Holy Ground

Last week my Partner in Torah and I started the third perek of Sefer Shemos, the story of Moshe Rabbeinu at the burning bush. I keep saying this, but it really amazes me how much personal meaning I can find in the words of the pasuk and Rashi now that I am an adult. We had an amazing discussion about some of the concepts that arose from the text.

 

“And Moshe said, ‘I will turn now and see…'” Rashi says that Moshe Rabbeinu saw that the bush was burning but was not being consumed. He noticed that something was out of the ordinary — he really saw what was happening, instead of letting his eyes skip over what could have looked like an ordinary brush fire to others. This is the quality that Hashem looks for in Jewish leaders — the ability to pay attention, to see and to understand what you are seeing. It’s an avodah that I’m trying to work on this year. Recently, I read an article by Debbie Greenblatt that discussed (by way of analogy) the process someone goes through as they transition from being a single person to a couple. It takes work to get used to seeing yourself as part of a couple, to notice and be attuned to the other person’s needs (for example: bringing two cups to the table instead of one). This idea struck a chord with me and I am trying to be more conscious of it.

 

Why did Hashem appear to Moshe in a bush and not in a tall, impressive tree? Because, as Rashi says, Hashem showed Moshe Rabbeinu, “I am with you in your pain.” My learning partner and I talked about what a comfort this is, that Hashem does not look down on us and watch as we struggle, He comes inside of the pain with us and stays with us as we go through it.

 

Years ago, the week of Parshas Shemos, I listened to an Erev Shabbos message by Rabbi Fischel Shachter on Chazak. A short vort stayed with me and I remember it often (unfortunately, I do not remember the source and have looked for it in several seforim, to no avail): Hashem tells Moshe Rabbeinu, “Remove your shoes from your feet, because the place where you stand is holy ground.” Rashi says that Hashem is speaking about the future, because the Torah will be given on this mountain. But Hashem is also speaking about the present. Remove your shoes, because the place where you stand is holy ground. Right now. Even though you don’t want to be here. Even though you’re in exile, in a desert shepherding a flock, miles away from your people and the life you want to be living. The place where you stand is holy ground because you are here, and if you are here, I put you here for a reason, and I want you here for a reason, even if you think you belong somewhere else. There’s nowhere else on earth you should be.

 

I think of these words all the time. Remove your shoes from your feet, because the place where you stand is holy ground. I think of it when I look around and think that the world is passing me by. When I’m at a family simcha and suddenly the post-seminary cousin sitting next to me talking about her accounting program is almost a decade younger than I am. When I meet a former teacher who asks (not unkindly) what I think isn’t working for me in shidduchim, if I have any idea of why I’m still single. I’m still single because the place where I stand is holy ground. I wouldn’t have chosen this. And that’s why we don’t get to choose.

 

Here’s wishing you all a wonderful rest of the week. I hope these ideas are meaningful to you, too.