Q: Archbishop J, what are you thinking about for this Advent season?

This Advent feels unlike any I have ever lived through. Our nation finds itself caught in the crosscurrents of a global geopolitical struggle between powers far larger than us.

The arrival of the US Naval Forces Southern Command—its ships, carriers, and aircraft filling our waters—has shaken our long-cherished conviction that the Caribbean is a ‘zone of peace’. It is the largest show of military force in our seas since the Second World War.

For many, this has brought a deep unease. A sense of anxiety, even dread, hangs in the air as we watch the instruments of war gather around us. While we yearn for an end to narco-trafficking and the violence it brings, and while we long to be freed from the nightmare that has tormented our nation, we are still human: we fear for our present and our future. Into this tense and fragile moment, Advent dawns upon us.

All year long, we have been practising what it means to be Pilgrims of Hope. Now is the moment when we must become what we have been preparing to be. Hope is not sentimentality; hope is not escapism.

Advent invites us to remember that hope is the theological virtue that believes God can do what God has promised. It is a gift from God; it is the anchor of a Christian heart in uncertain times.

And so, as we begin Advent, a natural question emerges: What, precisely, has God promised? The answer echoes across Salvation History in God’s last words in Matthew’s Gospel: “I will be with you always, yes, even to the end of time” (Mt 28:20).

This is the bedrock of Advent faith. This is the foundation upon which the Christian stands. This is the promise that allows us to wait in joyful hope—even when everything around us trembles.

When fear rises, God speaks a word of hope

Our present situation bears an uncanny resemblance to a moment in Israel’s history. In Isaiah 7, King Ahaz faced an overwhelming threat: two powerful nations—Syria and Ephraim—stood poised against Jerusalem. Their armies were formidable; their intentions clear. The city trembled. The king trembled. The people trembled.

And into this rising fear, God spoke a strange, tender, and decisive word: “Be careful, be quiet, do not fear, and do not let your heart be faint …”

(Is 7:4). God called the king to calm—not because the danger was imaginary, but because God was already at work in ways Ahaz could not see. Then, through the prophet Isaiah, God offered a sign—one so unexpected that it took the breath away: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son and shall call his name Immanuel” (Is 7:14). God-with-us.

In the midst of national anxiety, God’s answer was not more weapons, greater armies, or new political strategies. God gave a child. God gave presence. God gave Himself. This is the spiritual paradox at the heart of Advent: In times of fear, God draws near in tenderness.

Advent: light in real darkness

Advent is not naïve. It does not pretend that all is well. Advent looks squarely at the darkness—violence, geopolitical tensions, social fragmentation, poverty, and the erosion of peace—and proclaims the Gospel’s stubborn truth: “The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (Jn 1:5).

Hope does not remove danger; hope transforms how we live in the midst of it.

This year, that transformation is urgently needed. The disruption of the narco industry has left families reeling as the hidden economy collapses. Prices rise. Jobs vanish. There is widespread suffering.

Many come to the Church seeking help in numbers we have not seen for a long time. Advent meets us right here—in this sobering reality, in this aching national moment.

And yet Advent insists: This is exactly where God chooses to draw near.

Not in stability, but in vulnerability. Not in strength, but in smallness.

Not in certainty, but in longing.

The three comings of Christ: an Advent practice

The Christian tradition speaks of three comings of Christ:

1. His coming in history at Bethlehem—an event in time.
2. His coming in glory at the end of time—our great hope.
3. His coming today—in the movements of grace, in the sacraments, in the faces of the poor, in the quiet moments of our day, in the whisper of conscience, and in the hard decisions for the good.

This third coming is an Advent treasure. It trains the heart to see God in the present moment.

Advent asks each of us to cultivate a simple but profound practice: Pause, look, and recognise how God is with you—here and now.

In the long grocery line …

In the worry you bear for your children …

In the anxiety about the nation …

In the small act of kindness to a stranger …

In the courage to do the next right thing …

God is coming—quietly, gently, insistently.

This practice forms our hearts to listen as Mary did, to obey as Joseph did, and to hope as Israel longed to. We discover that God is not far away from our real lives; God is woven into the middle of them.

The call to become a people of Hope

Advent also calls us to prepare the way for the Lord. John the Baptist’s cry still echoes: “Prepare the way of the Lord!” This preparation is not merely moral; it is spiritual, relational, and communal:

• simplifying our lives
• deepening prayer
• listening more attentively
• choosing mercy over anger
• standing with the poor
• transforming fear into trust
• nurturing gratitude
• living as if God’s promise were truly dependable

This is the spiritual discipline of Advent hope.

A word for Trinidad and Tobago in this Advent

We need this Advent more than ever.

We need its stillness to quiet our anxieties.

We need its prophetic imagination to see beyond the storm.

We need its promise that God is with us—in our seas, in our streets, in our families, and in our fears.

Advent does not deny the darkness around us. It simply refuses to let the darkness determine the story.

This year, let us become what we proclaim: Pilgrims of Hope—People whose trust is not grounded in geopolitics, military strength, or economic stability, but in the God who keeps His promises.

And the promise is this:

“Immanuel—God is with us.”

Even now.

Especially now.

Always.

 

Key Message:

This Advent, as we read the signs of the times, let us keep our focus on God—the source of our hope. God will not abandon us now.

Action Step:

“Be careful, be quiet, do not fear, and do not let your heart be faint.” (Is 7:4)

Choose a spiritual practice for the season:

• Attend Mass during the week more regularly.
• Participate in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament several times each week.
• As a family, pray the Rosary—or even a decade for peace every day.
• Read a spiritual book or Gospel passage daily.
• Practise the third coming of Christ: pause each day and ask, “Lord, how are You with me in this moment?”

Make this Advent intentional.

Make it prayerful. Make it holy.

Scripture for Reflection:

Isaiah 43:1–2