The book of Micah is sometimes thought of as Amos redux, since he followed the herdsman from Tekoa by a generation or two while, to a significant extent, repeating the message, often in the same tones of caustic bitterness. Amos:
Come to Bethel, and transgress;
to Gilgal, and multiply transgression;
bring your sacrifices every morning,
your tithes every three days;
offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving of that which is leavened,
and proclaim free will offerings, publish them;
for so you love to do, O people of Israel!
Micah:
Hear, you heads of Jacob
and rulers of the house of Israel!
Is it not for you to know justice?—
you who hate the good and love the evil,
who tear the skin from off my people,
and their flesh from off their bones;
who eat the flesh of my people,
and flay their skin from off them,
and break their bones in pieces,
and chop them up like meat in a kettle,
like flesh in a cauldron.
I don't think that sarcasm is usually thought of as a tool of the biblical authors, or of God if you prefer to think of him as the author, but in the works of Old Testament prophecy the lip is often curled and the speaker filled with disgust. What disgusts him? Frequently the contrast between a preening adherence to the forms of worship and what the speaker regards as immoral behavior—the idea, in other words, that what pleases God is offerings and the sound of hymns and liturgies rather than . . . what? How to define upright behavior that's pleasing to God? Micah's formulation is one of the most resonant passages in the Hebrew Bible:
With what shall I come before the Lord,
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my first-born for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?
He has showed you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?
I picked the first quotation from Micah to show that he was capable of matching Amos's rage. There is nothing like that in the above passage, however. The form may make one think of a Shakespearean sonnet, with the twist at the end, but it's all quite dignified, stately. That the questions presuppose that the answer certainly has to do with the most pleasing outward signs of devotion is what makes the turn work. Without any knowledge of Hebrew, I'd say that, in the above translation (Revised Standard Version), the first heavy emphasis falls on "showed," so that there is at least a suggestion of exasperation: He has showed you . . . (but still you are obsessed with these trivial matters that don't interest me).
If you read the passage in its context within the sixth chapter of the book of Micah, you'll see that it's part of an extended metaphor: a trial in which the prophet, representing God, is the prosecutor, the people of Israel are the guilty defendant, and the witnesses are the "hills" and "mountains" of the land that, since they endure, know the whole history of God's dealings with his people. While the law court metaphor might indicate that Israel has violated a written statute, the charge is that it has forgotten, or ignored, the history to which the topographical features of the land could attest. (Yes, the metaphor is arguably strained at its weakest point.) As is always and ever the case, the defining events in that history are the exodus and the establishment, between God and his people, of a covenant relationship that imposes reciprocal obligations on the parties. The prosecutor's case is that God has fulfilled his promises and that his people have defaulted.
Historical amnesia is the underlying offense. The specific terms of default are more amenable to the lawsuit metaphor. What have the people been shown, to no effect? That they are to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly. One might object that they've been shown some other things, too. The story of the conquest of Canaan—see the book of Joshua—does not exemplify the traits that now are put forward as "what the Lord requires." There are plenty of instructions about how to worship and make sacrifices, though these requirements are now denigrated, sometimes with fury. Perhaps one might with profit regard Micah's formulation of what's required as a kind of triage, akin to the question to Jesus, in the New Testament gospels, about what is required above all else. And Micah says, above all else, do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God. The part of the tradition elevated by Micah is the one found, for example, in portions of the holiness code in the book of Leviticus:
When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. The stranger who sojourns with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God. (Leviticus 19:33-34)
Or:
You shall not hate your brother in your heart, but you shall reason with your neighbor, lest you bear sin because of him. You shall not take vengeance or bear any grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the Lord. (Leviticus 19:17-18)
This is the part of the tradition, elevated by Micah to a position of preeminence, that the people have ignored while worrying about outward ceremonies of worship. The prophet's reaction includes elements of scorn and exasperation. The claim that Micah is Amos redux might be both true and modest, for the more comprehensive application of his prophecy is exhibited, both tone and content, in for example the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus inveighs against "hypocrites" who "heap up empty phrases," "practicing [their] piety before men in order to be seen." He places in opposition those who thirst for righteousness ("do justice"), the merciful ("love kindness"), and the meek and pure of heart ("walk humbly").
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