The Wolf Shall Dwell with the Lamb — But Let Us Be the Wolf

There’s a well-known prophecy in the Book of Isaiah: “The wolf shall dwell with the lamb.” It paints a picture of a peaceful future — a utopia where natural enemies live together in harmony. It is a vision of hope, reconciliation, and healing. But as an Israeli — as a father — I propose a small amendment. If that future is on its way, then let us, the people of Israel, be the wolf. Just to be safe.

Israel was born into fire. On May 14, 1948, our independence was declared based on a UN resolution. The following day armies of five neighboring countries (On May 15, five Arab armies) invaded. No breathing room. No honeymoon period. Just war. Our very existence was challenged before the ink had dried on our declaration. That moment set the tone for decades to come. Every hand Israel extended in peace was often met with bloodshed and betrayal.

We tried. We always tried. We returned Sinai to Egypt in exchange for peace. We withdrew from Southern Lebanon. We left Gaza completely in 2005. We sat across from our enemies at negotiation tables, offered land, accepted risks, trusted their words. What did we get? Not peace. Not recognition. We got intifadas. We got exploding buses and rockets on civilian towns. We got land-for-dreams, missiles-for-trust.

And yet, Israel thrived. Economically, culturally, scientifically — a nation surrounded by hostility became a global beacon of innovation. A miracle in plain sight. A modern-day fulfillment of ancient promises. No other nation in history has returned to its homeland after 2,000 years of exile and resurrected its language, its people, its identity.

But the threats never left us.

When I was five years old, I heard the sirens of the Gulf War. A madman in Baghdad, Saddam Hussein, launched Scud missiles at Israeli cities. I held my father’s hand tightly as we ran to the bomb shelter, gas masks on, the air thick with fear and confusion.

Thirty years later, history repeats itself. Now I’m a father myself. And I find myself holding my five-year-old son’s hand as we run to the shelter — this time under the threat of rockets from Hamas and Hezbollah, led by men like Sinwar and Nasrallah, two more Islamist tyrants who declare genocidal dreams without shame.

This is not a coincidence. It’s a pattern. The faces change, but the ideology remains: hatred, extremism, and an unrelenting refusal to accept a Jewish state in any borders.

So yes — I still believe in Isaiah’s vision. I still pray for a day when children in Gaza and Sderot can grow up without fear. When Jews and Arabs can live together not as enemies, but as neighbors. When the wolf and the lamb can truly lie side by side.

But until that day comes, Israel must fight back and defend herself – be the wolf. Not out of hatred. Not out of vengeance. But out of survival. Out of wisdom learned the hard way. We’ve been the lamb for too long. We’ve paid in blood for every ounce of naïveté.

Let us be strong. Let us be prepared. Let our enemies know that we are not prey — we are defenders. Of our people. Of our land. Of our future.

And perhaps one day, when the world is ready for peace — real peace — the lamb and the wolf will indeed dwell together. And we, the wolf, will gladly fold our claws and rest beside our neighbors.

But until then, we will stand vigilant. Not because we don’t believe in miracles — Israel is a miracle — but because we understand the responsibility that comes with being a people who have seen too much, lost too much, and vowed: never again.