Parshat Vayechi opens with Yaakov Avinu doing something deeply personal.

Before he dies, he gathers his sons and gives each one a different bracha.

Not because he loved some more than others, but because he knew each one. He saw their nature, their struggles, and what each one would need to fulfill his unique mission.

And that immediately raises a painful question that’s been sitting in the parshiot for weeks:

If Yaakov was so wise and so sensitive, how did he end up treating Yosef “differently” in a way that looked like favoritism?

And a second question:

How did Yosef develop such powerful bitachon that he not only survived Mitzrayim, but stayed pure, focused, and unshakably committed to Hashem’s plan?

The answer begins with Yosef’s childhood

Yosef wasn’t just “another brother.”

Chazal describe him as unusually sensitive even when he was young.

When Yaakov prepared to meet Eisav, each wife went to bow with her children behind her. Rashi tells us that Yosef stepped in front of Rachel to shield her from Eisav’s gaze. That’s not normal behavior for a child. That’s a soul that feels deeply, and protects deeply.

And then, not long after, Rachel dies.

Try to imagine what that does to a boy like Yosef.

He loses the mother he loved so much, and then he lives in a home where most of his brothers still have their mothers. Binyamin, his only full brother, was just a baby and never even knew what he lost. Yosef did.

Some struggles don’t just hurt.

They shape you.

They can make a person bitter, or they can make a person stronger. They can break someone, or they can build someone.

Yaakov understood that Yosef needed more than comfort. He needed the tools to heal, grow, and become strong.

Yaakov didn’t give Yosef “extra love.” He gave him extra tools.

The Torah says Yaakov loved Yosef: “כי בן זקנים הוא לו.”

Many read that as “he was born in Yaakov’s old age.” But if that were the point, the ben zekunim would have been Binyamin.

Rashi brings another meaning: “בן זקנים” means a wise son, and Yaakov taught Yosef the Torah he learned in the yeshiva of Shem and Ever.

In other words, Yaakov looked at Yosef’s life, Yosef’s sensitivity, Yosef’s pain, and realized:

This child needs more than attention.

He needs inner strength.

He needs emunah muscles.

He needs bitachon.

Because the best way to carry pain without being crushed by it is to learn how to lean on Hashem.

So Yaakov invested in Yosef, not to “favor” him, but to fortify him.

And that fortification is exactly what Yosef draws on later when his entire life falls apart.

Yosef’s bitachon wasn’t born in Egypt. It was trained before Egypt.

Yosef is thrown into a pit, sold, taken from everything familiar, and dropped into spiritual darkness.

And yet, he keeps going.

He resists temptation.

He keeps dignity in prison.

He interprets dreams with humility.

He rises to power without losing himself.

Why?

Because inside Yosef there’s an anchor.

He lives with the awareness so strong that Hashem is running the story.

And you hear it clearly when Yosef tells his brothers:

“It wasn’t you who sent me here. Hashem sent me.”

That is not a line you say if your bitachon is weak.

That is a man who has been trained to see purpose inside pain.

The jealousy, and what bitachon teaches

Before the brothers wanted to kill Yosef and then sold him, they were jealous.

But bitachon teaches a simple truth:

No one can take what was meant for you, and you cannot take what was meant for someone else.

Jealousy assumes life is random and resources are scarce.

Bitachon says: Hashem allocates. Hashem guides. Hashem gives each person their portion and their path.

The chizuk for anyone struggling

We often ask:

Why is this so hard?

What does Hashem want from me?

Why did I get this test?

And we don’t always get answers.

But Parshat Vayechi gives us a framework that can give real strength:

Sometimes the hardest chapters are not punishment.

They are preparation.

Hashem gives each person a different “curriculum,” because each person has a different mission.

And often, the size of the struggle hints at the size of what you’re being built for.

Not because suffering is good.

Not because pain is the goal.

But because Hashem can take what hurts, and turn it into what strengthens.

Yosef needed to become the kind of person who could hold up a family, and in a sense, hold up a world.

So his life trained him early.

And maybe our struggles are doing the same.

Maybe you’re being asked to carry something heavy because you have a mission that requires shoulders like yours.

So if you’re struggling right now, take this with you:

You are not behind.

You are not broken.

You may be in training.

And Hashem doesn’t train people for nothing.

He trains them because He trusts what you’re going to become.