Edward Joseph Gilbert — the archbishop we needed

By Archbishop Charles Jason Gordon

In the Jubilee Year 2000, our nation mourned the death of Archbishop Anthony Pantin. He was loved by rich and poor, Indian and African, black and white. His passing left a hole in the heart of Trinidad and Tobago that could not easily be filled.

In 2001, with the local Church in turmoil, Rome appointed Edward J Gilbert CSsR, as the 9th Archbishop of Port of Spain. Some priests and faithful reacted publicly, and painfully. What we saw on the surface was controversy. But as disciples, we must also read the deeper currents of grace and history. Sometimes the Spirit steers a course we only understand in hindsight.

Why an American bishop?

Archbishop Gilbert was not sent to us because he was American. He was sent because of who he was—a straight-talking, experienced, steady, and very competent leader. His temperament and training matched our moment.

To see why, recall Archbishop Pantin’s consecration in 1968—at the crossroads of Independence, the Black Power movement, and Vatican II. Those years were full of cultural upheaval that set familiar certainties adrift.

Through personal credibility, quick wit, and deep pastoral instinct, Archbishop Pantin steadied the ship and won trust, reshaping Catholic life with broader lay involvement, the move from Latin to English in the liturgy, and a Caribbean beat in our worship.

But history did not stand still. In the 1970s–80s, globalisation accelerated. UK Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and US President Ronald Reagan’s economic turn from mixed, socialised approaches toward more rugged capitalism reshaped public life across the world.

Within the Church, Pope St John Paul II’s strong re-centering on the universal dimension brought new norms and expectations for local Churches. Many Caribbean territories adjusted.

We, buoyed by oil revenues and continuity of episcopal leadership, largely continued on our original 1968 trajectory. By 2001, the Archdiocese of Port of Spain was somewhat out of step with Rome’s direction and with wider regional change.

From Rome’s vantage point, choosing a shepherd formed outside our local currents—and already seasoned as a diocesan bishop—made pastoral sense.

The archbishop we needed

Archbishop Gilbert arrived with a simple, evangelical agenda: listen deeply to clergy, Religious, and laity; gather the whole Church; build together. At his installation, he pledged to resume the synod process begun under Archbishop Pantin—and then he dramatically widened the tent.

The first synod sitting in 2003, with 1000 participants, was far larger and more participatory than earlier assemblies. It was a new culture for us: broad consultation, focused discernment, concrete decisions, and ongoing evaluation on three to five-year horizons rather than 20-year plans. This was synodality before the word became fashionable: “We are the Church. We have to talk to one another as we plan our future.”

Three synod sittings (2003, 2005, 2009) marked a turning point. They set a missionary path and invited every Catholic to co-responsibility. The people asked for ministries animated at the archdiocesan level.

The logic followed: if parishes are to grow, the centre must resource them. Family life, social justice, catechetics, and liturgy needed more than a single person; they needed departments that could train, accompany, and evaluate.

Stewardship as a way of life became integral to the vision. In short, the Church had to update its structures and habits to serve a new millennium.

Building the team, widening the circle

Early on, Archbishop Gilbert named several monsignors to broaden leadership and bring new voices into the inner circle. He appointed Sr Anne Marie Rodriguez SJC, as Chancellor—the first woman to hold that office in our Archdiocese—quietly signalling that collaboration across states of life is not optional but essential.

In 2006, after consultation, he created the office of Vicar for Administration to coordinate the expanding administrative and pastoral arms—bringing coherence to the very growth the synod had called forth. These were not cosmetic changes; they were the scaffolding for a missionary Church. He said openly that if he were successful, local men would succeed him, and the Archdiocese of Port of Spain would bring forth bishops for the Church.

The questions he asked us to face

In a 2001 address to the Society of St Vincent de Paul, Archbishop Gilbert named questions that we still need to face:

How Catholic are our Catholic schools?

Are we forming priests and laity for mission?

Are we calling forth vocations—clerical, religious, and lay—systematically?

Are we updating skills to minister in a rapidly changing world?

He wanted thinking Catholics—“critical” in the best sense—to form nuclei of leadership capable of tackling social issues that would intensify before they improved. That was not pessimism; it was pastoral realism urging the Body to grow up into mature discipleship.

From the start, he stressed a few governing convictions that remain timely:

• People of God: The Church is not spectators and performers; it is the baptised together on mission.
• Co-responsibility: Consultation without shared ownership is theatre. He pushed for genuine participation.
• Read the signs: Scan the environment of the Archdiocese honestly and respectfully; name what is, not what we wish it to be.
• Trust and solidarity: Communion is not sentimentality; it is the decision to walk together, especially when we disagree.
• Implementation and evaluation: Plan, act, measure, and learn—again and again. “Never” stop. Ongoing evaluation is not a lack of faith; it is faith seeking understanding, in action.

A culture shift—then and now

For many, this was startling. We had held two earlier assemblies, but they were not decision-making events. The synod culture under Archbishop Gilbert normalised broad participation, concrete choices, and disciplined follow-through. It challenged clerical habits and lay passivity alike.

Parish teams had to think beyond maintenance; diocesan offices had to serve rather than simply exist; clergy had to lead collaboratively, not solo. It was exhilarating—and tiring. But grace often comes wrapped in holy fatigue.

Looking back, we can now say: Archbishop Gilbert shepherded a necessary culture shift. He turned a moment of resistance into a school of communion. He taught us to talk and listen, to decide and evaluate, to widen the circle and deepen the centre. He did not erase Archbishop Pantin’s legacy; he stewarded it into a new season.

What remains for us to do

Twenty-plus years later, the questions are sharper. Globalisation has not slowed; digital culture fragments attention and corrodes trust; economic pressure squeezes families; and Church credibility depends on transparent, accountable leadership. The synod path Archbishop Gilbert set us on is not a completed project but an evangelical habit: relate, listen, discern, act—repeat.

If we honour him, let it be by practising the very governance he modelled:

1. Talk to your people. Be visible. Ask real questions.
2. Listen attentively. Seek voices at the margins; resist echo chambers.
3. Decide together. Co-responsibility means shared risk and shared joy.
4. Implement faithfully. Announcements are not outcomes.
5. Evaluate relentlessly. What did we hope? What happened? What will we change?

This is the spirituality of governance for a missionary Church. It is also a spirituality for families, ministries, and movements: a way of walking in the Spirit with eyes open and hands ready.

Gratitude

Archbishop Edward Joseph Gilbert died on October 15, 2025. His episcopal service included six and a half years as Bishop of Roseau, Dominica, and a decade as our Archbishop.

To some, his appointment felt like a disruption. In God’s providence, it was a gift—an invitation to grow up into synodal maturity. We owe him a debt of gratitude.

May the Lord grant him eternal rest, and may we continue to build the Church he believed we could be: a people of God, walking together, co-responsible for the mission, humble enough to evaluate, and brave enough to begin again.