Parashat VaYishlach: A Tribute to Cantor Eugene Rosner December 14, 2019 | 16 Kislev 5780 Rabbi Neil S. Cooper

At the beginning of Parashat VaYishlach, Jacob is on edge. Soon he will need to confront his brother, his twin brother, Esau, who Jacob had avoided for more than 20 years. Jacob was smart to avoid his brother and smart to give Esau two decades for Esau’s anger and sense of wrath to subside. Jacob cheated Esau out of his birthright and blessings. Now, for the first time in 20 years, the two brothers would meet.

But, today, what interests me more than that long-awaited confrontation is what occurred just before the brothers met. Specifically, in preparation for that meeting, Jacob prays to God in the following words.

katonti mi’kol hahasadim - I have been made small by all of the kindnesses - קטנתי מכל החסדים you have so steadfastly shown your servant, for with my staff I crossed this Jordan and now I have become two camps.” (Genesis 32:11)

With all of the blessings which you, God, have showered upon me, I feel “katan.” But, what is not clear from this verse, is whether this word, “katonti,” is spoken:

1. Positively: I am humbled by the kindness you have shown me, O God. (This implies that Jacob will be protected by God’s goodness). Or 2. Negatively: As I wait to cross the river and confront Esau, you left me small and vulnerable, God. I have split my camp in half and now, without protection, am totally vulnerable before my hateful brother (who, I believe, will try to kill me).

Is it a positive or a negative attribute to see oneself as small?

Before the invention of the printing press, all books, including the Bible, were manuscripts. And, although manuscripts can have discrepancies, when using a manuscript of the Torah, it is unusual to find discrepancies between one manuscript and another. On this verse “Katonti mi’kol hahasadim,” these words, however, there is a small discrepancy between two manuscripts, one is known as the Leningrad manuscript, which dates from the 11th century, and the other, the Aleppo Codex, from the 10th century. And, the discrepancy is not in the words but in the trope:

In the Leningrad verse, the trope over the word: “katonti” is “azlah geresh,” a trope whose tune goes up in dramatic fashion (see Etz Chaim, p. 199). In the Aleppo Codex, the tune assigned for the word is signified by “revi’ya.”

,gives a specific nuance ,טעמי המקרא Azla geresh vs Revi’ya. What’s the difference? Well, the trope accent and commentary to the words. And here we have the problem: While “azla geresh” goes high in majestic fashion, “revi’ya” goes low, four notes low. High or low, majestic or pedestrian, joyous or mournful: which is the right tune? More specifically, is the word “katonti” a negative statement or a positive statement by Jacob?

Speaking to God, does Jacob say:

In spite of all of your kindness, “katonti”: with all the goodness you have shown me, God. I remain depleted, smaller and more vulnerable”?

Or, “katonti,” I am humbled and by all your kindness and protection?

The original Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, languished in the jail of the Russian Czar on meritless charges. Treatment there was harsh and the Rebbe suffered greatly. The last Shabbat he spent in captivity was Parashat VaYishlach. On the 19th of Kislev, he was released. When he returned, he sent the following message to his followers:

"I have been made small by the kindnesses..." With each hesed [kindness] that the Holy Blessed One does for a person, he should become very humble. Because "hesed is [God's] right arm," and "[God's] right arm embraces me" (Shir Hashirim 2:6) and [embracing] describes meaningful closeness to God, with greater intensity than before. And all who are close to God and thus raised up higher and higher should become humbler and humbler, as it becomes clear that everything is as nothing before God. – (The Holy Letter, Epistle 2)

Jacob’s words must be understood in the following way:

The kindness You, God, have shown to me, is so great that it makes anything that I have done look small. Your goodness reminds me of your greatness and my insignificance.

God’s goodness, says the Lubavicher Rebbe, must make us shrink before ourselves. “I survived prison and was released from jail because of your goodness, God.” And, similarly, we must diminish our own sense of greatness, which is so small compared to the greatness of God in the world.

The Lubavicher Rebbe shares with us a profound and important perspective. The famous and revered Rebbe, might be tempted, at times, to inflate his own importance as a leader, to take credit for some act of greatness, to allow himself to be lauded for the strength, endurance and faith which enabled him to survive as a prisoner of the Czar. And so, the Rebbe wants to make it clear that this is not the case: He suggests that it is not his endurance, his strength or his faith which is to be praised. He says, it is God to whom I owe my freedom. And more, God’s embrace of the Jewish People has been the source of both my strength and yours.

All who are close to God and thus raised up higher and higher should become humbler and humbler, as it becomes clear that everything is as nothing before God. – The cantillation of the word, “katonti,” was to the Vilna Gaon chanted with a “revi’ya,” going down. But the Lubavitcher Rebbe sang it going up, for “katonti”: how small I am is a reminder of how great God is. We all chant “katonti” today with “azla-geresh,” as the Rebbe of Lubavitch sang it.

This weekend, we honor our hazzan, Eugene Rosner, my fellow clergyman, my partner in our work here for 29 of his 30 years here, and my friend. I love Eugene, working with him and learning from him. And I have learned much in areas of nusach, music and the power of the song. But, I must say that I am most grateful to Eugene, through action and word, for teaching to me to sing the word “katonti” with “azla geresh.”

“Katonti”: Each day, Eugene works to produce songs, to teach children, to arrange services, and whatever he does, and he does a lot, has never inflated his ego, never expanded within him a thirst for power or created in him a need to assert his authority. Instead, he has shown us, through his humility and modesty, the true meaning of power, strength, control and joy.

Listen to Eugene on the High Holidays and you will hear impeccable nusach, Hebrew properly enunciated and faithfully articulated. You will not hear the operatic flourishes of a frustrated opera singer. You will hear the sweet, gentle trope, which connects us with over a thousand years of liturgical tradition, which Eugene preserves for us and teaches us. And when he does this, he, the carrier and transmitter of this tradition, does so in the spirit of these prayers, which call for modesty, humility and reverence.

I would like to conclude with a bracha and a question. First the bracha:

To Eugene:

May you always sing strong.

And swiftly, as a deer,

Between “azla geresh” and “revi’ya,”

Always sing the former, loud and clear!

We have spent this tribute telling Eugene how we love him. But there remains one question (a la Fiddler on the Roof):

Does he love us? Does he what? Does he love us? Does he love us?

For 29 years we’ve shared our prayer, laughed together as a clergy pair

For 29 years my pulpit is his, if that’s not love what is?!

Yes, he loves us, with a love so true, and I suppose we love him, too

It doesn’t change a thing but even so, after 29/30 years, it’s nice to know!