, not even the most broken, is beyond the reach of love.