As Jakob prepared his message to Esau, he did something strange. He instructed his servants to announce that the great blessing stolen years before had, in effect, come to nothing. Of all that in which my father blessed me there is nothing in my hand; but I have a few oxen and asses, sheep, and servants and handmaids; and I have sent to tell my lord that that blessing hath not profited me (Genesis 32:6).
Targum Pseudo-Jonathan keeps the self-effacement intact. Jakob — who was returning with eleven sons, vast flocks, and a heavenly escort — told his brother the blessing had brought him nothing. A few cattle. A few servants. Not the empire Esau had feared.
Why? Because he wanted mercy, not envy. That I may find mercy in thine eyes and that thou mayest not maintain enmity against me on account thereof. A brother nursing a twenty-year grudge needed to hear that the stolen blessing had not crowned Jakob with splendor. It had only tired him.
The Maggid teaches: humility before an estranged brother is not a lie; it is a kindness. Jakob chose to minimize his fortune because the fortune itself was not worth the renewed hatred of a twin. Sometimes you shrink the story of your success to make room for reconciliation.