Specifically, verse 17: “It happened when the sun had set, that there was extreme darkness, and, behold, there was a smoking furnace, and a flaming torch that passed between those pieces.”

What in the world is going on here?

The Rabbis of the Midrash, those ancient interpreters of scripture, were just as captivated by this verse as we are. They saw in it layers of meaning, a glimpse into the future of Abraham's descendants, the Jewish people. Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis, dedicates a section to unpacking this very scene.

The verse begins, “It was when the sun had set, that there was extreme darkness [alata].” Now, alata is a pretty rare word. So, the Midrash explains it by connecting it to the Aramaic word arafel, which Onkelos uses in his translation of Exodus 20:18 to mean "thick mist." (Onkelos was a famous translator of the Torah into Aramaic). So, this darkness wasn't just ordinary darkness; it was a heavy, almost tangible darkness, a mist that obscured everything.

But then, things get even more intense: "Behold, there was a smoking furnace, and a flaming torch.” Rabbi Yoḥanan, in the name of Shimon bar Abba, offers a powerful interpretation. He says that God showed Abraham four things in this vision: Gehenna (hell), the Four Kingdoms, the giving of the Torah, and the Temple service.

Think about that for a moment. A smoking furnace representing Gehenna… a flaming torch symbolizing the giving of the Torah (think of the fire at Mount Sinai!). It's a potent and symbolic scene.

Rabbi Yoḥanan continues, telling us that as long as Abraham's descendants are engaged in two of these four things – Torah study and Temple service – they will be saved from the other two, Gehenna and subjugation by the Four Kingdoms. But if they abandon these two, they'll be subject to the punishments of the others. Heavy stuff, right?

Then comes a fascinating question: which punishment did Abraham choose for his descendants? Did he choose Gehenna, or did he choose to be dominated by earthly Kingdoms? Rabbi Ḥanina bar Pappa suggests that Abraham chose the Kingdoms, seeing it as the lesser of two evils. He believed God agreed with his choice.

But, according to Rabbi Yudan, Rabbi Idi, and Rabbi Ḥama bar Ḥanina, Abraham actually chose Gehenna! But God, in his mercy, overruled him and chose the Kingdoms instead. They find support for this idea in Deuteronomy 32:30: “Had their rock not given them over…and the Lord delivered them.” The "rock" refers to Abraham (as Isaiah 51:1–2 reminds us), and God ultimately made a different decision.

Rabbi Huna, citing Rabbi Aḥa, paints a picture of Abraham agonizing over this choice all day long. Finally, God tells him to stop worrying and that He will choose the Kingdoms.

What does all of this mean? It suggests that even in moments of divine covenant, there's still a human element, a wrestling with difficult choices. Abraham, the patriarch, is not just a passive recipient of God's promise; he's an active participant, grappling with the potential consequences for his children.

The passage concludes with the verse, “On that day, the Lord established a covenant with Abram, saying: To your descendants I have given this land…” The Midrash circles back to the debate about Abraham's choice. Rabbi Ḥanina bar Pappa says that "saying" implies God agreed with Abraham's decision to choose the Kingdoms. But Rabbi Yudan, Rabbi Idi, and Rabbi Ḥama bar Ḥanina understand "saying" to mean that God disagreed with Abraham's choice of Gehenna and told him to choose differently. They see support for this in Psalms 66:12: “You let people stand over our heads; we would have gone through fire and water” – meaning, God chose subjugation by the Kingdoms instead of the punishments of Gehenna.

And then, one final, beautiful image: Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi sees in the phrase "passed between those pieces [gezarim]" a reference to the splitting of the Red Sea (which is also described using the word gezarim in Psalms 136:13). So, within this vision of darkness and fire, there's also a hint of future redemption, a promise of salvation.

So, what do we take away from this intense and layered Midrash? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in our darkest moments, even when faced with impossible choices, there's always hope. There's always the possibility of divine intervention, a chance for redemption, and the enduring promise of a covenant that stretches across generations. And maybe, just maybe, that flaming torch is still guiding us today.