In this week’s portion, Vayishlach tells the story of Jacob's encounter with his long-lost brother, Esau. After many years apart and Jacob’s manipulative behavior, Jacob is nervous about their reunion and unsure how Esau will react.
He divided his family into two camps in order to protect them from potential harm and find himself praying to God.
Then Jacob said, “O God of my father Abraham’s [house] and God of my father Isaac’s [house], O Adonai, who said to me, ‘Return to your native land and I will deal bountifully with you’! 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. Deliver me, I pray, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau; else, I fear, he may come and strike me down, mothers and children alike. (Genesis 32:10-12)
His prayer is striking.
He begins by naming his father and grandfather and the promises God made with them. Then he says something powerfully out of character. Retranslating the above more literally, it reads this way:
קָטֹ֜נְתִּי מִכֹּ֤ל הַחֲסָדִים֙ וּמִכׇּל־הָ֣אֱמֶ֔ת אֲשֶׁ֥ר עָשִׂ֖יתָ אֶת־עַבְדֶּ֑ךָ
I have been made small from all of the loving-kindness and from all of the truth that you have done for your servant. (Genesis 32:11)
Why might he feel this way?
Rashi tells us this phrasing means: “My merits are diminished in consequence of all the kindness and truth which You have already shown me.”
Because of the kindness and truth that has been shown to Jacob, he finds himself recognizing that his merits are lesser than they would have been. Because of this, perhaps God will not protect him from Esau.
Chizkuni explains that: “Whenever the expression חסד (loving-kindness) and אמת (truth) occur in the Scriptures (together), they refer to someone having performed kind deeds, beyond the call of duty.” This pair of words used together, describe when someone has gone above and beyond the expectation. In this case, it is God who has done this for Jacob.
Jacob feels the benefits he’s experienced might now be a detriment. He believes that perhaps his “luck has run out,” and God will not be there any further.
The Talmud (Taanit 20b) elucidates this idea with a two-part story. It begins by explaining that when a city is experiencing a number of challenges, including collapsing buildings, the population might choose to fast or sound the alarm.
In the Talmud’s defining of collapsing and dilapidated buildings, we learn:
The Gemara relates: This is like that dilapidated wall that was in Neharde’a, under which Rav and Shmuel would not pass, although it stood in place thirteen years. One day Rav Adda bar Ahava happened to come there and walked with them. As they passed the wall, Shmuel said to Rav: Come, Master, let us circumvent this wall, so that we do not stand beneath it. Rav said to him: It is not necessary to do so today, as Rav Adda bar Ahava is with us, whose merit is great, and therefore I am not afraid of its collapse.
In this text, Rav and Shmuel, who were the Hillel and Shammai of their day, disagreeing about everything, avoided walking beside a particular wall. This wall, despite standing for thirteen years, was considered dilapidated, and they did not want to risk being near it when it fell.
When walking with Rav Adda bar Ahava, Rav explains that Rav Adda bar Ahava’s merit was so great they would be protected from danger. God would prevent the wall from falling due to Rav Adda bar Ahava’s merit.
The text goes further to express his profound merit:
The Gemara relates another incident. Rav Huna had a certain quantity of wine in a certain dilapidated house and he wanted to move it, but he was afraid that the building would collapse upon his entry. He brought Rav Adda bar Ahava to there, to the ramshackle house, and he dragged out a discussion with him concerning a matter of halakha until they had removed all the wine. As soon as they exited, the building collapsed. Rav Adda bar Ahava realized what had happened and became angry.
In this story, Rav Huna leverages Rav Adda bar Ahava’s merit to take advantage. He wants to remove wine and concocts a circumstance to have Rav Adda bar Ahava teach Torah as a way of protecting his physical goods from destruction.
He was reasonably upset when it is revealed that he was manipulated! Rav Adda bar Ahava has a particular worldview about how merit functions:
Rav Adda bar Ahava holds in accordance with this statement, as Rabbi Yannai said: A person should never stand in a place of danger and say: A miracle will be performed for me, and I will escape unharmed, lest a miracle is not performed for them. And if you say that a miracle will be performed for them, they will deduct it from their merits. Rav Ḥanan said: What is the verse that alludes to this idea? As it is written: “I have become small from all the mercies and all the truth that You have showed Your servant” (Genesis 32:11). In other words, the more benevolence one receives from God, the more one’s merit is reduced.
Rav Adda Bar Ahava follows the teaching of Rabbi Yannai, that we should not presume that miracles will happen to us and should not place ourselves in danger. Not only that but presuming a miracle will be performed and relying on it reduces our individual merit.
Not only did Rav Huna (as well as Rav and Shmuel) put his life in danger, it encouraged Rav Adda bar Ahava to think of himself in egotistical ways. That ego would lead us to think too much of ourselves and not enough of others.
Rav Hanan, in explaining this view, uses our portion as a proof text. That with God’s kindness, the less merit we can claim on our own.
On Berachot 10b:
Rabbi Yoḥanan said in the name of Rabbi Yosei ben Zimra: Anyone who bases their prayer or request upon their own merit, when God answers their prayer, it is based upon the merit of others. And anyone who modestly bases their prayer or request upon the merit of others, when God answers their prayer, it is based upon their own merit.
In this circumstance, according to Rabbi Yosei ben Zimra, when we make a request on whatever merit we personally might have accumulated, our merit is irrelevant. Instead, if God responds, it will be as a result of someone else’s merit.
The inverse is also true, according to this, in that when we pray based upon the merit of others, the benefit is given based on our individual merit.
And as proof, the Talmud goes on to say:
When Moses prayed for forgiveness after the incident of the Golden Calf, he based his request upon the merit of others, as it is stated: “Remember Abraham, Isaac and Israel your servants…” (Exodus 32:13). Yet when the story is related, God’s forgiveness of Israel is based upon Moses’ own merit, as it is stated: “And God said God would destroy them, had Moses, God’s chosen, not stood before God in the breach to turn back God destructive fury, lest God should destroy them” (Psalms 106:23).
In the text of the story in Exodus, Moses asked for collective forgiveness based on the ancestral patriarchs, but when retold in Pslams, the merit is attributed to Moses.
We receive the benefits when we don’t think of ourselves first.
We can see that Jacob is aware of this dynamic by calling upon Abraham and Isaac at the beginning of his prayer. It is also why we add them and the matriarchs at the beginning of our Amidah.
We end up with a bit of a contradiction.
On one hand, if we’ve received God’s kindness, which we should be grateful for, we are made small because we didn’t merit it on our own.
On the other hand, if we think we can do it on our own, meriting ourselves, God only brings forward goodness based on others.
So, what are we to do?
In Pirkei Avot 5:23, we learn:
בֶּן הֵא הֵא אוֹמֵר, לְפוּם צַעֲרָא אַגְרָא:
Ben Hei Hei said: According to the tza’ara is the reward.
Tza’ara is often translated, in this context, as labor. The more work we put in, the more we get out of an experience. The more effort we exert, the greater merit and benefit we gain.
A more literal translation of tza’ara, in Hebrew, is suffering. The more suffering we experience, the greater our reward. In line with a common rabbinic theology in the Talmud, the rabbis use this to understand the existence of suffering in the world. The more we suffer in this world, the greater our reward in the world to come.
However, this phrase is in Aramaic, signified by the letter alef at the end of the word. In Aramaic, tza’ara retains the meaning of being made insignificant, being small. This helps us understand that when we recognize how much we are supported by others, by God, it is only then that we begin to receive our reward.
Jacob recognizes this when he states, “I have been made small,” not that he is ashamed or afraid, but rather as an expression of his deep and profound gratitude.
Jacob understands that with all he has received, he has that much more good he must bring to the world. His merit is “decreased” by acknowledging how much he has given but “increased” by knowing it is not due to his own labors alone.
How much good have we received in our lives? How much have we benefited through the generosity of others? How can we act in a world that merits the kindness we might have experienced?
In facing these questions, we might say, “I have been made small,” like Jacob, unsure of how we can pay it back. Instead, we can take the good we’ve received and utilize it to help others.