The White Garments of the Kohen Gadol: A Yom Kippur Lesson for a Divided Israel
As the sun sets and the familiar melody of Kol Nidrei is heard in synagogues across Israel and throughout the Jewish world, we enter Yom Kippur, the **Yom HaDin**, the Day of Judgment.
This year, Yom Kippur comes as Israel prepares for another national election. Our public life is filled with political debate, strong opinions and deep disagreements. Elections are an important part of public life, but they can also sharpen the divisions between us.
Yom Kippur asks us to step back from all of this and remember something deeper: before we are members of different political camps, we are members of one people.
That message can be found in one of the most striking details of the Avodah of Yom Kippur, the special service performed in the Beis Hamikdash on this day.
Throughout the year, the Kohen Gadol served in eight magnificent garments. They included gold and precious stones and reflected the honor and glory of his position and, in a broader sense, the glory of the Jewish people.
But for the special Avodah of Yom Kippur, when he entered the Kodesh Kodoshim, he removed the golden garments and wore four simple white linen garments.
The Talmud asks why.
In Rosh Hashanah 26a, Rav Chisda explains:
מפני מה אין כהן גדול נכנס בבגדי זהב לפני ולפנים… לפי שאין קטיגור נעשה סניגור.
“Why does the Kohen Gadol not enter wearing golden garments? Because the accuser cannot become the defender.”
The Gemara explains that the gold could recall the sin of the Golden Calf. On the very day when the Jewish people came before Hashem seeking forgiveness, the Kohen Gadol did not enter the Kodesh Kodoshim wearing something that could bring that sin to mind.
There is a powerful lesson here.
On Yom Kippur, the Yom HaDin, we do not come before Hashem surrounded by our achievements or trying to justify ourselves. We come seeking forgiveness. We put aside the things that can distract us from the essential task of the day and stand before Hashem with humility.
Our teshuvah must include not only the things we do between ourselves and Hashem, but also the way we treat one another. There is something small that each of us can do: refrain from unnecessary arguments about politics.
We all have our opinions, and we may feel very strongly about them. But we do not have to argue every point, and we certainly do not have to win every argument. Sometimes the greater act of self-control is to recognize that continuing an argument will accomplish nothing and simply to walk away from it.
On Yom Kippur, when we ask Hashem to forgive us, we should also ask ourselves whether every political argument is worth the anger, the tension and the hard feelings that it can create. Sometimes teshuvah means knowing when to stop.
The Kohen Gadol, representing all of Klal Yisrael, enters the Kodesh Kodoshim in simple white garments. The gold and precious stones are left aside. There is no outward display of greatness. He stands before Hashem carrying the responsibility of the entire nation.
This image also brings to mind another defining moment in our history: the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai.
The Torah tells us:
**“ויחן שם ישראל נגד ההר”**
“And Israel camped there opposite the mountain.”
(Shemot 19:2)
Rashi notices that the Torah uses the singular form *vayichan*, “he camped,” rather than the expected plural form. He explains:
**“כאיש אחד בלב אחד”**
“Like one person with one heart.”
Rashi teaches that at Sinai, the Jewish people were united in a special way. They stood together to receive the Torah.
This does not mean that every Jew suddenly became identical. The Jewish people have always included different personalities, different communities and different approaches. Unity does not require uniformity.
It means something more fundamental: despite our differences, we recognize that we belong to one people and that we stand before the same Hashem.
That is a message we especially need to hear today.
As Israel approaches another election, there will naturally be disagreements about the country’s future. People will have different political convictions and different ideas about what is best for the nation.
That is part of public life.
But there is a danger when political disagreement becomes something deeper—when the person who thinks differently is no longer seen as a fellow Jew, a fellow Israeli or a brother.
Yom Kippur asks us to put something aside. Not our convictions. Not our responsibilities. Not even our disagreements.
What we must try to put aside is the anger, the contempt and the personal pride that can sometimes accompany them.
The Kohen Gadol did not enter the Kodesh Kodoshim representing one faction of the nation. He entered on behalf of all of Klal Yisrael.
Perhaps that is one of the reasons the Avodah of Yom Kippur speaks so powerfully to our present moment.
The political world naturally draws our attention to the differences between us. Yom Kippur reminds us of what comes before those differences.
We belong to one another.
This is also reflected in the language of our Vidui, the confession we recite throughout Yom Kippur.
We do not say only, “I have sinned.”
We say:
“אשמנו, בגדנו, גזלנו…”
“We have sinned. We have betrayed. We have stolen…”
The confession is deliberately expressed in the plural. On Yom Kippur, our teshuvah is not only personal. We stand before Hashem as individuals who are also part of Klal Yisrael, recognizing that our lives are connected to one another and that our responsibilities extend beyond ourselves.
That is why *bein adam l’chavero*, our responsibilities toward another person, are so important during Yom Kippur.
It is not enough to ask Hashem to forgive us while holding on to anger and resentment toward another Jew. During Yom Kippur, we are asked to repair what can be repaired between us.
Perhaps this is another lesson we can take from the Kohen Gadol’s white garments.
On Yom Kippur, he sets aside the gold and enters the Kodesh Kodoshim without the outward signs of greatness. Representing the entire nation, he stands before Hashem on behalf of everyone.
We, too, enter Yom Kippur carrying our differences. We have our political opinions, our arguments and our deeply held convictions. But we can also put something aside: the need to prove that we are right and that the other side is wrong.
We can disagree and still speak respectfully. We can argue about the future of Israel and still remember that the person across the political divide is part of our people. We can have strong convictions without allowing those convictions to destroy the bonds between us.
This is especially important at a time when our soldiers continue to carry out their duties in defense of Israel and when many families continue to live with the pain and consequences of these difficult years.
Whatever our political differences, they do not change the fact that we are Klal Yisrael.
As we enter Yom Kippur, perhaps this is the image we should carry with us: the Kohen Gadol entering the Kodesh Kodoshim in simple white garments, representing all of Klal Yisrael.
At Sinai, the Torah tells us, **“ויחן שם ישראל נגד ההר”** — “And Israel camped there opposite the mountain.” Rashi explains, **“כאיש אחד בלב אחד”** — “like one person with one heart.”
We do not have to agree on everything. But we must remember that our disagreements do not change the fact that we belong to one another. We must make the effort to ensure that disagreements remain disagreements and never become hatred.
We must daven and be zocheh that the coming year bring safety to our soldiers, comfort to those who have suffered, healing to those in need, and greater unity and peace among all of Klal Yisrael. We must strive to stand before Hashem not as competing camps, but as one people, so that our differences do not separate us from one another and our disagreements never become hatred.
Gmar Chatimah Tovah.
