There are men who prefer the quiet corridor to the public square; men whose achievements speak loudly while their voices remain measured. Very Revd Fr. Dr. Anselm Izuade Ekhelar belongs unmistakably to that noble category. In his characteristic self-effacing manner, he may not welcome elaborate celebration. Yet it is my settled conviction that a tribute rendered to the living is worth more than a thousand eloquent obituaries. Gratitude is most meaningful when the recipient can still hear it.
Born on 15 February in Ogbona, Edo State, he was ordained a priest on September 9, 1989, in Benin City. He embraced the sacred vocation at a time when the Church in Nigeria required men of both intellectual stamina and pastoral depth. Over three decades later, the fruit of that “yes” continues to multiply, quietly but unmistakably, in the lives of those he has formed and guided.
His early formation at St. Paul’s Seminary, Benin City, and subsequent philosophical and theological studies at Ss. Peter and Paul Major Seminary, Bodija, Ibadan, prepared the ground. But it was his advanced studies at the Pontifical Urbaniana University in Rome, where he obtained a Doctorate in Philosophy, that refined the intellectual edge many of us encountered in the classroom. His scholarship was not ornamental; it was foundational. His grammar was polished, his thought structured, his accent firm without affectation. Listening to him was to encounter clarity in motion.
I write as one privileged to have come under his tutelage for eight formative years. Those were not merely academic years; they were years of shaping, chiselling, and refinement. In the seminary environment where reverence often created a certain distance, Fr. Ekhelar commanded respect in a manner that made one instinctively careful. It was not fear. It was regard. We kept a measured distance, not because he was unapproachable, but because his intellectual depth and disciplined carriage inspired awe.
Providence, however, closed the distance. By house allocation, I found myself a member of his house. During house Masses, he spoke with a closeness that surprised many of us. The priest at the altar was the same man who, in the classroom, held us spellbound. His diction was polished; his grammar, pristine; his accent, commanding yet never ostentatious. One could not sit through his lectures inattentively. Punctuality, in his class, was not merely expected, it was instinctive. Reverence made us early.
To my amazement, he knew our names. That detail, small as it may seem, spoke volumes. At the close of each lecture, he would gently ask whether there were questions. Seeing him as Vice Rector, we would prefer to be mute. With measured candour, he would call one by name and invite a contribution. Once the hesitant voice found courage, he would laugh warmly and ask why the earlier silence. The entire class would erupt in shared mirth, and in that moment, learning became not merely academic but human.
He loved precision in language and seriousness of purpose. He loved intellectual rigour. And yet he equally loved vitality. Aware that many of us were regular footballers at the informal “Wembley Stadium” behind his residence, he would occasionally tease us in class. “I love the energy,” he would say, “I love the movement, but the talking must be done in good expression.” It was correction without humiliation, discipline without harshness. We adjusted, not out of compulsion, but out of desire to meet his standard.
There were moments that revealed his personal investment in us. I recall leaving the chapel one morning after Mass, hurrying toward a function, when I uttered something in pidgin. He turned sharply and asked who had said that. I owned up immediately. He paused and responded, “Oh no, you? You are goal-oriented and organised.” Seeing how I felt, having disappointed him, he simply said, “Don’t do that again.” It was not a rebuke of language alone; it was a reminder of identity and aspiration. In that brief exchange, he affirmed who he believed I was and who I ought to remain. And sincerely, it was life-changing.
Seeing a struggling seminarian, he would privately call him and engage. At best, you would never hear it from him, but from the very seminarian helped by his quiet counselling. He expected the best of his seminarians. Beyond the act of lecturing, he would pause to tell us about the priesthood and its nature. One statement I never forget he made: when we returned from pastoral year, he welcomed us in class during his lecture on Public Speaking and said, “Many things would have attracted you to the priesthood. Now that you are back from pastoral year, to begin your theological studies, purify your intentions.” For me, that was counsel too great to be forgotten.
When he was elevated as pioneer Rector of St. Albert the Great Major Seminary in Abeokuta, Ogun State, it was no surprise. Leadership, in his case, was a natural extension of formation. To build a new seminary requires more than administrative competence; it demands vision, intellectual credibility, moral authority, and pastoral balance. Those who had sat under him already knew he possessed these in generous measure. His years as a formator and Vice Rector had already proven that he understood not only how to teach theology, but how to form priests.
In my post-seminary days, even now, when I write articles, he carefully reads and tells me, “Send this to so-and-so newspaper; it will be good for public consumption.” Even outside the seminary walls, his mentorship continues. Guidance, for him, is not confined to office hours or institutional boundaries.
Today, as Very Revd Fr. Dr. Anselm Ekhelar marks another year of life, what stands out is not merely his academic attainment or ecclesiastical distinction, but his enduring influence. He formed minds, yes, but more importantly, he shaped dispositions. He refined speech, sharpened thought, instilled discipline, and modelled dignity. He demonstrated that excellence is not noise; it is quiet consistency. He showed that language matters, that identity matters, that formation is a lifelong project.
For some, he was Rector. For others, Lecturer. For many, Spiritual Father. For me, he remains a compass, one whose example invites admiration and imitation, inspiration rather than competition.
On this anniversary of his birth, I salute a teacher who understood that education is not the transfer of information but the cultivation of persons. I wish him robust health of mind and body, serenity of spirit, and the quiet joy that comes from seeing one’s labour bear fruit in generations formed.
Happy Birthday, Very Revd Fr. Dr. Anselm Ekhelar.
Fr. Dr. Okhueleigbe Osemhantie Amos
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