Avraham Norin is a friend of Torah Mitzion. He teaches at the "Pninei Or" conversion program.
This Dvar Torah is dedicated to the memory of Leah Tziporah Heller, who passed away on the 25th of Sivan, 5786. She was an Eshet Chayil, dedicated to the enhancement of Torah, Mitzvot, Eretz Yisrael, and Am Yisrael. She was a beloved daughter, wife, mother, manager, neighbor and friend. The seeds of her kindness and actions will continue to blossom for many, many years.
Throughout our 26 years of marriage, one of the recurring disagreements between my wife and I is about the need for me to take off my shoes when entering the house. My wife wants me to take off my shoes so I don't make dirty footprints on the floor. On the other hand, I like keeping my shoes on in the house, even at the expense of a dirtier floor.
While one might claim this is simply a domestic disagreement, a similar argument seems to appear when Moshe approached the burning bush. If so, my wife has support for her position from none less than the Almighty Himself. There Hashem commanded Moshe Rabeinu to do the very thing my wife wants me to do: Remove your shoes from your feet, for the place that you are standing upon is holy ground" (Shmot, 3:5).
What is the significance of taking one's shoes off and why is this the first commandment Moshe receives from Hashem? The answer is that shoes are personal. They are designed to fit the wearer's exact size, and in the color and style he or she choose. Wearing shoes symbolize individuality. When Moshe is asked to take off his shoes, he is being asked to leave his individuality and to join something greater- to stand on holy ground.
In other words, for Moshe to be a leader of the Jewish people, he can't relate to people based upon his own personal preferences and prejudices. Instead, as a leader he will need to stand on "admat kodesh". To fulfil his task of leading the people, he will need to perceive the issues at hand through the holy and elevated lens of God, without his judgement being tainted, as they would be if looking through his personal lenses.
For forty years, Moshe kept his shoes off. He took the people out of Egypt and led them through the wilderness. All of this wasn't for his own gain ("I have not taken the donkey of any one of them,", Bamidbar 16:15) or choosing whom to make influence with ("…nor have I wronged any one of them", ibid). Moshe instead demonstrated Hashem's love and care for all of the people of Israel.
This all changes in Parashat Chukat where Moshe reacts to the people's complaints. He did so not as God's messenger but as a (hurt) individual. We can understand why Moshe was so upset. The people verbally attack Moshe, ignoring that Moshe's guided them faithfully for the last 40 years. They say to him they would have preferred dying as followers of Korach, the man who tried to overthrow Moshe, rather than Moshe be their leader. (“If only we had perished when our brothers perished at the instance of the LORD", Bamidbar 20:3).
So, Moshe does something he hasn't done since God appear to him at the burning bush. He puts on his shoes. He calls the people names (“Listen, you rebels…" Bamidbar 20: 10). He refuses to help them, even though God commanded him to do so ("… shall we get water for you out of this rock?", ibid). He uses Aaron's presence to strengthen his own point of view, misusing Aaron's true task to repeat to the people Moshe's transmission of God's words (see Shmot 4:14). In short, Moshe expresses how he felt, rather than giving Hashem's message.
The punishment for Moshe for "putting on his shoes" and not remaining standing on the holy ground is midah kneged midah. Hashem decrees that Moshe will not be able to enter into the holy land of Israel: "Because you did not act with faithfulness with Me to affirm My sanctity in the sight of the Israelite people, therefore you shall not lead this congregation into the land that I have given them." (Bamidbar 20: 12)
On a personal note, I can identify with Moshe's action. Most of the mistakes I made in my life were when I put my shoes back on (and I am not speaking only about getting the floor dirty). When my ego became hurt, I stopped acting as a guiding teacher, a loving parent, a thoughtful spouse, or supporting child. Instead, I let my hurt take over and acted according to how I felt. At those moments, I wasn't God's messenger, as I should have been. Rather I put on my shoes, separating myself from standing on admat kodesh. I let myself forget that as a Jew I need to act representing Hashem's will.
At Leah's funeral, when her family was saying Kaddish for her, I realized that this is the significance of this prayer. Reciting Kaddish reminds of us our goal to stand on admat Kodesh. It reminds us that despite the pain we have as individuals, we have been selected to be Hashem's people, and have a mission to always act in a holy, elevated way. Saying Kadish keeps our shoes off, even when this is difficult to do. As Jews, no matter how we personally feel, we need to continue to stand on Admat Kodesh.
Leah, you merited to be buried in Admat Kodesh. Firstly, you were buried in Eretz Yisrael, adjacent to the Talmudic village of Susya. Moreover, you were eulogized by the Rabbi of your community, testifying how you consistently strived to act in accordance with Hashem's will. You epitomized this goal that each Jew strives to achieve, in which even Moshe Rabeinu found difficult. May your memory be a blessing to us all.
For comments: norin@g.jct.ac.il