1) The author feels embarrassed having to remove his shoes for airport security, comparing it to removing shoes for the priestly blessing.
2) His thoughts wander to memories of his wife's mourning period without shoes, and Jewish laws surrounding a brother-in-law removing the shoe of the deceased brother.
3) Shoes represent dignity, which one must relinquish when entering a holy place, just as Moses removed his shoes before the burning bush.
1) The author feels embarrassed having to remove his shoes for airport security, comparing it to removing shoes for the priestly blessing.
2) His thoughts wander to memories of his wife's mourning period without shoes, and Jewish laws surrounding a brother-in-law removing the shoe of the deceased brother.
3) Shoes represent dignity, which one must relinquish when entering a holy place, just as Moses removed his shoes before the burning bush.
1) The author feels embarrassed having to remove his shoes for airport security, comparing it to removing shoes for the priestly blessing.
2) His thoughts wander to memories of his wife's mourning period without shoes, and Jewish laws surrounding a brother-in-law removing the shoe of the deceased brother.
3) Shoes represent dignity, which one must relinquish when entering a holy place, just as Moses removed his shoes before the burning bush.
Insights into Torah and Halacha from Rav Ozer Glickman שליט"א ר"ם בישיבת רבנו יצחק אלחנן ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Leaving on a Jet Plane: הרהורים בהרף עין
֖ עוֹמד ָע ָ֔ליו אַדְ מ ַת־ק ֹדֶ שׁ הֽוּא׃ ֣ ֵ ֲ֙שׁר אַתָּ ה ֤ ֶ ִכּ֣י ַהמּ ָ֗קוֹם אN מ ַ ֵ֣על ַרגְ ֶ֔ליN֙ ם שַׁל־נְ ָע ֶ֨ליSֲ֑ ו ַ֖יּ ֹאמֶר אַל־תִּ ק ַ ְ֣רב ה Standing in line waiting to put my carry-on bag on the belt, I avoid looking any- one in the eye. I am slightly embarrassed standing there in my socks, my shoes in the bin with my belt and jacket. There is a certain measure of humiliation being forced to partially undress in a public place. For some unknown reason, I find removing my shoes to go through security a much greater inconvenience than I know that it is. It occurs to me that the day of an airline flight has become like a יום טובmorning on which there is ברכת כהנים: I must carefully pick a pair of socks without any holes. The analogy is tragically ironic for I can think of nothing more profane than the reason I must remove my shoes: there are people who want to kill me and my fellow passengers in the name of God. My socks today are new and yet strangely I still feel undignified huddling there among the other passengers shoeless. Another thought wanders into my mind. I recall רבי יהודהwitnessing חליצהin the presence of his teacher רבי טרפוןand how the great sage told all the תלמידיםto call out " חלוץ הנעל,"חלוץ הנעל. I remember the clever explanation of the משך חכמהas to why: throughout the Torah's exposition of the מצוה, an active verb is used since the requirement is for the דייניםof the בית דיןto conduct the procedure. At the end, however, the נפעלappears, implying that he is to be called חלוץ הנעלby everyone present. I picture the recalcitrant יבםwho has refused to fulfill his responsibility to his deceased brother as the דיינים, their apprentice תלמידים, and his sister-in-law heap abuse on him and I feel for a moment a connection to the פסוקin כי תצא. Unbidden into my mind come images of my wife and her mother and brothers shoeless, sitting as אבליםjust weeks ago. My mind flits across the centuries and I think of רבנו בחייand his perspicacious explication of מצות חליצה. The 'יבםs decision to leave his brother childless signals that the deceased is now truly gone without a remnant in this world. His widow removes her brother-in-law's shoe to remind him that he is now truly an אבלfor his brother is completely irretrievable to him. I think of my own children and grandchildren and know that I have tasted a measure of immortality. I re-think the scene at the בית דיןof רבי טרפוןand wonder if the calls of חלוץ הנעלare recited more in sad- ness than in derision. Thoughts of my wife remind me of her telling me that one can tell a lot about a man by his shoes. It occurs to me that shoes represent a man's dignity and the מלבי"ם comes quickly to mind. The great פרשןexplains that his brother's widow removes his shoe to diminish his dignity. He is not entitled to simply walk away. משה רבנוmust relinquish a measure of his self-possession as he approaches the שכינהnear the burning bush. Sacred ground requires self-effacement, a quality that seems to be lost in Jewish suburbia. Holiness of place is difficult to preserve in a place in which we are so comfortable that we do not hesitate to profane it with idle conversation and gossip. I wonder if we can regain the ability to perceive ourselves in the Divine Presence in a culture whose discourse is all about rights rather than responsibilities. Security personnel interrupt my thoughts. I know the drill: hold onto my board- ing pass and wait for the officer to signal me through the metal detector. Like sheep passing under the watchful eye of the shepherd through a narrow gate, I wait patiently to be called. Sitting at the gate moments later, I am comforted. I realize that wherever I go, there is a respository of קדושהwithin me, the sacred words and thoughts of תורהI have been privileged to learn. They are the coffeespoons by which I measure my own life. משה רבנוremoved his shoes in the place where he first encountered the Divine, begin- ning a lifelong conversation that has resulted in the unbounded dignity of those who have followed. שבת שלום These sichos are published by students of Rav Ozer Glickman shlit"a. We can be reached at ravglickmanshiur@gmail.com Rav Glickman can be reached directly at ozer.glickman@yu.edu
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