One of the first things I noticed in our parsha at last week's Shabbos Mincha was how many popular songs exist in the first aliyah of Vayishlach: "Im Lavan Garti" by Lev Tahor, "Katonti" by Yonatan Razel, and "Ve'ata Amarta," a classic Chabad nigun. Strikingly, all of the pesukim behind these songs are powerful expressions of trust in Hashem, each one expressing a deeper sense of dependence than the one before.
The first song highlights the iconic display of self-confidence that made Yaakov able to survive all his years in the house of Lavan, being religiously capable of maintaining a high moral standard despite his surroundings. The next song describes Yaakov, with a sense of awe and diminution, looking back on his life and thanking Hashem for all that he's been given.
קָטֹ֜נְתִּי מִכֹּ֤ל הַחֲסָדִים֙ וּמִכׇּל־הָ֣אֱמֶ֔ת אֲשֶׁ֥ר עָשִׂ֖יתָ אֶת־עַבְדֶּ֑ךָ כִּ֣י בְמַקְלִ֗י עָבַ֙רְתִּי֙ אֶת־הַיַּרְדֵּ֣ן הַזֶּ֔ה וְעַתָּ֥ה הָיִ֖יתִי לִשְׁנֵ֥י מַחֲנֽוֹת
I am unworthy of all the kindness that You have so steadfastly shown Your servant; with my staff alone I crossed this Jordan, and now I have become two camps.
The final song is an almost desperate request for validation of the blessings that were bestowed upon Yaakov over the past decades of his life.
וְאַתָּ֣ה אָמַ֔רְתָּ הֵיטֵ֥ב אֵיטִ֖יב עִמָּ֑ךְ וְשַׂמְתִּ֤י אֶֽת־זַרְעֲךָ֙ כְּח֣וֹל הַיָּ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹא־יִסָּפֵ֖ר מֵרֹֽב
Yet You have said, "I will deal bountifully with you and make your offspring as the sands of the sea, which are too numerous to count."
These heartfelt prayers and recognitions of Yaakov's self-worth are immediately followed by his plan to ingratiate himself with Esav by sending flocks of livestock as gifts, and of course are preceded by Yaakov tactfully dividing his family into two war camps lest one of them be attacked by Esav. Yaakov's entire strategy has been dissected by commentators for millennia. One of the most poignant and perpetually relevant lessons is the reminder that even our righteous ancestors recognized the value of hishtadlus, human initiative, combined with bitachon in hashgacha pratis, trust in divine providence. This teaches us that when engaging with the world, we must remember the importance of putting our efforts into action, while remembering that ultimately Hashem is in charge. While this is undoubtedly true, I believe that this leads to a more personally relevant conclusion.
Over the last few parshiyot, Yaakov has shown himself to be someone who has clearly earned divine favor. He was deeply uncomfortable with the deception of his father; he acquired the ability to notice holiness over his travels; and he worked honestly in the house of his father-in-law. G-d has responded in kind by promising multiple times that He would be with Yaakov, as well as ensure that he would grow to a mighty nation. Nonetheless, Yaakov displays an amount of diminished self-confidence that we would characterize as surprising, maybe even bordering on a lack of trust in G-d despite His promises.
The Ramban, on pesukim י״א-י״ג, emphasizes that Yaakov's fear was not doubt in G-d, but doubt in himself – shema yigrom ha-chet, perhaps sin has diminished my worthiness. In other words, Yaakov fully believes that Hashem keeps His word. What he is unsure about is whether he is still the same Yaakov to whom that promise was made. In a sense, this is exactly what he voices in katonti: "I have become small" from all the kindness and truth You've given me. The more blessed he feels, the more sharply he senses how fragile his merits really are.
This is where the parsha speaks to us most deeply. Many of us live in that same emotional space. On the one hand, we are profoundly aware of how much good Hashem has given us. We go to wonderful schools. We have families and educators who care for us. We see Hashem's blessing in our daily lives. On the other hand, we're haunted by questions: "Do I really deserve this? Am I going to mess this up? How can our brothers and sisters in Israel deal with the anxiety of daily living? Where is our current political path taking us?"
Yaakov models what it means to live with this tension in a healthy way. He does not paralyze himself with self-doubt, nor does he hide behind a simplistic "G-d promised, so I can relax." Instead, he moves forward with careful planning and sincere prayer, holding both truths at once: I have been blessed, but I am not complacent. I am confident in who I am, but I'm not so bold as to never question whether I'm living up to the G-dly standards we're obligated to observe.
When we sing these nigunim, we aren't only recalling three random pesukim from Yaakov's life. We are also tracing his inner journey – from resilient confidence, to humbled gratitude, to raw dependence on Hashem's word. Maybe the avodah of our week is to locate ourselves somewhere along that arc: To recognize our blessings honestly, to allow that recognition to make us humbler rather than entitled, and then to turn to Hashem with Yaakov's words of "Ve'ata amarta," asking that the promises and potential of our lives be fully, and faithfully, realized.
