Rabbi Fishel's Blog

Dear Friends,

There is a moment at every Passover Seder when you can feel it tick over into a story of redemption, not oppression. When the detailed accountings of the suffering of our people give way to the exuberant declarations of miracle after miracle, culminating in our escape from slavery. After all the cleaning and cooking, the matzah and maror, the several glasses of wine, the shift feels appropriately earned.

But I have been wondering lately about the people sitting at that table who cannot quite feel it. The people whose personal oppressions are too heavy or intense to let them tap into their sense of redemption. Someone’s marriage is quietly unraveling. Someone got a phone call from the doctor last week that sucked the color out of their world. Someone is still nursing a deep wound from years ago that never fully healed. They are saying the same words, eating the same matzah, but the joy feels like it belongs to a different table entirely.

The people who walked out of Egypt 3,300 years ago were in that same condition. The Exodus was the most dramatic national moment in our history: the sea splitting, the slavery ending, the impossible becoming real. And they were exhausted. Someone’s back hurt from decades of physical labor. Someone had just buried a parent in a land they were leaving forever. Someone was terrified rather than relieved, because freedom is frightening when you have never known it. The miracle was real — and the exhaustion was equally real. Both of those things were true at the same time, in the same body, on the same afternoon.

The Haggadah tells us that in every generation we are obligated to see ourselves as if we personally left Egypt. For most of my life I understood that as an instruction about gratitude only. I understand it a bit deeper now. It is asking us to locate ourselves inside a story that is still unfolding, to feel its weight and its momentum, even when we are tired, even when we are grieving, even when the personal circumstances of our lives make celebration feel like a performance we have not rehearsed.

We need to hold the bigger picture of the incredible things happening around us even while honoring our struggles and pain.

We are living through an extraordinary moment in Jewish history. Since October 7th, 2023, we have watched our people attacked with a savagery that reached back across centuries. And then we watched something that few predicted: Israel dismantling Hezbollah’s command, decimating Hamas, striking inside Iran itself. A tiny country, surrounded, grieving, and somehow still standing with a strength that has left the world struggling to explain it. Israel is teaching the world what it means to live and fight with conviction.

We have also watched Jews who had set their identity down somewhere along the way pick it back up with both hands. Pull up a chair at the Seder table for the first time in years. The bigger story is very much alive, tumbling forward with a force that is bringing us closer to our better selves.

And so we sit at the Seder. We say the ancient words. We hold the matzah, which is simultaneously the bread of affliction and the bread of freedom. It is the food we were forced to eat as slaves and it is the food we hastily packed up and brought with us on our miraculous journey of liberation. The same object carrying both meanings at once. Maybe that is the point. We can feel the pain in our lives and still celebrate the great moments we are living through.

We bring whatever we are carrying this year and we say: We are still here. After everything. Still here.

And next year will be even better: Because next year in Jerusalem.

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Pesach Sameach to you and everyone you love.

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos

Dear Friends,

People need people. 

These words feel especially true to me today, following the shooting at a synagogue yesterday in my hometown of Detroit. Thank God no one was injured, but it still shakes us. Makes life feel precarious and throws us off balance.

We want to say a huge thank you to the Naples Police Department and our incredible security team led by Dennis Harris, who immediately came down to meet following the news. Our security guards are here on a constant basis, while Dennis and the Naples Police Department are constantly reviewing and improving our security, always checking in to make sure we are safe and protected. They truly go above and beyond.

While they are taking care of the physical protection and giving us the peace of mind to gather, let’s come together and strengthen the spiritual protection as well. Let's pray for Michigan, let's pray for Toronto, let's pray for Naples, and our brothers and sisters in Israel. A group of us hoped to be in Israel this Shabbat. Yet Jewish history reminds us that when circumstances prevent us from going to Israel, we can bring the spirit of Israel to where we are. Even if we are not there physically, spiritually our hearts are there and we will pray for them with the same enthusiasm, knowing we are right where we are meant to be.

In fact, have you heard that attending weekly Shabbat services at Chabad of Naples will give you a longer life and better health?

(Okay, my attorney tells me to insert the following disclaimer: "This statement has not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. Chabad's services are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.")

Seriously though, numerous studies find that regularly attending religious services may benefit mental and physical health. Researchers at Emory University found that there is a “substantial amount of protection against mortality from all causes” for people who attend religious services once a week or more.

So why is attending services regularly good for you? On the most basic level, being around others is good for us. More and more research suggests how loneliness can negatively impact our health and increase our risk factors for all kinds of diseases.

Having a social life is not just a luxury. We need people who know our name, care about us, and check in on us — and vice versa. But there is much more to it than that.

When we are alone, we are only focused on our personal journey and accomplishments. Being in the presence of a group helps us realize that there is a bigger plan and a greater mission than just our own. It's about all of us achieving something incredible together.

This week's portion, Vayakhel, begins with the verse:
“Moses called the whole community of the children of Israel to assemble.”

What was the purpose of this grand assembly? If Moses wanted to share the words of God, he could have done so in other ways. As many disgruntled workers have muttered under their breath, “this could have been an email!”

Moses chose to gather the entire Jewish nation because this gathering symbolizes the bird’s-eye view — the look from above. It was as if Moses was telling them: there will come a moment when each one of you will embark on your journey, focused on your part in making the world a better place. But before we do, let's recognize the awesomeness of the moment. We are all receiving an extraordinary mission from God.

Vayakhel has the same root as kehilla, or community. Something I hear over and over again when people come to Chabad Naples is that they truly feel like family. We are incredibly fortunate to have a community that is brimming with love and tangible warmth.

Last week someone who had recently moved told me they never thought they would find a place that felt like home, but that here they found mishpacha — family. That sentiment comes up again and again. The stories are endless. You feel the warmth, the love, the sense of belonging. No matter where you are in life, you feel like you’ve finally found a home.

We were never meant to do it alone.

We need each other, more than ever.

So come to Shabbat services at Chabad. We can always make room for more family.

May the unity of our community propel us all higher and bring the world one step closer to an everlasting peace.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos 

Dear Friends,

First off, I want to say that Purim was absolutely amazing! We at Chabad Naples celebrated in style as usual. We truly celebrated AM YISRAEL CHAI — THE MIRACULOUS ETERNAL JEWISH NATION! Between the night and the day, I read Megillah nine times! We visited friends in the hospital, some in rehab facilities, and were able to spread the Purim simcha and cheer them up, and then it all culminated in 250 people coming together in celebration. The entire holiday was permeated with such joyous and palpable energy.

A huge thank you to Ettie, who orchestrated the entire Purim celebration, from the theme to the planning and every detail, and to everyone who contributed, volunteered, supported, and joined in. 

Shortly after Purim, on Thursday morning, Morris and Roz Herstein stopped by our campus. They want to help us enhance the Big Build by donating many beautiful pieces of artwork, similar to the way they did in the social hall and the sanctuary. While on the rooftop, the ever-inspiring Morris — who was taking measurements at 90 years old — turned to us and said:
“Rabbi, patience, patience, hard work — look what it did! Following God's plan, and here we are on this beautiful campus that continues to expand.”

I don't know how many of you remember in 2008/2009, when we were bursting at the seams of our old Seagate location. We searched and searched for a building, with a seemingly endless string of dead ends. One of the places we almost purchased was the old Teddy Bear Museum. At the time we thought, “This is it.” But it wasn’t meant to be. At the time it was very disheartening. But it laid the foundation for a very important lesson.

In Parsha Ki Tisa, we confront one of the Torah’s lowest moments. Our people have just stood at Sinai. We heard the voice of God. All we need to do is wait for Moshe to return from the mountain. But when he doesn’t come back on our schedule, anxiety overtakes faith. Panic sets in. Impatience gives birth to the golden calf.

Patience, patience. Redemption does not unfold according to our clocks. Victory does not come on demand. Faith requires patience. What appears chaotic may conceal a deeper plan. Behind the scenes, history is moving with purpose. And so must we. We too should move with purpose in our own everyday lives.

So we have to put in the work, but it's God's plan and God's timing. Even when things don't work out on the timeline we desire, our efforts are never in vain. We are sowing the seeds for future growth that will be even greater than we can imagine right now.

The blessing of purchasing our current campus in 2011 certainly taught me that. Thank God, despite all the headaches and setbacks and false starts, our space has grown and continues to grow!

So aim high and put in all the effort you've got. But then remember Morris's wise words: “patience, patience.” We sow the seeds, but it is God that makes them grow. And as any farmer will tell you, it's slow but rewarding work.

And speaking of patience… we were meant to take 22 dear friends of our community, some for the very first time, on a very special trip to Israel this Sunday, but given the war in the Middle East the trip was postponed. We were praying for our brothers and sisters in the Holy Land over Purim, and we continue to pray for the safety of all civilians, and that this war should end swiftly and bring only blessings and enduring peace to the world.

In the right time — which we pray is very soon — we hope to take even more of you. For now, we wait to see how the future trip will be even better than the one we had planned.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos