Is a Cohen a Cohain?

A Priest, a Levite and an Israelite walk into a synagogue …

Let me explain.

Since my first year of rabbinical school in Jerusalem, I have learned some fascinating Jewish traditions surrounding our worship service and religious practices.

Any newcomer who visits a traditional synagogue is asked before entering the sanctuary whether he is a “Cohain” (of priestly descent), a “Levite” (of levitical descent) or a common “Israelite.”

Why? The answer traces back thousands of years when the priests conducted the Temple’s  sacrificial service with the Levites assising.

To this day, those leading traditional worship services grant special honors to those of priestly or levitical descent. A “Cohain” is first to chant the blessings before and after the recitation of Torah. (At Temple B’nai Israel, we only have one “aliyah,” or Torah recitation; other houses of worship split the Torah recitation into multiple sections, with their respective blessings before and after.) A “Levite” receives the second “aliyah.” If there is no Levite present, the same Cohain chants the blessings for the first two “aliyot.”

A second honor: Those of priestly descent chant “birkat cohanim.” (English translation: “May the Eternal bless you and keep you; may the Eternal shine upon you and be gracious to you; may the Eternal turn to you and grant you peace.”)

Since my last name is “Cohen,” those who welcomed me at traditional services, whether in Israel or in the States, assumed I was of priestly descent. I was in no position to prove them wrong, and out of respect, accepted the invitations. Who knows how many times I have chanted the blessings for the first aliyah. (However, I have never participated in the formal, dramatic chanting of “birkat cohanim”; it is quite rare to see this. I have only witnessed its performance twice, both at large Orthodox congregations in Jerusalem.)

What is the point of this long introduction about Priests, Levites and Israelites? A debate has existed in my family for years about whether we truly trace ourselves back to the priestly, aristocratic families who led the sacrificial service in Jerusalem. I have always been the contrarian: Just because our name is “Cohen” (in Russian, “Kahanski” or “Kagan”), that does not mean that my ancient ancestors were butchering and offering up animals in Jerusalem in the name of God.

Fast forward to the present day. At long last our family knows beyond a shadow of a doubt whether we are of priestly descent. There is a marker on the Y-chromosome that only those of priestly descent possess.  My father took the genetic test to settle the debate.

The results: We lack the marker and are NOT of priestly descent.

I am not disappointed. But what about those in more traditional congregations who have believed they were of priestly descent for generations? I can only imagine the disappointment of those who discover they are not “Cohanim.” What do they believe about all those Torah blessings they accepted?

Other long-standing traditions: Those of priestly descent are not allowed to enter graveyards. (Contact with the deceased cause ritual impurity.) In addition, many families who believe they are of priestly descent put special carvings on their headstones.

Do those who have practiced for years these traditions feel they have lost their authenticity when they discover they are not of priestly descent?

Many traditional rabbis are using the following approach when counseling those who learn the disappointing news: Families who for generations have considered themselves to be of priestly descent who discover this information is not true can still act “as if” they are of priestly descent.

In other words, we have created a legal loophole in response to genetic truth.

I  have no need to use this loophole. Whether or not I am a “Cohain” makes no difference. However, when my son and daughter get older, I will have to explain their true identity.

They will need to know two things: (1) Genetically, they are not of priestly descent. (2) Even though those in their great grandfather’s generation and before viewed themselves as “Cohanim,” their grandparents and parents did not embrace traditional “priestly practices.”

In years to come this genetic discovery is going to lead to some fascinating, if not awkward conversations the next time my children or I visit a traditional synagogue, and someone wants to grant us a special honor based upon our last name.

Just because we are called Cohen does not make it so.