We start with the line: "It was in the days of Amrafel..." Now, Bereshit Rabbah doesn't just let that lie. Oh no. It immediately asks: who was this Amrafel? Turns out, he was a man of many names – Kush, Nimrod, and Amrafel all rolled into one! Kush, quite simply, because he was, well, a Kushite. As Genesis 10:8 tells us, Nimrod was the son of Kush. But why Nimrod? Because, as the text explains, he instigated a mered – a rebellion – in the world. And Amrafel? Here's where it gets interesting. Bereshit Rabbah interprets the name to mean that his words (imrato) were darkness (afela). Ouch. But it doesn't stop there! It also suggests that Amrafel defied (amrei) and ridiculed (aflei) the world, and even more specifically, he defied and ridiculed Abraham. He’s even linked to the story of Abraham being cast into the fiery furnace, with Amrafel meaning "he said [amar] and cast him down [hipil]."
Then we have "Aryokh king of Elasar." Rabbi Yosei of Milḥaya offers a fascinating tidbit here. He says that in Babylon – and remember, this is where the story is set – the isar coin was named for Elasar. Why? Because Aryokh was the one who introduced that coin! It's a small detail, but it paints a richer picture of the world these figures inhabited.
Next up: "Kedorlaomer king of Eilam, and Tidal king of Goyim." Now, Goyim literally translates to "nations," and Rabbi Levi throws us a curveball, mentioning a place in Rome that was called Goyim. Some texts even omit "in Rome," further emphasizing the connection. Apparently, it was named that because people from many different nations settled there. They chose one person to be their king, and that brings us to Rabbi Yoḥanan’s interpretation: Tidal was his name! He was the one the nations of Goyim crowned as king.
But wait, there's more! The passage then takes an allegorical turn. "It was in the days of Amrafel king of Shinar" – this, we're told, refers to Babylon. "Aryokh king of Elasar" – that's Greece. (Though some censored versions replace Greece with "Antiochus," a reflection of the historical pressures on Jewish texts). "Kedorlaomer king of Eilam" – that's Media. And "Tidal king of Goyim" – that's the kingdom of Edom, which, according to the text, represents Rome! Why? Because Rome recruited soldiers from all over the world – a melting pot of nations under one banner.
Finally, Rabbi Elazar bar Avina offers a powerful observation: "If you see kingdoms clashing with one another, you should anticipate the coming of the Messiah." He points back to Abraham's time, reminding us that redemption came to Abraham as a result of clashing kingdoms.
So what does it all mean? This passage from Bereshit Rabbah isn't just a dry historical record. It's a vibrant tapestry woven with layers of meaning. It's about power, rebellion, identity, and the eternal hope for redemption. It's a reminder that even in the midst of conflict and chaos, there's always the possibility of something new, something better, on the horizon. And perhaps, just perhaps, the seeds of that redemption are sown in the very clashes we witness around us.