by Rabbi Yisrael Rutman

“Remove the shoes from off your feet, for the place upon which you stand is holy ground.”

Thus, God spoke to Moses at the burning bush. To this day, the act of removing one’s shoes is a mandatory show of respect in many places of worship. The custom of doffing the hat as a gesture of respect also derives from the Mosaic epiphany.

Yet, the Torah’s swift, dramatic narrative contains no explanation of why going barefoot should be deemed appropriate in an encounter with the Divine presence. Perhaps at the time the Torah was given the reason for it was self-evident. But in the generations since it’s been lost to us.

The classical commentaries do, however, supply us with some understanding. Be’er Yosef (Rav Yosef Tzvi Salant) explains that the Sages taught that there are four primary levels of existence: mineral, plant, animal and human. The plant takes nourishment from the earth, which in turn provides food for animals, who are themselves eaten and used by man. The wearing of leather foot gear is more than practicality; it signifies the mastery of man over all the lower forms of creation. When in the presence of God, however, man must acknowledge the ultimate Master of the Universe, by removing his shoes. This would explain as well why it was required of anyone entering the Holy Temple in Jerusalem to remove their shoes.

Ruach HaChaim (1:1) by Rav Chaim of Volozhin goes further. Taking off shoes, he explains, represents one’s willing detachment from the physical world. In order to attain prophecy, to literally hear the voice of God, one must attain a high state of purity. Otherwise, the barrier between God and man which is his physical nature interposes and makes such communication impossible. By telling Moses to remove his shoes, God was, in effect, telling him to release himself from the restraints of the physical. Not just a sign of respect, but a real out-of-body experience.

This follows the kabbalistic writings, in which the shoe symbolizes the body. For just as the shoe serves as a covering for the foot, the lowest part of the body, so too the body is a vessel—like a shoe—for the lowest part of the neshama (soul). The lower part of the neshama animates the body, giving it life and intelligence; yet the greater part of the neshama resides in spiritual regions far above.

Prophecy ended early in the Second Temple period, and the Temple itself was destroyed in 70 CE, almost 2,000 years ago. So it’s unlikely for any of us to have a spiritual encounter comparable to that of the prophetic and Temple period. What relevance can the experience of those earlier generations described in the Torah have for our lives?

In his commentary on the Torah, Chofetz Chaim, Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kagan, offers a beautiful answer. “In every time and place, a person is capable of drawing close to the Creator, to serve Him and perform His commandments…All he need do is to remove the barrier between himself and God…Nor should one think that former times were better…for the Sages teach that one should always say, ‘When will my deeds reach those of the Patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob’…

This, writes the Chofetz Chaim is what we must realize: that when God was speaking to Moses He was addressing everyone of us, as well: “Remove the shoes from off your feet, for the place upon which you stand is holy ground.”

To be sure, Judaism does not demand of us renunciation of normal physical existence. With the exception of Yom Kippur and a very few other fast days during the year, a Jew is expected to eat and drink like other people. For us the “removing of the shoes” comes in the form of submitting our will to God’s, by accepting the Torah and its commandments. Which means that we are not the absolute masters of our lives. What we eat, what we say, how we treat each other—should be regulated, as much as possible, by the Torah.

For the place on which we stand is holy ground.

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