And it all starts with a burning bush.
Think about that iconic image: Moses, tending his flock, when suddenly...WHOOSH! A bush bursts into flames, yet somehow remains untouched. Intrigued, he approaches. And then, a voice. A voice that changes everything.
But let's dig a little deeper than the Sunday school version. Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei_Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, offers a fascinating interpretation of this scene. It focuses on the moment when God tells Moses, "Do not approach here, remove your shoes..." (Exodus 3:5). What's up with the shoes?
The Tikkunei Zohar suggests that these "shoes" are more than just footwear. They represent Moses's physical body. His earthly form. The thing that separates him from the pure spiritual realm. It states that Moses needed to "shed his body, which was ‘a shoe’—na’al—relative to the other body, in which he became enclothed when he approached." In other words, to truly connect with God, Moses had to leave behind the limitations of his physical self.
Think of it like this: Imagine trying to swim with heavy boots on. You'd be weighed down, unable to move freely. Similarly, our physical selves, with all their desires and limitations, can sometimes hinder our spiritual journey.
But wait, there's more! The text adds another layer to this symbolic shoe removal. "And there is one who says that the shoe is his wife." Now, that might seem like a non sequitur, but in Jewish tradition, marriage is often seen as a representation of the relationship between the divine and the earthly. Our relationships, particularly our most intimate ones, can both ground us and challenge us to grow. They can be both a support and, at times, a hindrance.
So, what are we to make of this? Are the shoes Moses's physical form? Or is it his relationship? The Tikkunei Zohar answers with a resounding: "And it is all truth: this opinion and that."
It's not an either/or situation. It's a both/and. Both our physical existence and our relationships can act as "shoes" that we need to shed, at least metaphorically, in order to draw closer to the divine.
This isn't about renouncing the world or abandoning our loved ones. It's about recognizing the limitations of the physical and the potential for our relationships to both elevate and constrain us. It's about consciously choosing to shed those limitations, to let go of the things that hold us back, so we can stand on holy ground.
So, what "shoes" are you wearing? What are you holding onto that might be preventing you from experiencing a deeper connection with the divine? Maybe it's time to take them off, one step at a time.