2 Chronicles 9:17–21

2 Chronicles 9:17 — The Great Ivory Throne Overlaid with Gold The construction of the throne is introduced with the word "moreover" (Hebrew gam), signaling an accumulation: this detail crowns the already breathtaking account of Solomon's wealth. Ivory (shen habbiym, literally "elephant tooth") was among the most precious materials in the ancient Near East, imported at great cost from Africa or India. Its overlay with pure gold (Hebrew zahab tahor, the same grade of gold used for the Ark's mercy seat in Exodus 25:17) elevates the throne from the merely luxurious to the ritually resonant. The choice of pure gold — the metal of the sanctuary — is not incidental; it connects royal and priestly symbolism in Solomon's person.

2 Chronicles 9:18 — Six Steps, a Golden Footstool, Two Lions at the Armrests Six steps ascending to the throne evoke a cosmic symbolism: six days of creation culminating in the seventh, the day of rest, suggesting that the king enthroned above the six steps embodies a kind of sabbatical completion and dominion. The footstool (Hebrew hadom raglayim) carries deep theological freight in the Old Testament: God's own footstool is variously identified as the Ark (1 Chronicles 28:2), the Temple (Isaiah 66:1), and the earth itself (Matthew 5:35). A king whose feet rest on gold imitates, in miniature, the divine enthronement. The two lions flanking the armrests signal Solomonic identity with the tribe of Judah (Genesis 49:9-10), whose royal scepter was promised to endure.

2 Chronicles 9:19 — Twelve Lions on Six Steps Two lions per step, twelve in total — one on each side of each stair — form a royal honor guard of stone. The number twelve is unmistakably Israelite: the twelve tribes, the twelve sons of Jacob, the twelve pillars of the covenant at Sinai (Exodus 24:4). Solomon's throne thus becomes a monument to the whole people of Israel gathered under one shepherd-king. The narrator's aside — "there was nothing like it made in any other kingdom" — is a deliberate theological claim: this throne is not merely the best among equals but is categorically singular, as befits the king of the people uniquely chosen by God.

2 Chronicles 9:20 — Gold Vessels; Silver Counted as Nothing The hyperbolic displacement of silver — "silver was not considered valuable in the days of Solomon" — is the Chronicler's way of saying that under wisdom's reign, the merely precious becomes commonplace and the transcendent becomes ordinary. The "House of the Forest of Lebanon" (built by Solomon according to 1 Kings 7:2-5) was a great armory and treasury hall; that even its utilitarian vessels were of pure gold signals that in Solomon's kingdom, no domain is left untouched by glory. For the Chronicler, writing for a post-exilic community dreaming of restoration, this passage is a vision of what Israel at her best could be.

2 Chronicles 9:21 — Ships of Tarshish and the Tribute of the Ends of the Earth Tarshish is traditionally identified with a distant western port — Tartessus in Spain is the most common candidate — making it a biblical byword for the farthest reaches of the known world. The three-year voyage cycle underscores the immense distance and the extraordinary nature of the enterprise. The cargo — gold, silver, ivory, apes (qophim), and peacocks (tukkiyyim, though some render this "baboons") — reads like an inventory of wonders, a sampling of every exotic thing creation contains. Huram (Hiram of Tyre) providing the sailors recalls the Gentile partnership in building the Temple; now the same Gentile skill serves Solomon's ongoing commerce. The ships returning every three years with the tribute of distant lands anticipate the prophetic vision of Isaiah 60, where the wealth of nations streams into a glorified Jerusalem.

From a Catholic theological perspective, this passage operates on multiple levels simultaneously. At the literal-historical level, it documents the zenith of Israelite royal power under the Davidic dynasty — a monarchy that the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC 2579) recognizes as a foreshadowing of Christ's own kingly office.

The throne of Solomon has captivated the Church's typological imagination from early centuries. St. John Damascene saw in Solomon's ivory-and-gold throne an image of the Virgin Mary, the "Seat of Wisdom" (Sedes Sapientiae) — she who bore incarnate divine Wisdom in her womb. This Marian reading became embedded in Catholic devotional tradition and the Litany of Loreto. Just as the ivory throne was the earthly seat of divine wisdom, so Mary is the living throne upon which Christ, the eternal Wisdom, rested in human flesh. Pope John Paul II referenced this patristic tradition in Redemptoris Mater (§8), noting how the Old Testament royal imagery finds its fullest Marian fulfillment.

The twelve lions also invite ecclesiological reflection. St. Gregory the Great (Moralia in Job) saw the lion as a figure of courageous preaching; twelve guardians of the throne suggest the twelve apostles as the permanent guardians of Christ's royal teaching authority — a connection reinforced by Christ's promise that the Twelve would sit on twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes (Matthew 19:28). The ships of Tarshish, finally, speak to the Church's universal mission. If Solomon's ships gathered the treasures of the Gentile world for Jerusalem, the Church gathers the spiritual wealth of every culture for the New Jerusalem, fulfilling what the Second Vatican Council's Lumen Gentium (§13) calls the "recapitulation of all things" in Christ the King.

The extravagance of Solomon's throne can feel remote, even morally uncomfortable, in an age of material inequality. But Catholic tradition invites a more nuanced reading. The passage asks us not to idolize wealth but to recognize that beauty, rightly ordered, reflects the glory of God — a principle the Church defends in her long tradition of sacred art and architecture. Every Catholic church, however humble or grand, is meant to be a small echo of Solomon's Temple: a place where ordinary materials are consecrated to signal that God's presence transforms the world.

More practically, the "ships of Tarshish" challenge every Catholic to ask: how far am I willing to travel — in prayer, in sacrifice, in apostolic effort — to bring something of value back to God's house? The three-year voyages represent patient, costly faithfulness rather than quick return. In a culture of instant gratification and spiritual minimalism, Solomon's merchants are an unlikely model of perseverance. Ask yourself what "long voyage" God may be calling you to — a sustained commitment to a ministry, a difficult vocation, a work of mercy that yields fruit only over years — and offer it as tribute to the King whose throne surpasses all others.