(January 13, 2026 marks the fifth anniversary of the passing of Fr. Franz-Josef Eilers, SVD, a priest, scholar, and missionary whose life profoundly shaped the Church’s understanding of communication. An ordained member of the Society of the Divine Word, Fr. Eilers was a pioneer in human and social communication, a vision first articulated in the Second Vatican Council’s decree Inter Mirifica (1963). On this fifth death anniversary, Fr. John Mi Shen, a trusted protégé of the late SVD missionary, offers a personal reflection on the life and mission of Fr. Eilers. – Editor)
Five years have passed since Fr. Franz-Josef Eilers returned to the Lord. I've noticed that as the years pass, my memories of him have not faded. They have changed their texture. What once felt sharp with loss has slowly become something quieter, like a steady presence that accompanies rather than overwhelms. I no longer remember him only as a teacher or scholar. I remember him as someone who taught me how to stand before God, how to wait, and how to trust.
When I think of Fr. Eilers now, the first image that comes to mind is not a classroom or a meeting room, but a chapel. Day after day, no matter how full his schedule was, he would spend a long time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. It was not something he spoke about often. He simply did it. That prayer shaped everything else. His calmness, his patience, his ability to listen deeply, all of it flowed from those hours spent in silence before the Lord. Looking back, I understand that his theology of communication was first a Eucharistic theology: presence before words, listening before speaking, surrender before action.
He journeyed with so many priests and seminarians over the years. Some came to him burdened by studies, others by doubts, conflicts, or fears about the future. He never treated anyone as a problem to be solved. He treated each person as someone to be accompanied. I watched how people slowly relaxed in his presence. They felt safe. And when anxiety surfaced—as it always does in priestly and academic life—he would smile gently, lean back slightly, and say in his unmistakable tone: “Relax. Don’t worry. Surrender everything to the Lord.”
Those words were not a dismissal of struggle. They were an invitation to trust more deeply. He lived what he advised.
In my own life, Fr. Eilers was many things at once: mentor, spiritual director, academic advisor. But beyond all that, he was someone who believed in me even when I doubted myself. He encouraged me into communication ministry not by pushing me forward, but by helping me discover that this path was already written into my vocation. He helped me see that communication is not about efficiency or influence, but about communion, about helping people encounter truth without violence, and difference without fear.
The last day I spent with him remains one of the most sacred moments of my life. He was in the hospital, physically weak, yet spiritually cheerful. His mind was sharp, his heart attentive. He insisted that we talk. We spent more than two hours together, discussing my dissertation, reflecting on my journey, and receiving spiritual direction one last time. I remember thinking how characteristic this was of him: even in his final hours, he was still giving, still accompanying, still sending someone else forward.
He was the only person who died in my arms. When it was time for me to leave the room, I hesitated. I did not know if this was goodbye. As I stood up, he looked at me and said with quiet firmness, “Go back and finish your dissertation.”
Those were his last words to me. No fear. No regret. Only a clear sense of mission is handed on.
Today, I find myself serving in the same office he once held for more than a decade - Executive Secretary of FABC-OSC, and teaching the very subject he taught me at the University of Santo Tomas. I often smile at the way life unfolds. I do not experience this as taking his place. I experience it as walking under his gaze, being constantly reminded to remain grounded, humble, and prayerful.
Fr. Eilers once said he had two treasures in life. One was his personal library on communication, filled with decades of thought, dialogue, and faith seeking understanding. The other was a German-made tabernacle. Near the end of his life, he entrusted that tabernacle to me and asked me to bring it to China. He carried a deep love for China and dreamed of a mission there, following the footsteps of St. Joseph Freinademetz.
In 2014, I accompanied him to Shandong to visit the grave of St. Joseph Freinademetz. I remember how long he stood there, silent and visibly moved. For him, the mission was never theoretical. It was concrete, historical, and deeply Eucharistic. That tabernacle now stands as a reminder of his unfinished dreams, not as failure, but as trust placed in others.
Five years later, I understand more clearly that Fr. Eilers did not teach me everything through words. He taught me through posture, through rhythm, through faithfulness. He taught me that before we communicate, we must first adore; before we speak, we must learn to listen; before we act, we must surrender.
When I feel overwhelmed, when responsibility feels heavy, when uncertainty creeps in, I still hear his voice, calm, steady, rooted in God:
Relax.
Don’t worry.
Surrender everything to the Lord.
Five years later, I am still listening.
