The following remarks are an introduction to Fr. Joseph's tribute to Bishop Anthony, and explain its posting on my blog. If you are from Nigeria, skip the remarks and scroll down to the tribute. If not, reading the introduction may be helpful.
It so happens Fr. Joe was in the middle of a visit here in the states when he received a phone call from Nigeria, telling him of Bishop Anthony's death, and calling him home to help with the funeral perparations.
Joe had time to speak at length about Bishop Anthony, and I was deeply impressed by how close he felt to his retired Ordinary. I am used to the priest-bishop relationship we have here in the Northeast, so the deep friendship between Joe and his bishop came as a surprise to me. Another surprise was that bishops in Nigeria are addressed as "Your Lordship". I call my Ordinary "Archbishop", and when writing or addresing a letter, "Your Excellency". I don't think those terms are especially formal, nor overly familiar. I would probably choke, however, before I could call my bishop "Your Lordship". Of course, the use of the terms is purely cultural. and in Joe's situation, his customary salutation would be as natural and normal as my saying "Archbishop", or "Your Excellency" . Nonetheless, I was surprised that Joe could regard anybody he called "Your Lordship" as a friend and brother, indeed as a spiritual father. Titles do have a way of emphasizing difference and creating distance between persons.
The first memory Joe shared was his confrontation with Bishop Anthony a few weeks after his ordination.The bishop had him running from one outpost to another, without any break in between. After doing this a few times, Joe was exhausted, especially when he saw that the other newly ordained in his class were getting much better treatment than he was. He didn't mind a tough assignment now and then, but as a permanent diet, well, it was more than he could stomach. He called the bishop's office to make an appointment, discussed his problem a bit with the priest in charge of the bishop's calender, and was given a time to come in. So, in he went, to have it out with the bishop about the unfair treatment he was receiving, protesting about the hardship and difficulty he was going through, only to be utterly disarmed by the bishop's response. That is the first encounter Fr. Joe describes in his tribute.
The term "Iroko" also calls for explanation. In English , the Iroko is called the Ironwood, or Teak wood Tree. It is a rich cultural symbol throughout Nigeria. In Joe's essay, the tree stands for a man of great stature, not so much because of physical strength or height, but because of his character and leadership ability.
The Iroko has fallen! A rare gem is gone!
You were a role model and a paragon of virtue for me, Most Rev. Dr. Anthony E Ilonu. My encounters with you taught me more than I can say. You exemplified humility. I remember the first time I took issue with you, how attentively and calmly you listened to all my frustrations and imagined injustices, and how gently you spoke to me when I was finally done venting my anger. You took the time to explain your reasoning to me, step by step, and you ended by softly saying: "I sent you because I knew you were equal to the task." As I left you that day, somewhat embarrassed at my misjudgment, the priest who had advised me to express myself frankly told me: "Never argue with a man who has nothing to lose." If ever there was such a man, that man was you. You had nothing to hide, nothing to defend, no arrogance or pride, no Ego that you were trying to protect, no high opinion of yourself. Your humility totally disarmed me. You did not use your authority as a bishop, but brought yourself down to my level and explained things to me.
You taught me devotion to prayer. Most days, after you returned from the cathedral building site, I would see you with your breviary, moving up the path to the fountain, or praying the rosary. As you left on pastoral visits, your first point of call was the rectory chapel to say or complete your office.
You were a hard worker. From the time you got the land to build the cathedral, you spent your time, energy, and creativity making that site take the shape it has today. I will never forget the day I went down with you, all the way down, to the cathedral foundation, how we narrowly escaped death when the sandy wall caved in on us.
In financial matters, regarding money and what it can buy, you taught me not to be attached to mammon.I learnt from you how to live a life of sacrifice, how to give of myself and what ever material goods I have for the good of others. Your simplicity still confounds my imagination. At the creation of Kafanchan diocese, your drove down to Kaduna, where John and I were studying communications, to visit and see your flock. You did not look for a bishop's residence, a convent, or a classy hotel where you could he comfortable during your stay, but came to rough it out with us in our cramped apartment.
Your meekness was such that, no matter what the insult, slight or great, you controlled your emotions and kept calm. I will never forget one incident that took place in your office. I was rushing in to resolve an explosive situation and restore order, and you calmed me down saying, "Joe, Take it easy, handle it kindly". When there were confusion, doubt, or arguments on pastoral matters, you were always there to clarify the issues, speak plainly and humbly, and settle matters peaceably.
You were creative in your pastoral zeal for your flock. You were a genuine pioneer in the way you began new parishes in the bush country and the hinterlands. Instead of imposing a building on the people that they were not ready for, yours was an organic, step by step approach that grew out of the development of the people's faith. Your creativity was criticized by many at first, but today it has been adopted by many dioceses in Nigeria, because it has borne lasting fruit. For ordinations to the priesthood, you went to local parishes, as well as to distant villages and outposts that were hard to reach because of the terrain, in order to bring the Gospel to the people. You did not sit back, fold your hands, and wait for the government to restore the Catholic schools and property it had confiscated in the civil war, rather you took action. You planned and built Nursery and Primary schools in all the parishes that could sustain them. You did the same with Secondary and Vocational Schools, putting them under the protection of Our Lady, and naming them "Queen of the Apostles" Secondary and Technical Schools.
Your attachment to Mother Mary amazed me. Your zeal to build a magnificent cathedral dedicated to the Immaculate Conception kept a pledge made by our bishops during the civil unrest. They were slow in assisting you, yet you went ahead and fulfilled the promise they made to God because of your devotion to Mary, and your own commitment to honor Her in the diocese.
You were rushed to the hospital on your feast day, Your death came in the early hours of the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, just a day before the feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary.The timing is an eloquent testimony that Our Blessed Mother took you in her very hands and led you to her Son in heaven.
My reflections on your life and my personal encounters with you make the meaning of your coat of arms clearer and clearer to me: "Non nobis, Domine, non nobis...". Not to us, O Lord, not to us. May all power, glory and honor be to You, O Lord! May it be our joy and glory to serve You as priests, serve You as Bishop Anthony did. May we learn from your life Pa Anthony, what it means to be a priest, father, brother, man of God, and disciple of Jesus Christ.
May your gentle soul rest in peace. Omeka Omaghizu jee nke oma. Oje na-nwayoo...Ijeomaooo.
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