I still wear socks when I attend services in synagogue. Though it’s acceptable in Israel for worshippers to show up in bare sandaled feet, I can’t make the leap out of socks in temple.
I’ve already shed some of my prior Sabbath-day accoutrements. I always wore a tie and suit or sports jacket. First the tie went. Then the jacket.
Socks, however, seem to be where I draw the religious line. Philosophically, there should be no reason why I have not accepted the concept. After all, in biblical times no one wore socks. God didn’t seem to mind. Indeed, when God revealed himself to Moses in the burning bush he commanded him to remove his shoes. Bare feet were a sign of respect in a holy place. God’s okay with skin.
I guess it’s just another step in my journey toward a new phase of my life.
Someday, maybe, I’ll show up sockless in synagogue. Maybe next time I’m in Israel.