Volume 33

First, some background. In ancient times, people used whatever was handy to make shoes, such as animal hides or — in the far north — fish skins, which worked well in snow.

By Roman times, footwear was a status symbol. Tzangas, or purple sandals decorated with gold thread and an eagle, were reserved for royalty. Plain purple sandals could be worn by nobles, but only on special occasions. Later, Emperor Aurelian banned red shoes and Nero had a thing for silver ones.

The first high heels were worn in the 16th Century by Turkish women who sought to keep their dresses clean in muddy streets by sporting chopines, wooded slabs eight inches thick. In France and England, some women wore chopines so ridiculously high they couldn’t go anywhere without servants to keep them from toppling.

But it was Catherine de Medici (1519-1589) who made high heels acceptable. She put cork wedges on her soles and — for the first time — the same shoe could not be worn on either foot. When separate left and right shoes were made in the U.S. decades later, the “crooked shoes” were met with scepticism and ridicule for a long time.

In France, King Louis XIV was only five-feet three-inches tall so he wore five-inch heels painted red and decorated with miniature portraits. But the French Revolution made it dangerous to put yourself above others. Soon, laces were considered more “democratic” than silver buckles worn by the well-off. But, in Birmingham, England, the new trend cost 20,000 buckle-makers their jobs.

Other workers had their revenge. As the Industrial Revolution took hold, French and Belgian labourers threw their clogs, or sabots, into the machinery that was replacing them, giving us the word sabotage. At about the same time, pirates were wearing oversize, wide boots,

By the early 1800s, high leather boots were in style. Servants of the rich spent lots of time, not just polishing but breaking them in for their masters. And boots were also worn by police. In fact, the word cop refers to copper tips that reinforced their footwear.

Other trivia: Cinderella’s slippers weren’t originally crystal clear. Translators working on a French version of the fairy tale confused the word vair (fur) for verre (glass.) And in L. Frank Baum’s book, The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy’s slippers were silver. MGM made them ruby to show off a new development: Technicolor film.

As for our Christian walk, most of us begin our spiritual trek after recognising that faith is a simple necessity, able to protect us as we make our journey through life. In the beginning, we have a fish skin faith, functional and effective but not very fashionable.

As we make progress, pride sometimes causes us to wear our faith like a spiritual status symbol. We measure our worth by how our faith sets us apart, and how it looks to everybody else. Jealous or insecure, we don’t want others to have the love, respect and giftedness we crave. Soon, we’re elevating ourselves above those around us.

That sometimes starts with noble motives. As much as possible, we want to stay sinless and unsullied by the world we walk through. But the higher we get in our own eyes, the easier it becomes to look down on others, leaving us more vulnerable to a fall. At that point, we start to divide Christians into those are “right” — and those who are left.

But whenever we do such things to compensate for our spiritual smallness, it’s only a matter of time before we’re removed from the spiritual throne we give ourselves. After all, true Christianity gives the same privileges and responsibilities to everyone.

So when we love each other equally and unconditionally, no one will feel the need to sabotage the work of the church or figuratively take the boots to fellow believers. That’s why we must each break in our own faith and keep it spotless. Nobody can do it for us. Only then can we find a Cinderella faith that’s strong, transparent and beautiful — one that fits our life perfectly, given to us by the Prince.

That faith is tinged by the ruby-red blood of Jesus who saves us. When that faith clicks, it’ll take us where we belong. And there really is no place like home.

By Rick Gamble. Published in Cross Current, the weekly newsletter of the followers of Christ congregation in Brantford, Ontario, Canada. Reprint at will in not-for-profit publications. To subscribe to this free weekly article, send a note to Rick at rgamble@bfree.on.ca