Dear
Friends,
As you
schlep around in your sandals this summer, consider Moses. He was upwardly
mobile in the court of the Pharaoh, when his sense of justice and the connections
of his Hebrew heart were challenged. Moses came upon an Egyptian striking a Hebrew.
Moses slew the Egyptian and then, realizing his deed had dire consequences,
fled into the desert.
Before long,
Moses found himself in another fight, this time on behalf of seven young women
set upon by thugs as the women drew water from a well. In gratitude, the father
of the seven gave his daughter, Zipporah, to Moses as wife.
Finally, all seemed peaceful and
normal, as Moses, wearing his sturdy sandals, tended
His father-in-law’s flocks in the
fields. There, Moses came upon a burning bush which was
not consumed as it burned. Vastly curious,
Moses came closer. Then a
voice spoke to him from
the bush:
“Moses! Moses!” God called out.
“Here
I am,” Moses replied.
“Take
off your sandals,” God said, “for the place you are standing is holy ground.”
We – you and
I- are like Moses, moved to justice, unaware that God walks with us in the flow
of our lives, sometimes powerfully confronted by God’s presence, yet unaware
the bush is burning with meaning for us. God says to us as God said to Moses “Take
off your sandals, for the place you are standing is holy ground.”
Sandals – or
shoes if you will- insulate us. They remove our feet from touching the ground.
Surely, they protect our feet from cold, heat and dangerous objects – but
sometimes, as in this story, they keep us separated from ground which can only
be experienced as holy when our feet touches it .
Each of us
is Moses. Make no mistake about it. The burning bush appears in our daily
lives. Sometimes the holy ground is being in the presence of the dying or
recognizing the holy in a stranger or friend. The Scriptures are Holy Ground,
the Eucharistic meal is too. And more. You name the places and ways.
At other
times in Scripture, we are encouraged to keep our sandals on. When the
disciples were sent out for the first
time to preach and teach, Jesus knew they would not be accepted everywhere. He
cautioned them “If any place does not welcome you, walk away and shake the dust
from your sandals.” (Mk.6.12)
What is the
dust that clings to our sandals? Certain ideas about God that render God
unloving, distant, uncaring? The criticisms people level against us that make
us stumble? The sheer weight of the stuff we carry with us because it’s ours and
we don’t know when we’ll need it again?
As summer
continues, our sandals become well-worn from daily use. Look at them. Hold them
in your hands. Think about where you have worn them. Have they taken you to the
burning bush? Have you had to leave some mental, emotional or physical places
without being welcomed? Did you try to be God’s word there? Did you shake the
dust from your sandals?
Are you ready to go on?
