Many years ago, I was watching an episode of a popular TV show. The main character had arrived at a friend’s house and was asked to take off her shoes before proceeding into the house. Now, the character was kind of a shoe diva, so she presented as being upset because 1) the shoes were a strategic part of her outfit – her outfit just didn’t look the same without the shoes; plus, 2) they were pretty expensive shoes, so the idea of leaving them behind felt akin to leaving your wallet in a vulnerable place. The homeowners had zero sympathy, so the audience was left feeling the same upsettedness as the character removed her precious shoes and left them among the shoes of the other guests.
In hindsight, while the character was legitimately concerned about the safety of her expensive shoes and even the negative impact on her cute outfit, what the show never really addressed was what removing shoes does at a deeper level. Removing shoes, particularly in the presence of others, makes you vulnerable. You cannot hide the fact that you put on your socks with the holes you haven’t mended, or the pedicure you’ve failed to tend for over a month, or the ways your feet become sweaty on a hot day, or the myriad ways you don’t see your feet as “pretty” or at least “presentable.” Removing shoes takes away any status markers and leaves you on uncomfortable footing with others.
When we hear the story of burning bush today, Moses is asked to do exactly what that TV character was asked to do – remove his shoes. God says to Moses, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” Now, I have always heard that part of the passage and narrowed in on the holy ground – wondering what makes certain ground holy, where I find holy ground in my life, or whether holy ground is even a modern-day occurrence. But this week, I have been more focused on the removal of sandals.
In many Asian countries, removing shoes indoors is common practice. My nephews, who were born and live in China, automatically remove their shoes when they come in your home. In Burma, you find piles of flip flops outside of classrooms and homes. In Japan, you remove shoes and are immediately given slippers – and sometimes a different set of slippers for different parts of the house, like the bathroom. In a survey taken in Japan, “…81 percent of the people identified not one, but two equally important reasons for taking their shoes off when they enter their homes: 1) to keep their houses and floors clean; and 2) to be able to relax and be themselves.”[i]
Here is where I think the text is really pointing when we talk about Moses taking off his shoes. As one scholar asks, “Is it possible that God tells Moses to take his shoes off because he wants Moses to be himself? To remove all pretense? To be vulnerable and open to what God has to say?”[ii]
If we keep reading, our text talks a lot about identity. When God calls out to Moses (before Moses removes his shoes), Moses says, “Here I am!” But then just verses later, Moses says, “Who am I?” As in, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” And even later, when Moses is commanded to go to the people and report that God sent him, he asks who God is – what God’s name is. In this jockeying back and forth between Moses and God about identity and purpose, commissioning and authority, at the heart is conversation that can only happen if God and Moses enter the conversation with full vulnerability, honesty, and humility. Perhaps there is nothing at all sacred about the ground beneath that burning bush on a molecular level[iii] – the ground becomes sacred when shoes are removed.
I’ve been spending a lot of time this week watching old clips of Dolly Parton, Patron Saint of the Smokey Mountains. Now shoes were important to Dolly – along with sequins, and hairspray, and makeup, and supportive undergarments. But in a metaphorical way, I think Dolly taught us a lot about how to take off your shoes and make holy ground wherever you are. Dolly never hesitated to talk about her impoverished upbringing, how her looks both opened doors and created liability, or how every bit of success and financial windfall was a gift from God. By taking off her shoes so readily and regularly, Dolly taught us what happens on sacred ground. On sacred ground, the marginalized are noticed and honored, children of any background are given an education, jobs are created in depressed areas, LGBTQ+ community members are made to feel blessed and valued, women are empowered, and conflict is accompanied by lightness and laughter. But that kind of sacred ground could never have emerged unless Dolly took off her shoes over and over again.
Our scripture today asks us to do the same: to take off our shoes so that we can see holy ground. That holy ground is obvious to us in some places – at the communion rail, in our favorite pew/seat, or in our favorite prayer spot. But this week, Moses invites us to take off our shoes so that we can see holy ground in more unexpected places – in our workplace, at school, in our homes. Now, there may be some places that removing your shoes is impractical – while waiting in the checkout line at the grocery store, on the playground at play, or in your favorite restaurant. But I want you to at least imagine taking your shoes off in all the places you find yourself this week and see how your perspective changes. Maybe with your shoes off, the guy talking too loudly on his cell phone seems more sympathetic as you look at the dark circles under his eyes. Maybe with your shoes off, that silent orderly who cleans up the neighboring hospital room seems like more of a crucial part of the hospital than the doctors and nurses. Maybe with your shoes off, that clerk at the grocery store who barely makes eye contact seems much more interesting as you ponder how she makes a living serving you. And when you lay your head down to sleep each night this week, I invite you to thank God for the holy ground in your life and the opportunity to remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground. Amen.
[i] Karla Suomala, “Commentary on Exodus 3:1-15,” September 3, 2017, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22/commentary-on-exodus-31-15-4 on August 28, 2026.
[ii] Suomala.
[iii] This train of thought inspired by reflections by Anathea Portier-Young, “Commentary on Exodus 3:1-15,” August 31, 2014, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22/commentary-on-exodus-31-15-5 on August 28, 2026.
