“Identity is a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
In the laws of Jewish marriage and status (Even HaEzer 3:1), the Shulchan Aruch rules that if a stranger enters a synagogue and claims to be a Kohen, we do not believe him without a witness. However, the Rama notes that in our communities, the custom is to believe him. Why the change?
In the past, being a Kohen carried a "monetary incentive"—they were entitled to Terumah (tithes). Where there is a profit motive, we suspect a lie. Today, since that incentive is gone, we take a person at their word.
The Chasam Sofer’s Radical Insight
The Chasam Sofer raises a profound question: The Torah commands us to honor Kohanim (v’Kidashto). If a "doubtful" Kohen walks in, how can we let him take the first Aliyah over a "certain" Kohen who lives in our town? Doesn't "certainty" trump "doubt"?
His answer is a masterpiece of psychology: The mitzvah of honoring a Kohen depends on the giver, not the receiver.
If you show honor to someone because you believe they represent a sacred ideal, you have fulfilled your spiritual obligation—even if that person is an imposter. The liar will answer to Heaven, but your act of respect remains a complete and holy mitzvah.
Imposter Syndrome and the Tzadik
The late sage Rav Pam, zt”l, once shared that this insight provided him with immense comfort. It is a common phenomenon in the self-help world known as Imposter Syndrome—the internal conviction that you aren't as competent or pious as others believe you to be.
Rav Pam, in his legendary humility, felt people gave him far more honor than he deserved. He found relief in the Chasam Sofer: "If the public honors me as a Torah scholar," he reasoned, "at least they are getting a mitzvah, regardless of whether I truly measure up to their expectations."
The Double-Edged Sword of Reputation
However, this idea carries a heavy responsibility. In the world of leadership coaching, we call this the "Expectation Gap."
The Rambam (Yesodei HaTorah 5:11) warns that a great man can desecrate G-d’s Name (Chilul Hashem) even without committing a technical sin. If people perceive you as a person of piety, your standard of behavior must rise to meet that perception. If a scholar is curt, or buys on credit and is late to pay, or fails to greet people with a smile, it reflects poorly on the Torah itself.
You might argue, "I'm not that big of a scholar! Don't hold me to those standards!" But the Chasam Sofer’s logic works both ways: If the world views you as a representative of G-d, then you are one. Your "identity" is partially forged by the community's expectations.
Pink Slippers and Public Sanctity: A Story of Character
“Character is how you treat those who can do nothing for you.” — Anonymous
How do we bridge the gap between our internal struggle and our public responsibility? It usually happens in the moments when things go wrong.
A member of the Baltimore community, Harold Willner, was once flying from Boston to Vermont. At the TSA checkpoint, someone accidentally walked off with his shoes. The only "leftovers" were a pair of size 7 shoes that Harold couldn’t fit into. Facing a flight he couldn't miss, he stood there in his suit and tie—shoeless.
A kind woman in line saw his plight and offered him a pair of slippers from her bag. They were pink, thong-style slippers.
With no other choice, Harold put them on. He walked through the terminal—suit, tie, yarmulke, and bright pink slippers. As he climbed the portable stairs to the commuter plane, a slipper fell off, and he had to descend, retrieve it, and climb back up, all under the watchful eyes of the other passengers.
When he finally took his seat, exasperated and embarrassed, a fellow passenger leaned over. "I've been watching you since the security line," the man said. "I am amazed. You never lost your cool, you never raised your voice, and you never acted indignant. You acted with such civility—it is a credit to your religion."
“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances.”
The Takeaway
We may not always feel like the "Kohanim" or "scholars" people take us for. We may even feel like we are walking through life in "pink slippers"—exposed, embarrassed, or out of place.
But Parshas Emor reminds us: People are watching. When we maintain our dignity and our Menschlichkeit under pressure, we don't just fulfill a social grace. We fulfill the highest calling of a Jew: “You are My Servant Israel, through whom I will be glorified.”
Good Shabbos!
