In some moments of deep reflection you may look at yourself and find  totally unexplainable events or circumstances that not only transformed your way of life in the world but radically overhauled your soul leading it along the path of greater closeness to God. In particular, you may find your mind has been blown open making it so easy for you to have a direct and immediate friend-to-friend conversation with God. The contemplative soul in the middle of the world is, to me, the highest state of being. Fr. Munoz, my good friend over the years has held me in his strong, loving hands and led me along the path that brought me face to face with Our Lord as I sit with my thoughts. A very sweet man, he will be fifty years a priest on August 9, 2009. I always tell him that if he got to heaven and St. Peter gave him a hard time before letting him in, all he need say is “Look at all I did for the Nwagwus.” “Ah! Please come in Louis, yes, yes, you moved mountains for the Nwagwus,” the ‘guardian with the keys to heaven’ would say.

I am writing this piece at Brock University, St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada, where my wife, Helen, is a 1974 alumna in clinical psychology and I, formerly, an associate professor. Now, our grandson, Chidozie Daniels, will be a freshman in September and we are here to introduce him to our friends and see him go through registration. He is the son of our daughter Ugochi and Onuora, at whose wedding Fr. Munoz was the officiating priest in January 1991. I was so happy that when it was time for dancing, I briefly abandoned Helen and went over to Fr. Munoz, took his unwilling hands and lifted him up for a dance. After a few embarrassing steps he quietly and prudently reminded me, “Mark, this is not your wedding.” I got the message and let the genial Father return to his seat. Yes he is a priest. To me, he is my friend.  

I do not clearly remember when I first met Fr. Munoz. He would invite me to what I just did not understand at the time – what he called ‘meditation’ and ‘day of recollection’. I went to one or two and no more. He visited our home continually for over fifteen years. He never let me rest; ever inviting me to his ‘meditations’ and ‘days of recollection’ most of which I did not attend. Still, he did not relent: he kept on after me. What surprised me the most was that we forged a close friendship. Religion or no religion, priest or not, I liked the man and had profound regard for his mind and mien: he was simple, sincere, and sensitive. After Ugochi’s wedding in 1991, it was Helen’s fiftieth birthday in 1993. We had invited a small circle of friends to Mass and desired to use Irawo University Centre. This is a students’ residence under the spiritual direction of Opus Dei with all the freedom and naturalness of academic life, in a setting of ordinary, wholesome living. We savoured the exquisite surroundings and the idyllic chapel ensconced therein. Fr. Munoz accommodated my request and celebrated the Mass at Irawo. Little did I know at the time that such Masses were not normally held at Centres of Opus Dei. When later I asked my genteel friend why he had allowed the Mass he said, “Mark, how can I say no to you and Helen.” And I was not a regular attendee at his meditations and other means of spiritual direction to which he ceaselessly invited me. He was simply my friend.

Oh, I must have given his priestly soul a lot of trouble with my freewheeling lifestyle at the time! He never abandoned me. He was never judgemental. He was ever mild and sought after my soul with all the authority of priesthood. “Mark, God has such few friends,” he would counsel me, inviting me to be a friend of God. That is to say, if you consider me as your friend, better still, be a friend of God.

As our parish priest, he was there for our daughter, Onyema’s wedding, for Helen’s sixtieth birthday anniversary, for our son, Uzoma’s wedding. And when we had what seemed like intractable problems with our son, Ikemefula’s marriage, my good friend’s advice saved the situation. He had baptized our grandson, Chidozie, and prepared him and another granddaughter, Akunne, for Holy Communion. He read my Inaugural Lecture and amended the title; and all three of my University Lectures and made corrections. He taught me that if someone went to a restaurant for steak, he should not be served fish – that I should always be faithful to the chosen topic I wished to address. He is a consummate scholar, ever stretching his abilities to new limits, impatient with indolence, enlightening our minds on tradition and the continuing dominance of history in everyday life. His Inaugural Lecture, “For the sake of Tradition” makes a resounding case for the virtues of tradition. His first book, The Virtues, based on a series of lectures he gave at Irawo is a masterpiece.

A faithful disciple exponent of the late Pope John Paul II, he devoured all his encyclicals and was elated whenever his homily was based on one of them. When the Pope said Mass at the University of Ibadan during his visit to Nigeria in 1982, Fr. Monoz’s energies, resilience and ingenuity were taxed beyond measure to ensure that the visit would be a monumental piece of history. And it was! After the Mass, my good friend was totally exhausted. I found him and tried to hold him up, so wearied did he look. Soaked in sweat, his academic gown had fallen off his shoulders and was now sweeping the dust. But he was still able to walk unaided and we proceeded to my home. He downed a well-chilled Star and filled up with Helen’s choice stewed

goat-meat. “You’ve saved a dying man, Helen,” he would rejoice.

The Pope’s homily had admonished us, university men and women, that we were the salt of the earth; the light of the world; a city set on hills. With the splendour of papal love he challenged us: “The future ‘style’ of your society is in your hands.” Fr. Munoz had these immortal words inscribed on the outer entrance of the Catholic Church of Our Lady Seat of Wisdom and they live there till this day reminding us of the huge task ahead of us. Also, the huge cross that set an atmosphere of sanctity and sacrifice for the Eucharistic celebration at the sports grounds now stands at the back of the Church. My friend wanted to capture as much as he could of John Paul The Great’s presence at Ibadan and preserve same in the Church.           

My dear friend’s efforts were not lost: years later I became a faithful of Opus Dei and with unbounded joy embraced all that was offered me in this spiritual way of life that is much like that of the early Christians. Late, one evening he was on his way into the residence. I greeted him and he said, “Mark, we used to be such good friends, now everything seems so formal.” My heart received a thousand volt charge of sorrow. Oh, had I become so distant from Louis?      

His health has not been as robust as it once was. There he is cooped up in his little room. Whenever I walk the corridor to go and see him, and take in a good whiff of the aroma of his pipe, I am filled with joy because it means my good friend is in reasonably good health. In times past, I would always get him his favourite The Balkan Sobranno pipe tobacco. Oh, he is so good to me. Once when I stepped into his room, he smiled a big salubrious smile. I asked him why he was so happy and he said, “it’s because I saw you.” I smiled an even bigger salubrious smile. He was present at my valedictory lecture in 2002 and at our last official activity at Ibadan, Helen’s valedictory in March this year. On the day we left Ibadan, for Obetiti, Nguru, on June 20, we went to see my good friend to receive his blessing. And he gladly obliged us! 

On August 9, 2009, Rev. (Prof.) Louis J. Munoz would have been a priest for fifty years. Regrettably, we shall not be at any of the events that mark this milestone. Greater joy than this I cannot have than to say, Father, you are my friend.