By Valentine Obienyem
Today’s Mass for Trinity Sunday was celebrated by Fr. Nwayo – a name I have personally coined for him, in fond jest, to replace his actual name, Fr. Jidere Chigozie. Why “Fr. Nwayo”? Because everything about him – his speech, his gait, his pastoral manner – is imbued with a gentleness so striking that one cannot help but be reminded of the Igbo word “nwayo”, meaning “gently” or “calmly.” He embodies the word not only in movement but in spirit. His presence does not seek attention; it invites peace. His liturgical gestures are never hurried, his homilies are measured and thoughtful, and his interactions radiate the kind of humility that is increasingly rare. He carries out his priestly duties without fuss, spectacle, or the clamour of self-importance; his ministry flows with the silent efficacy of grace itself – unobtrusive yet deeply transformative. In a noisy world that often mistakes volume for virtue, Fr. Nwayo’s quietude becomes its own homily.
This habit of renaming reminds me of the nickname culture we practised in school. In 1987, we had a teacher from the then College of Education, Awka, who came to our school for teaching practice. His favourite topic – one that Mr. Samuel Oruchalu would surely remember because both of us renowned for mischief stayed close to each other – was “Demand and Supply.” Naturally, we called him “Demand.” One day, clearly fed up, he said, “Since you people have decided to call me Demand, I hereby name you Supply.” The name stuck.
Others, too, received nicknames derived from their peculiarities. Our Biology teacher, Fr. Charles Ugochukwu, was dubbed “Aperture” for his constant emphasis on that term while explaining that the eye has a little aperture. Mr. Peter Obi’s younger brother, Fr. Fabian Obi, was known as “I Force You,” because of his insistence that we always do the right thing – by any means necessary. Fr. Anthony Akabogu, who had a meticulous eye for aesthetics, especially flowers and tidiness, would often send students to water the flowers or pick up stray refuse. He was simply called “Zim” – “ọ na ezi osi gwoogwo.”
Fr. Anthony Ejesiem, the Latin maestro, earned the name “Ntachi” for his frequent use of that word in describing a particularly stubborn-built seminarian – one capable of withstanding shocks. I amused him in those days when, as our Auxiliary, I went to his room for a reason I can no longer recall, but ended up requesting to borrow a book I saw on his table: Cosmic Consciousness. His joking response, delivered in amused disbelief, was: “Nwoke, at this age, ichọrọ ịpụ ara?” Mr. Chukwudi Muojekwu was so meticulous in his teaching that we still remember how he demonstrated different types of joints using his own body when he taught us at the Junior Secondary level about about hinge and ball-and-socket joints. He was called “Opoley”; as opposition leader, he was firm and never wavered from his stance.
Then there was Dr. Cosmas Okpalebebu. I served him when he was a teacher. On one occasion, he prepared a quiz competition for the school. While sweeping his room, I came across the prepared questions and read them thoroughly. During the quiz, I answered several questions with ease. One particular question was: “Prof. Bolaji Akinyemi is for Nigeria, while ….. is for Ghana.” I got it right. He grew suspicious and later called me to his room, where he rephrased some of the questions for me to answer. I got them wrong. He confronted me, suggesting that I had seen the questions before the competition. I can no longer recall whether I admitted it or lied – but he was certain. His signature warning to students was always memorable: “If you meddle with me, I’ll show you that rear tyres cannot overcome the front ones, and that blood is thicker than water.” Naturally, he earned the nickname “Onye Nmedulu.” These names – always telling, always earned – became part of the unwritten jokes of our formative years.
In that same spirit, I renamed Fr. Jidere “Fr. Nwayo.” And true to his name, his homily today was as calm as it was profound.
On this Trinity Sunday, Fr. Nwayo’s sermon rested on four thoughtful pillars: the mystery of the Trinity itself, the example of St. Augustine’s struggle to comprehend it, the scriptural basis of the doctrine, and its spiritual implications for our lives.
He began by acknowledging the unfathomable nature of the Trinity: one God in three Persons – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. “It is a mystery,” he said, “not in the sense of a puzzle to be solved, but a depth into which we are invited to gaze in awe.” To illustrate, he retold the famous story of St. Augustine who, while meditating on the Trinity, encountered a child trying to pour the ocean into a hole. When Augustine pointed out the impossibility of the task, the child responded, “So too, O Augustine, you cannot pour the mystery of God into your finite mind.” Whether historical or allegorical, the lesson is eternal- the finite cannot understand the infinite.
Fr. Nwayo then delved into Scripture to illuminate the mystery of the Trinity. He began with the Book of Genesis, where God says, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness” (Genesis 1:26). Though veiled in the Old Testament, the plural form – “let us” – has long been interpreted by the Church as a mysterious yet profound pointer to the Trinitarian nature of God. It reveals that from the very beginning, God is not a solitary monad but a communion – a divine fellowship of Persons acting in unity. The act of creation itself is already a whisper of the Trinity, with God the Father speaking the Word and the Spirit hovering over the waters (Genesis 1:2), thus involving all three divine Persons in the very fabric of creation.
From there, Fr. Nwayo moved to the majestic prologue of St. John’s Gospel: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). Here, the evangelist identifies the pre-existent Christ – the Word (Logos) – as both with God and as God, thereby establishing the eternal relationship between the Father and the Son. John continues: “All things were made through Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made” (John 1:3), confirming the Son’s co-eternity and role in creation. And in verse 14, the mystery deepens: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us,” making visible what was hidden, and disclosing the Trinitarian God through the incarnation. Here, he made a passing but very important comment on the fact that some Christian denominations – such as the Jehovah’s Witnesses – altered parts of the Bible to align with their rejection of the Trinity, as seen in their translation of John 1:1: ‘…and the Word was a god,’ rather than ‘…and the Word was God.’”
In this context, Fr. Nwayo recalled Christ’s words to Philip in John 14:9: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” This powerful statement reinforces the unity of essence between the Father and the Son. Jesus, while distinct in Person, fully reveals the Father. There is no separation in being or divinity, what the Father is, the Son is also, eternally and perfectly.
Finally, Fr. Nwayo pointed to the Baptism of Christ – a pivotal moment recorded in all three synoptic Gospels (cf. Matthew 3:16–17; Mark 1:10–11; Luke 3:21–22). As Jesus emerged from the waters of the Jordan, the heavens opened, the Holy Spirit descended in the form of a dove, and the Father’s voice declared from heaven: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” This scene is not merely symbolic – it is revelatory. It presents a vivid unveiling of the Triune God: the Son being baptised, the Spirit descending, and the Father affirming. In that moment, the mystery of the Trinity is not explained, but displayed – one God in three divine Persons, acting in harmony.
Through these sacred texts, Fr. Nwayo gently drew us into the heart of Christian doctrine: that God, while One in essence, exists eternally as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit -co-equal, co-eternal, and bound in a perfect communion of love.
Fr. Nwayo insisted that the Trinity is not merely a dogma to be believed but a divine life to be lived. He urged us to become living temples of the Holy Spirit. “Just as we clean the church regularly,” he said, “so must we cleanse our souls of hatred, envy, and unforgiveness, that the Spirit might dwell in us.” The Trinity, he said, is a relationship of perfect love and unity; our homes and hearts should reflect that.
As we celebrate this sublime doctrine of the Trinity, it is important to remember that it did not fall from the sky fully formed, nor was it universally accepted without challenge. From the earliest centuries of the Church, this truth was contested, misinterpreted, and even outright denied. Heresies such as Modalism, which reduced the three Persons to mere modes or appearances of one God acting in different roles, failed to capture the relational distinctiveness within the Godhead. Then came Arianism, far more dangerous, which denied the full divinity of Christ and claimed that the Son was a creature, not co-eternal with the Father. The implications of Arianism were grave: if Christ is not truly God, then He cannot truly save.
It was in response to these grave errors that the Church, moved by the Holy Spirit, convened Councils – notably Nicaea (325 AD) and Constantinople (381 AD) – to solemnly affirm the truth that the Son is consubstantial (homoousios) with the Father, and that the Holy Spirit is likewise fully divine. These declarations were not abstract theology; they were the lifeblood of Christian identity and salvation. The Athanasian Creed, the Cappadocian Fathers, and later Augustine all laboured to articulate a mystery that, while never fully grasped, could be faithfully confessed: one God in three co-equal, co-eternal Persons.
Thus, the doctrine of the Trinity is not a man-made formulation, but a carefully discerned truth, rooted in Scripture, refined in controversy, and handed down through the ages in the life of the Church. From whispered prayers to soaring liturgies, from the waters of baptism to the solemn doxology – “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit” – this belief remains central to who we are.
Let those of us who have been shaped by this living tradition not only hold to it, but cherish it. Let us be ready to explain it, defend it, and above all, live it – not with prideful certainty, but with the quiet joy of those who have been drawn, by grace, into the very life of the Triune God.
Happy Trinity Sunday.
Congratulations to Dr. Callistus Aguinam
I had intended to write this yesterday, but the day swept me along with its full tide of engagements. Yet, even belatedly, I must pause to congratulate Dr. Callistus Aguinam and his wife, Chidimma, who was joined in holy matrimony yesterday – a momentous occasion graced by beauty, solemnity, and reflection.
There are moments in life that cause us to look back and marvel at the mysterious symmetry of time. Dr. Aguinam, who was not yet born when I was in the Seminary, during my own formation years, would later become my lecturer at Nnamdi Azikiwe University. Not only that, I had the honour, alongside my dear wife, of being the sponsor at his wedding. Life has a poetic way of folding the pages of our stories back onto themselves.
As an ex-seminarian, it was heartening to witness the sheer number of priests who concelebrated the Nuptial Mass – many of them his classmates, Godfather, distinguished lecturers at UNIZIK. Their presence was not merely ceremonial but points to fraternity and the enduring bonds formed in the seminary and the university.
The homily, rich in insight and imagination, was delivered by the ever-thoughtful Rev. Fr. Dr. Ignatius Onwuatuegwu. His approach, characteristically philosophical, began by describing the union of Cally and his bride not as a mere meeting, but as an encounter – borrowing from Martin Buber’s concept. In doing so, he cautioned against the modern tendency to objectify one’s partner, reducing sacred intimacy to transactional utility.
Fr. Onwuatuegwu drew our attention to the Book of Genesis, noting that unlike other creatures who came into being through spoken command, woman was fashioned through a sacred act – God’s first ‘surgery’, in which a rib was taken from Adam to create Eve. One rib taken, one life formed. In that mystery lies a truth: man, having lost a rib, is incomplete; woman, created from that rib, is also incomplete. Thus, husband and wife must complement each other to become whole – two becoming one flesh.
He addressed the proper understanding of headship in marriage – not as an instrument of chauvinism, but as a necessary principle of order. Every institution must have a head, and in the family, the husband assumes this role, not to dominate, but to serve, protect, and lead with love. With pastoral wisdom, Fr. Onwuatuegwu handed the couple what can be called the “manual for peaceful co-existence” – spoken with the air of one who had tasted marriage in some previous incarnation!
In a delightful aside, he even playfully attempted an interesting etymology of the word “marriage” – a topic for another day.
Finally, he brought the couple into communion with the profound teaching of St. John Paul II, who described the family as the “nuclear church.” In this church, Dr. Aguinam now stands as the parish priest, responsible for the spiritual formation and well-being of their future children. His wife, Chidimma, was reminded of her noble role, not merely as a wife, but as a nurturing mother. In a beautifully humorous yet touching remark, Fr. Onwuatuegwu urged her to treat her husband as her first son, deserving of patience, respect, and tender care.
The entire ceremony was suffused with reverence, joy, and wisdom – an embodiment of what a Christian wedding ought to be.
Once again, heartfelt congratulations to Dr. Callistus Aguinam and his lovely bride. May your union be ever fruitful, your home ever peaceful, and your love ever new.
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