And there was a man of mount Ephraim, whose name was Micah.
The closing chapters of Judges step outside the run of the story. They show what was happening inside Israelite homes all along, and they open with an ordinary man from the hill country of Ephraim and some stolen silver. Why does God's record end a book of national victories with a private family theft?
The battles and deliverances of Judges are the surface. These final chapters go underneath it.
The chapters that follow (Judges 17–21) are not part of the historical order of this book. They lift the veil to show scenes from the inner life of this people, whom God's patience bore with so long... They were self-willed, and with no king there was nothing to restrain them. That gave room to every kind of licence.
Another writer traces this section back to a cause:
We have now reached the last division of the book. Here we see the inner condition of the people, toward God and toward one another — and it throws clear light on the whole history. So for this we go back before the history. This condition is not the result of the history but its cause, and a lasting cause.
The verse gives Micah a name and a region, nothing more. That is part of the warning, because what starts in his house spreads far beyond it.
The idolatry in Dan did not start with them. It was the transplanting of a sin that began in the house of a man who seems to have had no prominence in Israel. Leprosy will spread, whatever part of the body it starts in. No one may think himself too small or unimportant to spread a disease that may infect a nation.
Commentators differ on what "Micah" means, but both readings cut against the man. One takes it at full value:
You would think a man with that name would be proof against every form of idolatry — if his name meant anything. Names ought to mean something, above all when they are given in faith and recognised as significant among the people of God. "Who is like Jehovah?" would be enough to settle any question of idolatry.
Another reads the shortened form as a sign of what happened to him:
The man adopts his mother's religion. The clipping of his name shows the change: Micajehu ("who is like Jehovah?") becomes simply Micah, which probably means "who is dull of sight?"
The hill country of Ephraim, called Mount Ephraim in older translations, was no distant frontier. Shiloh, where Israel kept the ark of God, stood close by.
All this takes place in Mount Ephraim, quite near to Shiloh, where the ark of God was — not in some far corner of the little land of Israel, small as it was. In the same way, Israel made the golden calf in the shadow of Mount Sinai. You cannot measure distance from God in miles.
Traced back to where it starts, the story is plain.
Traced to its origin, we have first a man's theft from his mother of eleven hundred pieces of silver. Terrified by her curses, but without any repentance toward God, he gives it back.
Neither Micah nor his mother is troubled by what God had said.
Micah, this man of Mount Ephraim, and his mother paid no attention at all to what God's word told them. The one stole, when the law had said, "You shall not steal," and his conscience was untouched when he admitted the fact. The mother had wholly dedicated the silver to Jehovah for her son "to make a carved image and a metal image." Yet God's word had already said: "You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself a carved image." She joined Jehovah's name to her idols, a worse thing than plain idolatry, and her conscience stayed silent.
A few verses on, the book sums up the times Micah lived in.
"Everyone did what was right in his own eyes." They had, as today, the reign of liberty of conscience. Each claimed the "light of his conscience" as his guide, while they set aside the true light of God's word and no longer consulted it... Now in reality conscience, despite its immense value to man, is not a guide but a judge — a wholly different thing.
- Root, not sequence. These chapters come last, but they belong before the history. They are not the result of Israel's failure. They are its lasting cause.
- Root in a home. The infection begins in the house of a man of no prominence. No one is too small to spread a disease that reaches a nation.
- Root under a good name. The name "Micah" carries God's name, yet the man carries idols. Commentators differ on whether the short form means "who is like Jehovah?" or "who is dull of sight?"
- Root near the ark. Shiloh stood close by. Nearness to God is not a matter of miles.
- Root left unjudged. Theft admitted without repentance, God's name tied to idols, every man his own guide. People made conscience their guide, when God gave it to be a judge.
And he said to his mother, The eleven hundred silver-pieces that were taken from thee, and about which thou didst curse and speak of in mine ears, behold, the silver is with me; I took it. And his mother said, Blessed be my son of Jehovah!
A son admits to his mother that he took the 1,100 pieces of silver she had put under a curse, and instead of judgment he gets a blessing in the Lord's name. The idolatry of a whole tribe later grows out of this one household scene.
Grant asks where the idolatry of the tribe of Dan came from.
The idolatry in Dan is not original with them. It is the transplanting of a sin that began in the house of a man who seems in no way prominent in Israel. Leprosy will spread, whatever part of the body it begins in. And no one may think himself too small or unimportant to spread a disease that may infect a nation. Sin also has a power to grow and change fast. It is certain that from one covetous act in Eden came all the countless forms of wickedness that fill the world today. The Spirit of God traces this sin back to its start for our profit. First we have a man's theft from his mother of eleven hundred silver pieces. Terrified by her curses, but with no repentance toward God, he gives them back.
Micah speaks up only after he hears the curse spoken over the thief. That timing tells us what moved him.
The thieving son, the cursing mother. He restores the money because he fears the curse — true faith was not there, but superstition. And that ungodly woman can say, "Blessed be my son by the LORD." Micah's wicked life contradicts his name, for Micah means "who is like the Lord."
The mother's words swing from cursing to blessing in one breath. Ridout points to the reason for the change.
Here you have a son who has robbed his mother. And here is a mother who cursed her own son without knowing who it was — she cursed the robber who had taken the 1,100 pieces of silver from her. He had robbed her and hidden it. Under the terror of the curse he was afraid to keep it any longer, so he gave it back to her. The one who had just cursed could now bless, and she did it very piously. Not because her son, who had given back the stolen thing, had repented — but because she had got her money back.
She blesses him in the Lord's name, then tells him she had set the silver apart for the Lord — to make an image. Rossier lays mother and son side by side against the commandments.
Utter disregard for what God's word commands marked Micah, this man of Mount Ephraim, and his mother. The one stole, when the law had said, "You shall not steal," and his conscience was untouched when he admitted the fact. The mother had wholly dedicated the silver to the Lord, for her son "to make a carved image and a metal image." Yet God had said: "You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself a carved image." She joined the Lord's name to her idols — a worse thing than plain idolatry — and her conscience was silent.
She says the whole sum is the Lord's. Two hundred pieces are all that leave her hand.
Micah's mother used 200 shekels for the making of the images. Are we like her in any way? Do we speak of devoting everything to the Lord, and then keep back nine elevenths for ourselves? But of course she was not devoting any of it to the Lord, but to an evil purpose.
Ridout draws a rule from those two hundred pieces:
She does not give it all. You never find any idolatry, any god that we set up with our own hands, costing us everything. Whatever we claim for the thing we have set up in the place of God, it never costs us our whole fortune. You may be sure of that.
Her sin looks strange and far away. Grant says the desire behind it is ordinary.
She is clearly doing what is right in her own eyes, though there is not a trace of any movement of her heart toward God. To make one's own god and keep it is the natural desire everywhere of the human heart when it is away from Him. We need not use as much silver as this woman did to make one. We may be less ignorant, or more indifferent, or perhaps both. But worship we invent for ourselves follows the same pattern everywhere. This is why her case teaches us so much.
- Source. One theft in one unremarkable house became the idolatry of a whole tribe. Sin spreads like leprosy from wherever it starts.
- Fear. Micah gave the silver back because he dreaded the curse, not because he had repented toward God.
- Flattery. The mother's blessing followed the return of her money, not any change in her son.
- Fraction. She called the whole sum dedicated, then handed over two hundred pieces. Religion we invent never costs us everything.
- Familiar. She did what was right in her own eyes and attached the Lord's name to it, and that pattern has not changed.
And he restored the eleven hundred silver-pieces to his mother; and his mother said, I had dedicated the silver to Jehovah from my hand for my son, to make a graven image and a molten image; and now I will restore it to thee.
A mother takes back her stolen silver, blesses the son who took it, and says she set the whole sum apart for the Lord — to pay for a carved image. Can God's name make a forbidden thing acceptable?
She speaks the Lord's name over a plan the law had already banned. One writer sets her words beside the commandments they break.
Micah, this man of Mount Ephraim, and his mother completely ignored what God's word said. The one stole, when the law had said, "You shall not steal" (Ex. 20:15), and his conscience felt nothing when he admitted it. The mother had wholly dedicated the silver to Jehovah for her son "to make a carved image and a metal image" (v. 3). Yet the law had said: "You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself a carved image" (Ex. 20:3-4). She joined Jehovah's name to her idols. That is worse than plain idolatry. Yet her conscience stayed silent.
Her words sound devout. One writer holds them up against one more commandment, and against the blessing she just spoke over a theft.
Had she forgotten, "You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain" (Ex. 20:7)? Blessing her boy for stealing! ... Can we in any way imagine God accepting anything offered against His will and word? Yet here we have His name on the lip, and things dedicated to Him for uses which are detestable in His eyes.
The verse has her handing the silver over "from my hand for my son." One writer reads that gesture as an old sin repeated.
She repeats the old sin of the wilderness. A metalworker turns the silver into a carved image and a metal image. She then solemnly passes them from her own hand, for her son, over to the LORD — with no doubt at all that He finds this acceptable.
The silver came back because of the curse in verse 2, not because a conscience woke up. The mother blesses him anyway.
What a scene this chapter brings us into! The thieving son, the cursing mother. He restores the money because he fears the curse. True faith was not there, only superstition. And that godless woman can say, "Blessed be my son by the LORD." Then she uses two hundred shekels of silver and has two images made.
She names the person the silver is for: her son. Her devotion has an object, and it is not God.
Then she made it clear that she idolized her son. She told him she had dedicated all this money to the Lord, to make a carved image and a molded image for her son (v. 3). She wanted her son to be religious, but she was teaching him to refuse to obey the Word of God!
She says she dedicated all of it. Verse 4 shows only two hundred of the eleven hundred pieces reaching the silversmith. One writer turns that gap into a rule.
She does not give it all. No idolatry, no god we set up with our own hands, ever costs us everything. Whatever the thing we put in God's place demands, it never costs our whole fortune — you may be sure of that.
This is one private household. One writer traces a whole tribe's idolatry back to it.
The idolatry in Dan did not start with them. It was the transplanting of a sin begun in the house of a man who, as far as we can tell, had no standing at all in Israel. Leprosy spreads, no matter which part of the body it starts in. No one may think himself too small or too unimportant to carry a disease that can infect a nation.
The same writer notes where this happened — close to the place where the ark of God stood.
All this happens not in some far-off corner of the little land of Israel. It happens in the hill country of Ephraim, close to Shiloh, where the ark of God stood. The golden calf was made the same way, in the shadow of Mount Sinai. Distance from God cannot be measured in miles.
- Motive — Fear of a curse brought the silver back, not repentance. The blessing she speaks rests on recovered money, not a changed heart.
- Name — She puts the Lord's name on a carved image. Tying His name to idols is worse than open idolatry, and her conscience stays quiet.
- Aim — The gift is "for my son." She wants him religious while training him to disobey God's Word.
- Cost — She promises eleven hundred pieces and spends two hundred. A home-made god never costs a person everything.
- Spread — One unknown household starts an idolatry that a whole tribe will take up. It began near Shiloh: distance from God is not measured in miles.
Now he restored the silver to his mother; and his mother took two hundred silver-pieces and gave them to the founder, and he made of them a graven image and a molten image; and they were in the house of Micah.
Micah's stolen silver comes back to his mother, and she turns it at once into religion. Commentators press two questions on it: what does God's name on a forbidden image mean, and where did the other nine hundred shekels go?
The mother's words in verse 3 dedicated the silver to the Lord. This verse shows what that dedication produced. One writer sets it against the commandments it breaks:
Utter disregard for God's word marked Micah, this man of the hill country of Ephraim, and his mother. The one stole, when the law had said, "You shall not steal," and his conscience was untouched when he admitted it. The mother had wholly dedicated the silver to the LORD for her son "to make a carved image and a metal image." Yet God had said: "You shall have no other gods before Me. You shall not make for yourself a carved image." She joined the LORD's name to her idols — a worse thing than mere idolatry — and her conscience was silent. She set up a form of worship of her own, and her guilty son fully identified himself with it.
She had promised the whole sum. The silversmith got a fraction of it. One writer turns that arithmetic into a question:
Micah's mother used 200 shekels for the making of the images. Are we like her in any respect? Do we speak of devoting everything to the Lord, then keep back nine elevenths for ourselves? But of course none of this was really devoted to the Lord, but to an evil purpose.
The verse closes by telling us where the images went. The mother is never heard from again:
The mother takes 200 pieces of the restored silver and has a carved image made, after which she seems to disappear from the history, having proved how completely disloyal she is, and how completely unlike the faithful in Israel, such as the mother of Samson. It is all with the evident approval of the son, who takes his metal, carved image and sets it up in his house as an idol.
One writer asks what Micah got out of this, then points to where he lived:
He is certainly dull of sight, and keenly looking after his own interest all the while. For what is more profitable than a god of your own making, kept in your own possession? And all this happens not in some remote corner of even the little land of Israel. It happens in the hill country of Ephraim, quite near to Shiloh, where the ark of God was. In the same way the golden calf was made in the shadow of Mount Sinai, for you cannot measure distance from God by latitude and longitude. Heathenism is not the sigh of a heart that says, "Oh, that I knew where I might find Him!" No — it came when people knew God and yet "did not honor Him as God or give thanks to Him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened."
One writer takes the root of idolatry deeper than silver. What a silversmith can cast, a mind can cast too:
The root of all idolatry is self-will. It is making a god of our own. It is starting with self and fashioning a god, not necessarily out of silver, and not necessarily with our hands. You would say there is very little danger nowadays of people fashioning gods with their hands. But there is a tool more cunning and skilful than the hands, and that is the intellect of man. Wherever self takes the place of the will of God, you will find the human mind at work fashioning a god to please itself. And it does this in the name of the Lord, in the name of the true God.
One writer traces the idolatry of a whole tribe back to this one house:
The idolatry in Dan did not begin with them. It was the transplanting of a sin that started in the house of a man who seems to have had no prominence at all in Israel. Leprosy will spread, whatever part of the body it begins in. And no one should think himself too small or too unimportant to spread a disease that may infect a nation.
- Stolen — A son took this silver from his own mother. He gave it back in fear of her curses, not in repentance.
- Dedicated — She gave the silver to the Lord, then spent it on what He had forbidden. Joining His name to an idol is worse, one writer says, than open idolatry.
- Withheld — She pledged all eleven hundred pieces and handed over two hundred. A vow spoken in full, kept in less than a fifth.
- Housed — The images ended up in a private house in Ephraim, close to the ark at Shiloh. Nearness to God's dwelling is no measure of nearness to God.
- Spread — What began in one obscure home spread until it infected a whole tribe. No one is too small to pass on the disease.
And the man Micah had a house of gods, and made an ephod and teraphim, and consecrated one of his sons, who became his priest.
Micah builds a complete religion inside his own house: a shrine, a priest's garment, household images, and a son ordained to serve at it. All of it carries the name of the Lord, while the priesthood God had set up already stood in Israel. The question is not whether Micah was religious. It is whether God ever asked for any of it.
Micah borrowed every piece of his shrine. Some came from the nations around him. Some came from Israel's own worship, used out of place. One writer names each source and the law it broke:
Micah also had a shrine. Where did he learn of this but from the idolatrous nations in the land? He made an ephod also, copying what was only to be worn by the high priest of Israel (Lev. 8:7). Then to crown his wickedness, he consecrated his son as his priest (v. 5). Scripture had said plainly that only men from Aaron's line were priests. Anyone who dared to trespass on this faced the death penalty (Num. 18:1-7). Also, a priest was a priest for all Israel, not for a family. But independence is a natural weed of the human heart, and that independence showed itself everywhere in Israel at the time: "everyone did what was right in his own eyes" (v. 6).
The ephod was the high priest's garment. Lifted away from the man God appointed to wear it, it became an empty costume:
"The man Micah had a shrine, and he made an ephod and household gods," linking the false gods with the ephod — a worthless part of Jewish worship once it is separated from the high priest who wore it. Then he "ordained one of his sons, who became his priest" (v. 5). More than ever the word of God was forgotten. His son had no right to the priesthood, and Micah had no right to ordain him.
The word behind "household gods" is teraphim — small images kept at home. One writer weighs how serious they are, and where they lead:
The image (teraphim) stands a little below the idol. It is a kind of half-god whose domain is the household. It carries a certain importance, and people even consult it at times. Such superstitions soon lead to true idols… Often the believer lacks the energy to drive these causes of stumbling out of his family, and each one of us must watch this carefully.
Notice the order inside the verse. Micah never planned a system. Each piece called for the next:
The steps in this growth are very simple. In the fifth verse we find that he has an image, so he must have a house to put his image in. Then, as he has a house, there must also be an ephod, or priest's garment, and teraphim — minor images, as you might say — connected with it. And over all these there must be a priest to preside. Micah appoints one of his own sons as priest. But he soon finds something better than a priest he made himself, for he gets one who is at least partly a priest of God.
So who may be a priest? One writer answers with two classes, and a home-made priest belongs to neither:
True ministry of the Word is a blessed thing. But let us remember, as we saw in Gideon's history, that there are only two classes of priests; one class has but one solitary figure in it, the High Priest. No one dare take His place. The other class of priesthood has in it all God's people. "You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood." The two classes are Christ alone, and all His people. But man-made priesthood always takes ministry — which should be service — and turns it into priesthood.
The same writer traces all of it back to one root, and warns that hands are not the only tool that makes gods:
The root of all idolatry is self-will; it is making a god of our own. It starts with self and shapes a god. That god need not be made of silver, and it need not be made with our hands… There is a tool more cunning and skilful than the hands: the mind of man. Wherever self takes the place of the will of God, you will find the human mind at work shaping a god to please itself — and it does this in the name of the Lord, in the name of the true God.
- His own will — the root of idolatry is self-will: making a god of our own, then attaching the true God's name to it.
- His own shrine — one image needed a house, the house needed an ephod and images, and those needed a priest. Each step called for the next.
- His own ephod — the high priest's garment, worn by anyone else, is worth nothing.
- His own priest — Scripture has only two priesthoods: Christ alone, and all His people. A family priest made at home is neither.
- His own images — household "gods" look minor, yet such superstitions soon lead to real idols. Clear them out of the home.
In those days there was no king in Israel; every man did what was right in his own eyes.
The closing chapters of Judges pause the story to show what Israel had become inside. This one sentence is the summary the writer keeps coming back to. It names two things at once: an authority that is missing, and a standard that has taken its place.
This is more than a note about politics. Israel had slipped out from under God's rule and had not yet put anything in its place.
The time had not yet come when Israel would ask for a king to judge them like all the nations (1 Sam. 8:5). Until now the people had Jehovah as their king. Now God was forgotten or pushed aside, though no kingship like the nations had been set up yet. The people had abandoned God's system of government, without yet declaring the world's.
"Right in his own eyes" does not mean everyone knew they were rebelling. Each man had a reason. One writer draws a sharp line between what conscience can do and what it cannot.
They had, as in the present day, the reign of liberty of conscience. Each man claimed the "light of his conscience" as his guide, while they set aside the true light of God's word and no longer turned to it. How different these times were from the days of Joshua, when the word was Israel's only guide and only authority... Now in reality, conscience, despite its immense value for man, is not a guide, but a judge — a wholly different thing. Man refuses to listen to this judge, then pretends to honour it by choosing it as his guide. But how can it lead him, when it may fall asleep, grow hard, or even lose all feeling?
The verse heads the story of Micah, a man who set up his own shrine with a priest of his own making. One small liberty did not stay small.
There is also development: the thing is a living seed that grows. Micah with his gods must have his house of gods. Then he must have his priestly garment and his priest, and he must add household idols to the gods he already has. All this was still "right" in Micah's eyes. Once we hand ourselves over to the guidance of our own minds, a whole system is easily built up. The further we go, the further astray we get. How careful we need to be about beginnings!
The same rule holds wherever people live together, and sincerity does not soften the damage.
If, in a school, each pupil was allowed to do his own will, the school would inevitably break up. If each member of a family followed his own will, the family would be wrecked. If each person in a company of believers follows his own will, disruption must follow. The spirit of lawlessness, wherever it shows itself, will break things apart. And the more sincere the people who pursue their own will, the greater the harm they will cause.
If everyone's eyes are the standard, then no one can correct anyone. The answer is not a stronger opinion but an outside authority.
I cannot put my will against my brother's will. I may say my brother is acting in self-will against God's will. How am I to overthrow that will? I cannot bring in my own will, because my will is as bad as his. I must bring in the word of God and put him under that. Then the power of that double wickedness — the blackness of independence from God — will be driven away, and God will give rest from that spirit of self-will.
Commentators read the sentence not only as an accusation but as a longing. The empty throne points past David to a King still to come.
But what a world of yearning there is in that expression, there was no king in Israel. How it tells of the only hope there could be for God's people. It was to have His King. God Himself wanted to be their king, would have been their king, but they refused Him... In the end God gives them, as a picture, the man after His own heart, a king after His own heart. David in this way points forward to the coming king for Israel.
- No king — Israel had quietly set God's rule aside; the throne was empty before any human king was ever asked for.
- Own eyes — with the empty throne came a new standard: each person's conscience, treated as a guide when it was only ever meant to be a judge.
- Growth — self-will does not stay still; Micah's one liberty became a house of gods, a priest, a whole religion he still called right.
- Collapse — where every will is its own authority, disruption follows, and the more sincere the self-will, the greater the harm.
- Remedy — no human will can overthrow another; only the word of God interposed can do it, and behind that stands the longing for the King God Himself provides.
And there was a young man out of Bethlehem-Judah of the family of Judah, who was a Levite, and he sojourned there.
A young man steps into the story here with two identities: he is a Levite, yet he is tied to Bethlehem in Judah and only staying there. He will soon become the priest of a household idol, and the closing chapters of Judges record how that happened.
One writer explains what these closing chapters are there for:
The chapters that follow (Judges 17-21) do not stand in the historical order of this book. They lift the veil to show us some scenes from the inner life of this people, whom God patiently bore with for so long... They were self-willed, and nothing held them back, since they had no king. So every kind of loose living had room to spread.
The verse ties a man of Levi's tribe to a town in Judah. One reference work traces his family line and explains why that pairing is odd:
Son of Gershom and grandson of Moses or Manasseh... Though he was only a Levite, he acted as priest in the house of Micah, who had a carved image, an ephod, and household idols. Later he became priest to the tribe of Dan... He was called "a young man of Bethlehem in Judah, of the family of Judah." This may mean that he had only lived there for a time. Bethlehem was not a Levite town. He had been staying wherever he could in those troubled times.
Bethlehem was not one of the Levites' towns, so this man was living away from his appointed place. The word "sojourned" marks him as staying for a while, not settled. One writer draws out what that wandering cost him:
The Levite himself is another sign of the times... He walks with the restless foot of a stranger in the very place where he could have claimed an inheritance, and he is ready to make his home where he should have been a stranger.
Bethlehem's name means "house of bread." So leaving it was more than a change of address. One writer sets this man beside Elimelech, who also left that town:
Here is a man who leaves the place that answers to faith in God's truth. He comes in all the restlessness of discontent, looking for something better for himself. You see it in Elimelech, who left Bethlehem, the house of bread, because he wanted food. You have the same thing here: a man leaving the house of bread to improve his position... Restless discontent will always take someone away from blessing, and it will certainly bring him lower than he ever thought he stood before.
Nothing in the verse says that God directed this journey. One writer makes that silence the lesson:
At this time a young man, a Levite from Bethlehem in Judah, was traveling, looking for a convenient place to stay (v. 7). A Levite at the very least should have asked God to guide him about where he should be. Instead he was like some preachers today, who look for a church where they might find a more or less permanent position. One who is the Lord's servant should not be aimless and haphazard in what he does.
A few verses later this wanderer has a salary, clothing, and food — and a title he had no right to:
A Levite of Judah had a connection with the house of the Lord, but no right to the priesthood. He happened to pass that way, looking for a place to stay. Micah got hold of this man, who gave him the appearance of a proper religious line... Micah was doing well. He had installed a genuine Levite in his house. He valued him more than his own son, so he fed him and paid him. This was a ministry that man had set up.
Notice how little it took to win him over:
It took little persuasion. His food, a suit of clothes, a salary — these have won over many people in every age of the world.
God tells this story without adding a word of rebuke, and that restraint asks something of the reader:
He does not criticise, and He does not show anger. He tells the facts and sets them before us. Those who are spiritual discern what God condemns and what He approves. They also learn to keep away, as He Himself does, from every principle that this chapter paints in such a sad picture.
- Restless — discontent drives him out of the house of bread. He leaves blessing to improve his lot, and lands lower than he stood.
- Rootless — a stranger where he could have claimed an inheritance, at home where he should have been a stranger.
- Rudderless — no word of God directs the journey; a servant of the Lord is not meant to be aimless.
- Rented — food, clothes, and a salary win him over. A ministry set up by man replaces one set up by God.
- Recorded, not scolded — God lays the facts before us. The spiritual reader must discern what He condemns and stay clear of it.
And the man departed from the city, from Bethlehem-Judah, to sojourn where he might find [a place]. And as he journeyed, he came to mount Ephraim, to the house of Micah.
An unnamed Levite leaves Bethlehem in Judah and travels to the hill country of Ephraim, looking for somewhere to settle. Why was a man of Levi wandering at all, and what was he looking for?
Bethlehem means "house of bread." One commentator reads the Levite's departure as the move of a discontented heart, not of need.
Here is a man who leaves the place that answers to faith in divine truth. He comes, in all the restlessness of discontent, seeking something better for himself. You see the same in Elimelech, who left Bethlehem, the house of bread, because he wanted food. Here too a man leaves the house of bread to improve his condition. How could anyone improve his condition more than by being in the house of plenty? And yet unbelief always acts in that way. Restless discontent will always take a person away from blessing. It will bring him into a lower place than even he imagined he occupied before.
What is missing from the account is any mention of God. The man travels to find a place; he does not ask for one.
A Levite at least ought to have consulted God and let God guide him as to where he should be. Instead he was like some preachers today, who look for a church where they might find a more or less permanent position. One who is the Lord's servant should not be aimless and haphazard in what he does.
Levi owned no share of the land like the other tribes. Something better stood in its place.
The Levites have their cities marked out. They have no inheritance in the land as the other tribes do, because Jehovah is their inheritance.
So this man had a claim he never pressed. He went looking for a welcome where he had no business settling down.
He is one of the Levites of Judah. He stayed for a while in Bethlehem in Judah, and has wandered away again to find another temporary resting place wherever he can. He has the restless foot of a stranger where he might have claimed an inheritance. He is ready to find a home where he should have been a stranger. Little persuasion works on him. Food, a suit of clothes, a salary — these have worked on many in every age of the world. So the Levite exchanges his ministry for priesthood in the house of Micah, where the idolatry of the place is made to look holy by using Jehovah's name... The Christian world has shown every detail of this change: a manufactured priesthood for manufactured gods, covered with a fair name of orthodoxy. And men do what is right in their own eyes with great satisfaction!
Micah wanted a Levite in his house. The traveller wanted a living. Both got what they wanted.
A Levite of Judah had a connection with the house of the Lord, but no right to the priesthood. He happened to pass that way, looking for a place to stay. Micah got hold of this man, who brought him a semblance of religious succession... Micah was doing well. He had installed a genuine Levite in his house. He valued him more than his own son, and he supported and paid him. This was a ministry of man's appointing, set up on the same principles as what we have all around us in our days.
Micah is as eager as the Levite. One commentator traces that demand to the human heart itself.
Is it not the minister wanting to take the place of the priesthood? And on the other side, a people quite willing and eager that he should take that place? For you know the heart of man does not like to be in close contact with God. It likes very well to have somebody come in between him and God. That is how priesthood starts. It is very nice to have a man who will handle the more sacred and delicate parts of religion. He leaves you with a satisfied conscience, free to go on as you please.
Scripture reports the hiring and adds no comment. The silence is part of the lesson.
He does not criticise or express anger. He recounts the facts and places them before us. Those who are spiritual discern what God condemns and what He approves. They learn also to keep away, as He Himself does, from every principle in the sad picture this chapter gives us. The carnal man continues in his blindness.
- Discontent. The Levite leaves the house of bread to improve himself. Discontent always leads away from blessing to a lower place.
- No guidance. He looks for a place instead of asking God for one; the Lord's servant should not be aimless and haphazard.
- Forgotten portion. Levi's portion was the Lord Himself, and Levi had cities to live in. This man wandered as a stranger where he could have claimed his own.
- Cheap price. Food, clothing and a salary were enough to persuade him. The result was a ministry of man's appointing, with only a semblance of succession.
- Silent record. God records it all without comment. He leaves the spiritual to see what He condemns and to keep clear of it.
And Micah said to him, Whence comest thou? And he said to him, I am a Levite of Bethlehem-Judah, and I go to sojourn where I may find [a place].
Micah has made his own gods, and now a man arrives who can serve them. He is a young Levite from Bethlehem in Judah, with no home of his own, and his answer to Micah sets up the bargain that follows.
He names two things: Bethlehem, and the tribe of Levi, set apart to serve at God's house. Those two facts sit oddly together. One reference book explains why, and traces his family line.
He was the son of Gershom and the grandson of Moses — or of Manasseh. Though he was only a Levite, he acted as priest in the house of Micah, who had a carved image, an ephod and household idols. Later he became priest to the tribe of Dan. He asked the Lord for them, and gave an answer as if God had spoken to him. Judges 17:7-13; Judges 18:1-30. He was called "a young man of Bethlehem in Judah, of the family of Judah." This may mean that he had only lived there. Bethlehem was not a Levitical city. He had been staying wherever he could in those troubled times.
Of all towns, he left Bethlehem — a name that means house of bread. One writer sets him beside Elimelech, who left the same town looking for food.
Here is a man who leaves the place that stands for faith in God's truth. He comes in all the restlessness of discontent, looking for something better for himself. You see the same thing in Elimelech, who left Bethlehem, the house of bread, because he wanted food. Here too a man leaves the house of bread to improve his position. How could anyone improve his position more than by staying in the house of plenty? Yet unbelief always acts this way. Restless discontent will always take a person away from blessing, and it will surely bring him lower than he ever thought he was before.
He only wants somewhere to stay. One writer reads that aim, and the small price that satisfied it, as the mark of a whole generation.
The Levite himself is another sign of the times. He belongs to the Levites of Judah. He has lived for a while in Bethlehem in Judah, and now he wanders off again to look for another temporary resting place. He walks as a restless stranger where he could have claimed an inheritance, and he is ready to make a home where he should have been a stranger. It takes very little to persuade him. His food, a suit of clothes, a salary — these have won over many people in every age. So the Levite trades his ministry for a priesthood in Micah's house, where the local idolatry is made to look holy by the use of the Lord's name. Christendom has shown every detail of this change: a manufactured priesthood for manufactured gods, all covered with the fair name of orthodoxy, and men doing what is right in their own eyes with great satisfaction.
Micah already had his images, and one of his own sons served as his priest. What he lacked was a Levite.
A Levite of Judah happened to pass that way, looking for a place to stay. As a Levite he had a link with the house of the Lord, but no right at all to the priesthood. Micah got hold of this man, who gave him the appearance of religious succession… Micah was making progress. He had installed a real Levite in his house. He valued him more than his own son, so he fed him and paid him. This was a ministry appointed by man, set up on the same principles as what we see all around us today.
The exchange reads like a job interview. One writer brings the parallel into the present.
Micah asked where he came from. When he learned that the man was a Levite from Bethlehem in Judah, Micah saw a wonderful chance to have a Levite as his priest instead of his son (vv. 9-10). He offered him 10 shekels of silver a year, plus his food and lodging and a suit of clothes. People still strike such bargains in Christian circles today, hiring preachers on agreed terms. Scripture gives this no support at all, yet it looks reasonable to unspiritual people.
- Place, not portion. The Levite wanted only somewhere to stay. Bethlehem was not a Levitical city, so he had been living wherever he could.
- Leaving bread. Restless discontent moved him out of the house of bread. That discontent always carries a person away from blessing, and leaves him lower than before.
- A cheap price. Food, clothing and a yearly wage were enough to move him — terms that have moved many in every age.
- A borrowed name. Micah wanted a Levite, not the word of God. The man had a link to God's house but no right to the priesthood, so Micah bought only the appearance of succession.
- Still on offer. The same arrangement stands today wherever people hire a preacher on agreed terms. It looks reasonable to unspiritual people, yet Scripture gives it no support.
And Micah said to him, Dwell with me, and be to me a father and a priest, and I will give thee yearly ten silver-pieces, and a suit of garments, and thy victuals. And the Levite went in.
A man in the hill country of Ephraim has already built himself a shrine, made images, and ordained one of his own sons. Now a travelling Levite passes his door, and Micah offers him a wage, clothes, and food to take the job instead. What makes a man a priest, and what price will buy one?
The Levite in this story was not sent; he was drifting, and that is what made him available.
He walks with the restless foot of a stranger in the place where he might have claimed an inheritance. And he is ready to make his home where he should have been a stranger. It takes little persuading to win him. His food, a suit of clothes, a salary — that offer has won over many in every age of the world. So the Levite exchanges his ministry for priesthood in the house of Micah, where Jehovah's name makes the idolatry of the place look holy.
Micah was not hiring a stranger off the street. Note what this man was, and what he agreed to become.
A Levite of Judah had a connection with the house of the Lord as such, but no right at all to the priesthood. He happened to pass that way, looking for a place to stay. Micah got hold of this man, who brought him a semblance of religious succession. "Stay with me, and be to me a father and a priest, and I will give you ten pieces of silver a year and a suit of clothes and your living" (v. 10). Micah was doing well. He had installed a real Levite in his house. He valued him above his own son, and he fed him and paid him. This was a ministry of man's appointing, set up on the same principles as what we have all around us in our own days.
The title Micah offers is the heart of the verse. The demand for such a man comes from both sides at once.
Is it not the minister wanting to take the place of the priesthood? And on the other hand, a people quite willing and eager that he should take that place? For you know the heart of man does not like close contact with God. It likes very much to have somebody come in between him and God. That is how priesthood starts. It is very nice to have a man who will look after the more sacred and delicate parts of religion. He leaves you with a satisfied conscience, free to go on as you please.
Against Micah's invented office stands a simple count.
True ministry of the Word is a blessed thing. But let us remember that there are only two classes of priests. One class has just one figure in it: the High Priest. No one dare take His place. The other class of priesthood has in it all God's people. "You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood." The two classes are Christ alone, and all His people. But the man-made priesthood always takes ministry, which should be service, and turns it into priesthood. In the old days, the Levite prepared the sacrifice so that the priest could offer it to God. In the same way, all true ministry prepares the materials of divine truth for God's people, so that they may present them as the sacrifice of their hearts.
Both sides of this bargain are at fault.
The Levite ought to have had sense enough to refuse this. He had all the more reason to refuse, since it tied him to idols and also raised him to the priesthood, which was gross wickedness. But he was blind to the serious evil laid as a snare at his feet. They made the agreement, and then Micah consecrated the Levite as a priest, as he had done with his son. Who gave Micah the authority to consecrate a priest?
The arrangement does not last. Men from the tribe of Dan later rob Micah, and the priest he paid for goes over to them.
The hired priest shows himself to be just that — hired. A greater personal advantage to himself at once outweighs every obligation to his employer. He is "glad" of the robbery he will profit from. For the Danites, as with other priest-minded men today, there is no need to respect the man whose office is supposed to give him the ear of God.
- Drift. The Levite was wandering when Micah found him. A restless man who wants to better himself is what every false arrangement needs.
- Price. Food, a suit of clothes, and a yearly wage were enough to buy him — a sum that has persuaded men in every age since.
- Title. "Father and priest" puts a man between the soul and God. People want that, because the heart prefers a go-between to closeness with God.
- Truth. Scripture knows only two priesthoods. Christ alone is High Priest, and all His people are priests together. Ministry serves that priesthood; it never replaces it.
- End. A hired priest stays hired — when a better offer comes, the man who was bought is glad to be bought again.
And the Levite was content to dwell with the man; and the young man was to him as one of his sons.
Micah offered a passing Levite his food, a suit of clothes and a yearly wage to serve as his household priest. This verse is the Levite's answer: he stayed, and the man who had made his own gods now had a real Levite treated like one of the family.
The Levite's contentment here ends a restless journey. He had left Bethlehem, whose name means "house of bread", looking for something better.
Here is a man who leaves the place that answers to faith in divine truth. He comes in all the restlessness of discontent, seeking something better for himself. He leaves Bethlehem, the house of bread, to improve his condition. How could anyone improve his condition more than by being in the house of plenty? And yet unbelief always acts that way. Restless discontent will always take a person away from blessing. It will surely bring him into a lower place than he thought he occupied before.
Notice how little it took to secure him, and what he handed over in return.
Little persuasion works on him. His food, a suit of clothes, a salary — these have worked on many in every age of the world. So the Levite exchanges his ministry for priesthood in the house of Micah, where Jehovah's name makes the idolatry of the place look holy. Christendom has displayed every detail of this change, and it does not seem to have taken long: a manufactured priesthood for manufactured gods, all covered with a fair name of orthodoxy, while men do what is right in their own eyes with great satisfaction.
Micah had already made one of his own sons a priest. Now a passing Levite takes that place — treated as family, paid as staff.
A Levite of Judah came past, looking for a place to stay. As a Levite he had a link with the house of the Lord, but no right at all to the priesthood. Micah got hold of this man, who gave him the appearance of religious succession. Micah was getting on; he had installed a genuine Levite in his house. Valuing him more highly than his son, he supported him and paid him. This was a ministry of man's appointing, set up on the same principles as what we see all around us today.
Nobody in the story asks where Micah's authority came from.
The Levite should have had sense enough to refuse this, especially since it involved him with idols and also raised him to the priesthood, which was gross wickedness. But he was plainly blind to the serious evil laid as a snare for his feet. Then Micah consecrated the Levite as a priest, as he had done with his son. Who gave Micah the authority to consecrate a priest?
The arrangement suited both sides.
Is it not the minister wanting to take the place of the priesthood? And is it not a people quite willing and eager for him to take that place? For the heart of man does not like close contact with God; it likes very well to have somebody come in between. That is how priesthood originates. It is very convenient to have a man who will attend to the more sacred and delicate parts of religion, and leave you with a satisfied conscience, free to go on as you please.
The true order runs the other way:
There are only two classes of priests. One class has only one figure in it, the High Priest. No one dares to take His place. The other class of priesthood contains all God's people. "You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood." The two classes are Christ alone, and all His people. But the man-made priesthood will always take ministry, which should be for service, and turn it into priesthood. In the old days the Levite prepared the sacrifice so that the priest could offer it to God. In the same way, all true ministry simply prepares the materials of divine truth for God's people, so that they may present them as the sacrifice of their hearts.
His contentment lasted only until a better offer came.
Later on the tribe of Dan came by again, armed. The first thing they did was carry off Micah's gods and take complete possession of his priest. They set the promotion before him in the most dazzling way: "Is it better for you to be priest to the house of one man, or to be priest to a tribe and clan in Israel?" He got a call to a more influential and better-paid position. The will of God in the matter never entered the priest's mind. His heart was glad when the call came to a new post.
- Restless — he left the house of bread to better himself, and landed in a lower place than before.
- Wanted — people like a man standing between them and God, because it leaves the conscience comfortable.
- Hired — his food, a suit of clothes and a yearly wage bought his service for an office that was never his.
- Installed — Micah prized him above his own son, yet no one ever gave Micah authority to make a priest.
- Sold — a salary holds a man only until someone bids higher, and Dan bid higher.
And Micah consecrated the Levite; and the young man became his priest, and was in the house of Micah.
Micah has already made images and a shrine in his own house. Now he takes a passing Levite and makes him his household priest — and the commentators ask who gave him the right.
So where does a self-made religion find a priest? One writer traces Micah's logic:
It seems an easy thing to do; a man who has made a god can surely consecrate a priest to take care of the god.
Micah acts as though consecration were his to give. Another writer turns that on practice today:
Yet similarly today, people are "ordained" by those who have no God-given authority whatever. In fact, each independent "church" has its own policies of ordaining. They think that God told Moses to consecrate priests from Aaron's line, so they treat that as permission to consecrate priests or pastors or "reverends" as they see fit! … But in the New Testament there is no suggestion of God giving to any man the authority to ordain others to any spiritual position.
The other half of the deal is the young man himself. He had a service of his own, and he trades it away:
The Levite himself is another sign of the times. … He is a restless stranger where he might have claimed an inheritance, and he is ready to make a home where he should have stayed a stranger. It takes little to persuade him. Food, a suit of clothes, a salary — these have won over many people in every age. So the Levite exchanges his ministry for a priesthood in Micah's house, where the Lord's name makes the idolatry of the place look holy.
What Micah gains is the look of legitimacy. One writer explains what a Levite could and could not give him:
A Levite of Judah had a connection with the house of the Lord, but no right at all to the priesthood. … Micah got hold of this man, who gave him the appearance of religious succession. … Micah was making progress: he had installed a genuine Levite in his house. He valued him more than his own son, and supported and paid him. This was a ministry of man's appointing, set up on the same principles as what we have all around us in our days.
One writer notices which part of all this troubled Micah, and which part did not:
The matter of priesthood troubles him. He first consecrates one of his sons as his priest, but he is uneasy about it: some memory of the law will not let him rest. Strange that we find no sign of alarm in his conscience about his rival tabernacle, or even about his carved and cast metal gods! … Conscience may be alive and sensitive on certain points, when on others it seems dead or paralysed. It is often the small thing that conscience feels, while to the greater it gives no response. … Here, as with Micah, the awakened soul is usually quieted again by some half-truth, which is only a perversion of truth. A Levite becomes his priest, and now he is glowing with satisfaction!
Micah keeps the forms, and he uses the Lord's name throughout. One writer refuses to let that count for anything:
What use is the show of the Lord's name, or the form of consecrating a Levite to be priest? Ceremony is easy, and human nature likes it. There is usually most ceremony where there is least power or reality. One thing is certain: the whole business was seriously evil. It was no less evil because Micah settled down convinced, saying, "Now I know that the Lord will prosper me, because I have a Levite as priest."
- Made god, made priest. Micah made his images first. Consecrating a priest to look after them was the next easy step in the same self-made religion.
- Made authority. Nobody gave Micah the right to consecrate. Commentators say the same of ordinations today, done by people God never authorised.
- Made bargain. Food, clothes and a salary bought the Levite. He swapped his own service for a priesthood that was never his, and that price has won over many in every age.
- Made peace. The Levite settled Micah's unease about his son-priest, and the images stayed where they were. Conscience was awake on the small thing, asleep on the great one.
- Made nothing. Micah used the Lord's name over all of it. But ceremony is easiest where reality is least, and his confidence rested on a priest of his own making.
Then said Micah, Now I know that Jehovah will do me good, because I have the Levite for priest.
Micah had a shrine in his own house, silver idols in it, and one of his sons acting as priest — then he hired a wandering Levite instead. He sounds completely sure of God — which raises the question: can a man secure God's favour by getting his religious arrangements right?
Micah's confidence rests on having the right man in the job:
What good is the show of the LORD's name, or the form of consecrating a Levite to be priest? Ceremony is easy and attractive to human nature, and there is usually more of it where there is least power or reality. It is at least certain that the whole business was terribly evil, and none the less so because Micah settles down with the persuasion, "Now I know that Jehovah will do me good, seeing I have a Levite as my priest."
Micah had been uneasy — but only about one detail, and the fix silenced him:
The matter of priesthood troubles him. He first consecrates one of his sons to be his priest, but he is uneasy about it; some memory of the law will not let him rest. Strange that nothing suggests any alarm of conscience about his rival shrine, or even about his carved and cast gods! And we often find this strange inconsistency among men. Conscience may be alive and sensitive on certain points, while on others it seems dead or paralysed... And some half-truth easily quiets the awakened soul again — a half-truth that is only a twisting of the truth. A Levite becomes his priest: and now he is radiant with satisfaction, and knows for certain that the LORD will do him good!
Micah supplied every part of his own religion. One writer sets against it the only priesthood God gives:
Here is a man-made god, a man-made worship and a man-made priest... We have but one Priest as the people of God, and that is our gracious Lord. Through His infinite grace He makes all true believers priests with Him. We are a holy and a royal priesthood. Any other priesthood is man-made... Religious service is so much reduced to a commercial basis. And there is the delusion of thinking that the Lord must surely bless and give prosperity.
The Levite came cheap:
He has the restless foot of a stranger where he might have claimed an inheritance. And he is ready to settle down where he should have been a stranger. It takes little persuasion. His food, a suit of clothes, a salary — that has won over many men in every age of the world. So the Levite trades his ministry for priesthood in the house of Micah, where the idolatry of the place is sanctified with the LORD's name.
The Levite wanted to rise, and Micah wanted someone else to carry his religion for him:
He is only a Levite. In his restlessness he had often wished himself on a higher level — wished that he were a priest, a man with not only the right to serve in divine things, but the right of access, standing between God and His people as a channel of communication. Here is the opportunity. Micah invites him into his house, to be a father and a priest to him. He is to take charge of all Micah's religious interests. Micah will then be free from any care or difficulty about them, because he hands them all over to another man who takes full charge of them... the heart of man does not like to be in close contact with God. It is very glad to have somebody come in between. That is how priesthood begins. It is very pleasant to have a man who will attend to the more sacred and delicate parts of religion, and leave you with a satisfied conscience, free to go on as you please.
God never stops to condemn Micah here. One writer explains who is meant to see through the scene:
He does not criticise or express indignation. He states the facts and places them before us. Those who are spiritual discern what God condemns and what He approves. They also learn to keep away, as He Himself does, from all the principles this chapter pictures so sadly. The unspiritual man continues in his blindness. Micah, doing what was right in his own eyes, thought he could win the favour of the LORD!
In the next chapter armed men from the tribe of Dan carry off both his gods and his priest:
Micah did not realise that he was far better off without these things. He had said earlier that he knew the Lord would be good to him because he had a Levite as priest (17:13). But now the Lord was being good to him in depriving him of the priest and his idols.
- Assumed. Micah never asked God anything. He arranged a religion, then announced that God approved.
- Quieted. His conscience troubled him about the wrong priest, never about the idols. Fixing the small thing silenced the large sin.
- Purchased. A salary, clothing and food bought a Levite out of his God-given service into a priesthood God never gave him.
- Convenient. A hired man between you and God leaves the conscience satisfied and the life unchanged. That is why people want one.
- Stripped. Micah's certainty ended with his gods carried away, and losing them was the real kindness God did him.