… The martyrdom that demands justice
Nigeria is fast becoming a killing field for her priests. Last week, the bullets that cut down Rev. Fr. Matthew Eya on the lonely Eha-Alumonah–Eha-Ndiagu Road did not just strike one man — they pierced the conscience of a nation that has become numb to bloodshed. Fr. Eya was not a politician, not a warlord, not a man of controversy. He was a cleric, a quiet servant of the altar, returning home after a pastoral assignment. His killers were not satisfied with deflating his tyres; they fired until life left his body — a deliberate, cold-blooded assassination. And Nigeria, once again, is left to mutter, “God will judge,” as if divine justice excuses earthly inaction.
How many priests must be murdered before we admit that we are facing a national emergency? In the last three years, priests have been shot dead, kidnapped, tortured, and dumped like refuse in states from Benue to Kaduna, from Anambra to Enugu. The killers are emboldened because impunity reigns. Investigations drag on, arrests rarely happen, and justice almost never comes.
This is not just a Church problem. When priests — symbols of peace, morality, and community — are hunted down, what hope remains for ordinary citizens? When men of the cloth cannot travel safely to celebrate Mass, what message does that send to farmers, traders, students?
The Catholic Church has responded with prayers, candlelight vigils, and pastoral letters. But this is the moment to raise the stakes. This is the moment to say with one voice that the blood of Fr. Eya — and of all the slain clergy before him — must not be forgotten. Government at all levels must stop offering platitudes and start offering protection. It is not enough to “condemn in strong terms” while the killers are still free.
Security agencies must move beyond checkpoints and media briefings; they must find the perpetrators, dismantle the networks of terror, and restore confidence to communities living in fear. And we, the faithful, must not become passive mourners. Fr. Eya’s death calls us to greater courage, greater vigilance, greater advocacy.
To keep silent now is to become accomplices in our own destruction. In the Book of Genesis, God told Cain: “Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.” Today, Fr. Matthew’s blood cries out to heaven — and to Abuja, and to Enugu, and to every conscience that still believes Nigeria can be a land where human life is sacred. We cannot bring Fr. Eya back. But we can ensure his death is not swallowed by the news cycle and forgotten by next week. We can demand a Nigeria where priests can serve their people without wearing a target on their backs.
