Walk a Mile in Their Shoes… Then Take Them Off
Eikev 5785
“Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes.”
-- Popular adage attributed to Mary T. Lathrap
We all want to be seen for who we are, yet how often do we take the time to truly understand others? We seek validation, but do we give it? When we do, is it for their sake or for our own?
Maybe the real question is if we’re willing to slow down enough to listen without turning their words into a mirror for ourselves.
My father, Rabbi Yaacov Haber, often shares the idea that when Moshe approached the burning bush, Hashem told him, “Take off your shoes. You are standing on holy ground.”1 Shoes are insulation. They let you walk over stones, glass, even Lego, without feeling a thing. But if you want to lead, if you want to hear God’s voice, if you want to connect to another human being, you have to take off the insulation. You have to feel.
Think of the connection between two people in sync. Along with shared interests or shared space, they also know each other’s rhythms, feeling safe enough to be fully themselves, and find joy in the other person’s joy. This connection is needed to make a marriage work. It is the magic that helps weather the hard days and it bridges the inevitable differences again and again.
Now imagine if the whole world felt understood, validated, held without judgment. We can take pride in our differences and accept them without conditions. We can be kind for the sake of kindness, beyond the obligation to show tolerance.
Within our own communities, we often extend patience and kindness to those whose differences are obvious, a unique background or a visible struggle. Yet “chesed starts at home,” and perhaps we should practice that same generosity toward the people most like us.
This week I spoke to someone about a challenge I was facing. They didn’t offer solutions, but I walked away lighter. They didn’t mirror my words, rather they simply let me know they’d been there too. They took off their shoes and they felt it. When someone “gets it,” it changes everything.
Parshas Eikev promises breathtaking berachos, a land of plenty, flocks and herds, bread without scarcity, and a life overflowing with goodness. The Torah makes those berachos conditional: Eikev tishme’un — “If you will listen”2. Rashi explains that Eikev, which also means “heel,” hints to the mitzvos we tend to “tread upon” and overlook. These blessings come when we notice the things others ignore, which can be the small acts of care, kindness and moments of real listening.
It’s the same message that Hashem gave Moshe at the burning bush: If you want to lead, connect, and truly hear, you have to take off your shoes, remove the insulation, and feel.
The abundance in the parsha is more than rain and grain, it’s the abundance that comes when we live uninsulated and feel the hunger of the hungry. We should try to understand the loneliness of the stranger and the yearning of the overlooked. That sensitivity shows up in the smallest, simplest moments of daily life.
Sometimes it’s hard to be a friend. Energy is low, life is busy, and words don’t always come. Even if you can’t verbally help someone, you can think about them. Imagine what they’re going through and pray for them. Because being a friend isn’t only about listening, it’s about the small, everyday acts that nobody asks for, yet somehow mean the most. That is what it means to take off your shoes. And that, the Torah says, is where blessing begins.
Wishing everyone a lot of blessings in all the journeys, soft and hard, along with the knowledge that as lonely as times may feel, we are never alone.
Devarim 7:12
Shemos 3:5
“Take off your shoes. You are standing on holy ground.”1 Shoes are insulation. They let you walk over stones, glass, even Lego, without feeling a thing. But if you want to lead, if you want to hear God’s voice, if you want to connect to another human being, you have to take off the insulation. You have to feel.
⬆️Just phenomenal!
This entire dvar Torah is beautiful!