Harav Hagaon Shmuel Wolman Shlita
White seems to be a very strong theme of the Yamim Nora’im. The minhag of Klal Yisrael is to wear white during the Yamim Nora’im. Almost everyone wears a kittel on Yom Kippur; some wear one on Rosh Hashanah as well. In shul, we deck the sifrei Torah, the bimah, and the aron kodesh in white. We know that minhag Yisrael Torah, and every minhag has deep significance. The poskim explain that we wear a kittel because we resemble the malachim, and to remind us of the day of death, but perhaps we can add another dimension to the significance of wearing white. The Rema emphasizes that we should wear a בגד פשתן לבן ונקי. Not only should it be white, but it should be clean.
We find the color white associated with kapparas avonos, as the passuk states: אִם יִהְיוּ חֲטָאֵיכֶם כַּשָּׁנִים כַּשֶּׁלֶג יַלְבִּינוּ. The Radak explains that “snow white” is a metaphor for the whitening of the neshamah. Similarly, on Yom Kippur, the lashon shel zehoris tied onto the entrance to the Beis HaMikdash turned white, symbolizing that Klal Yisrael had merited kapparah. Why is the color white so closely linked with kapparas avonos?
To understand this, I think we need to go back to the basics, and appreciate what teshuvah is, and what the avodah of Aseres Yemei Teshuvah — which climaxes with Yom Kippur and Neilah — is all about.
Teshuvah, as we know, involves various elements and steps, as delineated by the Rambam and Rabbeinu Yonah. Rectifying all our chata’im and achieving kapparah is a long, arduous process, and that’s the avodah of teshuvah in the sense of the actual details of the mitzvah. But what is the essence of teshuvah?
Furthermore, what does the word teshuvah mean?We understand what the word תטהרו means: It’s a purification process, one that the Rishonim compare to the purification conferred by a mikvah. But what is the meaning of the word teshuvah, which implies “returning”? What are we returning to? Where are we returning from? The Mabit, at the beginning of Shaar Hateshuvah, asks this question.
Some understand that we’re returning to the derech hayashar, since when we do an aveirah, we veer off that path. Perhaps that is true, but the passuk, cited by the Mabit, says something else: וְשַׁבְתָּ עַד ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ, which means we are returning to Hakadosh Baruch Hu.
How were we away from the Eibishter? The meforshim explain that when a person does aveiros, he distances himself and erects barriers between him and the Eibishter. Teshuvah involves breaking down those barriers and returning to Hakadosh Baruch Hu, going back to kirvas Elokim and to the level of dveikus that is possible only in the absence of aveiros.
In a couple of places, however, R' Yerucham writes clearly that the concept of teshuvah is lashuv el atzmo — to return to one’s inner self. What does that mean, and how does teshuvah accomplish that? Moreover, how does that idea fit with the Mabit’s explanation that teshuvah means returning to the Eibishter? Am I returning to Hashem, or to myself?
In describing the state of a baby in its mother’s womb, the Gemara in Niddah says: ונר דלוק לו על ראשו וצופה ומביט מסוף העולם ועד סופו. What is that “lit candle” above the head of the fetus, which gives it that supernatural power of gazing from one end of the world to the other? The Maharal explains that this candle is the נֵר ה' נִשְׁמַת אָדָם. Every one of us has a ner — the נשמה שנתת בי טהורה היא. That neshamah is incredibly holy and illuminating, because it is taken from beneath the Kisei Hakavod. There’s a piece of the Eibishter, kivyachol, that exists in every single Yid — וַיִּפַּח בְּאַפָּיו נִשְׁמַת חַיִּים — and that is represented by the lit candle above the head of an unborn child. That ner is unbridled and limitless, enabling the baby to gaze from one end of the world to the other, because it hasn’t yet experienced the struggles and limitations of being part of this physical world. As long as the baby is inside its mother, it is a neshamah that is untarnished by the guf, which tries to drag it to places it never wanted to go. That ner dolek is our innermost self, and that chelek Eloka mimaal exists in every human being.
This, apparently, is what R’ Yerucham is referring to when he says that teshuvah means returning to ourselves. We are not attaining a new level that we never had and never experienced, but going back to our inner self. We were born with a neshamah tehorah, and we wake up every single morning with that neshamah tehorah. But then our life starts, and our day starts, and we begin dealing with all the distractions and difficulties and temptations and influences of this world. And that ner dolek, with all of its clarity, gets dimmed by this world.
When the baby is inside its mother, it learns the entire Torah, because that limitless neshamah is able to absorb kol haTorah kulah without any distractions or restrictions. When we come into this world, says the Maharal, we automatically forget all of our Torah, because this world is in direct opposition to everything about Torah and dveikus to Hashem. Our job is to get that Torah back — to constantly look to return to that inner self, to our neshamah. Teshuvah, then, is a return to both oneself and Hashem.
When we’re trying to return to the Eibishter, we’re going back to the chelek Eloka mimaal that exists within ourselves, and thereby rebuilding our relationship with the Eibishter and our ability to cleave to Him. The Gemara teaches (Yoma 86a): גדולה תשובה שמגעת עד כסא הכבוד, שנאמר (הושע יד ב) שובה ישראל עד ה' אלקיך. But it’s not the teshuvah that reaches the Kisei Hakavod; teshuvah is the vehicle that allows the person to get back to the Kisei Hakavod. How? By returning to himself, to his own neshamah, and thereby getting back his relationship with the Eibishter. This is the kirvas Elokim that teshuvah provides.
There is another recurring theme when we talk about teshuvah: לפני ה' תטהרו — we are coming “before” Hashem. Similarly, when the Rambam discusses teshuvah, he writes: והוא שישוב החוטא מחטאו לפני ה' ויתודה. How does teshuvah place a person before Hashem?
This physical world tries to distance the neshamah from its Source. The neshamah desperately wants to connect to the Eibishter, but when we are lured into believing that the world of aveiros is more enticing, and offers a better or easier way to live, we create mechitzos between us and the Eibishter, and deprive the neshamah of the connection it craves. Instead of accessing our true, intrinsic self, we are giving in to everything around us.
Teshuvah reverses that. It brings us back lifnei Hashem, back to that state where we feel the שויתי ה' לנגדי תמיד, which is harder to feel when we’re under the influence of aveiros.
When Rabbeinu Yonah discusses the avodah of Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, he talks about both teshuvah and tefillah. We know that tefillah is very important, but why is it an inextricable part of the avodah of Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, to the extent that teshuvah and tefillah seem to be synonymous?
R' Yisroel Salanter famously notes that when the Gemara in Bava Kama teaches that “maveh” means “adam,” the passuk it cites relates to davening and beseeching the Eibishter. That is the very definition of an adam: a being that is connected to the Eibishter through tefillah. Tefillah is not just something we do — it’s an expression of what we’re all about. Our neshamah craves that connection, and wants to relate to the Eibishter through tefillah.
Rashi, in Sefer Bereishis, explains that the word tefillah is related to the word psil, connoting a bond with the Eibishter. Rav Chaim says that the most basic concept of tefillah is that the person is standing before the King — that idea of lifnei Hashem.
Teshuvah and tefillah go together; they’re one and the same. Teshuvah and tefillah repair that connection, bring us back into ourselves and finding the self of ואני תפילה, the pure neshamah within ourselves that will, by definition, reach the Kisei Hakavod — וְשַׁבְתָּ עַד ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ. This is the goal of teshuvah, and this is what we’re looking to accomplish.
Of course, we have to open up a Rambam and a Rabbeinu Yonah and discover all the various difficult steps that it takes to accomplish teshuvah. But before starting those steps, let’s understand what teshuvah is all about. It’s not about getting to new places that we never imagined. Rather, it’s simply about returning to ourselves, which means going back to our neshamah, to square one. It’s a reset of sorts. It’s not easy, but it’s not something that we never experienced.
We can now better understand the concept of “whitening” aveiros, and why white is used as a metaphor for the kapparah of teshuvah. Obviously, white conjures up the symbolism of something pure and pristine. But I think that when we talk about the color white, we mean going back to the source, back to our original state in this world, a state of pure neshamah. White implies having no additives, nothing that is trying to change or add to the neshamah. The neshamah at its baseline is represented by the color white. It’s the shoresh that lies inside every one of us.
During Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, when we’re trying to pick ourselves up and live on a higher level, let’s remember what teshuvah is all about. It’s not just tikkun hamaasim — it’s what we’re looking to eventually accomplish through all the tikkun hamaasim: to get back to the Eibishter. But the way that we get back to the Eibishter is by pressing reset, going back to white, and returning to our original state when we came into this world: נשמה שנתת בי טהורה היא.
The Eibishter should give us the siyatta d’Shmaya to utilize the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah for this dual avodah of teshuvah and tefillah, to feel the ואני תפילה, to get back to ourselves, and through that, to be zocheh to true teshuvah that reaches the Kisei Hakavod.
