Weekly Torah Portion

Sometimes when someone visits our house to help with something like the plumbing or air conditioner, they will instinctively first take off their shoes. I often observe their courtesy but also usually tell them that unless they were just working in the mud, there’s no need to inconvenience themselves. (Conversely, I find being asked to take off my own shoes when I first visit someone a bit cumbersome, though it can be fun to walk around in socks!)

It’s interesting that shoes have a sort of spiritual dimension. One of the morning blessings we say thanking G-d for all our physical faculties and conveniences is said specifically to refer to shoes. The idea of wearing leather shoes, where an animal has given its life for our convenience, is something we are careful to forgo during national or personal times of mourning. Indeed, our shoes often give definition and character to our general attire or activity. We have work shoes, running shoes, dress shoes, casual shoes, everyday shoes, and some people have even more kinds.

But what about when G-d Himself says to wear… no shoes?

When Moshe first conversed with G-d, he was commanded: “Do not come closer! Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground!”

When the Kohanim, the High Priests, served in the Beis Hamikdash (Temple) they could not wear shoes. And even today, when they are performing Birkas Kohanim, the special blessing given to the rest of the synagogue congregation (mentioned in this week’s Torah portion), Kohanim must take off their shoes.

While there are various powerful reasons given for this, one of them resonated with me a lot. Rabbi Yaacov Haber once observed that when someone is barefoot, they can feel all of the elements on the ground a lot more sensitively. A tiny pebble will feel a lot different even through a sock than through one’s sandal.

To be in a holy place, to be a conduit for blessing, requires heightened sensitivity to others in their real-life circumstances. Jewish leaders do not work from an ivory tower. Quite to the contrary, they operate -literally- on the ground.

Being a good Jew, and on occasion a good houseguest, sometimes means first to take off our shoes.