Should we remove our shoes in the synagogue?

Is it more appropriate to wear shoes or to be barefoot inside a synagogue?  Depending on the culture in which one lives, that answer may seem obvious but the answer is not clear cut.  We begin with the Torah.

Now Moses was keeping the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian; and he led the flock to the farthest end of the wilderness, and came to the mountain of God, to Horeb. And the angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush; and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed. And Moses said: 'I will turn aside now, and see this great sight, why the bush is not burnt.' And when the LORD saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him out of the midst of the bush, and said: 'Moses, Moses.' And he said: 'Here am I.' And He said, "do not come closer; remove your shoes from your feet for the place where you stand is holy ground." Shemot (Exodus) 3:1-5

Thus began Moses' dramatic encounter with God at the burning bush. Moses’ action at the burning bush provided a precedent in subsequent generations to remove the sandals as a sign of respect for a sacred place. Mishna Berakhot (9.5) says: "One may not enter the Holy Mount of the Temple with one's staff, or with one's shoes on or with one's money belt." Since a synagogue is considered a "minor Temple," the question arises whether the above rule applies also to synagogues. This is discussed in Tractate Berakhot (63a), and Rabba is of the opinion that the ways of showing respect in the synagogue are deduced from the practice in the home, not the Temple: "Just as in a private person's home one does not want it to serve as a thoroughfare for strangers, but one does not mind spitting within the home or wearing footwear, so too, the synagogue must not be used as a thoroughfare, but spitting and footwear are permitted."

Indeed, Maimonides ruled that a person may enter the synagogue with one's staff, shoes, and money belt. Maimonides' ruling in Hilkhot Tefillah 11.10 follows the practice in Babylonia, but it was customary in the land of Israel to remove one's shoes before entering a synagogue. The Jerusalem Talmud, Bava Metzia 2, 9, tells the following story: "Judah b. Rabbi went into a synagogue and left his sandals outside, and they were stolen. He said, 'Had I not gone into the synagogue, my sandals would not have been stolen.'" Professor Eliezer Bashan of Bar Ilan University noted in a 2002 essay, “The fact that well-preserved mosaic floors of synagogues from the Byzantine period have survived in Israel is further evidence that those who prayed there walked barefoot.”

Prof. Bashan further notes that not only in Israel but also in certain places in the Diaspora it was customary to remove one's shoes before entering a synagogue. He notes that this was the practice, for example, among the Jews of Yemen.

A halakhic discussion of this question is found in a responsum by Rashbash (Rabbi Solomon b. Simeon b. Tzemah of Duran, Algeria, d. 1467) to a dayan [judge or leader] in Bejaia, a city in eastern Algeria.  At this time, Jews were migrating from Spain to Algeria after the pogrom and oppressive decrees in the Christian part of Spain in 1391. These Jews from Spain, most of which was again under Christian rule by this time, had been living among Christians and in Christian lands, it was not customary to remove shoes before entering a church so the Jews did not remove their shoes before entering a synagogue.

These Jews were held in contempt by the Muslims in Algeria and found themselves at odds in practice with local Jews for whom the custom was to remove their shoes before entering the synagogue. The Spanish Jews undertook to change their practice to remove their shoes but as in any congregation, there were those who objected to change. They cited the ruling of Maimonides who was quite familiar with Muslim practices and culture who had nevertheless ruled that it was permitted to wear shoes in the synagogue. The congregation submitted their dispute to Rashbash who was from Spain himself.

Rashbash responded that the practice was a matter of respect. When in the synagogue one is respecting God and a holy place but what constitutes respect varies depending on social norms. In Christian countries, it was the norm and not disrespectful to enter a church or to appear before the monarch wearing shoes. However, in Muslim countries, it was considered a sign of contempt to appear before a king wearing shoes so if it was disrespectful in those lands to appear in shoes before a living king, then it was also disrespectful to appear before God wearing shoes. In Christian countries, people would wear their shoes in their homes until going to bed but in Muslim countries people took care to remove their shoes before entering the house to avoid bringing in dirt. Therefore, in a Muslim country, one should not dirty the house of God by wearing shoes.

Rashbash concludes, "Therefore it is a good thing which they sought to do, to avoid being held in contempt by the nation that thought us contemptuous." In other words, he encouraged that community to decide that everyone should remove their shoes so they would not be held in contempt by the Muslim majority. (Resp. Rashbash, Leghorn 1742, par. 285). In short, certain religious practices depend on the cultural environment. (Eliezer Bashan, Bar Ilan University Parashat Hashavua Center January 5, 2002)

I suggest that here in America, we live in a multicultural, pluralistic society and this is not, contrary to assertions of some politicians, a per se Christian country. Indeed there are varying customs among families whether they wear shoes or not in their homes. There is thus cultural flexibility about whether it is appropriate to wear or to remove shoes in the synagogue.

Having addressed the question of whether or not to remove shoes, the question then is why this is commanded in the first place.   There are some instances when the ground was considered holy because of God’s presence.  Midrash Shemot Rabba tells us that it is forbidden to wear shoes in a place where the Shechinah dwells such as the Temple Mount. However, there can be another way to view this as Rabbi Rob Eisen does:

Based on the teaching of the Hafetz Hayim (Israel Meir Ha-Kohen, 1838–1933), Rabbi Eisen suggests that “when God calls out to Moses, He is teaching him that it is not the ground itself that is holy, but, rather, Moses’ presence that makes it so. The ground is holy because Moses is standing there, because he paused to acknowledge the presence of the burning bush.  Our parasha teaches us that, whether sitting or standing, whatever our present place might be, that place—every place! --has the potential to become holy. What makes any particular place holy is determined by our presence: the way we are living our lives, whether or not we pause to acknowledge the way God appears to us in our day, whether we recognize the burning bushes that can be ignited by our response to God’s presence in our lives.  Moses is told: 'The place on which you stand is holy ground,' and we are reminded that in every place and in every moment, we have the potential of drawing closer to God, and drawing God closer to us. It all depends on what we see when we consider where we are in our lives, and where we yet can go.”

My favorite explanation I found of the reason for removing shoes and why we should consider doing so today comes from Rabbi Shraga Pollack of Hungary. In his 1929 work Tishbi, he suggested:
“When a person wears shoes, he can walk without exercising care as to where he walks. With his feet protected by sturdy shoes, a person can step wherever he wants. However, when a person walks barefoot, he cannot step everywhere. He cannot walk freely and must look carefully in front of his feet before every step to protect his feet from injury.”

Rabbi David Silverberg of Yeshivat Har Etzion explaining this passage explains that the image of great caution in choosing where to walk describes the essence of kedusha – of holiness. Rabbi Silverberg writes, “A life of holiness means a life of careful discretion, of restraint, of thinking very carefully before reaching decisions and performing actions. A person who lives a sacred life is not free to 'walk' wherever he wishes; he must carefully assess every situation and accordingly decide upon the best course of action. This is manifest very clearly in the Beit Ha-mikdash [the Temple], where the many restrictions and specific guidelines necessitated a particularly high level of vigilance on the part of the officiating kohanim. The Talmud comments on many occasions, "Kohanim zerizin heim" – the kohanim were – by necessity – very meticulous and careful in their work in the Mikdash, due to the rigorous demands of the Temple service. This aura of vigilance characterizes a life of kedusha, which means exercising care before every step one takes.  Outside the Mikdash, of course, one is permitted the wear shoes. The Torah certainly does not impose the standards that apply in the Temple to daily life outside the sacred precincts of the Beit Ha-mikdash. Nevertheless, we, too, are bidden, "Kedoshim tihyu," [you shall be holy] - to apply the general concepts of kedusha, which are manifest in extreme fashion in the Temple, to our day-to-day life.  We, like the kohanim, must carefully watch our steps, and remember that not every mode of conduct is appropriate for the lives of kedusha that we are to live.” (Rabbi David Silverberg, Surf a Little Torah, Parashat Shemot, Yeshivat Har Etzion)

Perhaps if all us, whether lay leaders, members of congregations or rabbis adopted the practice of taking our shoes off at the door, and going about inside the synagogue with bare feet, we would be constantly reminded of this truth.  Perhaps without physical shoes that let us walk wherever and on whatever whatever we want, perhaps we would also lose those mental and spiritual shoes that enable us to walk on and over whomever we wish, and we would exercise greater care in what we do, what we say and how we do it and say it.