The haftarah for Hol Hamoed Sukkot, taken from the prophet Ezekiel (38:18-39:16), is unlike any other. It is the stirring, unsettling vision of the cataclysmic battle of Gog and Magog – the ultimate confrontation between Israel and the nations at the end of days.
With almost cinematic force, Ezekiel describes how vast armies will gather against Jerusalem, only to be struck down by divine wrath: “I will punish him with pestilence and with blood; and I will rain upon him, and upon his hordes, and upon the many peoples that are with him, an overflowing rain, and great hailstones, fire, and brimstone” (Ezekiel 38:22).
This dramatic prophecy has long captured the Jewish imagination. Some commentators view it as a literal forecast of future war. On the other hand, there is a tradition, attributed to the students of the Baal Shem Tov, that due to our prolonged exile the Jewish people have already experienced whatever sufferings we were supposed to have to endure during the war of Gog and Magog, effectively making it superfluous.
Either way, on Sukkot – the festival that celebrates God’s protection of Israel in the wilderness – the prophecy takes on fresh relevance. For what is a sukkah if not a physical reminder of our fragility and our dependence on heaven? And what is Ezekiel’s vision if not a reminder of the ultimate sukkah: the assurance that when the nations rage, God Himself will be our shelter?
Sukkot and Israel's relationship with the world
SUKKOT HAS always been bound up with Israel’s relationship to the wider world. In Temple times, 70 bulls were offered during the festival, corresponding to the 70 nations, a gesture of intercession on their behalf. Yet Ezekiel tells us that in the end, the nations will converge upon Jerusalem in hostility. Today, we are seeing a bitter foretaste of this prophecy.
From the corridors of the United Nations to the streets of European capitals, Israel is besieged not only by rockets and terror tunnels but also by a relentless diplomatic and propaganda assault.
Just two years after Hamas’s barbaric massacre of Oct. 7, 2023, much of the world seems to have forgotten who the aggressor was. Calls for “restraint” echo, while Israel is demonized for daring to defend its citizens. Armies may not yet be marching en masse upon Jerusalem, but politically and morally the gathering of nations against us is unmistakable.
It is precisely at such a moment that Sukkot speaks most powerfully. The flimsy walls and leafy roofs of our sukkot are no match for rockets, drones, or international boycotts. And yet, paradoxically, they embody the greatest strength of all: faith.
For seven days, we leave the security of our homes and dwell in temporary huts, declaring that ultimate security does not come from Iron Domes or armored divisions – as vital and essential as they are! – but from the creator of heaven and Earth.
Israel’s military successes – whether targeting Iran’s nuclear program, thwarting Hezbollah in Lebanon, or delivering a crushing blow to Hamas – underline our national determination and resilience. But the haftarah reminds us of the larger truth: In the end, victory will not be ours alone, but rather it will be His.
“So will I magnify Myself, and sanctify Myself, and I will make Myself known in the eyes of many nations; and they shall know that I am the Lord” (Ezekiel 38:23).
At a time when Israelis are still reeling from two years of war and bracing for further challenges, this promise is a lifeline. It assures us that our story does not end with mourning but with consolation; not with exile but with homecoming; not with fragility but with the enduring shelter of the Almighty.
As we sit in our sukkot, exposed to the elements, let us remember Ezekiel’s message: Though the storm may rage, Israel’s destiny is secure.
And just as our forefathers withstood the tempests of history, so too will the people of Israel endure – until the day when all nations will ascend to Jerusalem, not for war but to celebrate Sukkot in peace.