17 Jun NATION RISES LIKE A LION — WHO SHALL STAND BEFORE IT?

הן עם כלביא יקום

וכארי יתנשא

Throughout history,
the Jewish people
have carried many
titles—“a nation of priests,” “a light unto the
nations,” and “a stiff-necked people.” But
among the most striking images is that of
the lion. Fierce, noble, and unafraid, the lion
represents more than strength—it embodies
spiritual might, moral courage, and the
ability to rise against all odds. From the
blessings of Yaakov to the prophecies of

Bilam, from ancient battlefields to modern-
day wars, the lion has stood as a symbol of

Jewish resilience and bravery.
This symbolism is not merely poetic. When
Israel launched a powerful strike against
Iran, the operation was named “Nation
Rises Like a Lion”—a reference to Bilam’s
prophecy: “Behold, a nation rises like a
lioness, and like a lion it lifts itself up”
(Bamidbar 23:24). The choice of this name
wasn’t accidental; it reflected the same
enduring spirit that has defined Jewish
courage for millennia.
The Ramban (Bamidbar 8:18) writes: “It is

known that Israel are valiant and courageous
in battle, for they are likened to lions and
wolves that seize prey, and they conquered
the kings of Canaan in battle.” This
statement reveals not only a historical truth
about our victories but also a deeper identity
trait embedded within the Jewish soul—
courage and fearlessness in the face of
conflict.
In the past, we wrote about the connection
between our nation and the image of the
lion. But today, with the historic attack on
Iran, this comparison takes on new
meaning—especially when viewed through
the precise and prophetic insight of the Or
HaChayim:
“Behold, it is a nation that arises like a
lion etc.” “לביא “refers to a young lion
rising for the first time. Typically,
inexperienced soldiers do not demonstrate
great bravery in their initial battles. But
not so with the lion—it displays courage
from its very first confrontation. Bilam
attributes this trait to the Jewish people:
despite emerging from centuries of
slavery, they showed remarkable valor,
defeating mighty kings like Sichon and
Og. Bilam continues, ‘יתנשא וכארי‘—‘and

like a lion he shall lift himself’—
highlighting another contrast: while
other nations grow weary and
weakened from repeated wars, the
Jewish people rise again and again
with the strength of a mature lion,
never showing signs of fatigue or
decline.”
The analogy of the Ohr HaChayim
HaKadosh, who lived over 250 years
ago, is both powerful and deeply
relevant to our times. He compares Am
Yisrael to a young lion cub that rises to
pounce even before it has fully matured.
This vividly reflects the story of the Jewish
nation, which rose from the ashes of the
Holocaust to confront multiple powerful
Arab armies surrounding it. Like the lion
cub, Israel rose to the challenge despite
being outnumbered and seemingly weaker—
armed with extraordinary courage and deep
trust in Hashem. And just like the lion,
repeated wars did not weaken or exhaust
this small nation, but only sharpened its
strength and resolve to persevere and
triumph in every battle for survival.
Here’s a more concise and engaging version
with midrashic tone and sharp insights:
One of the earliest and most powerful
comparisons between the Jewish people
and a lion appears in Yaakov’s blessing to
Yehudah (Bereishit 49:9):
ּגּור ַאְרְ ֵיֵה ְיְהּוָדָה… ָּכַּרַ ע ָָרַבַץ ַּכַּאְרְ ֵיֵה- ּוְכְָלִָבִיא ִמִי”
“ְ.יְִקִיֶמֶּנּו
“A lion cub is Yehudah… He crouches and
lies like a lion—who shall rouse him?”
Yehudah is not merely fierce—he is royal.
Like a lion, he doesn’t chase glory; he rests
with confidence, and when he rises, the
world trembles. The Midrash teaches that
this lion-like strength was passed on to his
descendants. That’s why we are called
Yehudim—not just by lineage, but by
nature.
This isn’t about brute force. “From the prey,
my son, you rose”—Yehudah had the
courage to admit failure (with Tamar) and
still lead. That’s Jewish strength: rising not
by stepping on others, but by standing up
with truth.
The Shulchan Aruch, the foundational
guide to a Jew’s daily conduct, opens with
the instruction to “wake up like a lion,”
symbolizing both inner strength and
spiritual courage from the very first moment
of the day.
But here’s why this message is so critical: if
a lion forgets he’s a lion and begins to see
himself as a rabbit, others will treat him like
one. He’ll be harassed, hunted, and
mocked—because he forfeited his own
majesty.
This isn’t just a metaphor. It’s a pattern in
Jewish history. When we lose touch with our
identity—with the strength, dignity, and
spiritual grandeur embedded in our soul—
others sense the void and step in to define us
instead. When the Jewish people stop seeing
themselves as Hashem’s nation, charged
with a unique mission and backbone of
courage, the world stops seeing it too. We
blend in, shrink back, and are no longer
feared or respected.
But a lion who remembers who he is doesn’t
need to roar all the time. His very presence
commands awe. When we carry ourselves
with inner clarity, rooted in Torah and
emunah, the world reacts differently.
Respect returns. Fear returns. Order returns.
This is why remembering our true nature is
not just inspiration—it’s protection. Our
survival has always depended not only on
Hashem’s miracles but also on our refusal to
forget who we are.
But the more important point is this: we, as
a nation, represent Hashem in this world.
We are His ambassadors among the nations,
His reflection on earth. And Hashem expects
us to carry ourselves as royalty—not with
arrogance, but with dignity, purpose, and
moral strength.
A king’s honor is measured by the stature of
his emissaries. If we walk hunched,
uncertain, or afraid—how does that reflect
on the King we serve? But when we rise
with confidence, act with integrity, and live
with courage and clarity, we bring glory to
His Name.
This is why we cannot afford to live small.
We must rise to the task—not just for
ourselves, but because Hashem’s kavod
depends on it. When the Jewish people walk
like lions, the world remembers the majesty
of the Creator they serve. And when we
forget, the world forgets too.
Our strength, our nobility, our very presence
must remind the world that Hashem’s people
are still here—and that His Name lives
through us.