Homily: Solemnity of Our Lady of the Rosary of La Naval de Manila (Diocese of Cubao)
Zechariah 2:14–17; Acts 1:12–14; Luke 1:26–38
12 October 2025
Fr. Ricky Cañet Montañez, AA
The past few weeks have been difficult for our brothers and sisters in Masbate, Cebu and the Davao Provinces. Social media is loaded with videos of these areas being battered by storms and shaken by earthquakes. We see first-hand footage of people fearfully muttering “Lord, Lord” or solemnly repeating, “Jesus, Jesus”! In the chaos around them, what centres them and gives them courage is a prayer said almost quietly — no yelling, no big gestures but an appeal to a God who listens but communicates in silence.
Have we ever noticed that God’s greatest miracles rarely begin with noise? They don’t start with thunder or applause. They begin… in silence. In Nazareth, a young woman was simply going about her day. There was no spotlight, no thundering noise — just the typical quiet sounds of an ordinary home. It was in that silence that an angel spoke and Mary listened. That’s when the impossible began: “The Word became flesh.” (John 1:14) Not with an awesome display of power, but in listening… in stillness. In the same spirit, after Jesus returned to the Father, the disciples did not rush out to the world to preach or to prove themselves. They went back to the Upper Room and they prayed — with Mary. They had not yet experienced the fire or wind of Pentecost. There was just silence. In that silence their faith grew and the Church was born.
Today, we honour Our Lady of the Rosary of La Naval because she was declared patroness of Quezon City in 1973. Even in the story of La Naval, the real victory did not begin with ships or swords. It began when frightened people fell on their knees and prayed the Rosary. The miracle at sea started with hearts on land that trusted in God’s saving power. If we have a chance to visit the image of our Lady enshrined at Sto. Domingo Church, we will notice that she looks so calm. She is not panicked. She is not shouting. She is praying. And in her prayer, she reminds us: silence is not the absence of action but the beginning of transformation.
When our lives become loud — when fear, anger, and endless noise surround us — God often whispers. That overwhelming feeling brought by the constant hum of anxiety, the sharp sting of anger, the endless chatter of the world — can make us feel confused and utterly lost and alone. But even in that deafening chaos, when we are sure we have been forgotten by the world, isn’t it a comfort to know God never leaves us? He does not join the clamour; instead, He waits with an infinite, quiet patience, offering a love so deep it can only be conveyed in a gentle whisper. Only the listening heart can hear Him.
Imagine the relief when we finally pause, take a breath, and realise the very presence we were desperately searching for has been right there all along, waiting for our attention. In that moment of stillness, His gentle voice reminds us of His constant love and grace. Let us not let the noise steal our peace! Let us quiet our soul just enough to hear the voice of God present, calming and ready to meet us.
Thus, when we find ourselves surrounded by noise — by worries, by pressure, by things beyond our control — let us go to our own Nazareth, our own Upper Room. Let us pray. Let us listen. Let us wait. Because God speaks most clearly to hearts that are calm, trusting, and open to His grace. Yes, in the silence of prayer, something new begins — God’s grace, alive once more in us.
Sunday Gospel Reflections 