www.chabadnaples.com | Blogs | Rabbi Fishel's Blog

It’s always a good idea to know what you’re getting yourself into :)

Thu, 10 Sep 2026 3:50:00 PM

That’s why we compiled our most frequently asked questions about High Holidays at Chabad Naples. Hopefully, this answers some of your questions, but as always, feel free to reply with any questions if we missed something!

Who are the Services geared towards?
The services are geared toward Jews of every affiliation and every age. No prior Shul experience is needed. Come as you are, and expect a warm welcome from the Rabbi, Rebbetzin, and everyone around you. We're a friendly congregation. If you're new to our services, be prepared - someone will make you feel welcome.

Does Chabad Naples have any meal options?
Yes! There is a delicious community holiday dinner the first night of Rosh Hashanah, September 22. Click here for more info and to register. With delicious gourmet cuisine, great camaraderie and inspiration, we will welcome in the New Year. There is also a fabulous Kiddush Lunch following services on both days of Rosh Hashanah, September 23-24

Is there something for children and what does it include?
The Children's program begins at 11 am on both days of Rosh Hashanah - September 23-24. They will enjoy holiday food art, games, and an interactive service followed by the hearing of the Shofar. The children are highlighted on the stage highlighting the beauty of children and the power of Jewish experience.

What if I don’t know Hebrew?
The prayer books are all bilingual, and we incorporate directions and prayers in English. Rabbi Fishel offers running commentary, insights and instructions in English, so we can always be “on the same page.” His sermons are relevant, humorous, and if he does his job right - meaningful. You may even be thinking about them after the services. This may lead to a lively conversation. Or even a spirited debate. Imagine that. Our cantor is great so just listening to the melodies is uplifting and heartwarming.

How long is the service? (for real!)
We’ll admit it’s a bit of a long one, going from 10 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. If you can’t make it for that duration, we encourage you to come for the Shofar Ceremony at 11:15 a.m., the most important part of the service.

If I can't make it for the whole service, what time should I come?
The biggest highlight is the Shofar ceremony at 11:15 a.m. on both days of Rosh Hashanah - September 23-24

Is there another time I can hear the Shofar if I can't make it in the morning?
Yes! On Tuesday, September 23, join us at the beach at Lowdermilk Park at 5:00 p.m. to hear the shofar, followed Tashlich service. Free of charge and open to all. RSVP by clicking here.

Everyone is welcome to join regardless of affiliation or level of observance. Chabad Naples is for the entire community because everyone should have a place to feel at home on the High Holidays. No one will be turned away due to lack of funds.

Now that you know a little bit about us, you may find yourself asking, "What do you actually believe?" Good question. We ask it of ourselves often.

We believe that light dispels darkness.

We believe labels are for clothing, not people.

We believe in emphasizing the joys – not the “oys” – of Judaism. We’re big on the joy thing.

If you won't try it, you won't know what you are missing.

Head on over to our High Holiday site and RSVP for this High Holiday season.

Feel free to reach out if you have any other questions at 239-262-4474 or reply to this email.

We look forward to spending the High Holidays with you and your family.

Best wishes for a Shanah Tovah!

Sincerely,

Rabbi Fishel Zaklos, Director

Ettie Zaklos, Co-Director

Arthur M. Seigel, M.D., President

P.S. If you have a friend or family member who you think would like to join us, feel free to forward this email to them and extend our warmest invitation.

Our Song Became Our Home

Fri, 4 Sep 2026 1:27:00 PM

Dear Friends,

How many times can you read the same book? The first time, you cannot wait to discover what happens. By the fifth or sixth time, you already know every turn. Even a wonderful book eventually returns to the shelf.

A favorite song, on the other hand, is different. You can hear it hundreds of times, yet somehow appreciate it more each time. The melody settles into your heart. Before long, you are singing it yourself.

In this week’s Torah portions, Nitzavim-Vayelech, Moses tells the Jewish people:

“And now, write for yourselves this song and teach it to the Children of Israel. Place it in their mouths.”

These words contain the Torah’s 613th and final mitzvah: to write a Torah scroll. Yet the Torah describes what we must write as a song. Why?

A song is not something we simply finish and put away. It enters us and becomes part of us. That is how Torah and Judaism should feel. They should be lived with love, joy, passion, and excitement. Not the “oy” of Judaism, but the joy of Judaism. That does not mean we will understand every word immediately or feel inspired every moment. It means Torah should be something we want in our lives, something we love, return to, and turn to for guidance. We should want to learn it more, sing it more, and feel its values becoming the melody that guides how we speak, how we treat people, and how we live.

I think back to 2003, when Ettie and I told our friends, supporters, and dear mishpacha Stuart and Sondra Avrick, that we were moving to Naples to establish Chabad Naples. Without hesitation, Stuart said, “I am dedicating a Torah.” At the dedication the following year, Stuart let us in on the joke: when we first said “Naples,” he thought we meant Naples, Italy, a place he loved.

Does anyone remember that celebration in 2004? We carried the Torah along Seagate Drive, blocked the street, sang, danced, and cried tears of joy. It felt as though the song that began with Moses had traveled through thousands of years and countless generations until it reached a street in Naples.

What we could not have known was that four years later, while searching for a place to rent, we would return to that exact location. The very place where we had danced with the Torah became the first dedicated home of Chabad Naples, which we rented for nearly five years. Before it ever became our place, we had already saturated it with Torah, song, and joy. Perhaps that is what made it our place.

In a very real way, Chabad Naples began by dancing with the Torah. That day captured what we wanted it to become: a place where Torah is alive, Judaism is celebrated, and every person can become part of the song. That is the song we continue singing at Chabad Naples. We pray together. We learn together. We celebrate life together. I often tell people that you only need to schlep someone to Chabad Naples once. Once they experience the warmth and joy for themselves, they will want to return.

Just this past Sunday, that song became a chorus and turned to action with our Kitchen of Kindness. People came together to prepare fresh meals for members of our community who could use some extra care and support. Each meal carried more than nourishment. It carried a song into another person’s life.

There is so much happening in the world that it is easy to slip into survival mode, moving from one day to the next and simply trying to get through it all. But Judaism asks more of us than survival. It asks us to live. To bring song into our homes, enthusiasm into our mitzvahs, warmth into our relationships, and joy into the ordinary moments of life.

Living with joy does not mean pretending that life is always easy. I cannot control the headlines, politics, the economy, the weather, or what tomorrow will bring. But I can choose what I bring into today. I can choose gratitude. I can choose kindness. I can choose joy.

As Rosh Hashanah approaches, perhaps each of us can ask one simple question: Where can I bring a little more song into my life? Perhaps there is a mitzvah I can perform with more enthusiasm, a relationship I can fill with more warmth, or an ordinary day I can greet with more gratitude. We do not have to wait until everything feels perfect. Sometimes the song begins before the feeling does.

Find the joy. Find the song. Carry it with you into the new year. Come add your voice to the song at Chabad Naples this High Holiday season. Join us this Wednesday at our Shofar Factory, where you can make your own shofar. Come experience our meaningful services on the beach, and celebrate with us at our Rosh Hashanah dinner, where only a few seats remain. Let’s bring more song, joy, and Jewish life into the new year together.

May the Torah’s song guide us into a year of gratitude, kindness, faith, and joy. Wishing you and your family a peaceful and meaningful Shabbat,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

Don't leave it unsaid

Fri, 28 Aug 2026 10:45:00 AM

Dear Friends,

In Fiddler on the Roof, after 25 years of marriage, Tevye asks Golde, “Do you love me?”

Golde looks at him as if he has lost his mind. “I cook your dinner,” she answers. After everything they have been through, she is still there, still caring for him and their family. What more proof could he possibly need?

But Tevye still wants to hear the words.

It is funny because they are both right. Love must be shown. But sometimes, it also needs to be said.

This week’s Torah portion, Ki Tavo, makes the same point. In the mitzvah of bikkurim, a farmer gathers the first ripened fruits of his land, places them in a basket, and brings them to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Surely the basket itself says thank you. He harvested the fruit, packed it carefully, and carried it all the way to Jerusalem.

Yet the Torah asks for more than the basket. The farmer must speak. He recounts our journey from Egypt to the Land of Israel and declares that the fruit in his hands is a blessing from G-d. He does not simply say, “Thank You for everything.” He names the journey. He names the blessing. He names the fruit.

The action matters. The words matter. The Torah asks for both.

How often do we assume that the people closest to us already know what is in our hearts? My spouse sees everything I do. My children know I am proud of them. My friend knows how much the friendship means to me. G-d knows I am grateful.

Perhaps they do know. Say it anyway.

Words without action can feel empty, but actions without words can leave something important unspoken. Love needs to be lived, and it also needs to be said aloud.

Rosh Hashanah gives us the opportunity to do that with G-d. G-d already knows what is in our hearts, but prayer gives the heart a voice. We come to synagogue and put our gratitude, hopes, fears, and love into words.

At Chabad Naples, you do not need perfect Hebrew or years of experience. Whatever page you are on is the right page. The prayers are brought to life with commentary, joy, and messages that speak to real life. Come with your Hebrew, your English, your questions, and your family. There is a place for you.

This is what we want every person who walks through our doors at Chabad Naples to feel: We see you. We appreciate you. We never take your presence or partnership for granted. Our friends and partners have helped create a Jewish home where children learn, adults grow, seniors connect, and people receive care.

This Sunday at Kitchen of Kindness, we have an opportunity to do both. Join us as we cook and pack fresh meals, and help us tell people throughout our community: You are remembered. You are cared for. You are loved. If you haven't RSVP'd yet please do so by visiting www.chabadnaples.com/kitchenofkindness. It's a beautiful Mitzvah that makes a real difference in our community.

This week, we said goodbye to our dear friend Nicole Williams, Sarah bat Gabriella v'Dovid. We knew Nicole for 23 years, and during all that time, she never stopped expressing her love in words.

I vividly remember one Shabbat when Ettie threw a birthday Kiddush for me at Chabad Naples. Nicole stood up at the other end of the social hall, made her way across the room, and began sharing stories about how loved she felt, how much she loved us, and what Chabad meant to her.

In the final weeks of her life, I visited Nicole many times. Last Sunday, only a day and a half before her passing, I sat with Nicole and her family. Together, we told her how deeply we loved her, what she meant to the Chabad Naples family, and how much she had given.

Nicole always made sure we heard her love. Thank G-d, in those sacred final moments, she heard ours too.

That is the message I want to carry with me into the Jewish New Year: Do not leave love or gratitude unspoken. Tell your spouse what you still admire after all these years. Tell your children exactly what makes you proud. Thank the friend who stood beside you. Thank G-d for the blessings in your hands.

Be specific. Say it out loud. Then live those words through what you do.

May Nicole’s neshamah have an aliyah, and may the love she expressed so freely continue to inspire all of us.

Wishing you and your family a peaceful and meaningful Shabbat,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

A Guardrail for the Soul

Fri, 21 Aug 2026 10:36:00 AM

Dear Friends,

One of the easiest mistakes in life is to confuse what we have with who we are. A beautiful home. A fine car. A closet full of name brands. These things can bring comfort and enjoyment, and may we all be blessed with them in abundance and know how to appreciate them. They may enrich a life, but they are not the essence of life. That distinction is so important, so fundamental that the Torah builds it into the architecture of a home.

In this week’s Torah portion, Ki Teitzei, we read:
כִּי תִבְנֶה בַּיִת חָדָשׁ וְעָשִׂיתָ מַעֲקֶה לְגַגֶּךָ
“When you build a new house, you shall make a guardrail for your roof.”

On the simplest level, the reason is clear. A roof needs a protective barrier so that no one falls. Trust me, after everything the city required for our new rooftop at Chabad Naples, I now know quite a bit about guardrails. Every requirement and every detail had to be exactly right. It has been quite a project. You’ll love it. But there is also a beautiful lesson here. Building a new home represents reaching a place of success and security. You have worked hard. You have nice things. You finally have a place to park the car, display your collection, and hang the television on the wall. Enjoy the home and build a guardrail. Create a boundary between what you possess and who you are. Never allow the things surrounding you to define your worth, identity, or purpose.

The roof needs a guardrail to protect a person from falling. The soul needs one so that we do not fall into the trap of mistaking what we have for who we are. Whether or not you have every tchotchke you want, you are a child of Hashem. You are here because Hashem wanted you here, and nothing you own or lack can make that more or less true.

Rosh Hashanah gives us an opportunity to rebuild that guardrail. Jewish thought speaks about the difference between the ikar and the tafel, between what is primary and what is secondary. Throughout the year, those priorities can become confused. We give enormous attention to things that are ultimately secondary while neglecting the people, values, and relationships that are essential. Rosh Hashanah invites us to put everything back in its proper place.

That is also part of the meaning of Tashlich. We stand beside the water and ask Hashem to cast our sins into the depths of the sea. On Sunday of Rosh Hashanah, we will gather at the beach to hear the shofar and experience Tashlich together. Here’s the exciting part: the inner work does not have to wait! Right now, we can begin throwing away the grudges, distractions, burdens, and misplaced priorities that weigh us down. Keep the blessings Hashem has given us. Toss out the confusion that makes the secondary feel essential, and make room for what actually matters.

That is why this Rosh Hashanah, let’s focus on the essentials. Come join us at Chabad Naples. Throughout the services, I’ll share running commentary, messages that speak to real life, and, I hope, a little humor too. We’ll pray, sing, celebrate, enjoy amazing food, and share the friendship and camaraderie of being together. Come recharge, reconnect, and begin the year uplifted, surrounded by warmth and family.

Remember who you are, and be there for one another. Be there with one another. Enjoy the house. Drive the car. Treasure the tchotchkes. And build the guardrail. Let the blessings fill your life. Never let them become your life.

Wishing you and your family a peaceful and meaningful Shabbat,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

You're Booked!

Thu, 13 Aug 2026 5:23:00 PM

Dear Friends,

That's it, you're booked! Tell your friends, tell your boss, spread the word, these dates are all booked up for you.

The annual Conference of Jewish People and G-d (COJPG), commonly referred to as "The High Holidays" begins Friday night, September 11, 2026, with Rosh Hashanah and continues through Sunday night, September 21, 2026.

So those are the days that you (and all of us) are all booked up. We're scheduled to spend quality time, submit annual reports, catch up on our mission progress with our Creator, and receive blessings for consolation, happiness and health from our Best Friend.

******

In this week’s Torah portion, we read about the Torah scroll that never left the kings side.

The holiest Jewish object is the Sefer Torah, the Torah scroll. For a Torah to be kosher, every letter must be carefully written. Each letter is a critical part of the whole Torah. If one letter is missing, the entire Torah scroll is invalid

At the same time, the laws of the Torah scroll state that each letter must stand on its own, surrounded by empty space. If a letter is slightly connected to another, even with a thin ink mark, this too invalidates the scroll.

Our sages teach that each of us possesses a soul that corresponds to one of the Torah letters.

For our souls to develop and succeed, they must reflect the two laws of the Torah scroll. On the one hand, we all need to understand our responsibility to the greater community. We are a part of the whole and cannot exclude ourselves from our collective responsibility. When we act irresponsibly, we affect everyone. We don't act in a vacuum, and whatever we do must be good both for ourselves and for others.

But we are also individuals. Each of us has a unique contribution and a special way of making a difference. The world is a better place because we don't all do the same thing. Everyone can shine brightly with their own personality. Our individuality needs to be appreciated and protected. Each of us has different personalities, talents, and strengths that must be nurtured in our own special way.

We are all responsible to each other, but we are special in our own way.

******

We saved you a seat.

Uplifting and inspiring!

We are very excited for a complete High Holiday experience, like no other!

For twenty-three years High Holidays at Chabad of Naples have been inspiring, family-friendly, soul stirring, insightful and uplifting.

Whether you joined us in the past or not, we look forward to welcoming your entire family this year at your Chabad Naples family. Please RSVP today so we can plan accordingly!

Rosh Hashonah is a mere four weeks away. It's never too soon to prepare, so gear up and get ready for the High Holidays. Have you made plans yet? Our doors are open - plan to join us! Visit the website or contact Michelle at the office for information.

We take this opportunity to wish you and your family an early Shanah Tova U'metuka - a good and sweet year, a year filled with happiness, blessing, success, naches and all good things. May this year be a year of growth, a year of prosperity, a year of peace and serenity in Israel and beyond.

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos
Arthur M. Seigel

No one will be turned away due to lack of funds.

The Word That’s Stealing Your Life

Fri, 7 Aug 2026 12:21:00 PM

Dear Friends,

One of the most deceptive words we tell ourselves is “tomorrow.” It sounds harmless, even hopeful. But tomorrow has a way of becoming next week, next year, never. Still, most of us live as though there will always be more time to make the call, repair the relationship, enjoy the people we love, begin that mitzvah, or make the change we know we need to make.

In this week’s Torah portion, Re’eh, Moses tells the Jewish people: רְאֵה אָנֹכִי נֹתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם בְּרָכָה וּקְלָלָה

“See, I place before you today a blessing and a curse.”

On the simplest level, Moses is speaking about free will. G d gives us the choice between blessing and curse, between right and wrong. But there is a beautiful insight hidden in one small word: הַיּוֹם, “today.”

What if “today” itself can become either a blessing or a curse?

Life is fragile, and our time in this world is limited. That awareness can become a curse if it leaves us asking, “If everything eventually passes, what is the point?” Or it can become a blessing, awakening us to the value of every day, every relationship, and every opportunity to grow, give, forgive, and bring more goodness into the world.

Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, who spent much of her life helping people confront mortality, saw this again and again. When we imagine we have forever, we become distracted by small irritations and unnecessary nonsense. We postpone what matters because we assume there will always be another day.

But when you truly understand that each day you awaken could be your last, everything changes. You stop merely existing and start truly living. You stop postponing growth and begin becoming the person you were created to be. You stop turning inward and start reaching outward to other human beings. Every day becomes precious because you realize it is not guaranteed.

As Hillel teaches in Pirkei Avot, Ethics of Our Fathers:

“If not now, when?”

With the Jewish New Year approaching, many of us are thinking about the changes we want to make. But we do not have to wait for Rosh Hashanah to begin. Make the call. Repair the relationship. Begin the mitzvah. Spend the time. Whatever you have been postponing, do it today.

We are excited and blessed that so many people choose to celebrate the High Holidays at Chabad Naples, and we are expecting a wonderful crowd. Please take a moment to make your reservation today so that we can plan accordingly and welcome everyone properly. You and your family are always welcome at the world-famous Chabad Naples. www.chabadnaples.com/highholidays.

And you do not even have to wait until Rosh Hashanah. Come join us this Shabbat. We cannot wait to see you all in shul tomorrow.

What are we waiting for? Today is the blessing.

Wishing you and your family a peaceful and meaningful Shabbat,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

You Woke Up for a Reason

Fri, 31 Jul 2026 10:29:00 AM

Dear Friends,

Imagine, what if a pill could help children become more resilient and reduce their risk of depression and high-risk behaviors? Parents would be lining up to get it.

That powerful question comes from a lecture by Dr. Lisa Miller, a psychologist and professor at Columbia University and the author of The Awakened Brain. Dr. Miller describes human beings as “wired for spirituality.” Her research, including brain-imaging studies, has identified areas of the brain associated with spiritual awareness. She explains that this natural capacity can be cultivated and that the brain’s spiritual circuits can become stronger as they are engaged through prayer and other spiritual practices, helping us develop greater resilience and a deeper sense of connection and support.

Modern research is giving expression to something the Torah has taught for thousands of years: the soul also needs nourishment. There is a verse in this week’s Torah portion, Eikev, that I have always loved. Its simple words carry such beauty and power. Moses tells the Jewish people:

לֹא עַל הַלֶּחֶם לְבַדּוֹ יִחְיֶה הָאָדָם
“Man does not live by bread alone, but by everything that proceeds from the mouth of G-d.”

Bread represents everything that sustains us physically. We need food, shelter, security, education, and opportunity. We want our children to develop their talents, achieve their goals, and build stable lives. The Torah teaches us to nourish another dimension of the human being as well. We need meaning. We need purpose. We need to know that our lives matter and that we are connected to something greater than ourselves. Material comfort and accomplishment can enrich our lives, while spiritual connection gives those lives direction and deeper meaning.

This is especially important for our children. Grades, talents, and accomplishments can all enrich a child’s life, but their deepest sense of worth begins long before any achievement. Every child should know: G-d created me. G-d loves me. My life has purpose. There is goodness that only I can bring into the world.

My parents understood this deeply. Growing up, they framed both the end and the beginning of every day around purpose. At night, after saying the Shema, we were taught to say in Yiddish a phrase that means, “Tomorrow, I have to wake up a different person.” Then, in the morning, my parents would come into our rooms and call out, “Wake up! Wake up to serve the Creator!”

Looking back, I better understand what my parents were trying to give us. They wanted the first message of the morning to be that G-d had given us another day, and there was something meaningful for us to do with it. That is one of the greatest gifts we can give our children: the knowledge that they are loved, that their presence matters, and that they are here for a reason. There is a deep human desire to be needed, and our children should know that they are essential participants in life. Every prayer, mitzvah, act of kindness, and good choice allows them to add something unique and meaningful to the world.

Adults need this spiritual nourishment too. Our careers, responsibilities, possessions, and full calendars can give structure to our lives, while prayer, Torah study, mitzvot, community, and a personal relationship with G-d feed the soul and give that structure purpose.

Our generation has access to comforts and opportunities that earlier generations could scarcely have imagined. At the same time, it is deeply painful to see how many children and adults are struggling with sadness, anxiety, loneliness, and confusion. Mental health is complex and deeply personal, and professional care should always be sought when it is needed. Alongside that care, meaning, faith, belonging, and a relationship with G-d can provide an important source of strength. They remind us that we are loved, guided, and never truly alone.

This is what we strive to give every child through Preschool of the Arts, Summer of the Arts, Hebrew School, and all of our children’s programming. Alongside a strong and beautiful education, we want each child to know that they are needed, wanted, loved, and cherished.

Please save the date for the grand opening of the magnificent new addition to our educational campus on Sunday, November 8, from 3:00 to 5:00 PM. Join us as we open a space where even more children can grow with learning, warmth, belonging, and purpose, and where our entire community can come together to celebrate, connect, and grow together.

This Shabbat, let us remind our children, and ourselves, that G-d values us, our choices carry meaning, and the world needs the goodness we were created to bring. Tomorrow morning, perhaps we can offer the message my parents gave us: “Wake up! Wake up to serve the Creator!” You woke up for a reason. G-d has given you another day and something meaningful to do with it.

May G-d bless us with healthy bodies, peaceful minds, and awakened souls. May He send healing, comfort, and strength to all those who need it, and may our homes nourish both body and spirit, giving every child and adult the knowledge that they are loved, needed, guided, and filled with purpose.

With love and blessings,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

The question my mother still asks me

Fri, 24 Jul 2026 12:39:00 PM

Dear Friends,

To this day, I can hear my mother asking me, “Fishel, are you wearing your Moshiach glasses?” Moshiach represents the Jewish hope for a healed and redeemed world filled with peace, goodness, and the clear presence of G-d. To wear Moshiach glasses is to look at the world as it is and recognize the beauty, blessing, and possibility within it.

This week’s Torah portion, Va’etchanan, contains one of Moses’ most heartfelt prayers. After leading the Jewish people through the desert for forty years, he pleads with G-d:

אֶעְבְּרָה נָּא וְאֶרְאֶה אֶת הָאָרֶץ הַטּוֹבָה
“Please let me cross over and see the good land.”

There is something remarkable in his choice of words. Moses had never entered the Land. Years earlier, ten of the twelve spies sent there had returned frightened and convinced that the Jewish people could not succeed. How could Moses already call it “the good land”?

We often see what we have prepared ourselves to find. Even while standing outside the Land, Moses called it good. He knew that entering it would require courage, effort, and sacrifice, yet he was already preparing himself to notice its beauty, promise, and blessing.

We all see the world through a certain lens. Our perspective and attitude shape what catches our attention, what stays with us, and how we respond to the people and situations around us. When we prepare ourselves to see goodness, we become more able to recognize it. And when we notice goodness in another person and tell them that we see it, we strengthen it and help it grow.

The ten spies approached that same Land through fear, and their report filled the Jewish people with despair. The people cried that night, the ninth of Av, and that date would become marked by national tragedy. There is an important place for honest questions, constructive criticism, and speaking up when something needs to change. But when complaint becomes our entire way of seeing, we leave ourselves very little room to recognize blessing.

This Shabbat is known as Shabbat Nachamu, the Shabbat of Comfort, which follows Tisha B’Av, when we mourn the destruction of both Holy Temples and the tragedies our people have endured. Tisha B’Av asks us to face what has been lost. Shabbat Nachamu invites us to begin turning toward the comfort, healing, and rebuilding still ahead. That movement begins by making room to see hope again.

Again and again, people tell Ettie and me that at Chabad of Naples they experience the warmth, friendship, and love of a community that truly sees them. They feel valued and are reminded that they have something meaningful to contribute. We feel deeply fortunate to be part of a community where people recognize the goodness in one another and help bring it forward. That is the beauty of Chabad of Naples.

Rabbi Elimelech of Lizhensk offered a beautiful prayer whose words later became a beloved song, asking G-d to place within our hearts the ability to see the virtues of others rather than their faults. These are words we should begin every morning with. Imagine waking each day and asking: “G-d, help me recognize the goodness in the people I meet today. Help me strengthen it and bring more of it into the world.”

As I write these words, many of us are shaken by the recent violence in New York and alarmed by the growing hostility toward Jews and Israel. We are especially troubled when that hostility is echoed by those entrusted with leadership. Words from leaders matter. When they inflame division and make hatred feel acceptable, the consequences are real. They create a climate in which Jewish New Yorkers feel increasingly vulnerable. Our prayers are with the victims, their families and the entire New York Jewish community.

This is not a time for silence or passivity. We must remain alert, speak out clearly, stand proudly as Jews, support one another, and be ready to act when our community is threatened. Wearing Moshiach glasses does not mean looking away from danger. It means seeing the danger clearly while also recognizing the courage, unity, faith, and goodness that give us the strength to confront it.

And in the middle of all of this, I am trying to hear my mother’s voice: “Fishel, are you wearing your Moshiach glasses?”

Perhaps these are precisely the moments when we need them most. They help us confront what is painful while continuing to recognize the courage, kindness, faith, and extraordinary goodness around us. They remind us that fear and hatred do not have the final word.

Before a meeting, a family conversation, or a new opportunity, pause and ask: What am I prepared to see? When you look at another person, search for the goodness within them. When you look at yourself, recognize the strength G-d has placed within you and the person you are still capable of becoming.

This Shabbat, I am trying to put on my Moshiach glasses. I invite you to join me. Let us see the good in one another, encourage it, and help it grow.

May G-d open our eyes to the beauty around us and within us. May this way of seeing bring greater comfort, healing, peace, and redemption into our lives and into the world.

With love and blessings,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

We never could have imagined this

Fri, 17 Jul 2026 12:35:00 PM

Dear Friends,

Most of us carry a few sentences about ourselves: “I am not good at that.” “I could never do what they do.” “That is simply not who I am.” Sometimes another person gave us that label years ago. Sometimes we repeated it to ourselves until it began to feel like the truth. Moses once had a sentence like that. When G-d first called him at the burning bush, Moses answered:

“I am not a man of words.”

Moses saw his difficulty with speech as a serious limitation. How could he stand before Pharaoh, address a nation, and lead the Jewish people with his voice?

Yet decades later, the final book of the Torah, Devarim, which we begin reading this week, opens with:

“These are the words that Moses spoke.”

The man who once said, “I am not a man of words,” reached the final chapter of his life with words that would guide the Jewish people for generations.

What changed?

Moses stopped measuring the mission only by what he believed he could accomplish on his own. He understood that this was G-d’s calling. He trusted that G-d would guide him, and he stepped forward. Through years of serving, leading, teaching, and caring for the Jewish people, he found a voice filled with truth, responsibility, and purpose.

He did not become someone else. He became more fully the person G-d knew he could be.

I think about this when I look at Chabad of Naples today. When Ettie and I came to Naples 23 years ago, we could never have imagined all that would grow here. Had you shown us then the families, the friendships, the sanctuary filled with life, the laughter of hundreds of children in our preschool, Hebrew school, and summer camp, and the endless moments of kindness that have become the heartbeat of the Chabad Naples family, we would have been amazed, deeply grateful, and smiling from ear to ear.

It is a humbling reminder that when we take the next step, connect ourselves to a mission, and trust G-d with what comes next, the future can become far greater than anything we could have envisioned.

Words do more than communicate what we think. They shape what we believe is possible, both for ourselves and for others. Moses once used words to describe his own limitation, but that sentence did not become the final definition of his life. We must be careful not to make our words the final definition of another person’s life either.

Moses also understood the responsibility of speaking to others. In his final message to the Jewish people, he needed to remind them of their mistakes so they could grow. Rashi, the classic Torah commentator, explains that Moses referred to their failures indirectly, protecting their dignity even while offering correction.

Truth should guide a person, not crush them.

We grew up hearing, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” But we know that is not true. A broken bone can be set and helped to heal. A sentence that breaks a heart can remain with a person for decades.

Words can trap someone inside a definition. They can also help a person see something greater: “I believe in you.” “There is more inside you than you realize.”

The Torah begins with G-d creating the world through speech, and its final book is called Devarim, “Words.” Words create worlds. They shape confidence, relationships, families, and communities.

This week we approach Tisha B’Av, the Jewish day of mourning for the destruction of both Holy Temples. The tragic history of this date began in the desert, when the spies returned from the Land of Israel with a report that filled the people with fear and despair.

That report filled a nation with fear. Our words can build courage, trust, and connection.

Before we speak, we can pause and ask: Will these words make someone feel smaller or help them grow? Can I be honest while protecting their dignity? Can my voice bring courage rather than shame? We should ask the same questions about the way we speak to ourselves.

This Shabbat, let us choose words that build. More than ever, the world needs them. Let us use our voices to encourage our children, strengthen our families, lift our friends, and bring our community closer together.

May our homes, our sanctuary, and our community always be places where every person hears words of kindness, dignity, and faith, words that help them recognize the gifts and possibilities G-d has placed within them.

That’s the community we’re building together at Chabad of Naples. We look forward to seeing you in shul this Shabbat.

With love and blessings,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

The Chuppah We All Needed

Fri, 10 Jul 2026 10:39:00 AM

Dear Friends,

There are weeks when a simcha belongs to one couple, and there are weeks when that joy belongs to all of us.

This week, as Sasha Troufanov and Sapir Cohen stood beneath the chuppah, people around the world were moved. For Am Yisrael, it reached even deeper. We rejoiced with tears of joy. After so much pain, prayer, and waiting, their wedding became a moment of celebration for the entire Jewish people.

Their story is known to so many of us. They were taken hostage on October 7. Sapir was released after 55 days in captivity. Sasha remained in Gaza for 498 days. His father, Vitaly, was murdered on October 7. And now, after everything they endured, Sasha and Sapir have begun building a Jewish home together.

There is another part of their story that moved me deeply. Sapir had spoken openly about faith. Sasha was on his own journey. Then everything changed. In captivity, something opened inside Sasha. He began to pray. He became stronger in faith. And when he was finally released, one of the first things he asked for was to pray with tefillin.

That detail says so much.

Even in the darkest place, a spark of G-dliness can be revealed. Even when someone is torn away from home, faith can remain alive. And after enduring what no human being should endure, Sasha and Sapir chose to build, to love, and to bring more holiness into the world.

All of Am Yisrael feels connected to this joy. For our Chabad Naples community, there is also a special closeness. One year ago, in April, Sasha and Sapir came to Naples and spoke to more than 400 people in our community. We heard their story. We saw their courage. We felt their love, their faith, and their strength. And during that conversation, right here in Naples, they shared their engagement.

The room erupted with joy.

So our mazal tov this week comes from a place of deep connection. We rejoice with Sasha and Sapir, with their families, with Am Yisrael, and with our own community that was blessed to hear their story firsthand.

These are the moments when the Jewish people are reminded of who we are. We are bound together in prayer, in pain, in hope, and in joy. Seeing Sasha and Sapir stand beneath the chuppah reminds us of the power of a Jewish home, of faith, of love, and of Am Yisrael continuing forward.

This week’s Torah portion is Matot-Masei, מטות־מסעי.

Matot, מטות, comes from the word mateh, מטה, a staff. Chassidic philosophy explains the difference between a mateh and a shevet. A shevet is a branch, fresh and flexible because it still draws life from its source. A mateh has been separated from where it once belonged.

At first, that separation feels like a loss. Yet the mateh carries its own unique quality. It becomes firm. It stands strong. It becomes something a person can lean on, something that helps another person walk forward.

There are times in life when a person is torn away from everything familiar. From home. From safety. From the people and places that give life comfort and stability.

Most of us cannot begin to imagine what they went through. But we saw what they carried with them. Sapir never gave up. Sasha returned with a faith and quiet strength that moved everyone who heard him. Together, they showed us what a mateh can mean: the ability to stand firm, to hold on to Hashem, and to help others stand taller too.

Masei, מסעי, means journeys. The Torah recounts the travels of the Jewish people through the desert, step by step. Every stop mattered. Every stage became part of the path that brought them closer to the Promised Land.

Sasha and Sapir’s journey is one we can never fully understand. But we can be inspired by what they chose next. They chose to build a Jewish home and bring more life, faith, and light into the world.

King David says: לֹא אָמוּת כִּי אֶחְיֶה וַאֲסַפֵּר מַעֲשֵׂי יָ-הּ

“I will not die, but I will live and tell of the deeds of Hashem.”

That is the message we take from this simcha. We build. We tell the story of Hashem’s kindness. We hold tightly to faith, to Torah, to life, and to one another.

This Shabbat, let us celebrate Sasha and Sapir, and the enduring spirit of Am Yisrael. Let us take inspiration from their courage to live with more faith, more love, and more light in our families, our community, and the world.

May Hashem bless Sasha and Sapir to build a בנין עדי עד, binyan adei ad, an everlasting Jewish home, filled with health, happiness, healing, and only open and revealed good. May all those who returned from captivity find healing and strength. And may we merit to see only simchas, only comfort, and only good news for all of Am Yisrael.

With love and blessings,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

America’s Blessing, Our Responsibility

Fri, 3 Jul 2026 2:42:00 PM

Dear Friends,

This Shabbat, as America marks 250 years since the Declaration of Independence, we pause to appreciate one of the greatest blessings a person, a family, and a community can know: the blessing of freedom.

There will be flags, family, barbecues, and fireworks. But July 4th is more than a national celebration. It is a moment for all of us to recognize the freedom, opportunity, and dignity this country represents.

For us as Jews, that appreciation runs especially deep. For so much of our history, Jewish life was lived under fear, restriction, or uncertainty. Here in America, we have been blessed with the freedom to live openly and proudly as Jews. We can build a synagogue, place a mezuzah on our doors, educate our children, gather for Shabbat, serve Hashem with confidence, build communities, and be there for one another. That is a blessing we should never take for granted.

From its founding, America recognized a powerful truth: our rights and dignity are not given by government alone. They are endowed by our Creator. Every person has value because every person was created by Hashem.

Freedom built on that foundation is not only a privilege. It is a responsibility. This week’s Torah portion, Pinchas, speaks directly to that responsibility. Moses is told that he will not enter the Land of Israel. This was the dream of his life. He had led the Jewish people out of Egypt, through the sea, to Mount Sinai, and across the desert. And now, at the very edge of the Promised Land, he learns that he will not go in.

What does Moses do at that moment?

He does not focus on himself. He turns to Hashem and asks for the next leader.

He says:

יִפְקֹד ה׳ אֱלֹקי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל בָּשָׂר

“May Hashem, the G-d of the spirits of all flesh, appoint a man over the community.”

And he asks that the people not be left “like sheep without a shepherd.”

Moses understood something powerful. Life is not only about what we build. It is about what we leave for the next generation. That is true for the Jewish people, and it is true for America.

Freedom is precious, but it is never automatic. It must be cherished, protected, and passed on with responsibility. At a time when antisemitism is rising and moral clarity is needed, we must continue to stand proudly for the values that make this country a blessing: faith in the Creator, respect for every person, moral courage, kindness, and the willingness to stand up for what is right.

That is one of the messages of Pinchas: there are moments when values require courage. We cannot be passive about the future of our people, our families, or our communities.

So this July 4th, we do not only look back with gratitude. We look forward with purpose. What kind of country will we help build? What kind of community will we leave behind? What values will our children and grandchildren see in us?

The answer begins with how we use our freedom. Use it to do a mitzvah. Use it to help another person. Use it to build family and community. Use it to bring more light into the world. That is the spirit we try to live every day at Chabad Naples. Every person is cherished. Every soul is precious. Our hope is that everyone feels loved, welcomed, and part of one mishpacha, one extended family.

We felt that so powerfully this week with the launch of Kitchen of Kindness. The response was beautiful because it was not only about meals. It was about people being cared for, feeling connected, and knowing they are part of a community that shows up for one another.

That is freedom at its best: using the blessings we have been given to bring kindness, dignity, and goodness into the lives of others.

May Hashem bless this country, protect those who defend it, and help each of us use our freedom with purpose, gratitude, courage, and kindness.

With love and blessings,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

A Quiet and Sacred Kindness

Fri, 3 Jul 2026 11:22:00 AM

Some of the most meaningful work of a rabbi and a Jewish community happens away from public view.

For the past 23 years, devoted volunteers from our Chabad Naples family have helped serve through our Chevra Kadisha, the holy burial society.

Our committed volunteers just had the merit of performing the mitzvah of taharah for a beloved member of our community. Taharah is the traditional preparation of a person for burial, done with dignity, sensitivity, prayer, and deep respect.

In Jewish tradition, the body is treated with tremendous honor. It was the partner of the soul in every good deed a person did in this world. It was how a person gave a hug, offered a smile, held a child, gave charity, lit Shabbat candles, helped another person, and brought goodness into the world.

The neshamah, the soul, continues its journey. Through taharah, we accompany the person with love and dignity into the next stage of its eternal journey. Our sages call this a חסד של אמת, a chesed shel emes, “a true kindness,” because it is done for someone who can no longer say thank you.

With heartfelt gratitude to these devoted members of our community, and to all those who have helped with this holy work over the years.

A special thank you to Ettie for leading and coordinating the women’s Chevra Kadisha with devotion, sensitivity, and care.

May Hashem bless them for this holy work, and may every soul be elevated through the honor and compassion shown by our community.

The Tent Next Door

Fri, 26 Jun 2026 10:59:00 AM

Dear Friends,

If you walk into our sanctuary and look above the Ark, you will see the Hebrew words:

מַה טֹּבוּ אֹהָלֶיךָ יַעֲקֹב, מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל

“How good are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel.”

In 2017, we undertook a major renovation of our sanctuary, with the Elias and Yitzchak families stepping forward to help lead the way together with our community. It transformed the space into the beautiful prayer space it is today, a place that welcomes large crowds every Shabbat and so many meaningful moments throughout the year.

As part of that renovation, we carefully chose which verse would be placed above the Ark. There are many beautiful verses that could have been chosen. But we chose these words from this week’s Torah portion, Balak.

In this week’s portion, King Balak hires Balaam, a powerful prophet, to curse the Jewish people. But when Balaam looks out at the Jewish camp, he cannot curse them. Instead, he blesses them.

What did he see?

Our sages explain that he saw the way the Jewish people arranged their tents. The entrances did not face one another. One family was not looking into another family’s home. One person was not busy measuring, comparing, or peering into someone else’s life.

He saw dignity, modesty, and respect. He saw families focused on their own purpose, their own mission, their own home.

That itself was the blessing. And what a message for our time.

We live in a world where so much of life is about looking into someone else’s tent. What are they doing? Where are they going? What do they have? What did they post? How do we compare?

Of course, technology can be used for good. It’s how I share this message with you. But the Torah reminds us that the deepest blessing comes when we know how to build our own tent with peace, purpose, and holiness. Our children need that. Our families need that. We all need that.

We need places where people are not competing, performing, or comparing. Places where they can belong. Places where they can breathe. Where kindness, learning, joy, and care are part of daily life. That is what we try to build every day at Chabad Naples.

Walk into Chabad Naples on any given day and you will see it. Children learning and growing. Seniors being visited and remembered. Families gathering. People being helped. And we continue looking for new ways to bring that blessing to others.

That is why we just launched Kitchen of Kindness, a new way to bring warmth and care directly to those who need it. Volunteers will come together to cook, pack, and deliver fresh food with dignity and love. Because it is never just about the food. It is a message: you are seen, you are cared for, you are not alone.

This is how we continue building tents: more places of warmth, more spaces of kindness, and more ways to bring blessing into people’s lives.

Balaam saw the Jewish people from afar and said, “How good are your tents.”

Thousands of years later, our job is to continue building those tents. In our homes. In our community. In the way we treat each other.

So let us take this verse to heart.

Let us build homes and spaces where our children feel grounded, not pressured. Where families feel connected, not compared. Where each person can live their mission with confidence, dignity, and joy.

How good are your tents. That is the blessing. And that is the work.

Wishing you a Shabbat of peace, purpose, and blessing,

With love and blessings,

Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos

Who told you you’re small?

Fri, 12 Jun 2026 9:35:00 AM

Dear Friends,

There is a certain way a person behaves when they feel small.

The shoulders bend a little. The voice becomes quieter. The eyes look down. Even before anyone says anything, the person has already started imagining what everyone else must be thinking.

We have all experienced this in some way. A person walks into a room and assumes they do not belong. A student looks at a challenge and decides they are not capable. A Jew sees the world around them and wonders, “Wouldn’t it be safer to stand a little smaller, speak a little softer, hide a little more?”

But this week’s Torah portion reminds us that how we see ourselves matters.

The Torah tells us about the spies who were sent to scout the Land of Israel. These were not ordinary people. They were leaders and people of stature. Each chosen to represent their tribes and bring back a report. And yet, when they returned, they said something very revealing.

“We were like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and so we were in their eyes.”

That part we can understand. They were frightened. They felt small. They looked at the fortified cities and the powerful people and they lost confidence.

But then they added, “and so we were in their eyes.” How did they know what the people of the land thought of them?

The answer is that they didn’t really know. They were speaking from their own fear. Because when a person sees themselves as small, they begin to believe that everyone else sees them that way too. Since they saw themselves as grasshoppers, they assumed the world saw them as grasshoppers as well.

That was the mistake of the spies. Not that they saw giants. Rather, that they forgot who sent them. They forgot that they were not going on their own strength alone. They were sent by God. They were part of a Divine mission. And when you know Who sent you, you do not have to see yourself as a grasshopper.

This is about quiet strength and faith. It is about feeling fear and still remembering that each of us was placed in this world with purpose.

Every person has a mission. Every soul has something only it can bring into the world. A kindness only you can give. A mitzvah only you can do. A corner of the world that needs the strength, warmth, and light that God gave specifically to you.

We all know the first words we say when we wake up: Modeh Ani. We thank Hashem for returning our soul to us.

But our Sages also teach us something else about the way we begin the day. We are told to rise with strength, like a lion, to serve our Creator. Not like a grasshopper. Like a lion.

Waking up is not only about our faith in God. It is also a reminder that God has faith in us. If He gave me another morning, another breath, another day, then there is something He wants from me today.

When we remember that, we carry ourselves differently. We speak with more courage. We live with more purpose.

This is also why a birthday is so meaningful. A birthday is not only a day to receive good wishes. It is a day to ask: why was I born? What is the mission God placed in my hands? What more can I give? What more can I become?

My Hebrew birthday was this week, and it gave me the opportunity to go to the Rebbe’s Ohel for a few hours and reflect on this very question.

The Rebbe taught us again and again that every person is here with purpose. Every Jew has a mission. We are not meant to see ourselves as small. We are meant to stand tall, with humility, with faith, and with the knowledge that God placed us here for a reason.

From there, I went to Washington, DC, to spend a day at the Living Legacy conference, honoring the Rebbe’s legacy ahead of his anniversary of passing this coming Thursday. It was powerful to see leaders, senators, congresspeople, and public officials from across the aisle speak about the Rebbe, about his vision, and about the impact he continues to have on the world.

But one moment stood out deeply.

Yechiel Leiter, Israel’s ambassador to the United States, addressed the gathering. He is a man who has known tremendous personal pain. His son, Moshe, was killed in Gaza. And yet, as he stood there, what came through was not weakness. It was strength. Conviction. Faith. Responsibility. A sense that even after loss, there is still a mission. He spoke with the poise of someone who knows what he stands for.

That image stayed with me. Because now more than ever, we need that kind of posture. As Jews, parents, friends, and members of a community. As human beings.

We cannot walk through life hunched over, doubting whether we matter, wondering if we have permission to make a difference.

Our families, our communities, and our mission need us to stand with humility and strength.

God asks us to be humble, yes. But humility does not mean thinking we are nothing. True humility means knowing that whatever strength we have was given to us by God, and therefore must be used.

So much of our fear comes from imagined eyes. What will they think? What will they say? How will they see me? That was the mistake of the spies. Since they saw themselves as grasshoppers, they believed the world saw them that way too.

But the Torah teaches us to begin somewhere else. Begin with how God sees us.

God sees souls with purpose. People capable of courage, growth, kindness, and holiness. People who can enter the world as partners in making it better.

So this week, let us ask ourselves: Where have I been seeing myself as too small? Where is God asking me to stand taller, speak with more courage, and live with more purpose?

We are the children of God. We are sent with a mission. We are given another morning, another breath, another opportunity to bring goodness into the world.

May we see ourselves the way God sees us. May we stand tall in our purpose, strong in our values, and proud in our Judaism. And may we use the mission we have been given to bring more light, strength, and goodness to ourselves, our families, our community, Israel, and the entire world.

With faith, resilience, and all the blessings,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

Carry Light. Give Water.

Fri, 5 Jun 2026 10:06:00 AM

Dear Friends,

A person can carry many things. Some things we carry in our pockets. Some things we carry in our hearts. Some things we carry for ourselves, and some things we carry for others.

A child can happily carry a dirty pebble found outside, a small toy, or a piece of candy discovered at the bottom of a backpack. To an adult, it may look like nothing. But to the child, it has value. Not because of what it costs. Rather, because it was noticed and chosen, it became something worth holding onto.

As we get older, the things we carry change.

We carry a smartphone, keys, a wallet, and two to three types of glasses. These are useful, necessary things. Things whose value has already been decided for us and marked in ink on a price tag. But the Torah reminds us, especially as we get older, that there is another kind of value. Beyond what something costs, the value of what it can do. A small match may not be worth much in a store. But in the right moment, it can bring light, warmth, and life.

And this week, the Torah reminds us that every Jew carries that kind of power.

The Torah speaks about the lighting of the Menorah. Aharon is commanded to raise the flames. Not simply to light them, but to lift each flame until it can burn on its own.

At first glance, we may think this mission belongs only to Aharon. He was the Kohen Gadol. He lit the Menorah in the Mishkan. He served in the holiest place on behalf of the Jewish people.

But the Rebbe often taught that the message of the Menorah belongs to every one of us. Every Jew is a flame. Every soul has its own G-d-given purpose, its own color, its own movement, its own way of bringing light into the world.

No two flames are the same. Some people bring light through generosity. Some through wisdom. Some through friendship. Some through quiet kindness. Some through strength. Some through warmth. Some through simply making another person feel seen.

And that is why every Jew, regardless of title, is entrusted with light. Because each of us meets people along the way. A neighbor. A friend. A family member. A stranger. Someone who needs a kind word, a listening ear, a gentle smile. Each one is a reminder that every person matters.

The question is not only what we carry for ourselves. The question is whether we realize what we carry for others.

This past week, our community lost two special people, each one a light in his own way.

Our dear friend and member of Chabad Naples, Stanley Star, passed away on Thursday night. As a rabbi, there are moments of great joy, and there are moments that are deeply difficult. There are lifecycle events filled with celebration, and there are moments when we sit with families in their pain and try to be present.

I traveled to New York to be with his family and officiate Stanley’s funeral. The service was scheduled to begin at 10 o’clock, but it did not begin until nearly an hour later. There were lines and lines of people coming to pay their respects. Firefighters, friends, neighbors, community members, one person after another, each one carrying a story of how Stanley had touched their life. It was incredibly powerful to see.

Stanley was a man of generosity, a philanthropist, a person known and respected in his community in Fredonia, New York, and here in Naples as well. Together with his wife, Elizabeth, he touched many lives. But more than what he accomplished, people spoke about who he was.

He had a way of making people feel seen and valued. His employees spoke about how he treated them like family. With dignity and respect. No matter his success, he remained approachable and real. And even long after he had stepped away, many of them still came, years later, to pay their respects.

That says something powerful about a person. How he lifted others and strengthened a community. How he used what he had to bring warmth, support, and dignity to those around him.

Stanley understood what it meant to carry light.

We also remember Paul Kane, who passed away at the age of 99. He lived just a few doors away from Chabad, and over the years he became very dear to us.

About seven years ago, Paul celebrated his first Bar Mitzvah. He was 93 years old! Imagine that. A man later in life, still growing, still reaching, still connecting, still adding light.

And he did not stop there.

Even nearing 100, he was still going to the gym. I would sometimes meet him there. We would sit together. We would talk for a long time. We connected, and in fact, we spoke just before Shavuot. Our children would visit and bring him challah. He was warm. He was present. He had a glow about him.

Stanley and Paul lived very different lives. They gave in different ways. But each one carried something precious.

Stanley carried generosity, responsibility, and a heart for the community. Paul carried warmth, friendship, and the energy and inspiring curiosity of someone decades younger. Each one, in his own way, was both a flame and a lamplighter.

And that is the lesson for all of us.

There is an old thought: a person can build a monument, or a person can dig a well.

A monument may stand through the test of time. It may even be beautiful. But a well gives water. It nourishes people. It continues to help others live and grow long after the one who dug it is gone.

That is the difference between asking the world to remember us and giving the world something it can carry forward.

Let us be well diggers. Let us live in a way that nourishes others, bringing warmth where there is loneliness, encouragement where there is doubt, and light where there is darkness.

So this week, let us ask ourselves: what do we carry with us?

Do we carry patience? Kindness? The courage to call someone, visit someone, encourage someone, forgive someone, help someone? Do we carry a mitzvah ready to be shared? Every day, Hashem places someone in our path whose flame we can help lift.

May the neshamas of Stanley Star and Paul Kane have an aliyah. May their families be comforted. And may each of us honor their memory by becoming lamplighters in our own way, not living for monuments, but digging wells, nourishing others with warmth, goodness, and light.

With faith, resilience, and all the blessings,

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos