Last week, you may recall that I identified a theme I felt ran through all of the lessons: “How do we lead faithful lives in an environment where such faithfulness isn’t necessarily supported?” I referred to the title of Robert Heinlein’s book, Stranger in a Strange Land. And while I do not see that theme playing out in the same way this week, Heinlein’s title still may be apt, for it would appear that Moses found himself a “stranger on some very remarkable, if not strange, land!” And, so, this week I want to focus on one particular verse, God’s directive to Moses: “Don’t come any closer! Take off your sandals, because you are standing on holy ground” (Ex 3.5).
This verse is pretty familiar, even to folks who haven’t grown up in church. Whether that familiarity comes from Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments or the more recent The Prince of Egypt . . . or some other, more secular or even passing, reference, most of us—I would guess–have heard it . . . and may even recall the context! We’ve heard it . . . but have we heard it? For me, living with that passage—that verse—this week has raised a couple of questions . . . questions that familiarity may have relegated to the back of my mind. But they are that seem to be worth re-visiting. Question one: “What is it about sandals that requires their removal?” Question two: “What makes holy ground, holy, after all? And how do we recognize its holiness?”
So . . . why did Moses have to remove his sandals? You might think that there’s a straightforward answer, like “Well, he was standing on holy ground!” . . . as if it was self-evident. Unfortunately, there is no straightforward answer, or scholarly consensus, about why footwear should come off. It’s a common-enough practice: Muslims, Hindus, and Sikhs remove their shoes upon entry into their places of worship. The Talmud—that post-biblical compendium of Jewish legislation and thought—tells us that priests would remove their shoes upon entering the Temple Mount (Berakoth 62b). But why?
Three theories seem to have risen to the top among scholars. First, wouldn’t one want to enter into the presence of the holy as clean as possible? (Think of the–maybe old-fashioned— practice of Saturday night baths for the kids!) So, the most dirty item of clothing would probably (at any given time) be footwear; best remove it. A second theory suggests that coming before the holy barefoot is a sign of humility; being shoeless lowers one’s status. A third theory (which doesn’t work so well with slip-on sandals) is that untying one’s sandals is symbolic of having all knots undone in the presence of God; nothing should keep one from approaching God. Those are good, scholarly, answers . . . I guess.
I will add a couple of other possibilities. The first is specific to this story, and came from an ultra-orthodox, Jewish, thinker: “Only when one is barefoot can one feel the little stones underfoot. Moses was to lead his people in such a way that he could feel their smallest sorrows” (Plaut, W. Gunther. The Torah: A Modern Commentary, Revised Edition. Reform Judaism Publishing 2006, 372). This “spiritual” interpretation (which I like, by the way) points to a second possibility. Being barefoot means one almost necessarily has to slow down (running barefoot on sand aside). If we are barefoot, we tend to be careful; we take notice of what’s beneath our feet.
So, what do you think? Which makes the most sense in the context of this passage? Which speaks to you. I’ll let you choose. I kind of like the last two . . . but I’ll get there!
But, then, there’s the issue of where one would need to remove one’s footwear . . . in particular—in this passage—“holy ground”. In our reading from Exodus, “holy ground” is the mountain of God. But Sinai/Horeb wasn’t the only place where shoes were to be removed. Immediately before marching on Jericho—on level ground, in Canaan!, Joshua encounters the commander of the heavenly host, who tells Joshua, “Take your sandals off your feet because the place where you are standing is holy” (Js 5.15). In a very different context, rites of mourning for the dead may have included the removal of shoes; in one instance the prophet Ezekiel is told not to observe mourning rites, but to put his turban and sandals on! (Ez 24.17).
The mountain of God—a place of divine revelation: holy ground . . . remove shoes. [By the way, you may have noticed that the “mountain of God” in our reading was called “Horeb”. What about “Mt. Sinai? Well, aside from the fact that “Horeb” and “Sinai” represent different traditions about the name of the “mountain of God”, there is no consensus as to where the mountain of God is located! There was no argument, however, about whether there was a mountain of God.] The location where God is about to deliver a miraculous victory to the Israelites—a place of divine revelation: holy ground . . . remove shoes. The Temple Mount—a place of divine encounter: holy ground . . . remove shoes. A place of mourning, of death—a place of divine encounter: holy ground . . . remove shoes.
And, so, given the possibilities, I have to wonder . . . is “holy ground” any piece of real estate where we might encounter God. Is “holy ground”, to use the language of Celtic spirituality, nothing but a “thin place” . . . a place where the “other world” and this world come together? A mountain? The Isle of Lindisfarne? A sacred grotto? Or even the backyard garden, or the lathe, or the tying bench, or sewing table? Where do we encounter God? Where ought our “shoes” come off? More importantly, how do we know it’s “holy” so we can respond appropriately?
I want to return to Moses’ encounter with God: “Moses was taking care of the flock for his father-in-law . . . He led his flock out to the edge of the desert, and he came to God’s mountain” (Ex 3.1). And there he noticed that there was a bush that seemed to burn without being consumed. His curiosity drove him to “check it out”. And it wasn’t until Moses started looking that God “saw that he was coming to look”, and then “God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’” (3.4). Moses acknowledged the summons, and then was told that he was on holy ground. Moses didn’t know the nature of the ground until he noticed the burning bush and approached; it was then that God told him the ground was “holy”.
What we didn’t hear this morning was the “back-story” to Moses’ encounter with the burning bush. In the three verses before this morning’s passage, we’re told that “A long time passed, and the Egyptian king died. The Israelites were still groaning because of their hard work. They cried out, and their cry to be rescued from the hard work rose up to God. . . God looked at the Israelites, and God understood” (Ex 2.23-25). God noticed what was going on, and decided that something had to be done. What was to be done was to be done through Moses, and to get Moses’ attention, an extraordinary phenomenon of nature was necessary.
God noticed what was going on with the Israelites. Moses noticed the burning bush. And God summoned Moses to recognize the moment: “Where you are, and what you are to do, makes this place holy! So, take off your sandals and be here! Feel the sorrows of your people like I do! It is your role to lead them away from Pharaoh’s injustices.” Moses, protests, “I’m not worthy!” But God doesn’t let him get away with that. God assures Moses that he—Moses—has everything God needs in a leader. And God provides a back-up: Aaron. There are no excuses great enough to excuse Moses from carrying out God’s mission.
The question to us—as individuals and a congregation—is what are that burning bushes we “notice”. There are many to be sure. But, today, was we enter the Season of Creation, I want us to focus, literally, on the Holy Ground of this earth where we meet, and experience, God.
Are we “strangers” on the land upon which we’re standing? Do we listen to the “voice” from the burning bushes that seize our attention? Can we live lives of faithfulness in a culture that takes the land upon which we live as a thing only to be used ’til there is no more? God invites us: “Take off your sandals! Take off your earbuds. Put down your phone. Slow down! Feel the earth. Feel all of the little rocks, the blades of grass, the uncomfortable twigs. Feel the holy ground that is all part of God’s “very good” creation. See the birds. “Look with me,” God says, “See the beauty! But see, too, the pain. Enjoy the first by all means! But, by all means too, correct the second. For you are on holy ground.”
Amen.