That feeling, that image, is something the ancient rabbis explored deeply in their interpretations of the Psalms. to one particularly vivid passage from Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, specifically Psalm 118.

This passage paints a dramatic picture of a future where all nations converge on Jerusalem, not once, not twice, but three times. It’s a vision interwoven with echoes of past conflicts, drawing parallels with historical figures like Sennacherib, the Assyrian king who besieged Jerusalem, and Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian ruler who destroyed the First Temple. These weren't just historical events; they were prototypes, glimpses of what could come again.

The Midrash tells us that each of these three times, Gog and Magog—figures often associated with apocalyptic battles—are destined to come to Jerusalem. The first time, the verse "All nations surround me" (Psalm 118:10) comes to life as the entire world gathers, drawn to Jerusalem. It's not necessarily a hostile gathering at first. Think of it as a pilgrimage, albeit one with potentially fraught undertones. As the prophet Micah (4:2) says, "And many nations shall come and say, Come, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, and to the house of the God of Jacob." There’s an initial sense of seeking, of yearning. But then, the mood shifts.

The passage concludes with the image of "curtains," implying vulnerability. But God reassures, "For I will be to them a wall of fire round about" (Zechariah 2:9). A protective barrier, a divine shield.

The second time, the intensity escalates. "Surround me, they surround me" (Psalm 118:11). Now, all the nations feel the pressure, the internal conflict, and are drawn to Jerusalem. This time it’s more deliberate, more adversarial. Psalm 2:1-2 rings out: "Why do the nations rage, and the peoples imagine a vain thing? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord, and against his anointed." This is active opposition, a direct challenge to divine authority. Yet again, the promise echoes, "For I will be to them a wall of fire round about."

And then, the third and final time. "Surround me like bees" (Psalm 118:12). The Midrash elaborates: the nations spread models, blueprints, throughout the lands, preparing for war. It's a coordinated, global effort. As Joel 4:9 declares, "Proclaim ye this among the nations: Prepare for war." This is no longer a pilgrimage or a political standoff. This is outright war. But even here, the promise holds: "For I will be to them a wall of fire round about."

What does it all mean? Why these three attempts? Why this repeated image of being surrounded? Perhaps it speaks to the cyclical nature of conflict, the persistent human tendency towards division and aggression. Perhaps it's a reminder that even in the face of overwhelming odds, divine protection is possible.

Ultimately, this passage from Midrash Tehillim offers a powerful meditation on vulnerability, resilience, and the enduring promise of divine protection amidst the storms of history. It invites us to consider: what walls of fire do we need in our own lives, and where do we find the strength to face being surrounded?