Rabbi Fishel's Blog

Dear Friends,

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Now that may be the case in terms of description. When describing an adorable smiling baby or an early morning sunrise over the beach, words pale in comparison to the visual representation.

But a beautiful relationship can easily be tarnished or even destroyed with a few ugly or poorly chosen words. This week’s Parsha, Tazria-Metsorah, illustrates for us that words hold within them a great power. So much so that even the entire universe was created with only a few Divine utterances.

There is a famous story that Ben Zander, the well-known conductor of the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra, passed on after hearing it directly from an Auschwitz survivor that expresses this point

A girl was sent to Auschwitz when she was 15 years old, and her brother was eight. Their parents were lost. Years later, having survived the camp, she told Zander:

“We were in the train going to Auschwitz, and I looked down and saw my brother’s shoes were missing. I got angry and said, ‘Why are you so stupid, can’t you keep your things together for goodness’ sake?’” — the way an elder sister might sometimes speak thoughtlessly to a younger brother.

Unfortunately, it was the last thing she ever said to him, because she never saw him again. He did not survive. And so when she came out of Auschwitz, she made a vow:

“I will never say anything that couldn’t stand as the last thing I ever say.”

Now this may be an extreme example, but it hammers home the importance of being intentional with our speech—of lifting up those around us with our words, rather than tearing them down.

This week, as we do every week in our hearts, we honored the more than six million souls who were murdered during the Holocaust, and we will do so this Shabbat at Chabad of Naples by taking out a Sefer Torah that survived. Indeed, the Torah itself is but a collection of words, yet it is these words that guide our way of life and preserve our traditions.

We must consider the words that come out of our mouths. How often do we speak without thinking? Most of us receive many compliments and pleasantries from the ones we love regularly, and yet if a stranger is rude to you in line for coffee, it can ruin your whole day.

This is not a coincidence. The Gottlieb Institute discovered that for every negative interaction, it takes five positive ones to return to emotional equilibrium.

Your words are perhaps the most underutilized power you have for making the world a better place. And you can start right now! Tell your spouse how happy you are to have them in your life, tell your children how proud of them you are, tell your neighbor how much you admire their hydrangeas, tell the postman thank you for delivering your mail. None of these are small acts. They are strategic victories in the battle against negativity and darkness.

Join us this Shabbat for our famous services and Kiddush luncheon, where people often share that they leave feeling uplifted and strengthened, not only from the prayers and the words from the bimah, but from the warmth of being together and the way words are shared between us.

Let’s use the power of words to uplift one another and fill our community with peace, blessing, and light—more than any picture could capture.

Wishing you a peaceful and uplifting Shabbat,

Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos

Dear Friends,

We remember and pay tribute to the six million “kedoshim.”

We remember what happens when hate takes hold of the human heart and turns it to stone, what happens when victims cry for help and no one is listening, and what happens when humanity fails to recognize that every person is created in God’s image.

We remember and give thanks for the righteous of the nations who saved lives at risk of their own, teaching us how, in the darkest night, we can light a candle of hope.

And we remember that the past is not only history. Even in our own time, most painfully on October 7, we are reminded why memory matters and why “never again” must be lived, not just said.

We pray for worldwide peace and understanding, that no one should ever face this horror again. I know the 6 million will be praying along with us from On High; I also know Hashem will answer our prayers.

Honor their memory with a special mitzvah, today and every day.

May the memory of the six million be blessed.

****

This Shabbat, we will read from the Holocaust Torah that was dedicated to Chabad of Naples in January 2012.

Who can forget when we dedicated our beautiful Chabad of Naples campus, with people of all ages—young and old—singing and rejoicing? And then, the highlight of the dedication: receiving the Holocaust Torah. 

Mixed feelings? To say the least.
Joy and sorrow—joy for all that survived, and sorrow for our losses—and there were many.

That this Torah survived and came into our hands, reborn through the generosity of Ellen Ann Goldman, Sam Savage, and the Federman Family, is nothing short of a miracle.

We have become the stewards of a valuable piece of history, and with that, we are responsible to the donors who entrusted it to us, saying, “It is in good hands at Chabad of Naples.”

Now, in this climate, it’s more important than ever to teach our children—in age-appropriate ways—about the sacrifice and heroism of the six million Jewish men, women, and children who were slaughtered in the Holocaust. We must help them understand what was lost, and even more, what must endure.

Let’s pass on this message of resilience, showing our children how to honor their memory by taking an active part in building the Jewish nation and being a strong, unbreakable link in our eternal chain.

Let’s take the time to pause and reflect, and inspire each other to more involvement, to ensure that “never again” does not become a mere slogan (Heaven forbid).

We pray for worldwide peace and understanding, that no one should ever face this horror again. I know the 6 million will be praying along with us from On High—I also know Hashem will answer our prayers.

May the memory of the six million be blessed.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos 

Dear Friends,

We hope your Pesach was beautiful, inspiring, and filling in both body and spirit.

Thank God at Chabad of Naples we were blessed with so many beautiful people joining us together for our BIG Family Seder, well attended services, and many Yom Tov meals together sharing words of Torah, song and celebration.

****

As we approach the final days of the festival, here’s a powerful reminder rooted in our earliest history.

When G-d promised Abraham and Sarah a child, it seemed completely impossible. They were old, long past the age of parenthood. But then G-d took Abraham outside and said: “Look up at the sky and count the stars, if you can. So shall your descendants be.”

Now pause and imagine that moment. Faced with a sky full of stars, Abraham could’ve laughed. He could’ve walked back inside. He could’ve said, “This is ridiculous.”

But he didn’t.

He looked up and he began counting.

One. Two. Three…

In response, G-d said:

“כֹּה יִהְיֶה זַרְעֶךָ — So shall your children be.”

Not just as numerous as the stars, but like Abraham himself: the kind of people who begin counting, even when the task seems impossible.

That has always been the spirit of the Jewish people. In every generation we end the Seder with the words: “לשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בִּירוּשָׁלָיִם — Next year in Jerusalem.”

This wasn’t just a hope; it was a declaration, a commitment to making the impossible possible. And then, miraculously, the dream that seemed so far away was realized. The stars were counted.

As we head towards the final days of Pesach, and ask for our final redemption remember: impossible is just an idea. Inside it lives a promise: I’M POSSIBLE.

Keep counting. Keep believing. We are the children of Abraham and Sarah.

And we must keep believing—not just in the promises of the past, but in the hope of today. In the face of darkness, in the face of what feels impossible, we must hold onto faith and action. Just as Abraham looked up and began to count the stars, we must continue to count every soul, every prayer, every act of courage, and never give up hope.

Chag Sameach!

Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos

I miss you my beloved brother Yossi. 

Tonight, which ushers in the seventh day of Pesach, is 29 years since my brother Yossi's passing. Even as I write this I have a hard time believing it’s been so long. Your presence still plays a very real, vivid, and tangible role in my life – not as a figure from my childhood, but as an old soul; an ever-inspiring presence; a big brother to me and so many others in the truest sense. Your passion and principles inspire me every single day to be the best that I can be.

Tonight commemorates the splitting of the red sea- Yossi, too, seemed to split obstacles, going through them to get to the other side, accomplishing his goals. He dived right into whatever he attempted and gave it his all, fully and with no restrictions. He grabbed life with both hands and LIVED it. And he ALWAYS maintained a positive, upbeat attitude, even in the years during his aggressive treatments in Sloan Kettering. I was his caretaker for two years and I never saw his infectious positivity waver for a second.

Yossi lived for others, caring especially for those who are often ignored. He was selfless and always sensitive to those around him. He did things because it was right and wanting to be of service to G-d and to fulfill his dear Mentor the Rebbe’s calling. I know it sounds like a cliché, but I can tell you this wasn’t an occasional occurrence. Yossi had a courageous and fearless nature, and at the same time, he was the sweetest soul.

One of his many aspirations that he so deeply desired was establishing a Chabad House. He would often talk dreamily about how one day he wanted to reach out to a community to create a warm and loving place, and as he visited various Chabad centers for Shabbat or events I would hear his ideas develop.

While he was unable to follow that dream personally, I know that it is with his blessings that I am privileged to be his hands and feet in the work that Ettie and I are doing at Chabad of Naples, together with our children—how I wish you could have met them! Yossi, I know if you were here you would be leading an army of light to fight against the darkness so many of us feel today. May we take up the charge in your absence and join forces with the battle you are undoubtedly fighting on our behalf on high.

I miss you my beloved Yossi! You made me a better person, a more real person. Your life was too short, and I miss you terribly, but we will continue to try to incorporate what you taught me from the precious, abbreviated days we spent together. A legacy of pure goodness.

You are forever in our hearts, minds, and actions. To anyone else who has experienced the deep and life-altering loss of a loved one, know that I see you. But also know that the good we do here on earth in their memory helps us connect to them, find a tiny gleaming flicker of solace, and gladdens their soul up above.

If you can, please do some mitzvah — a good deed in Yossi’s honor. I have no doubt that he is advocating for us in the heavens for an end to pain and suffering for all. Let’s do our part to spread kindness and light!

Forever your younger brother,

Fishey