Dear Friends,
They tell a story about a Russian duke who threw an extravagant party for his eightieth birthday—mountains of caviar, rivers of vodka, and, of course, a traveling circus for entertainment. Just before the show, the ringmaster sheepishly admitted they were missing one key ingredient: the lion.
Without missing a beat, the duke stormed into the street, grabbed the first Jew he saw, shoved a lion costume into his hands, and ordered him onto the stage. Terrified but with no way out, the man suited up and did his best to blend in among the trained animals.
Suddenly, a monstrous bear started lumbering toward him, mouth open wide. Seeing his last moments approaching, the “lion” screamed:
“Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad!”
The bear stopped short, leaned in, and quietly whispered: “Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuso l’olam va’ed…”
That joke—humorous as it is—captures a deeper truth: the Jewish identity never truly disappears. Even when dressed in disguises, even when life leads us far from our source, something inside remains fully, unmistakably Jewish.
We see this beautifully echoed in this week’s Torah portion, Balak. Bilaam, a non-Jewish prophet, is summoned to curse the Jewish people. But upon seeing their camp—modest, dignified, full of spiritual purpose—he’s overcome, and instead pours out blessings.
Among them:
“Behold! A people that rises like a lion cub and raises itself like a lion.” (Numbers 23:24)
Later he adds:
“He crouches and lies like a lion, and like a lioness—who dares to rouse him?” (24:9)
The Rebbe explains this metaphor: a lion might appear tame, circus-trained, even subdued. But its lion essence is never lost. One day, it will roar again.
That’s the story of the Jewish soul. Life may lead us into quiet places. We may get caught in habits, distractions, even long absences from spiritual practice. But the inner core remains—ready to rise when stirred.
Before Israel’s recent preemptive strike against Iran’s military buildup, Prime Minister Netanyahu visited the Western Wall—the holiest site in Jerusalem. He prayed and inserted a note into the ancient stones. Later, the photo of his note went viral.
On that note?
A verse from this week's parsha:
“Behold, a people that rises like a lion.”
He was drawing strength from the Torah itself. In moments of deep challenge, we lean on timeless truths.
Speaking of crouching lions...last week I told you about meeting some great people on my return from Iowa. Here is one more story that happened during my long layover in Chicago. I searched and found a workstation to catch up on some work. An older gentleman sat beside me and we got to talking. He’s lived in Arizona for decades—but when I asked where he grew up, he said, “Irondequoit!”
Then he added, “I’m Jewish too.”
So I gently offered, “Would you like to put on tefillin?”
His eyes lit up. “I haven’t done that since my bar mitzvah,” but I could tell he was very eager and excited. We found a quieter area in the airport, and he laid tefillin and said Shema. You could see it moved him deeply. Later, he texted to thank me again and said he hoped to contact the local Chabad in Arizona.
Think: this was a Jew who hadn’t practiced for decades—and in a single moment, something stirred, something rose.
A crouching lion, awakening.
The Jewish spark is built into our very being. Even if we haven’t roared in years, it is always just beneath the surface to be unleashed.
So why wait?
Shabbat Shalom / Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Yitzi Hein