20 Feb TETZAVEH: A TALE OF TWO POTS – DEALING WITH THE TENSION OF THE HUMAN PERSONALITY

Linking the
Ephod and the
Choshen
There is an
intriguing mitzvah
recorded in this
week’s parsha: “And they shall bind
the choshen by its rings to the rings of
the ephod … so that the choshen shall
not budge from the ephod.” The
meaning of these words is
this: The choshen and the ephod were
two of the eight special garments worn
by the Kohen Gadol while performing
the services in the Mishkan.
The choshen was a breastplate set with
twelve precious stones, each inscribed
with the name of one of the twelve
Shevatim. It was worn on the breast,
over the heart. The ephod was an
apron-like garment, covering the
lower back of the body, from the waist
to the ankles, with a belt that tied in the

front. Two gold rings sewn on the
ephod’s belt lined up with two gold
rings sewn to the bottom corners of
the choshen; these were bound
together with ribbons of blue wool. It
is of vital importance, the Torah
stresses, that the two should remain
securely fastened at all times that the
priestly garments are worn.
“The choshen shall not budge from
the ephod.”
But why? Why the insistence that the
choshen and the ephod must be tightly
linked at all times? Why bother if they
are disconnected or only loosely
connected?
A tale of two garments
One answer, presented in the mystical
tradition, is deeply moving. The two
garments – the choshen seated atop the
heart and the ephod hanging on the
lower back – represent the “upper”

and “lower” dimensions of life, or
the “forward” and “backward” aspects
of human existence. The choshen
represented those individuals whose
hearts were aflame with spiritual
passion, while the apron symbolized
the people who struggled with
backward temptations, the crass and
lowly impulses and dispositions. This
is not merely a distinction between
two types of people; it is rather a
distinction between two aspects
existing in each of our lives. Few are
the people who can be defined as
“choshens” or “ephods” exclusively.
Most of us vacillate between backward
and frontward tendencies, between
lower and higher aspirations. We
celebrate moments of light but we
must also quarrel with darkness,
trauma, addiction, and emotional
prisons. At times life is a cruise
through a tranquil seabed, yet at other
times it consists of navigation
through turbulent waves, battle
fields and war zones. There are
moments we sense our calling, yet
at other times we yearn to discover
our true selves, we struggle to find
our place in the world. Crudeness,
superficiality and lowliness may at

any moment consume our multi-
dimensional personalities. Hence,

the Torah instructs us to tightly link
the choshen to the ephod, “so that
the choshen shall not budge from
the ephod.” We must somehow
learn to integrate the two parts of
the self, without escaping into either
element. Do not retreat, the Torah is
saying, into your “higher” self and
forget about your “lower” self, for
when the lower self re-surfaces you
might fall hard. On the other hand,
do not allow yourself to be swept
away by your lower self and ignore
your transcendental aspirations, for
such a life is likely to leave you
deeply thirsty and anxious. You
must learn the art of integration.
You must come to terms with the
truth that the “choshen” and the

“ephod” together constitute the very
objective of existence, to confront
darkness and transform it into light, to
create harmony out of the building
blocks of diversity.
Do you have holes in your life?
A story is told about an elderly
Chinese woman who owned two large
pots. Each hung on the ends of a pole,
which she carried every day on her
shoulders to fill with water from the
stream located at the end of the village.
One of the pots was complete and
always delivered a full portion of
water; the other pot was cracked and
arrived home each day only half full.
Of course, the complete pot was proud
of its accomplishments. It felt really
good about itself. The poor cracked
pot, on the other hand, was ashamed of
its own imperfections; it was miserable
that it could only do half of what it had
been made to do. After six years of
what it perceived to be bitter failure,
the humbled broken pot finally opened
its heart to the woman at the stream.
“I hate myself,” the cracked pot cried,
“I am so useless and valueless. What
purpose does my existence have when
each day I leak out half of my water? I
am such a loser!” The old woman
smiled and said, “Did you notice that
there are flowers on your side of the
path, but not on the other pot’s side? I
have always known about your flaw, so
I planted flower seeds on your side of
the path. Every day while we walk
back from the stream, you have the
opportunity to water them. “For six
years I have been able to pick these
beautiful flowers to decorate our
home. Without you being just the way
you are, we would have never created
this beauty together.”