In Leviticus 16, the High Priest places the sins of the people onto a goat chosen “for Azazel,” ties a crimson thread onto its horn, and sends it alive into the wilderness. It is not sacrificed. It is not punished instead of us. The goat simply carries our sins away from us, back toward Sinai, into the desert, back to the place where we spent 40 years in the presence of God.
Our modern figure of speech misses the point: the biblical goat is not destroyed but released. Our sins do not disappear; God graces us with a moment when we are released from them.
The Talmud relates that when God forgave the people each Yom Kippur, the crimson thread turned white, fulfilling Isaiah’s promise: “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow” (Isa. 1:18).
Even without the Temple, Yom Kippur still gives us this gift. For part of this day, we are freed of our sins long enough to recognize them. On this day, we feel the pull toward holiness. Just as each passing hour strengthens our resolve to continue the fast, this day loosens the habits that bind us to our sins.
But we are human and we will sin again, perhaps the very moment the fast ends. (If I am any indication, we may even struggle to keep our thoughts pure during the day itself.)
Yom Kippur gives us a moment when God sees us as pure, and we feel the weight of sin lifted from us. It is a moment to taste what it feels like to live without guilt. We can see more clearly what our sins are and resolve to live differently in the year ahead. Unlike the scapegoat, we can't return to the Wilderness of Sinai, but we can strive to live well where we are, and seek, once more, to draw close to God.
