Saturday of the Thirty-second Week in Ordinary Time

Optional Memorial of St. Albert the Great, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

Brief Background:

St. Albert the Great (1200–1280), also known as Albertus Magnus, was a German Dominican friar, bishop, philosopher, and scientist. He is considered one of the greatest minds of the medieval Church. Albert was a teacher at the University of Paris and became the mentor of St. Thomas Aquinas, recognizing his brilliance early on.

Albert was known for integrating faith and reason, showing that scientific inquiry and theology work together, not against each other. He wrote on an astonishing range of topics: theology, botany, zoology, astronomy, chemistry, geology, physiology, and more. Because of his vast knowledge, he was called “Doctor Universalis” – the Universal Doctor.

He was canonized and declared a Doctor of the Church in 1931. St. Albert the Great is the patron saint of scientists, philosophers, students, natural sciences, medical technicians, and those seeking to use knowledge wisely

REFLECTION:

Just recently, I was up late waiting for my nephew to come home from work. He had started a new job, and since it would be too late for him to drive all the way home, I told him to stay at the rectory for the night. Midnight was getting close, and he still hadn’t arrived. I called, but there was no answer. So, I waited.

Eventually, it struck midnight, and there I was—still sitting in the living room. I turned off the TV, put my phone away, and simply sat there. Even though the rectory is in town, there was a strange and beautiful calm in the air at that hour. A stillness. A quiet you can’t manufacture or plan. I took that moment to pray—for my nephew’s safety, and for anyone who came to mind in that quiet hour. By the time the clock hit 1:00 AM (a time I haven’t stayed up to see in a long while!), I was tired and ready for bed. Just as I was lying down, my nephew called to say he had arrived safely. I was relieved. God had listened. God had been present in the waiting.

The Book of Wisdom speaks about one of the holiest moments in salvation history happening in a similar silence: “When peaceful silence lay over all, and night had run half its course…” That was the moment God moved. It was in the stillness of the Passover night that God’s “all-powerful Word” descended to bring justice to Egypt and freedom to Israel. No thunder. No choir. Just the quiet of midnight—and a divine action that changed everything.

And yet, silence has become awkward for us today. We rush to fill it with noise, distractions, and screens. If a moment feels too quiet, we grab our phones. If life slows down, we find something—anything—to keep ourselves busy. Silence feels uncomfortable—almost unnatural.

But Scripture shows us the opposite: It is often in the silence that God speaks the loudest. In the stillness that His presence becomes clear. In the quiet that His saving power begins to move.

I have found this to be true in my own life and ministry. When I reach moments where frustration builds, when I feel upset, irritated, or on the edge of wanting to throw someone—or something—out the window, I’ve learned to step away and find a space of silence. That small pause, that moment to breathe, is often where God recenters me, calms me, and reminds me who I am and who He is. Silence becomes the place where grace breaks through.

Throughout Scripture, God chooses the quietest moments to act.

• At midnight, He passed over Egypt.
• In the deep of night, He spoke to Samuel.
• In dreams, He guided Joseph.
• In the fourth watch of the night, Jesus walked on water while the world slept.
• And on the silent night before the Red Sea parted, Israel waited as God prepared a miracle.

Again and again, God reveals that His greatest works often begin in silence—long before the world notices. We need to reclaim the holiness of silence. Not fear it. Not fill it. Not run from it.

The next time you find yourself in a quiet moment—late at night, early in the morning, or even in the middle of a stressful day—resist the urge to distract yourself. Allow the silence to be what Scripture reveals it to be: a sacred space where God moves, God speaks, and God heals.

So whenever you find yourself in that stillness—waiting, worrying, resting, or recalibrating—remember that God is already there. He moved in the silence of Egypt. He moved in the stillness before the Red Sea. He moved in the quiet moments of His saints. And He moves in the quiet corners of your heart today.

Sometimes God speaks the loudest when everything else is silent.