The Music of Katonti

Parshat Vayishlach

By Rabbi Avi Billet

Four times every year the word “katonti,” which appears once in all of the Bible (32:11), is read in the synagogue to much pomp and circumstance. It is typically recited by the congregation before the reader says it, as it has somehow developed its own cultish following.

What is unique about this word, which is Yaakov’s way of saying, “I have become humbled” from all the kindnesses G-d has shown me, is that its cantillation mark, the symbol that tells the reader what music to apply to the word, is up for debate.

Without going into too many specifics, the old Chumashim that are available have different renderings. The Leningrad manuscript posits there is a geresh on the word (which Ashkenazic Jews read in an upward scale), while the Venetian manuscript has a r’vii (or r’via) on the word [it actually looks like it has both the geresh and the r'vii]. If you purchase Hebrew Bibles, the Koren Tanakh has a r’vii while the Breuer Tanakh has a geresh. The classic “Mikra’ot Gedolot” Chumash carries a r’vii, while most Chumashim one will find in a synagogue (Artscroll, Living Torah, Hertz) all have a geresh.

The well researched Tikkun Simanim (aid to those practicing their Torah reading) has a geresh, but includes an asterisk whose side notation informs that it is alternatively read with a r’vii. Minchat Shai, who might normally note this discrepancy, is strangely silent on the matter.

A student of the cantillation marks (“Taamei hamikra” in Hebrew) knows that both options are viable. Each one provides a pause of sorts — though the r’vii is a slightly stronger pause — which may certainly precede the pashta marker that follows it.

What other consideration ought we to bear in mind when deciding which way to read the word?

Some suggest the letter “tet” in the word appears smaller in some Chumashim by design (even though it is not smaller in the Torah), to indicate like Rashi says, that Yaakov was extremely humbled by the kindnesses he had been shown by G-d. An idea attributed to Rabbi Hirsch of Radin suggests that even if a person humbles himself, a small “Tet” would serve as a reminder that he needs to still be even more humble. Within his humility, there is still something smaller.

My mikra’ot gedolot Chumash notes that the “tet” is not smaller in the Torah (and therefore should not be smaller in any Chumash), so the lesson about humility must be learned from a different source than a small letter — such as the comment of Rashi mentioned above.

The Gaon of Vilna quotes the Talmud (Sotah 5a) that “a scholar should have an eighth of an eighth of pride,” but not more haughtiness than that. He explains that the eighth verse in the eighth parsha (Vayishlach) is this verse (“eighth of an eighth”), which teaches the scholar that even when he is successful and has what to be proud of, he must remember that G-d can take all away and divide you into two camps (the end of our verse). Therefore, be humbled.

With these thoughts in mind, I feel that the proper way to read this word is with a musical sound that is humbling, one that gives us a dramatic indication of how Yaakov is feeling. An Ashkenazic Jew who reads this with a geresh is rendering an incorrect dramatic reading of what Yaakov is feeling. The r’vii - which utilizes a four-point descending scale - would serve this purpose much more properly.

Not being an expert in Sefardic reading, I found a quote on the internet from Emmanuel Ifrah who wrote in the Jewish-Mail email discussion form (Ottmail through Shamash.org), “[In] all Sefaradic te’amim I know (Morrocan, Algerian and Tunisian)… When the geresh is alone it is sung in a descending manner.”

At the end of the day, I don’t think there is a halakhic difference. Either way one reads the word is probably fine. It becomes a matter of taste, preference, and, perhaps, common sense.

Let us consider more than the spectacle we expect to hear in shul when the reader reads the Torah. Let us consider the actual meaning of the word, the mood invoked by the music. Let us remind ourselves of the feelings our forefather Yaakov more likely had when he laid his soul bare before the Almighty.

Surely Yaakov did not flaunt his humility, saying “Look how humble I am!” in an ascending musical scale.

Whether you are Sefardic or Askenazic, pick the sound that is humbling, that brings Yaakov to a state of meekness, in which he recognizes his low status vis-à-vis G-d. Because that is what he did, and that was how he viewed himself in his greatest hour of need, as he considered the kindnesses he had received from G-d, of which he felt himself unworthy to be the recipient.