Nowadays we don’t often mark the passage of time in relation to when our rulers die. I suppose we do consider events like the assassination of JFK to mark pivotal moments in history, yet I had to double-check the exact year was 1963. For the people of Israel, however, the death of King Uzziah was apparently so significant that the prophet Isaiah can describe his vision of “the Lord seated on a high and lofty throne” as happening in “the year King Uzziah died” and was able to assume everyone knew exactly when that vision occurred.
I’ll admit to knowing less about King Uzziah then I do JFK, so I did some research to discover why the time of Uzziah’s death was so memorable. Uzziah reigned from c. 791-732 BC, an impressive 52 years in which Judah saw great success and prosperity: victories against the Ammonites, westward expansion into Philistia, reclamation of natural resources, fortification of Jerusalem’s walls and defenses, and the raising of a large army. Life during Uzziah’s reign was bright and advantageous—and apparently the success got to the King’s head. He once attempted to burn incense in the Temple, a function reserved to the Levitical priests and not fit for the King, and was, thus, struck with leprosy for the rest of his days, a sign of God’s rejection. The last 10 or so years of Uzziah’s reign were managed by his son, Jotham, who reigned in his father’s stead until Uzziah died.
That might be more than you wanted to know about the first verse of today’s first reading, but I say all of this for a reason. It’s significant that Isaiah places his vision of the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords at a pivotal moment in Israel’s history, when they were confronted with a profound failure in the leadership of their earthly king. Isaiah cries out, “my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” With the memory of Uzziah in mind, we might hear the prophet say: I have seen the King who does not disappoint, the King who gives us victory and makes us prosper, the King who is faithful and who will not abandon us, the King who is just and will not be corrupted by greed, pride, ambition, or lust, the King whose empire is eternal and whose reign is without end, the King who made heaven and earth, the seas and all they contain. My eyes have seen the King, the one true King, and on account of what I’ve seen I can never look at earthly kings in the same way. For I have seen what they ought and what they will always fail to be.
Each Sunday when we come to Mass, we come into the presence of that same King. Although what Isaiah saw remains invisible to us, the King’s presence here is no less real. In fact, anytime we come to Mass or even enter a chapel for prayer, we have left this world—this world where we, including our leaders, are dominated by power, avarice, and fleeting attractions—and have entered the courts of the Lord of hosts. Our experience in this place, like the vision of Isaiah, is meant to transform our vision of the earthly order, so that when we step out back into the world, we say: My eyes have seen the King, the one true King, and on account of what I’ve seen I can never see differently. Here, our King teaches us about the true essence of his kingdom—not about expanding or protecting borders, acquiring valuable resources, levying taxes and tariffs, or improving governmental efficiency—but about truth, justice, love, and peace. Our King’s political platform is laid out for us in the Gospel—all we need to do is read it. As citizens of his kingdom, above all others, we must act upon it—even when, and I would even say especially when, the decrees of the Kingdom of God conflict with the laws and dictates of lesser kings and queens.
As I’ve said before, there is no one political platform that squares exactly with that of the Kingdom of God. There will, therefore, always be a tension between the demands of our faith and the concerns of our leaders and sometimes even the law of the land. And there will also always be those who seek to resolve that tension in one of two ways: either by having us abandon our Christian convictions in favor of the world or by isolating ourselves as Christians away from the world as much as possible. Yet neither is what the Church is called to be: neither indistinguishable from the world nor entirely at odds against it. The Church is called to be the city on the hill, the light on the lampstand, the salt of the earth. The Church’s place is in the public square, bringing what we believe of our King and his Kingdom into conversation with the political issues of our day. It is our responsibility to say: My eyes have seen the King, and the one true King would not want things this way.
Our King does not want hardworking people to senselessly lose their jobs. Nor does our King want people seeking asylum to be flung back into abject violence. Nor does our King want humanitarian efforts to be eviscerated. Nor does our King want the rich getting richer at the expense of the poor getting poorer. Nor does our King want a country to be without borders or the ability to protect itself. Nor does our King want people unable to afford the goods and services they need for their health and well-being. Nor does our King want the unborn to die, the immigrant to die, the homeless to die, even the criminal to die because someone in the earthly kingdom does not want them around.
All the issues I’ve just referenced are complex and—believe me, I’m aware—arouse passion. I’m not saying there are easy or ready-made answers or solutions to any of them. But as people figuring out what you think, I implore you to not simply and blindly absorb the narratives that surround you. Don’t let your opinions and your positions be formed only from the political commentaries you read or hear, the social media you see, or even what your friends and family think. Let your mind—and please, even more importantly—let your heart be formed by God, who revealed himself fully in Christ who abides with us in his Church until the end of time. Spend at least as much time praying in the chapel as you do engaging in political activity. Bring the issues to God and seek his wisdom and guidance in Scripture, the writings of the saints, and the teaching of the Church.
The political landscape can look pretty dark, and hope there can be hard to come by. Yet we should not lose heart when the storm seems at its worst, or the labors so far have yielded nothing. For it is then, as ever, that the Lord, our King, comes to us in his mercy and bids us, “Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.”
Given at Mount St. Mary’s University, February 9, 2025.