Homily – Friday, 2nd Week of Advent “You Would Not Listen”

Today’s readings are uncomfortable —
and Advent is meant to be uncomfortable in this way.
Because Advent is not only about waiting for God;
it is about listening to Him.

In the first reading, God speaks with sadness rather than anger:
“If only you had paid attention to My commandments…”

That sentence carries the weight of regret.
Not God’s regret — but ours.

God describes what might have been:
peace like a river,
justice like the waves of the sea,
a future abundant and secure.

But all of it is lost, not through malice,
but through refusal to listen.

This is one of the great spiritual dangers:
not rebellion, but indifference.
Not hatred of God, but deafness to His voice.

Isaiah reminds us that God’s commandments are not arbitrary rules.
They are instructions for life.
They lead toward peace, not restriction.
When we ignore them, we don’t become freer —
we become fractured.

Advent is God’s gentle invitation to listen again
before regret sets in.

In the Gospel, Jesus uses a striking image:
children sitting in the marketplace, complaining.

“We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.”

Jesus is describing people who are impossible to satisfy.
When John the Baptist came fasting and severe,
they said he was possessed.
When Jesus came eating and drinking,
they called Him a glutton.

The problem was not the message.
It was the heart.

Some people are not truly searching for God —
they are searching for excuses.

This is one of the most searching lines in the Gospel:
“Wisdom is justified by her works.”

Truth proves itself in action, not argument.
The test of faith is not how much we discuss it,
but whether we allow it to change us.

The people Jesus describes wanted a Messiah
who fit their preferences.
They did not want conversion;
they wanted comfort.

That temptation remains very real.

We want a God who affirms us,
but does not challenge us.
A faith that comforts,
but never confronts.
A Gospel that soothes,
but never demands.

Advent exposes this resistance.
It asks a simple but difficult question:
Am I willing to let God be God?

Listening means allowing His Word
to correct us, redirect us, and sometimes unsettle us.

Isaiah tells us plainly:
peace comes from listening.

Not peace as the absence of problems,
but peace as alignment with God’s will.

When we stop listening, life becomes noisy.
Decisions conflict.
Relationships strain.
Conscience grows dull.

Advent calls us back to attentiveness —
to Scripture, to prayer, to conscience.

Listening again may begin with something small:
slowing down,
silencing distractions,
opening the Word of God,
allowing one line of Scripture to stay with us.

God is always speaking.
The question is whether we are listening.

Both readings leave us with a question, not a conclusion.

Isaiah asks:
What would your life look like if you had listened sooner?

Jesus asks:
What excuse are you still holding on to?

Advent is merciful because it gives us time.
Time to hear again.
Time to change.
Time to listen.

The Lord speaks today not with anger,
but with longing.

“If only you had listened.”

That sentence is not meant to condemn us —
it is meant to save us from saying it later.

So let Advent be a season of attention.
Let us listen while the Word is near.
Let us respond while grace is offered.

Because wisdom is justified by her works —
and peace flows where God’s voice is heard.