Catholic Commentary
Introduction to Amaziah's Reign
1Amaziah was twenty-five years old when he began to reign, and he reigned twenty-nine years in Jerusalem. His mother’s name was Jehoaddan, of Jerusalem.2He did that which was right in Yahweh’s eyes, but not with a perfect heart.
2 Chronicles 25:1–2 introduces King Amaziah of Judah, who reigned for twenty-nine years beginning at age twenty-five, and records that while he did what was right in God's eyes, his heart was not fully devoted to God. This opening verdict establishes the theological tension of his reign: external obedience without inner wholeness and undivided allegiance to Yahweh proves spiritually insufficient.
A king can do the right things his whole life while keeping one room of his heart locked against God — and that sealed room will eventually burn down the palace.
2 Chronicles 25:1 — The Regnal Formula
The Chronicler opens with the standard accession notice shared by Kings and Chronicles: age at accession (twenty-five), length of reign (twenty-nine years), and the name of the queen mother (Jehoaddan of Jerusalem). Each element carries deliberate weight. The age of twenty-five suggests a young man at the height of his potential — old enough to rule with vigor, young enough to be shaped by his choices. Twenty-nine years is a substantial reign, longer than many of his predecessors, which makes the tragedy of its conclusion all the more sobering. The mention of Jehoaddan ("Yahweh gives delight" or possibly "Yahweh adorns") is not ornamental. In the ancient Near East, queen mothers held significant influence, and the Chronicler's regular inclusion of maternal names serves a theological purpose: it grounds the king's character formation in his family context and reminds the reader that no one stands before God in isolation from the community that shaped them.
The parallel text in 2 Kings 14:1–2 presents nearly identical introductory information, but it is the Chronicler's edition that will develop the spiritual dimension of Amaziah's reign most fully. The Chronicler is writing for a post-exilic community seeking to understand the rise and fall of Judah's kings, and Amaziah functions as a case study in the dangers of incomplete conversion.
2 Chronicles 25:2 — The Theological Verdict
The decisive clause arrives immediately: "He did that which was right in Yahweh's eyes, but not with a perfect heart" (Hebrew: wĕlōʾ bĕlēbāb šālēm). The phrase lēbāb šālēm — a whole, complete, undivided heart — is a Chronicler's signature concern. It appears at key moments throughout Chronicles (cf. 1 Chr 28:9; 29:9, 19; 2 Chr 15:17; 16:9) and draws on the Deuteronomic command to love the Lord "with all your heart" (Deut 6:5). The word šālēm shares its root with shalom — wholeness, completeness, peace. An un-šālēm heart is not merely lukewarm in sentiment; it is structurally fractured, divided in its allegiance.
What is theologically remarkable is that the Chronicler affirms Amaziah's external obedience — he did right — while immediately qualifying it with the most searching interior judgment. This is not a contradiction but a distinction the Chronicler insists upon with pastoral urgency: outward religious performance without inward integration is insufficient before God. The subsequent narrative will demonstrate exactly how this inner fracture manifested: Amaziah follows the law correctly in one matter (2 Chr 25:6–10), yet later imports the gods of conquered Edom and worships them (25:14) — an act of spectacular spiritual incoherence that can only be understood as the fruit of a heart never fully surrendered to Yahweh.
The Typological and Spiritual Senses
Typologically, Amaziah prefigures the danger of half-conversion in the people of God in every age. Just as Amaziah had real contact with the divine will — receiving prophetic instruction, winning victories by God's hand — yet harbored a reserve of self-determination that would eventually overwhelm his faithfulness, so too the baptized Christian can receive the grace of God externally while withholding the inner citadel of the will. The Fathers recognized this pattern: the "Egypt" from which we must depart is not only external but internal. The "idols of Edom" that Amaziah brings home are a parable of spiritual regression — the self reaching back for what God has already conquered on its behalf.
The phrase "not with a perfect heart" opens onto one of the most important distinctions in Catholic moral and spiritual theology: the difference between the opus operatum (the external deed accomplished) and the interior disposition that determines the full moral quality of an act. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that the morality of a human act depends on three sources: "the object chosen, the end in view or the intention, and the circumstances" (CCC 1750). Amaziah's actions were externally correct in object, but the intention — rooted in a divided heart — fatally undermined their worth before God.
The Church Fathers dwelt deeply on this theme. Origen, in his homilies on Joshua, identifies the "divided heart" as the root of all spiritual backsliding: the soul that does not give itself wholly to God retains pockets of self-will that eventually become strongholds of sin. St. Augustine, whose entire conversion narrative in the Confessions is the story of a heart seeking its own šālēm, famously writes: "Our heart is restless until it rests in Thee" (Conf. I.1). Amaziah is, in a sense, a historical icon of the pre-conversion Augustine — busy with religious observance while the heart itself remains unfree.
St. Thomas Aquinas, following Aristotle's analysis of virtue, would note that virtuous action requires not only right external performance but the stable interior orientation of the will toward the good (ST I-II, q. 65, a. 1). Amaziah's piety lacks this habitual rootedness — it is episodic compliance, not formed character. Pope Benedict XVI, in Deus Caritas Est (§17), speaks of how love of God must penetrate "the whole of his existence" — an integration Amaziah tragically failed to achieve. The Council of Trent, in its Decree on Justification (Session VI), likewise insists that genuine conversion involves not merely a change of external behavior but a reorientation of the will and affections toward God.
Every Catholic who has received the sacraments, attends Mass, and fulfills outward religious obligations must hear the Chronicler's verdict on Amaziah as a searching personal question: Is my heart whole? It is entirely possible to check every box of Catholic practice — Mass on Sundays, Confession annually, generous to the parish — while nursing a reserved sector of the heart where God is simply not permitted: a career ambition, a relationship, a habitual sin to which we remain secretly attached, a wound we refuse to bring to the Lord. Amaziah "did right" — but he kept a corner of himself back, and that corner eventually swallowed everything.
The concrete spiritual application is the practice of the examen, recommended by St. Ignatius of Loyola and embedded in the daily rhythm of Catholic spiritual life. In the examen, we do not merely review our external actions but ask: Where was my heart today? Where did I pull back from full surrender to God? The half-hearted king is a warning, not a curiosity. He is also, in his very failure, a mercy — because the Chronicler shows us the fracture line before it becomes the fault line, giving us the grace to choose differently today.
Commentary