To illustrate Samson’s strength, the Midrash compares it to that of Adam. The same comparison is drawn for Absalom’s hair, Assa’s legs and Zidkiyahu’s eyes. Adam: the prototype of perfect man. The ideal mold. The supreme example.

Wise, intelligent, erudite, understanding, generous, he was endowed with a flawless soul. Incapable of wrongdoing, of thinking ill; closed to weakness, to doubts. Moreover, he was humble, shy, grateful. Some sources refer to him as Hasid. Others call him the luminary, the “candle of the world.” Some go as far as seeing in him the future Messiah. So glorious was he that the angels, dazzled by his perfection, confused him with his Creator and began to sing him their praises. God responded by making him fall asleep and the frightened angels recognized their error. (As for me, I’d rather think that Adam fell asleep not because of God but because of the angels: nothing bores a perfect man more than excessive praise.)

For Adam was indeed bored in paradise; all the texts point to it. Since he had the whole universe to himself, he desired nothing, thought of nothing and nobody. Happy, content, he seems singularly uninteresting before his downfall. No cloud, no shadow to mar his serenity. His indifference to the world extended to his own person. No trace of foreboding or concern. He was intoxicated with God, brimming over with God, joined to God in God: no need for him to seek God, to serve Him, understand Him, woo Him. So total was God’s presence, he did not feel it. Nor did he think of it; he didn’t need to, for the very source and cradle of his mind were occupied by God.

One pictures his life as drab, devoid of expectation, of stimulation. Like God, Adam was surrounded by angels acting as servants. One prepared his meals, another tasted his wines. From time to time God invited him to join Him in His walks and showed him the visible and hidden beauties of nature: Look well, Adam, all this immensity was created for your sake alone; be careful, do not destroy anything, for after you there will be no one to repair what you have undone. A superfluous warning, for Adam had no thought of destroying or even of changing anything. He was content; he accepted everything, himself included.

No wonder Satan grew jealous. In those days Satan was not just anybody. He was an influential angel, God’s favorite, and he was seated at His right. God was amused by his imagination and forgave him his whims and escapades. Thus Satan couldn’t but resent the intruder who was succeeding too easily and too quickly; he had to fight the newcomer, he had to undermine his position. How? He gossiped, intrigued, plotted; he spared no means.

To disarm Satan and bring him back to reason, God decided to prove to him that Adam was the more intelligent of the two, and thus worthy of his success. All the animals on earth were summoned to appear before Him. Would you know how to name them? God asked Satan. No, he would not. And you, Adam? Adam named them all; and to name things is to possess them. And to God’s satisfaction, he was declared the winner. One Midrashic text insinuates that God cheated. Wanting to assure Adam’s victory, He asked the questions in such a way that Adam could guess the answers; he couldn’t possibly lose. Is that to say that without help Adam would have failed the test? No. The last question is proof. God chose not to whisper the answer when He asked: And Me, Adam, what name will you give Me? Adam rose to the challenge. He cast aside his humility and called God by His name. He understood intuitively that God Himself receives His name from man—illustrating the basic Jewish concept that while God is God and man is only His instrument, still God needs man to make Himself known, just as man needs God to acquire this knowledge.