Up there, in the universe of authentic and passionate dreams, Jacob was a hero, a prince who scorched others with his fire; but in his life on earth he was nothing but a tired old man who yearned only to sleep.

So then—and that is the question of questions—if Jacob was really this pallid, disappointing character who managed to sleep while God unveiled His plans for him, how could he become Israel?

At least we do know where to seek a possible answer. We know the place and we know the time: Peniel, on the night that preceded his encounter with Esau.

The metamorphosis could take place only at night. And in solitude. For Jacob represents human duality. His was a double life: during the day he discussed his affairs with his entourage; at night he spoke to God of immortality. We understand why. Crushed by Abraham’s and Isaac’s greatness, aware of his inferiority to them, Jacob viewed his own life as uninspiring, and suffered from that realization. The pioneers had tried it all, done it all; he could but follow in their footsteps. Distressed at not being able to also enter into the living legend of history, frustrated at having to deal with mundane and practical matters, Jacob found refuge in night. At night he was different. Transfigured.

At night he was his predecessors’ equal; at night he lifted his gaze higher and saw farther; at night he too fills time and space and the tormented dreams of man.

Thus the decisive event of his life took place at night. At Peniel he was attacked, at Peniel he responded. Jacob, the nonviolent, the timorous, Jacob the weak, the resigned, the coward who always succeeded in avoiding confrontations, particularly violent ones, suddenly resisted the aggressor, plunged into the fight and returned blow for blow. And there was nobody around to come to his rescue, or even to give him moral support, or even to admire him. The metamorphosis seems so incredible, one wonders to whom or to what it should be attributed. To the attacker perhaps? Was he the one who succeeded in transforming Jacob into an inflexible and invincible warrior? Was this what Jacob had needed in order to become aware of his own strength, his own truth and the hopes he personified? Had he really needed an adversary, a dangerous adversary in order to become Israel? Does Israel owe that much to its enemy?

But who actually was this aggressor? The rabbinical accounts are not unanimous on the subject. The opinions vary greatly. He was a shepherd—no: a sorcerer—no: a sage—no: a bandit . . . The majority chooses to see him as an angel; besides, Jacob did not like to fight human adversaries. With an angel, well, that was different. But why would an angel attack him? For his own good, volunteers one text, to give him courage. After the struggle the angel was said to have told him: Look, I am a celestial creature and you defeated me, therefore you are wrong to fear Esau, you shall defeat him in no time at all.