Jewish mysticism, especially in the Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei_Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei Zohar, actually has a really beautiful way of understanding that feeling, especially in connection to Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.

The Tikkunei Zohar, a later expansion of the Zohar itself, dives deep into the mystical meanings of the Torah. And in Tikkunei Zohar 121, it takes on Yom Kippur. It explores why, on this holiest of days, we have the custom of not wearing shoes. Seems simple, right? But there's a whole universe of meaning packed into that one little tradition.

The text starts by pointing out something about the divine name. Usually, when we encounter the tetragrammaton, YHVH (יקוק) – what some call the unspeakable name of God – we pronounce it as Adonai (אדני), meaning "My Lord." But the Tikkunei Zohar says that on Yom Kippur, YHVH isn't pronounced as Adonai in a certain way. Adonai, you see, is connected to din (דין), judgment. It’s also linked to the word na'al (נעל), which means "shoe," and even more significantly, to ne'ilah (נעילה), the "closing" or "shutting" of a door. Specifically, the Ne'ilah service is the very last service of Yom Kippur, right before the final shofar blast.

So, why all this wordplay? It's not just a clever trick. The Tikkunei Zohar is telling us that even though Yom Kippur is a day of judgment, it's not about shutting the door on us. It’s precisely the opposite. The door is open wide to receive those who are penitent, those who are seeking to return – to do teshuvah. It’s a day of intense introspection, yes, but ultimately, it’s a day of hope and reconciliation.

And this is where the shoe thing comes back in. The text explains that the prohibition against wearing shoes (ne'ilat sandalim) on Yom Kippur is connected to this idea of "union." What kind of union? The union between the Holy One, blessed be He, and the Shekhinah (שכינה). The Shekhinah is often understood as the divine feminine presence, the immanent aspect of God that dwells among us.

The Tikkunei Zohar says that on Yom Kippur, this union isn't always a given. Sometimes the blessed Holy One withdraws, and the Shekhinah remains. And sometimes, the opposite happens: the Holy One remains, while the Shekhinah withdraws.

Think about that for a second. It's a powerful image. It suggests that our relationship with the divine isn't always smooth and harmonious. There are times of closeness, and times of distance. Times when we feel God's presence acutely, and times when we feel… well, nothing.

So, what does this have to do with shoes? Well, remember that na'al, shoe, is connected to ne'ilah, closing. The absence of shoes symbolizes the absence of that "closing," that separation. It's a way of acknowledging the potential disconnect between the divine and ourselves, and of consciously opening ourselves up to reconnection.

Maybe taking off our shoes on Yom Kippur is a way of saying, "I'm not going to shut myself off. I'm not going to hide. I'm going to be vulnerable, open to whatever comes, even if it's uncomfortable." It's about recognizing that the path to atonement isn't always easy, but it's always possible. It’s about making ourselves available to the Divine. And maybe, just maybe, that's why this seemingly simple custom holds such profound meaning.