“When the wind howls, our faith must stand still”: a reflection on Hurricane Melissa
By Pete Castillo, Pastoral Diocesan Communications Center, Catholic Diocese of Belize City and Belmopan City
When the sky darkened over Jamaica in the last days of October 2025, few imagined how fierce the coming hours would be. By the time Hurricane Melissa made landfall, winds exceeding 180 miles per hour and sheets of torrential rain had turned familiar streets into rivers and silence into the roar of survival. Homes crumbled, power lines fell, and lives were upended across Jamaica and neighboring islands.
Yet even as the storm’s eye passed, a different force began to stir — the strength of faith, the compassion of neighbors, and the unyielding will of a people determined to rise again. Melissa was more than a meteorological event; it was a mirror held up to our shared fragility, our courage, and our call to care for one another and for the earth we call home.
Hurricane Melissa began as a tropical disturbance in the central Atlantic during the third week of October 2025. Meteorologists at the U.S. National Hurricane Center started tracking the system as it rapidly organized over unusually warm waters. By October 25, it had strengthened into a major hurricane. Within forty-eight hours, it reached Category 5 status, with sustained winds of 175–185 mph (282–295 kph) and an exceptionally low central pressure — making it one of the most powerful Atlantic hurricanes on record.
On October 28, Melissa made landfall on Jamaica’s southern coast, bringing catastrophic winds, torrential rain, and storm surges of up to four meters (13.12 feet). The storm lingered longer than expected, sweeping slowly westward toward Cuba and the Cayman Islands.
In the aftermath of the hurricane, dozens of lives have been lost across the Caribbean. Thousands of homes are still without power.  There have been reports of widespread flooding in parishes such as St. Elizabeth and Manchester and significant crop losses have been reported in banana, sugarcane, and small-scale farming.
Inside Climate News reported that human-driven climate change made Melissa’s intensity several times more likely, fueled by abnormally high ocean temperatures.
As scientists analyze Hurricane Melissa’s fury, one uncomfortable truth emerges: those who contribute the least to global warming often pay the highest price for it.
According to the United Nations Environment Program’s 2023 Emissions Gap Report, “the richest 10% of the global population are responsible for nearly half of all greenhouse gas emissions.” Meanwhile, Small Island Developing States (SIDS) such as Jamaica, Belize, and their Caribbean neighbors contribute less than 1% of global emissions — yet face some of the world’s most devastating storms, floods, and economic setbacks.
(Sources: UNEP, Emissions Gap Report 2023; UN-OHRLLS, SIDS Climate Vulnerability Statement 2023; UN Secretary-General António Guterres, COP28 Address.)
Pope Francis echoed this sentiment: “The gravest effects of all attacks on the environment are suffered by the poorest.”— Pope Francis, Laudato Si’, §48
The moral contrast is striking. While industrialized nations debate emission targets and timelines, small islands are fighting for survival — their coastlines eroding, coral reefs bleaching, and crops failing under saltwater intrusion.
The imbalance is obvious. John Persaud, Bishop  of Mandeville, Apostolic Administrator of the Diocese of Montego Bay Jamaica pointed out, “many of the families in the Dioceses of Montego Bay are very poor and just don’t have the resources to build their homes up to the special codes required for hurricanes and earthquakes.”
Climate change, therefore, is not an abstract policy discussion here; it’s a lived reality that shapes where and how people can build, plant, or even pray.
The Antilles Episcopal Conference has called for solidarity, partnership, and urgent climate justice for vulnerable Caribbean communities (The Antilles Episcopal Conference (AEC) Press Release Sunday, October 26, 2025).
Today our brothers and sisters in the Caribbean are undergoing an extreme test of faith, a faith that demands both compassion and conversion. Every small act — reducing waste, protecting coastlines, changing how we live — becomes part of a larger moral response. As Pope Francis warned world leaders at COP28:
“The destruction of the environment is an offense against God, a sin that is not only personal but also structural, one that greatly endangers all human beings, especially the most vulnerable in our midst and threatens to unleash a conflict between generations.”
When meteorologists first warned of Hurricane Melissa’s approach, shelters were opened and parishes began preparing to receive families. Still, many underestimated the storm’s strength — until it was too late.
“I thought it would pass like the last one,” a mother of three from St. Elizabeth said. “Then I heard the roof go — it was like the whole sky opened. But somehow, we’re still here. God kept us.”
After the storm, as candles flickered in darkened homes and churches, many asked: “Is God warning us?”   While God does not send storms to harm His children, such events can serve as opportunities for reflection, prompting communities to act with greater humility, solidarity, and care for creation.
Hurricane Melissa stripped away more than roofs; it stripped away illusions of control. It reminded us that what we build on faith, endures. In prayer circles and relief lines, people are rediscovering this message and one another.
We are all left with a clear mission and responsibility — not to interpret storms as divine punishment, but to embody Christ’s calm within them. Not to interpret Faith to mean ignoring the storm but trusting God while taking wise actions.  Every rebuilt home, every shared meal, every act of mercy becomes a declaration of hope.
In the wake of the devasting loss and uncertainty, when the noise of the storm has faded, what endures is the quiet strength of faith. It is faith that teaches us to see beyond the wreckage and trust that God still walks among His people. Prayer, shared in hearts, in homes and amid the wreckage, binds hearts that might otherwise break apart. It reminds us that even when we cannot rebuild everything at once, we can still lift one another up.
Now, more than ever, prayer is not escape — it is endurance. It is the anchor that steadies the spirit, the light that keeps hope alive, and the language of love stronger than any wind. Through faith, we discover that even in disaster, we are never alone — for Christ is in the boat with us, calming the waves and calling us forward together.
Isaiah’s promise echoes still: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” — Isaiah 43:2
 
Image: An aerial view of Black River, Jamaica, Thursday, Oct. 30, 2025, in the aftermath of Hurricane Melissa. © Matias Delacroix, AP