We're talking about the aftermath of a brutal civil war in ancient Israel, a war stemming from the shocking events surrounding the idol of Micah. Remember him? We explored his story earlier – a man who stole silver from his mother, crafted an idol, and set up his own unauthorized temple. (Legends of the Jews, remember, is pulling together threads from all sorts of ancient sources to weave these narratives.)
The war that followed was devastating. Seventy-five thousand Benjamites perished, leaving only six hundred survivors. Can you imagine the scale of that loss? So few remained of an entire tribe. Fearing for their lives, this small band fled the land, seeking refuge in Italy and Germany. What a journey, what a displacement.
And what of Micah and his mother, the original instigators of this tragedy? As promised, divine retribution came swiftly. Micah, the man who led his people astray, met his end by fire. His mother suffered a gruesome fate, her body consumed by worms. A truly horrific end.
But here's where things get interesting. Despite the immense evil he perpetrated, Micah possessed one redeeming quality: radical hospitality. His home was always open to travelers, a sanctuary for the weary. And according to the Legends of the Jews, this single act of kindness, this unwavering commitment to welcoming strangers, spoke volumes on his behalf.
The heavenly court itself became divided. An angel, acting as Micah's accuser, detailed his many sins. But another voice, perhaps a divine advocate, pleaded for mercy based on his exceptional hospitality. And God, in His infinite wisdom, listened.
The judgment? Even in hell, Micah receives a measure of grace. He occupies the first position in the sixth division of hell, a realm overseen by the angel Hadriel. And, remarkably, he is spared the tortures that plague the other inhabitants. Imagine that. A flicker of light in the darkest of places.
And the story doesn’t end there. Prepare yourself: Micah’s son, according to some traditions, was none other than Jeroboam! Jeroboam who, as king, infamously erected golden calves for the people to worship, leading them further astray. The Zohar tells us that his sins even surpassed his father's. inheritance.
What are we to make of all this? It's a messy story, isn't it? It's a reminder that even the most flawed individuals can possess redeeming qualities, and that divine judgment is often more nuanced than we might expect. It also serves as a cautionary tale, showing how easily one generation's sins can be amplified in the next. Even with a father granted mercy, the son could still choose a path of profound wrongdoing.
It’s a reminder that we are all complex beings, capable of both great good and great evil. And perhaps, just perhaps, that the scales of justice are always striving for balance, even in the face of overwhelming darkness.