This may be meant to imply that there is a connection between divine and human solitude: man must be alone to listen, to feel and even to fight God, for God engages only those who, paradoxically, are both threatened and protected by solitude. God, traditionally, elects to speak to His chosen in their sleep because that is when they are truly alone, removed from all alien presence to distract them.

But solitude contains its own share of danger precisely because it inevitably leads to God; whoever meets Him is irrevocably condemned to another kind of solitude. Thus to be chosen signifies not privilege but dignity and responsibility. And none shall see My face and remain living means: None shall see My face and live as he did before. From his contest with God, Jacob emerged triumphant but limping; he was never to be the same again.

But then, was this not the secret desire that had tormented him for years: to break the shell, to burn his bridges and accomplish something real, something great, perhaps even unique?

Jacob had lived in ambiguity so long that he could no longer see clearly; he no longer knew the names of things and beings, hence the accent placed on names by both adversaries. Jacob was no longer able to distinguish between Esau’s protector and his own. From his earlier visions, he remembered what was expected of him: to project into history the people that would make history shudder. Was he capable of assuming the task? Was he worthy of it? He felt inadequate, incompetent; he wanted to understand himself fully. That was why he decided, on that particular night, to remain alone, this side of the river Jabbok. To rethink his life, to ask himself the questions one asks oneself before important encounters, encounters with the absolute—absolute good (God), or absolute evil (death, murder).

One can readily imagine his introspection, his self-examination: What have I done with my life so far? What have I done with the promises my father and grandfather received from God? I worked hard, I married, I had children, I became rich, I made enemies, I took detours, so many detours . . . I ran away, ran away so many times . . . I created nothing, accomplished nothing worthwhile, nothing authentic, nothing that transcends me, except in my dreams—but they were only dreams . . . Could this be the culmination of the history fashioned by Abraham and Isaac? Could Abraham and Isaac have gone to Mount Moriah only to produce this lackluster destiny that is mine? Compared to their adventures, his seemed drab and gray to him; devoid of all tension or even interest. God had played an active part in their experiences, not in his. In his own experiences Jacob competed with nothing but merchants, property owners who pursued him for lowly, ordinary motives.

And why in fact was he, Jacob, always pursued, persecuted? Why he? At Peniel, Jacob could not help but wonder about this. Why was he, he in particular, the butt of every jealousy, every hate?