Many religions have a tradition of taking off their shoes when they enter holy places. Muslims do it. The Buddhists and the Sikhs do it. Jews and Christians have a history of it, but they rarely do it anymore. Exodus 3:5 states “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” (NIV) when Moses was stopped by the burning bush. Why isn’t it done today? I think that it is a valuable way to remind ourselves that we are standing on holy ground.

Whenever I approach the altar at church, I pause and bow. I know that all of church is sacred and blessed, but I also feel that some areas are more so. This table isn’t like the table I eat breakfast from. This is a table of sacrifice. This table is like the rock that Abraham was about to sacrifice his son Isaac on. This table is like the altar at the Temple in Jerusalem over 2000 years ago. This table represents the table at the Last Supper when Jesus taught his disciples a way to remember him and his sacrifice.

The altar, this table, this meeting place of Heaven and Earth, is different and sacred. It is set apart. Yet we are welcome to approach it and serve at it. All we have as a gesture to acknowledge this difference is a bow. We bow to remind ourselves of this sacrifice. Yet why don’t we take off our shoes? Surely some of it is cultural. Feet are considered dirty. Dirt is the opposite of sacred. We don’t want to mix those things up. But let’s think about this. If we wear our shoes outside, then take them off when we get inside a holy place, then we are taking off the dirt. Our feet, having been in our shoes, are clean.

Perhaps we don’t take our shoes off because it is seen as too casual. We want to remind ourselves to be proper when we are with our Creator. We wear nice clothes. We speak in hushed voices. Sometimes we cover our heads in reverence. “Barefoot” often equals “relaxed” – and we want to be awake and mindful when we are worshipping. Yet Christians are told to be like children when we approach God. What is more child-like then going barefoot? What is more innocent?

I went to Holy Cross Episcopal Church on December 9th, 2012 to lead a prayer-bracelet workshop. I attended the Communion service and was startled to see the priest, fully robed up in cassock and alb and chasuble, standing there barefoot as she read the Gospel. Then I noticed that her chalice bearer was also barefoot. During the Passing of the Peace I managed to get to the chalice bearer and ask if it was OK if I took off my shoes as well and she enthusiastically encouraged me to. I asked my husband if it was OK with him as well. It was something I wanted to do, but I wanted to make sure that it wouldn’t make anyone uncomfortable or feel weird. Once cleared – the shoes and socks came off, and I tucked them under my chair. I went up to take Communion barefoot. It felt freeing, and weird, and special. The concrete floor was cold. I felt that people were looking at me. I had a real sense of difference – this time of going up to the altar was not the same as all the other times.

I think this is good. I think it is important to find ways to make this very simple, repeated experience more meaningful. There is a chance of not paying attention to something if you do it all the time. There is a chance of not taking it seriously. Approaching the altar is already a very physical experience. In some denominations, communion comes to you. You sit in your pew, and a round metal tray with a hundred or so single-serving cups of grape juice get passed by you, along with a tray of small square bits of dry “bread”. To me, it is a very impersonal experience. I appreciate the value of getting up from where I’m sitting and going to take communion. It means it is something I choose to do. It is something that I actively seek and desire. By approaching the altar I feel that I’m moving closer to Christ.

Meaningful that this symbol is, it means more when I can do it barefoot. But I don’t want to offend people. I don’t want to freak them out. I don’t want to call attention to myself. So when I’m not serving at church as a chalice bearer or an acolyte, I have taken to wearing clogs. I slip off my shoes during the service and stand on the bare wooden floor. The sensation reminds me that I am in a different place. This is holy ground. This isn’t just something I do on Sunday morning. This is a conscious choice to be here, to be part of this Body, to be a living member.

There is a desire in many sanctuaries to awaken the senses to the specialness of God. This is part of what we mean when we say “corporate” worship. We use the body, with all its senses, to be reminded of God’s love for us. This is why some sanctuaries are heavily ornamented. The stained glass and the tapestries and the icons are reminders to our eyes that something different is going on here. They are a reminder that God is here among us. The incense calls to us as well, awakening our sense of smell. When we go into a friend’s house, we may smell supper cooking. We know that we are about to get a really nice meal. We know that we have been expected and prepared for. In the same way, God expects us and prepares for us, and welcomes us. I think it is also important for us to welcome and prepare for God. The Lakota leader Black Elk tells us that “The holy land is everywhere”. It isn’t just in a church or a temple or a mosque.

The Rev. Carolyn A. Coleman, Vicar of Holy Cross Episcopal Church in Murfreesboro says “ I go without shoes because God told Moses to take off his shoes when he was on the holy ground before the burning bush. The burning bush and the ground out of which it grows is holy because God created it, but more, the ground of suffering to which God called Moses to bring God’s people salvation was holy. That was the ground I believe God was talking about. So in the midst of community gathered, I take off my shoes because all our suffering as well as our joys and celebrations make for holy ground.”

One way I remind myself of this idea is to paint my toenails vibrant colors. When I’m taking my shower, I see them. When I’m taking yoga, I see them. This simple bit of color reminds me that something different is going on. It is to remind me that wherever I go, it is holy. It is to remind me that God made everything and everyone, and every person I meet is a child of God. Another way I remind myself is by wearing beaded bracelets. Every time I see my hands, I notice them. Like writing a note on my hand to remember to buy bread and milk, these bracelets remind me that I have chosen to love and serve God by loving and serving His people. They remind me of specific people who I am praying for. They remind me of specific causes and concerns as well. They remind me to call a friend who is grieving. They remind me to take soup over to a friend who is sick. They remind me to take a CPR class so I can help a stranger. They remind me to pray for my boss when she is driving me up the wall.

It doesn’t matter what you do to remind yourself that you, right where you are, are standing on holy ground. It just matters that you remember. Every day, in every moment, you are where God called you to be. Every moment you have a chance to make this world a little better. A smile, a gentle word, showing kindness to a stranger – all of these little things add up. You don’t have to work for a huge non-profit agency to make a difference. But you do need to remember, and then act out of love.

I went to a meeting of a belief system different than mine recently. This is fairly normal. Like in the story from Rumi of the five blind men in the room with the elephant, I seek to gain a fuller understanding of my Creator. I think there is only so much anyone can understand on their own, within their own community.

For example, my understanding of my own language opened up when I started studying different languages. Even something as simple as “I love you” just doesn’t translate sometimes. You can say “I love you” in German, but thinking that way isn’t part of their thought process. Their way of expressing love is more passive. It is not an action that you do – it is something that you receive. Their way of saying it is more like “Something about you causes me to feel love.” Hearing this helped me to understand the German people better. I seek the same kind of understanding with other faiths.

I took a test online on a site called Beliefnet, and it said that my answers matched fairly high with mainline protestant. Not a surprise. But I also ranked highly on Orthodox Quaker, and Hinduism. I also know that I like a lot of what Buddhism has to say, and that it informs a lot of my Christianity. Jesus can tell us all day long to love our neighbors as ourselves, but I’m the kind of person who needs a “how-to” list. Buddhism gives examples – Right Speech being one of them. Don’t say bad things about someone else. Got it. Then that was added to by a Jewish podcast I listen to. I leaned that if it isn’t true, kind, or helpful, keep it to yourself. Also – don’t even listen to gossip. Even listening gives it power.

The biggest part of my belief is summed up here. Part of realizing that there is a creator is that you are a creation – and that you are called to be a part of that creation – to create Heaven here. You are created to heal, join together, reconcile, make peace, show love, and lift up. I have come to feel that while I respect the right of every person to believe as they feel is necessary, I do not personally embrace any belief system that is inward-focused. I am for any belief system that turns faith outward and is about helping others.

Now, part of that is also about the mechanics of the organization. If the whole reason to raise money for the belief system is so you can keep the belief system going, then I feel they are doing something wrong. Jesus took the loaves and fishes and made more out of them, and fed thousands of hungry people. Joseph carefully saved up the grain that was produced in Egypt for seven years so that he could then give it away to the starving people in the famine times that followed.

I have a radio as my alarm clock. Currently it is set to a Christian station, and most of the songs help start the day in a gentle way. This morning, the refrain “You’re the reason for every good thing” was pumping out of that tiny box, and something about it annoyed me.

I think it can cause problems to think of God as just the provider of “every good thing”. Sometimes very hard things come from God. Sometimes God tests us and works us in ways that don’t seem very good to us at all. In the book of Job we hear these words “Should we accept only good from God and not adversity?” (Job 2:10). In other books we are told that God is hard on his people because He loves them, in the same way a father is hard on a favored child. He challenges his child with tests because he wants her to grow up strong. When these tests come from God, the tests are the various adversities that we face in our lives.

During adversity, we humans have a tendency to call on God. This reaching out to God not only makes us stronger, but makes our connection with God stronger. It also makes our connection with each other stronger. Empathy doesn’t work if you haven’t been there. Sometimes you really do have to walk a mile in another person’s shoes to really understand the pain she is going through. Sometimes she doesn’t even have shoes. Sometimes she doesn’t even have legs. It is important to get outside of yourself and your own understanding of the world to see that your “reality” isn’t the only reality, and sometimes it isn’t even real. I think this is part of the appeal of the “Post Secret” series of books.

Buddhism teaches us that simply defining what is “good” or “bad” can cause us problems. That need to define causes pain – we feel that we are missing out when we feel that “bad” things are happening. Then we miss what is actually happening in the moment. One phrase that speaks to that is “every moment is the guru.” The 13th century Sufi poet Rumi reminds us that the only way to make bread is to first grind up grain. To the grain, that is a terrible experience. But because the grain is broken up, it can be transformed into something nourishing. The grain, by itself, has no use. What if we too were like that? What if sometimes we need to be broken to be useful?

Left on our own, we’d be perfectly happy to live our lives in a small way, safe, secure, and simple. There are some people who challenge themselves and set tasks for themselves. They work really hard to make themselves stronger mentally and physically. Every day is a new adventure and chance to grow for these people. And the world benefits from their struggles. Vaccines are found. Textbooks are written. New creations are invented. Just their energy is inspiring and can motivate others to similar levels of activity. But most of us need a push, and often that push comes from outside of us. We lose a job. We get a diagnosis of a chronic disease. We get divorced. We lose our homes in a fire or earthquake or flood. Something outside of ourselves causes us to get dislodged from our safe ground. But what if that ground isn’t safe – but quicksand? What if we are slowly sinking into oblivion by staying still? That push means we have to reach outside of our comfort zones and stretch and grow.

From my readings, I feel that God sometimes breaks us in order to free us. Sometimes the paths we put ourselves on only lead to more pain. God, in God’s very nature, can see further than we can. God wants what is best for us, and changes our paths so that we become the people we were born to be.

Don’t get me wrong – this isn’t the “prosperity gospel” here. Yes, God wants us to do well. God wants the Kingdom of heaven to be here on earth. But I sincerely doubt that God’s master plan is for us to pay off our mortgage in half the time or have a house on the beach and three cars. Material things just weigh us down. And our idea of “the good life” is often very self-centered. I believe that our Creator calls us to be self-less, rather than self-ish. I believe that the Buddhist concept of the bodhisattva speaks to this. A bodhisattva is, in part, someone who is very close to attaining a level of enlightenment that she can transcend the normal human state of existence of repeating life. You can take this to mean reincarnation, or simply repeating the same old predictable ways of being. Every day that you are stuck doing the same old mistakes, you are trapped in the wheel. Through hard work and grace you might get free of this. You can then go on to a new way of being, or you can stay behind and help others to escape their similar fate. Basically, you are paying it back.

It is like trying to cross a turbulent river. You pick your way across the slippery stones and navigate the rapids. You’ve found a safe way across. Instead of hanging out on the other side, safe and dry, you go back into the river and point out a safe path to others who are in the river with you. I believe this is what Christ calls us to do. I believe that we are to be helpful and loving and kind.

Those rocks in the river are like all the stumbling blocks we encounter in our lives. We can use them as obstacles, or stepping stones. They can get in our way, or we can use them as a way up and out of our unfortunate situation. Sometimes “bad” things are really blessings in disguise. Sometimes it is helpful to think that everything, “good” and “bad” comes from God, and it is up to us to make something out of it. In Romans 8:28, the apostle Paul tells us that “all things work together for the good of those who love God.” Trust the process.

I leave you with a quote from Rumi. “Very little grows on jagged rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up where you are.”