The sages teach us that on the 15th of Av, Tu B’Av, the daughters of Israel would go out to the vineyards in joy and celebration. “There were no days as festive for Israel as the 15th of Av and Yom Kippur, when the daughters of Jerusalem would go out in borrowed white garments” (Mishnah, Ta’anit 4:8).
Two striking ideas emerge: Yom Kippur and the 15th of Av are mentioned together. On the one hand, Yom Kippur is the holiest of days, a day of awe and deep self-accounting. On the other hand, Tu B’Av is a day of dance, love, and the beginning of new families.
All wore white, not for vanity or display, but so that no woman would feel shame if she lacked her own finery. White created equality, sisterhood, and a unity that dissolved differences.
Young women in white danced to build families, to weave a future of love. We, too, wear white on Yom Kippur – to build another kind of family: a human family standing together before the creator of the world. White signifies purity, but also equality – for before God we are all the same: women and men, rich and poor, scholars and simple folk.
Nation in crisis, holiday of healing
We approach Yom Kippur this year with heavy hearts. In recent years, Israel has endured three seismic events that reshaped our collective consciousness: The global trauma of the COVID-19 pandemic, the devastating war against Hamas that erupted on October 7, 2023, and the deepening social divide threatening to tear apart the fabric of Israeli society.
Of these three, the one that troubles me most as an Israeli citizen is the internal rift – the bitter polarization between sectors of our people. It corrodes trust, weakens solidarity, and gnaws at the very foundations of our state from within.
Yom Kippur carries with it a profound message of unity and reconciliation. If we can listen closely to its call, perhaps we may yet emerge from this day not only as individuals renewed but as a collective – a people capable of turning toward a new path.
The journey from awe to love
The Days of Awe begin in trembling reverence. On Rosh Hashanah, we declare: “Let us now relate the holiness of this day, for it is awe-inspiring and fearsome.”
But the journey does not end in fear. Yom Kippur invites us to move from trembling to love. At the climactic Ne’ilah prayer, we do not only plead, “Seal us for a good life.” We cry out: “Avinu malkeinu (our father, our king), be gracious to us and answer us, though we have no deeds to merit it.”
This is not merely the voice of defendants before a judge, but the cry of children to a loving parent. It is not fear alone – it is love, intimacy, and trust.
Philosophers and psychologists alike have shown that awe and fear may serve as necessary beginnings in the journey toward mature love. Psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl, for example, taught that when a person confronts fragility and imperfection, the soul is opened to meaning – and to love.
White: The color of unity
White is a wondrous color: not empty, but the blending of all colors. It contains every hue, every possibility.
On Yom Kippur, we wear white as a reminder that we are not isolated individuals but part of something greater – a community, a people, a united human family.
The white of Yom Kippur thus connects directly to the white garments of Tu B’Av. In both moments, women in white teach us that life does not begin in fear, but in the choice of love, equality, and togetherness.
But this year, the white garments confront us with a piercing question: Can we truly pray together, as one people? After the confrontations between secular and religious Israelis in the streets of Tel Aviv on Yom Kippur two years ago – only days before the outbreak of war – I find myself in existential anxiety.
Will we manage to dress in white and share the same spiritual frequency of togetherness? Will we have the courage to set aside division and rediscover the bonds that make us one nation?
A closing blessing of hope
May we all walk in white this year – not only in our garments, but in our hearts: white that embraces all colors, all people, all voices.
May we learn to journey from awe to love, from fear to compassion, from division to unity.
May women and men together become true partners in building a world of justice, compassion, and love.
May this year see the end of war.
May the captives and those missing return home in peace.
May the wounded be healed swiftly.
May the soldiers of Israel return safely to their families, whole in body and spirit.
Above all – may the white light of Yom Kippur guide us into a year of blessing, renewal, and peace.
The writer is the dean of the Faculty of Education and head of the Sal Van Gelder Center for Holocaust Instruction and Research at Bar-Ilan University.