At 19, Juan Andrés Verde had practically everything. With an imposing physique weighing 115 kilos, he was a relentless tackler for the Uruguayan under-20 rugby team. He had traveled to youth world championships in England, Japan, and Ireland, was studying veterinary medicine, went out partying, projected a comfortable financial future, and was in a relationship of almost four years. However, behind this facade of success, popularity, and brute force, a dull but persistent inner emptiness was beginning to take hold. He lived, in his own words, trapped in a kind of amusement park: entertained on the outside, but profoundly disoriented on the inside.

The definitive turning point came the day he decided to confront a priest with the arrogance of someone who felt he owned the world. Tired of hearing other people’s speeches, he demanded an explanation of who Jesus was. The response he received wasn’t a compassionate sermon, but a slap of direct honesty that changed his course:  “The thing is, you’re a self-sufficient fatso. As long as you’re full of your own certainties, there will never be room for God in your heart .” That phrase hit him hard. Disoriented and unsure whether to fight or reflect, Juan Andrés began to examine each of the pillars on which he built his life.

Determined to find genuine answers, he chose to forgo his comforts and embark on a mission to the heart of Uruguay. He arrived at the Salesian work in Paiva, a rural setting surrounded by animals, orchards, and workshops where the children of farm laborers were educated. In that isolation, far removed from the glitz of elite sports and parties, faith ceased to be a theoretical inheritance or a custom passed down from his parents, becoming a personal encounter. He experienced an unexpected fullness and joy, discovering that true happiness lay not in living centered on one’s own ego, but in self-sacrifice and service to others.

The Great Emotional Blow, the Unexpected Turn in Vocation, and the Street Fisherman

The process of discerning his vocation was marked by a profound and painful emotional turning point. His girlfriend at the time, Jimena, was the first to bluntly ask the question no one had dared to voice:  “Hey Gordo, have you ever thought about becoming a priest?” Shortly after that conversation, a tragic car accident took Jimena’s life. Grief, mourning, and doubt shook the young athlete’s world, but her question remained, like a seed planted. Determined to resolve his doubts, Juan Andrés took the decisive step and entered the diocesan seminary in Montevideo, convinced years later that “Father Gordo Verde” would not exist without that woman’s presence in his life.

His transition to the priesthood didn’t involve softening his personality or denying his rustic past. Drawing on the Gospel passage of the miraculous catch of fish, he understood that God wasn’t asking him to change his rough nature, but to enhance it. Just as Jesus didn’t ask Peter to stop being a fisherman, but transformed him into a fisher of men, Juan Andrés put his drive, his athletic energy, and his connection with people at the service of the Gospel. He was ordained a priest and chose to live austerely: he settled in a shipping container in the Santa Eugenia settlement, sharing daily life with the most vulnerable families, distributing food on the street, and teaching rugby in the prisons.

Winning by Losing on Television: The MasterChef Kitchen as a Bridge to Build a Neighborhood

Over the years, the figure of Father Verde became extremely popular in Uruguay, winning the affection of both political figures and rural workers. However, his greatest public challenge came when he decided to participate in  MasterChef Celebrity Uruguay . His foray into television kitchens wasn’t driven by a desire for fame or personal recognition, but by a very specific goal: to raise awareness of the families living in shacks and to secure donations for the Cireneos Foundation and its  Rancho Cero project .

During the culinary competition, he didn’t hesitate to express his faith naturally, cooking dishes dedicated to saints like  creamy papiesca  —Saint John Paul II’s favorite dessert—and drawing crosses with powdered sugar on his presentations. Although he reached the grand final and ultimately lost the competition in the last dish, the priest often recalls with a laugh that losing was the best thing that could have happened to him. That televised defeat became a massive community victory: the on-screen exposure mobilized the solidarity of thousands of people, raising the necessary funds to build more than 300 decent homes for homeless families. Today, at 36, he continues to play the most demanding game of his life in the poorest neighborhoods, demonstrating that faith isn’t lived from a place of comfort, but by putting everything on the line in the mud.