It has been five days since the curtain rose on ComWeek 2025, and the Catholic Institute of West Africa (CIWA) has since blossomed into a veritable sanctum of intellectual fire and liturgical splendour, its every corridor echoing with the cadence of theological insight and cultural symphony. Like a cathedral newly awakened to the chant of Pentecost, CIWA has turned into a beehive of exhilarating engagements, transcending mere festivity to become a lived encounter with the very soul of communication.

The inaugural moment came not with fanfare, but with incense and solemn intonation—a High Mass that bore the solemn gravity of ecclesiastical tradition, celebrated by the distinguished Rev. Fr. Dr. Okhueleigbe Osemhantie Amos of  Communication Department. It was no regular liturgy; it was a plunge into the deep waters of the sacred, where the Canon of the Mass was not merely recited but reverently enacted, echoing with gradiour that seemed to have leapt from the Vatican loggia itself. The atmosphere trembled with mystery and awe, and Fr. John Effiong’s homily did not only  preach as pierce—it was a homily that bled truth, delivered with the candour of a prophet and the cadence of a bard. As if summoned from the threshold of glory, CIWA Choir rendered melodies that thinned the veil between time and eternity, making it seem that angels had borrowed the lips of men.

Barely had the echoes faded when the venerable Very Rev. Fr. Prof. Anthony Umoren, in less than 24 hours,  transformed CIWA into a radiant Francophone agora. That day, language was no barrier; it was the bridge. French became not a foreign tongue, but a sacred instrument of unity. The Mass recalled the majesty of Notre Dame de Paris, not in stone, but in spirit. And at its epicentre stood Fr. JohnPeter Bebeley of Sierra Leone, whose homily did not merely translate languages, but transfigured them, forging a spiritual congress between Anglophone and Francophone, where hearts beat in unison and tongues danced in harmony.

That evening, CIWA lifted her gaze beyond her immediate horizons to Rome, to the Pope, to the world. It was the moment of the World Communications Day Message, and Fr. William Ozuluonye delivered it with such eloquence that even silence seemed to applaud. His words carved a Nigerian visage onto a global message, birthing a contextual theology of media that was both local and universal. But the narrative didn’t end there. Sr. Apollonia Budzee from Cameroon ascended the podium and embroidered the moment with a Cameroonian textile so textured in authenticity that one could smell the red soil of Yaoundé and hear the ancient drums beneath her cadence. And then came Fr. Bebeley again, this time refracting Papal message through the prism of Sierra Leone. His voice, gentle yet weighty, affirmed with unflinching clarity that the Church speaks not to a continent or colony but to the whole world.

If the earlier days were studded with ecclesial and academic gems, Tuesday erupted into a lively clash of intellect and charisma. After an evening Mass presided over by Fr. Dr. Samuel Peter Gwimi and made luminous by the lucid and lyrical homily of Fr. Livinus Okafor, the day spiraled into a tournament of minds. It was not a symposium, it was a symposium ablaze—a debate where the departments of Mass Communication, Philosophy, and Religious Studies met in dignified contest. Every argument unfurled like a well-inked parchment, every rebuttal struck with the force of a monk’s quill dipped in truth. The hall overflowed with audience, their breaths held, their eyes bright, their minds alight. Time itself seemed reluctant to move forward. The Master of Ceremonies gestured to the clock, but even time deferred to the brilliance on display. The final decision? That, perhaps, resides in the sacred silence of the jury, led with unerring discernment by the ever-discerning Sr. Dr. Maria Natalia Ajayi.

Wednesday at CIWA is usually a quiet sanctuary reserved for a Noon Community Mass. But this Wednesday defied predictability. What took place was not only  Eucharistic, but a liturgical renaissance. In defiance of uniformity, there was a deeper unity: students and staff adorned in charming "old-school" attire, their sartorial homage to memory and tradition. At the altar stood Fr. Prof. Luke Ijezie, who summoned Latin not as a dead tongue but as a living river of praise. The entire Mass, flowing in the mother tongue of the Church, was a sonic echo of the First African Synod, a re-living of that Roman moment when Pope St. John Paul II convened the continent into ecclesial relevance. One did not need to fly to Rome to taste the majesty of a Vatican rite; CIWA had brought Rome home. The choir, by then polyglot and transcendent, rendered Gregorian chant and vernacular hymns with astonishing fluidity, creating a celestial bridge between memory and mission.

Then came Thursday—the Solemnity of the Lord’s Ascension—when CIWA once again appeared to have developed its own ritual gravity. Celebrated in English by the erudite Fr. Dr. Peter Onwuka of  Biblical Theology Department, the Mass was as luminous as the mystery it re-enacted. The preacher, Revd Fr. Joseph Aghulu,  stretched the metaphor of ascension beyond the clouds; he made it touch our very spines. His words breathed mission, rebuked apathy, and reawakened the discipleship dormant in pews. The Mass was sung from start to finish, not as performance but as a poured-out oblation of joy. It was rich, sumptuous, and intoxicating in its depth—new praises sprang up like roses beneath the feet of the ascended Christ.

But CIWA is not a cloister. It is a lighthouse. This afternoon, students and staff journeyed beyond their intellectual citadel to the towns of Umorie and Obehie, where they bore not only gifts of choicest words  but presence—spreading the gospel of gentle and responsible communication, both online and offline, through the currency of human contact. It was evangelization in praxis, a mission in motion.

And yet, the week is still unfinished. What remains lies hidden in the womb of providence and the designs of the planning committee. But this much is certain: to miss what is unfolding at CIWA in this sacred week is to miss a rare confluence of the sacred, the scholarly, and the celebratory. So let this be your clarion call: race to CIWA, and drink deep of the chalice of ComWeek 2025—before the incense fades and the final Ite missa est is proclaimed.