At Yale, we are judged by standards that many of us — me included — consider normal. How impressive is our resume? How many internships have we had? In today’s world, much of our future seems to arrive swiftly and clinically once we’ve had the appropriate number of interviews and shaken hands with the appropriate amount of people. We style our hair and our clothes to appear polished, almost like blocks of marble that will be shaped into a statue of what we call “success.”

We are judged by appearance, but also by our ruthlessness. Maybe we don’t wish ill upon those with whom we compete, but we have definitely had moments where someone tells us about an internship or job they didn’t get, and we say, “I’m sorry,” while thinking about the positions that we did get. Our compassion is limited, because it seems like success is a zero-sum game: when someone doesn’t get a job, that’s one more position that’s open for us. And when we’re not ruthless with others, we’re certainly ruthless with ourselves, denying ourselves sleep and food and even small moments with friends so that we can achieve that position and take one step closer to “success.”

Today, Isaiah talks about the ideal Davidic King, writing, “Not by appearance shall he judge, nor by hearsay shall he decide . . . he shall strike the ruthless with the rod of his mouth . . .” Apparently, the ideal king isn’t ruthless, and they don’t make simplified judgements. Rather, the ideal king is compassionate and thoughtful. Most of us don’t strive to be kings, but we definitely strive to be leaders — of companies, countries, etc. But perhaps we can keep Isaiah’s words with us as we shake hands and go for interviews, because they remind us that the tough, aloof shell that we’re likely constructing for corporate or political success might make us into poor leaders indeed. Instead, we want to be compassionate, and we want to look at the bigger picture, to see how we can lead both ourselves and our peers into a life that follows our Catholic example.