The House of the Unsandaled: Name, Shame, and the Great Redeemer Text: Deuteronomy 25:5-10
Introduction: Covenant Community and Continuity
We live in an age of radical, atomistic individualism. The modern man sees himself as a self-created island, with no binding obligations to the past and no meaningful responsibilities to the future. His great project is self-fulfillment, his great fear is being tied down, and his great commandment is "thou shalt not judge." Into this flimsy, self-referential world, the laws of God in Deuteronomy land with the force of a meteor. They speak of a world that is completely alien to us, a world of covenantal obligations, of family solidarity, of the importance of a name, and of public, institutionalized shame. And they speak of a world where life, death, and inheritance are not private affairs but matters of profound community concern.
The law we have before us today, the law of Levirate marriage, is one of those passages that moderns, and even many Christians, find strange, archaic, and perhaps a little embarrassing. It seems to be a relic of a tribal past that has nothing to do with our sophisticated lives of nuclear families and urban anonymity. But if we think this, we are profoundly mistaken. This law is not some dusty artifact for the museum of ancient legal codes. It is a window into the heart of God's design for His people. It is about legacy, loyalty, and the preservation of the covenant line. It is about protecting the vulnerable. And ultimately, as with all such laws, it is a shadow that points forward to the substance, which is Jesus Christ, our great Kinsman-Redeemer.
This law establishes a profound principle: the name and inheritance of a man in Israel must not be blotted out. The family line is not a disposable thing; it is a sacred trust. A man's life was bound up with his brothers, his land, and his name. To allow that name to be extinguished was a tragedy, a tear in the fabric of the covenant community. This law was God's provision to prevent such a thing. It is a law that values continuity over convenience, and community over selfish individualism. And in its refusal clause, it shows us that God is not afraid to use public shame as a tool to enforce covenant faithfulness.
The Text
"If brothers live together and one of them dies and has no son, then the wife of the one who died shall not be married outside the family to a strange man. Her husband’s brother shall go in to her and take her to himself as wife and perform the duty of a husband’s brother to her. And it will be that the firstborn whom she bears shall assume the name of his dead brother, so that his name will not be blotted out from Israel. But if the man does not desire to take his brother’s wife, then his brother’s wife shall go up to the gate to the elders and say, ‘My husband’s brother refuses to raise up a name for his brother in Israel; he is not willing to perform the duty of a husband’s brother to me.’ Then the elders of his city shall summon him and speak to him. And if he stands and says, ‘I do not desire to take her,’ then his brother’s wife shall come to him in the sight of the elders and pull his sandal off his foot and spit in his face; and she shall answer and say, ‘Thus it is done to the man who does not build up his brother’s house.’ And in Israel his name shall be called, ‘The house of him whose sandal is removed.’"
(Deuteronomy 25:5-10 LSB)
The Duty of the Brother (v. 5-6)
We begin with the central obligation:
"If brothers live together and one of them dies and has no son, then the wife of the one who died shall not be married outside the family to a strange man. Her husband’s brother shall go in to her and take her to himself as wife and perform the duty of a husband’s brother to her. And it will be that the firstborn whom she bears shall assume the name of his dead brother, so that his name will not be blotted out from Israel." (Deuteronomy 25:5-6)
The setting is one of close-knit family life, "if brothers live together." This refers to living on the same ancestral land, the portion given to their family by God. This is not about sharing a house, but sharing an inheritance and a life. The crisis is twofold: a man has died, leaving a widow, and he has died without a son. In that culture, this was a catastrophe. A widow without a son was among the most vulnerable people in society. And a man without a son had no one to carry on his name or to inherit his portion of the land. His legacy was on the brink of erasure.
God's solution is both practical and profound. The widow is not to be "married outside the family to a strange man." This would mean the family's land and resources would be lost to another clan. Instead, the duty falls to the deceased's brother. He is to marry the widow. This is the "duty of a husband's brother," or the Levirate duty. This was not primarily about romance; it was about covenant faithfulness. It was an act of loyalty to his dead brother and to the stability of the family.
And the purpose is made explicit in verse 6. The first son born from this union "shall assume the name of his dead brother." Legally, this child was considered the heir of the first husband. He would inherit his land and his name. This was a profoundly selfless act on the part of the living brother. He was investing his resources, his time, and his energy to raise up a son who would not be counted as his own heir, but as his brother's. He was acting to ensure that his brother's "name will not be blotted out from Israel." A name in Israel was not just a label. It represented a man's entire existence, his legacy, his inheritance, and his place in the covenant people. To lose one's name was to be forgotten, to cease to exist in the memory of the nation. This law was a stay against that kind of oblivion.
The Refusal and the Shame (v. 7-10)
But the law anticipates that a man might refuse this duty. Self-interest is a powerful motivator, and this duty was costly.
"But if the man does not desire to take his brother’s wife, then his brother’s wife shall go up to the gate to the elders and say, ‘My husband’s brother refuses to raise up a name for his brother in Israel; he is not willing to perform the duty of a husband’s brother to me.’" (Deuteronomy 25:7)
Notice that the man has a choice. He is not forced into the marriage. But his choice has consequences. The widow is not left without recourse. She has the right to appeal to the civil authorities, the elders at the city gate, which was the ancient courtroom. Her charge is specific: he is refusing to "raise up a name for his brother." He is failing in his covenant duty. This is not a private matter to be sorted out behind closed doors. It is a public concern, because the integrity of a family line affects the whole community.
The elders then summon the man. He is given a chance to state his case. But if he remains obstinate, "if he stands and says, 'I do not desire to take her,'" then a ceremony of public shaming commences.
"...then his brother’s wife shall come to him in the sight of the elders and pull his sandal off his foot and spit in his face; and she shall answer and say, ‘Thus it is done to the man who does not build up his brother’s house.’ And in Israel his name shall be called, ‘The house of him whose sandal is removed.’" (Deuteronomy 25:9-10)
Every element here is potent. The removal of the sandal was a symbol of the transfer of a right or, in this case, the forfeiture of a right and a responsibility. A man's sandal on the ground signified his claim to it. To have it removed was to be publicly stripped of his standing. He had the right and duty to walk on his brother's land and build his brother's house, and he has refused. So his shoe is taken. He is symbolically dispossessed.
The spitting in the face is an act of utter contempt and rejection. In a culture built on honor and shame, this was a devastating public rebuke. It was a formal, legal expression of disgust at his selfishness. And the woman pronounces the verdict: "Thus it is done to the man who does not build up his brother's house." He is a house-wrecker, not a house-builder.
The consequence is a permanent, public stigma. His family line is given a new name: "The house of him whose sandal is removed." Every time his children or grandchildren were identified, this story of their ancestor's failure would be recalled. This was not petty revenge. It was a powerful social deterrent. It taught all of Israel that covenantal obligations to family are not optional extras. To neglect the duty of a kinsman is a shameful thing, and God's law is not afraid to call it what it is.
Our Kinsman-Redeemer
Now, how does this ancient law speak to us? It does so by providing the framework for one of the most beautiful stories in the Old Testament, and by pointing us to the ultimate story of redemption. This is the law that drives the narrative in the book of Ruth.
Naomi is a widow, and her daughter-in-law Ruth is a widow. They are destitute. There is a kinsman who is closer than Boaz, who has the first right of redemption, which included marrying Ruth. But when he learns that marrying Ruth means he must "impair his own inheritance" by raising up a son for the deceased, he refuses (Ruth 4:6). He is the man who does not desire to take her. He is the man who wants the land without the obligation. And so, he takes off his sandal, passing the right to Boaz.
Boaz, in stark contrast, is the man who joyfully and willingly accepts the duty. He steps forward to "raise up the name of the deceased on his inheritance, so that the name of the deceased will not be cut off" (Ruth 4:10). Boaz is the true kinsman-redeemer. He builds up the house of his kinsman. And from that union of Boaz and Ruth comes Obed, the father of Jesse, the father of David. The line of the Messiah is secured through a man who understood and fulfilled the spirit of this law.
The Unsandaled Christ
But Boaz is just a type. The ultimate fulfillment is found in the Lord Jesus Christ. We were in a position far worse than Ruth's. We were spiritually widowed, destitute, and without hope. Our first kinsman, the first Adam, had failed. He refused to build God's house, and instead brought ruin upon it. He left us in our shame and our sin.
But there was another kinsman, a greater Boaz. Jesus Christ, our elder brother, was not obligated to redeem us. He could have remained in glory and said, "I do not desire to take her." Taking us as His bride would be costly. It would require Him to impair His own inheritance, to empty Himself, to take on the form of a servant (Philippians 2:7). To raise up children for God's house, He would have to die.
And here is the glorious reversal. In Deuteronomy, the man who refuses the duty is shamed. His sandal is removed, and he is spit upon. But on the cross, our Lord Jesus Christ, who did not refuse the duty, took that very shame upon Himself. He was stripped, not just of a sandal, but of all His garments. He was spit upon by the soldiers (Matthew 27:30). He endured the ultimate public contempt for us. He allowed Himself to be treated as the one who failed in his duty, so that we, the failures, could be brought into the house of God.
He did not refuse to build the house. He is the cornerstone of the house. He is the one who builds His church, and the gates of Hell will not prevail against it (Matthew 16:18). He did not allow our name to be blotted out. Instead, He gave us His name. We are called Christians. He has raised us up as sons and daughters, heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ (Romans 8:17).
This law in Deuteronomy, therefore, is a profound gospel lesson. It shows us our desperate need for a redeemer. It shows us the shame that our sin deserves. And it shows us the glory of our Lord Jesus, the true kinsman who was not ashamed to call us brothers (Hebrews 2:11), who took our shame upon Himself, and who builds the house of God with His own blood. He is the one who did not turn away, and for that, we give Him all praise and glory.