Micah’s Zero Sum Game

The difficulty of biblical wisdom is that it imposes the concatenation of words with real world actions, things, and outcomes. In Genesis, male patriarchy is subverted through successive generations plagued by sterility. We call Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob “fathers,” yet which of them was able to produce offspring? (Genesis 21:1-2; 25:21) While our chauvinism presumes the dysfunction of Sarah’s womb, in reality, it is Abraham’s seed that failed, since God had no difficulty whatsoever fathering Sarah’s child. The Matthean commandment, “call no man your father,” is not an opinion “about” fatherhood. On the contrary, it is the factual exposition of Abraham’s infertility in Genesis, which defers to God as the only Father. For the modern reader, this raises the question, “why then have patriarchs?” Micah’s answer comes in the form of the question restated: “If God is the ‘chief of mountains,’ (4:1) why must I submit to the Assyrians?”

In chapter 4, Micah heralds the coming of the Lord’s house as “chief of the mountains,” promising a world without war (4:3) through the absolute dominance of God’s teaching. (4:2) In principle, no self-respecting Judahite could wish for anything less. Not only peace, but peace through strength with the promise that God will “pulverize many peoples” for the sake of Zion. (4:13) The fly in the ointment, of course, is that the exaltation of God’s mountain in chapter 4 requires the “melting away” of Judah’s mountain in chapter 1. (1:4) This tension is amplified by word play in verse 8, since the term ophel (עֹ֫פֶל) translated “hill of the daughter of Zion,” is just as easily read “tumor of the daughter of Zion.” (4:8) The use of ophel stands out in the poetry of the text, which repeats the word har several times (mountain, hill, hill country/הָר) but only in reference to God’s mountain. In other words, Micah’s “peace on earth” is a zero sum game in which the mountain of Zion is asked to step aside. Judah is not “the first” in abstraction, but the first of many nations to be evangelized. (4:2)

Had Micah begun his book in chapter 4, addressing Judah’s sin with the promise of better days, no doubt, many in Zion would have cried, “Lord, Lord,” to no avail. (Matthew 7:22) As the Matthean Jesus explains, it is not enough to say how much you “like” God. If you want to find life, the word must take flesh in the real world–in your actions toward others. Holding Zion’s feet to the fire of its self-made platonic fold, 1 Micah concatenates the love of neighbor (Leviticus 19:18) with the reality of Assyria’s brutal occupation. Do you love God, Judah? Do you want to find life? Then you must look to Assyria; Because in Micah, the evil from the north is the right hand of God.

In John’s first epistle:

If someone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for the one who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen.” (1 John 4:20)


The more I love humanity, the less I love my neighbor.” 2


  1. “The Platonic Fold is the explosive boundary where the Platonic mindset enters in contact with messy reality, where the gap between what you know and what you think you know becomes dangerously wide.” – Nassim Nicholas Taleb, The Black Swan
  2. Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

They Cry “Peace”

In the long litany of excuses given to avoid biblical accountability, my personal favorite goes something like, “the Old Testament is too violent,” or “the Bible is too negative.” Lamenting the many and various examples of scriptural cruelty, abuse, and assorted graphic unpleasantries, biblical detractors suggest that humanity should instead “focus on the positive.” In reality, and along the lines of ancient Sanskrit wisdom, biblical violence is nothing more than a looking glass for the human race. 1  Responding to our self-delusion on behalf of the victims of abuse, biblical violence in Micah taunts the reader, “God is too violent? Really? Too violent for whom?”

In chapter 3 of Micah, God’s anger turns toward the religious rulers of Jerusalem, who shy away from God’s violent message (2:6) crying instead for a “peace”  that ignores “justice” (3:1) while ensuring their own comfort. (3:5) Overlooking violence against women and children (2:9) they deride the veteran (2:8) even as their sanctimonious “peace” consecrates a self-serving “holy war” at the expense of the most vulnerable of God’s children.

In contradistinction with modern makers of war 2 the biblical God speaks loudly and carries a small stick. Begging and pleading with the leaders of Jerusalem to look in the mirror, Micah threatens them with a terrorism that is the natural consequence of their own misdeeds. In this sense, biblical violence is a hoax. God does nothing. We do it to ourselves.

In Micah–among the most violent non-violent texts ever written–God employs the language of  the oppressor to open our eyes to the plight of the victim. Most people reading this blog–people with access to computers and electricity–do not go to bed hungry. In a world where the vulnerable suffer violence, hunger, and abuse every day, platitudes about a “more positive” alternative to the Bible are an abusive sham.

Uncomfortable, yes. But to the afflicted and the brokenhearted, the Bible’s violence is good news; For those held captive or in prison, it is the herald of their liberty; (Isaiah 61:1) For the rest of us, it is a warning.


  1. “Others are merely mirrors of you.” – Ancient Sanskrit Proverb
  2. Monroe Doctrine: “Speak softly and carry a big stick.”

Painful But Necessary

This week, I had the opportunity to fill in for Mrs. Benton’s class with the youngest children. In her absence, we reviewed the first and second chapters of Micah. Our discussion was about God being angry at the people and telling them that he was going to punish them because they didn’t listen to his commandments.

To help bring the point home, I asked the children to compare it to when they do something against what their mom or dad tells them–for example– “don’t hit your sister.”  If they hit their sister, their parents will punish them, even though their parents really don’t want to punish them. Your parents don’t enjoy making you sad, I explained, but because you chose not to listen to them, you will have to face the consequences.

There are consequences for our actions and that’s how we learn to behave correctly. God didn’t want to punish his children, but sometimes that’s the only way to help someone understand. Adults need to hear this as much as children, which is why the Bible’s constant reminders are so painful. Painful, but necessary.

Will Israel miss the Lord?

God lets–even makes–people leave so that they’ll miss him.  We began today’s lesson recounting a story about Ramona from Beverly Cleary’s books about this young girl.  On one occasion, Ramona gets angry with her dad and decides to run away from home.  Rather than scold or beg Ramona to stay, her mother surprisingly helps her pack.  We knew, though, that Ramona’s mother did not want her child to leave.  She wanted Ramona to realize that while her daughter didn’t like things at the moment, she actually loved and counted on her parents.  When the people of Israel unfaithfully want to turn away from the Lord, the Lord lets them, with the help of the hand of the Assyrians.

The first verses (1-4) of Micah 3 condemn the leaders of Israel.  One child noticed that this condemnation may be against the Northern Kingdom, but the text is not entirely clear.  The leaders are making what one child called “human stew.”  The leaders are like shepherds of their people, but rather than taking care of and protecting the sheep, they’re eating them.  This symbolizes how the leaders take advantage of the people.  In the end, just as the leaders ignored taking care of the people, the Lord will ignore the leaders’ cries for help.

The next verses (5-8) condemn the prophets.  This condemnation recalls the judgement against the people in 2:11 for only hearing the prophets who speak nice things–what I called the “cake and ice cream” prophets (instead of the “wine and liquor” prophets of 2:11).  Who wouldn’t prefer a prophet who promised cake and ice cream all the time?  In chapter 3, prophecy depends on how well-fed the people are.  If their bellies are full, the prophecy is “peace”; if bellies are empty, the prophecy is “war.”  Their bellies control their prophecies.  As a result “darkness” shall fall on the prophets.  We discussed how “darkness” causes blindness, and that the inability to see symbolizes the inability to understand.  Ultimately, Micah alone speaks for the Lord, and the word encompasses judgement on the sin of Israel.

The final section (9-12) comes back against the leaders.  The kids easily saw how fairness disappears once judges, priests, and prophets trade “wisdom” for money.  These shouldn’t even be called prophets anymore, but false prophets, they said.  The people claim that God is with them, but they are mistaken because they haven’t been listening to Micah–or any of the prophets.  The last image, of Jerusalem becoming a ruin, and the Temple Mount as a forest shrine, struck the children strongly.  They imagined the altar of the great cathedral of St. Paul, Minnesota, reduced to a nice pile of rocks surrounded by a forest that had previously been a city.  That God no longer wanted the people on their land–clear since the beginning of the book–culminated with this image of nothing remaining on the land at all.

While the people wanted peace and believed that God remains with them, protecting them, they wandered.  They chose to go with other gods and display their rejection of God and his teaching.  God sends them away, off the land, with the hope–for their sake–that they will miss him enough to come back.

Worse than a Deadbeat Dad

Religious readers often underestimate the centrality of metaphor to the Bible’s genre. Even when we acknowledge metaphor at work, we dismiss it as secondary to an assumed event in time, or contextualize its meaning with our own experience and perspective. In both cases, we ignore a symbol’s natural setting in history and its integration with a specific narrative system. In Micah, allowing these symbols to unfold in their assigned context uncovers the horrors of Judah’s immorality; in Paul’s vernacular, sins committed “against” the “body.” (1 Corinthians 6:18)

In the Ancient Near East, it was common to personify cities as women. 1 If the city is a woman in the prophetic tradition, its gate is understood as the entrance to her womb. These metaphors carry over in the New Testament, where Paul follows Ezekiel’s lead regarding the city of Jerusalem (Galatians 4:26, Ephesians 5:26-27) or in Luke, where we encounter “a dead man” at “the gate,” a metaphor for stillbirth or bareness. (Luke 7:12) In effect, the “calamity” in Micah that has “come down from the Lord to the gate of Jerusalem” (1:12) is the rape of the city. More than a way of describing the brutality of occupation, this imagery speaks to the consequences of trusting the wrong man.

From the beginning, God chose Jerusalem as his bride (Ezekiel 16:8) even as her children rejected him as their father. (1 Samuel 8:7) “In that day,” Samuel warned, “you will cry out because of the king whom you have chosen for yourselves, but the Lord will not answer you.” (1 Samuel 8:18) In Micah, a faithless king was unable to fill God’s shoes as sole provider for his wife and children. Worse than a deadbeat dad, the imposter cut a deal with his adopted family’s abuser. What kind of husband invites the rape of his own bride? “Is the Spirit of the Lord impatient? Are these His doings?” (2:7) No, God answers. “My words,” those of a true father, bless “the one who walks uprightly,” exposing the “calamity” of the one who does not listen.

As if there were ever a choice.

Sennacherib’s conquest of Lachish 2


  1. Ryken, Leland, Wilhoit, James C., Longman III, Tremper, Dictionary of Biblical Imagery, Inter-Varsity Press, Downers Grove, IL 1998. Pg. 194.
  2. Sennacherib’s conquest of Lachish. British Museum, London.

Let’s Preach Rainbows and Unicorns for the Kids!

We don’t like our children to be troubled by difficult news.  Especially in America where our children do not face daily struggles of war and famine like they do in other parts of the world, we would rather flip on the Saturday morning cartoons and let the commercials preach rainbows and unicorns.  A child’s dream is fulfilled when she can live vicariously through chic Barbie, or when junior can add the latest action hero figure to the bazillions he has already.   “If a man should go about and utter wind and lies, saying ‘I will preach to you of wine and strong drink,’ he would be the preacher for this people!” (Micah 2:11)  Indeed, this is the preaching we seek.

We hear in Micah 2:6, “Do not preach”–thus they preach–“one should not preach of such things; disgrace will not overtake us.”  We don’t want to hear how screen time will turn our kids’ brains to mush.  We don’t want to hear how super-sizing and convenient fast food disease our kids with obesity.  The very things we cling to for comfort become our disgrace.  And we certainly don’t want our children to hear the troubling yet real stories of children who are plagued by famine, war, sickness, and abuse.  If they heard, they may react with compassion and cease their own whining for yet more rainbows and unicorns.


The youngest children of Ephesus School continue to work on memorizing Micah 6:6-8.

Our newest Hebrew word is ללכת  lalekhet, or lechu which means, “walk.”

Micah’s hard word against Judah

The children’s eyes lit up again this week when I told them more about Israelite history.  I recounted King Ahaz’s crime, to call in the Assyrian army to defend Judah against aggression from the northern alliance of Israel and Aram.  Just hearing this caused suspicion in the children; how would King Ahaz know that Assyria wouldn’t turn against Judah?  I spoiled the end–I let them know that it was going to end badly.  We saw the Lord’s uncompromising insistence on driving his people off the land so that they would eventually desire to turn back to him.

I read the entire chapter to the children, telling them to listen and remember what stood out to them.  The women removed from their houses and the prophet preaching “liquor and wine” struck them immediately.  Then they discussed the bad events that were coming to pass for Judah.  Then I read back through the chapter slowly, explaining the difficult parts and inviting discussion.

The dispossession of the people occupied a lot of our time, and we tied it back to the theme of disloyalty from last week (chapter 1).  We recalled how the Lord needed to bring the people back to him, but punishment alone was not going to work.  Wicked people would come and steal their land–and God would allow it!  The people would lament (similar to the mourning of the previous chapter).  This reaction would hopefully bring the people back.

People would not welcome such a message, we saw in the next section (verses 6-7), because it sounds strange.  How could God allow wicked people to have their way with this land and let people be hurt?  All this because King Ahaz sinned?  We remembered the king of Nineveh, who, in contrast to King Ahaz and his people, listened and immediately repented and fasted.  The contrasting behavior of King Ahaz struck us especially because he was the king of Assyria–the very opponent threatening Israel now!  The king of Nineveh proved that the correct behavior was possible, putting King Ahaz in an even more dangerous position in the eyes of the Lord.

Our class agreed that the people would always prefer a prophet who preached a party rather than the doom that God had in mind (verses 11-12).  We wondered, though, how could the Ninevites hear Jonah’s prophecy amidst the voices of the city, especially one that was so difficult.  Of course it’s easier to hear the easy word, making the Ninevites stand out even more for the responsiveness.

This chapter showed that God would warn the people with an impossible message: God was ready to abandon his people and his land.  His own people would suffer and God would not help.  The Lord would lead them out of their land himself (verse 13).

Micah & the Big “I Told You So”

The prophecy of Micah begins with a literary motif that is at once normative and exclusive to the Bible’s genre. In the realm of philosophical religions, it is common to justify suffering via theodicy, the foolish attempt to reconcile rational concepts of God with the existence of evil. When disaster strikes we have come to expect the question, “if there is a God why does he allow suffering,” and its corresponding platitude, “behind every storm cloud there is a rainbow,” and other such tripe. In truth–neither good nor evil–suffering is essential to the natural ecosystem of which humans are a part and to which they contribute. In contrast with human projections of a “rational god,” Micah imposes a biblical deity who in human terms is completely irrational. Not only does he allow suffering, he causes it. Not only does he take sides in war, he takes sides against his own people.

A contemporary of Isaiah, Micah was written “in the days of Jotham, Ahaz and Hezekiah, kings of Judah” (1:1) during the aftermath of Judah’s egregious capitulation to Assyria. Turning away from God, Ahaz had leapt to the affluent and welcoming arms of the king of Assyria. (2 Kings 16:5-9) Soon thereafter, Hezekiah paid the price for his father’s apostasy with the seizure of Judah. (2 Kings 18:13) As with the rebellion of Samaria (1:5)–a reference to the idolatry of Omri, the city’s builder (1 Kings 16:24-25)–Ahaz had placed his eggs in the wrong basket, endangering both Israel and Judah. (1:6-9) It is for this reason, Micah announced, that the Lord was “coming forth from his place,” “from his holy Temple,” to exact punishment. (1:2-3)

In historical terms, the cities of Samaria and Jerusalem were threatened by foreign invasion. Whatever the cause (or not) in history, the impending seizure of Judah presented Micah with a teachable moment. In the Bible, suffering acquires meaning when it is co-opted by the biblical narrative to demonstrate the power of God’s instruction, either as judgment or as witness. In Micah, the former. To help illustrate this point during the introductory presentation to both adults and children, I used the following example.

With the help of two young volunteers, I asked one student to role-play as “a hot stove,” and the other as a child playing in the kitchen. I assumed the role of a parent, warning the child not to touch the hot stove.

“In that day,” I warned her in a trumped up prophetic tone, “your wound will be incurable” (1:9) and you shall know that “your calamity has come down from the Lord.” (1:12)

In our skit, my leaving the room was the child’s cue to touch the hot stove. So she did, and I returned to announce that “God is not mocked” (Galatians 6:7) and that her burn was a punishment from the Lord.

“Does that mean that God burned your hand,” I asked.

“No,” she replied. “It means that God is saying, ‘I told you so.'”

Out of the mouths of babes. No theology degree required.

Anger, Sadness, and Disloyalty

The book of Micah required some background material.  First, I wanted to explain how a prophet functioned as a messenger of God.  I explained to the children the mechanics of communication in the ancient Near East.  Since most people were not literate, and radio and phones had not been invented, communication was a problem.  Kings hired a scribe who wrote a message, the messenger carried it, and the other king’s scribe read it back.  A prophet worked in the same way: God sent a messenger with his word.

Second, I explained the references to Samaria and Judah that we would encounter.  The children love history, so this was exciting for them.  We remembered King David, how he reigned over a united kingdom, and the problems that ensued after the split in the kingdom.  The book of Micah takes place after the Assyrians had wiped out the Northern Kingdom, and while the Babylonians were menacing the Southern Kingdom.  Many of the children had heard of Babylonia before.

Finally, we needed to understand the themes of unfaithfulness in this chapter.  An important issue was explaining the idolatry and “harlot’s hire” that were often repeated.  The latter concept had to be handled delicately, of course, because of the children’s age.  I explained this way.  Imagine a child, whose father denied her something she wanted.  A friend’s father offered to give it to her–plus some things.  How would the father feel if the child decided to move in with the friend’s father?  This is idolatry: deciding to give up one’s father because  of the “stuff” one can get out of the arrangement.  Then we changed to the second concept.  Imagine your father says to your mom, “I’m going to bed.  Are you coming along soon?”  The mother replies, “No thanks.  I think I’ll go stay with my other family.  They give me the best breakfast on Mother’s Day, plus presents, and I never have to do the dishes!”  Just the idea made the children sad.  This is what it means to be a “harlot.”  The kids viscerally felt how disloyalty, arising from material benefits, destroys the family.

God was upset by the people’s lack of loyalty and love of material benefits.  But how does the father bring back the disloyal child or wife?  The kids initially thought of punishment, but then thought it might not work.  We saw the dilemma that confronted God.

The form of the literature struck the kids.  I read aloud the first chapter.  It sounded more like poetry to them, with certain rhythms and images.  The power of God walking on mountaintops, the loneliness of the ostrich, and the baldness of the vulture all stuck with them.

God’s arrival does not always bring good news, we saw.  God walks from mountain to mountain.  Those towering testimonies to eternity sloshed away instantly when God came.  Not only is God powerful and big, but his eternal nature dwarfs even the mountains.

Disloyalty upset God in different ways.  At first, God sounded angry, ready to smash the people.  But then God sounded sad, lamenting the waywardness of the people.  He was vainly trying to stop a contagious disease–disloyalty–before it infected Judah.  The references to the ostrich, alone in the desert, or the jackal, crying pitifully, emphasized this lament.  Finally, the lamentation would come to the people, where they would look like vultures, as they lamented the loss of their own children.

The class responded readily to discussing the metaphors and similies of the text, displaying a sharp intelligence for understanding the prophetic text.  I was encouraged that the skills they had learned in school for reading poetry were helpful for understanding Micah.  Through these images they saw the awesome coming of God, his anger and sadness, and the disappointing disloyalty and ultimate mourning of Israel.

Hearing Implies Obeying

For our first lesson in Micah, our youngest children learned the Hebrew word for “hear.”  It is שמע shema’.  We talked about our mothers who warn us against going into the street or touching a hot stove or playing too rough.  Concerned for her children, she warns against things and behaviors that are unsafe for her children.  “Don’t do that!” mother warns because she loves us and wants to protect us.  And when she calls out, “Did you hear me?!?”  She’s not checking for earwax, she’s checking for obedience.  When mother gives a word of warning, she’s not asking her children for their opinions nor is she giving her children the option to do what she says.  Did you hear me does not mean, “tell me what you think.”  Did you hear me does not mean, “consider what I’ve said, but do what you want.” Did you hear me means, “It looks like you’re not obeying my word and you’re about to be punished for disobedience.”

When mother walks away, her word remains, making her “ever-present.”  Her children are expected to abide by her word, whether she is there or not.  And somehow mother knows when her children are conspiring disobedience or secretly being naughty.  She can walk into the room of her children, “and the mountains will melt . . . and the valleys will be cleft, like wax before the fire.”  When mother walks into the room, no one can hide.  She can see the bump of rump under the blanket, the eyes peeking through the closet, and the wiggly toes at the base of the curtain.  And she can definitely see the broken toys and baby sister crying in the room.   She can recognize the guilt and punish every wrong-doing with a swift hand.

It’s tempting to reach out and touch that hot stove or play too rough, no matter what mom says.  By our own willfulness, we hurt ourselves and cry out, “Mama, help me!”  And Mother hears and attends to the cries of her children.  When we get hurt even after mother warns us, to whom do we turn for band-aids, healing, and comfort?  We turn to mom.  The very one who warns us in order to protect us is the one who makes everything better even when we’ve disobeyed.

This is how the Lord functions in Micah.  When Micah says Hear or Hearken it implies responding to the word of the Lord with obedience.  The Lord comes down in judgment, addressing every transgression.  Yet the Lord “does not retain his anger for ever because he delights in steadfast love.” (Micah 7:18)


The youngest children of Ephesus School will be memorizing Micah 6:6-8.