“A Cross, A Meal, A Mission”: When Fr. Chicho Came to the Shrine

June 26, 2025 – Shrine of Our Lady of the Snows

The Shrine of Our Lady of the Snows has always held stories within its peaceful expanse—tales of healing, mission, and quiet devotion. But on June 26, 2025, amid the countless acres of serene, beautiful nature that encircle the Shrine, a new story unfolded: a shared meal that became a blessed moment for the employee community.

That day, Fr. Luis Ignacio Rois Alonso, OMI, affectionately known as Fr. Chicho, the Superior General of the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate, visited the Shrine—not with pomp or formality, but with warmth, candor, and a cross older than any Oblate trail or chapel on the grounds. His presence turned a simple meal with employees into something enlightening.

Coming directly from the airport, Fr. Chicho had a quick bite before presenting himself to the employees on the Shrine grounds. Laughter and stories flowed easily from his talk. One of the first tales he shared drew knowing chuckles across the room: “When I was finishing my formation for ordination, I asked to be sent to China. The Superior General then , Fr. Marcelo Zago, OMI sent me to Spain instead.” The humor wasn’t lost—especially since he’s originally from Spain. But the message that followed resonated deeply: “Mission isn’t always a distant place—it’s often our own people, our own family. That’s the harder mission.”

He then journeyed through stories that spanned decades and continents—from the urban margins of Madrid to the sun-scorched barrenness of Western Sahara. In regions where proselytizing is forbidden by Muslim law, the Oblates still preach—but through the gospel of presence, of living lives so infused with compassion that others read the gospel in their way of being – in the Oblate way of life.

He described his years in Western Sahara with tenderness and pride—where Muslim neighbors became partners in community, and the mission lived not in words, but in acts of friendship and shared service. “Even when the laws forbid the Gospel, our lives can still proclaim it.”

And yet, Fr. Chicho insisted, the mission doesn’t belong solely to the religious.

“We’re 3,400 Oblates, yes—but there are many, many more of you: lay associates, staff, friends. You’re not our helpers. You’re family.”

Fr. Chicho envisioned a day when Oblates and laypeople would gather at one table—not to be taught, but to learn from one another how the Spirit moves uniquely in each life. “We don’t give you the charism. We discover it together.”

Conversation turned to prayer—especially the prayer for vocations. With joy, he shared the improbable fruit of one such prayer: “While on Western Sahara, the Oblates asked the Holy Spirit for a vocation from the Western Sahara. Impossible, they said. And now we have our first lay associate from there. Because nothing is impossible with God.”

Fr. Chicho then opened the floor for questions from employees. When asked about Turkmenistan, his tone turned reflective. He described their ministry—delicate and patient—where Oblates move town to town, sometimes finding just one Christian, offering accompaniment through presence more than proclamation. Despite limitations, he expressed deep hope: “With just a little help, we can do much for the people there.”

As the conversation drew to a close, he revealed something precious: the 200+ year-old Oblate cross of St. Eugene de Mazenod, the founding Oblate. “You can imagine how many times he prayed with this cross. How many poor he blessed. Even Pope Francis kissed it when I was elected.”

Then, with reverence and a quiet sense of joy, he offered a blessing to everyone present, lifting St. Eugene’s cross high and praying aloud:

“May Almighty God give us the love of the Father for all creation… the love of Jesus for the poor… and the love of the Holy Spirit that we may become saints, witnesses of the Gospel.”

Afterward, staff and visitors were invited to venerate the cross—approaching with reverence, some offering prayers or silent gestures of devotion. It wasn’t just about tradition. It was a moment of communion, of being reminded that mission isn’t somewhere else. It’s wherever love takes root.

As the visit concluded, it was noted that this was his second visit to the U.S. Province in his brief tenure as Superior General. A gift, surely—but one matched by the gratitude of those who welcomed him.

And long after he left, something lingered in the air—like the fragrance of incense or the hush after prayer. A sense of shared calling. A table that reached beyond borders. And a cross that still blesses the poor wherever it goes.