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Rabbi Fishel's Blog

Am Yisrael Chai: What Passover Teaches us About Jewish Survival

Dear Friends, 

These past months have not been easy for Am Yisrael, the Jewish people. Even if you have been living under the metaphorical rock you are surely aware of the attacks on October 7th, the war ever since, the rise of maddening antisemitism, and this deep feeling of worry and anxiety that has overtaken the hearts of good people the world over.

Just under six months after the atrocities of 10/7 we will be sitting down, family and friends, for the Passover Seder. The delicious Matza, wine, and food (everything tastes delicious after four cups of wine), the bitter herbs, the ten plagues, and your favorite nudnik uncle all come together to make the Seder the special event that it is.

Do you know that the Seder is the longest-standing yearly meal in history? For over three thousand years we have been doing the same Seder in the same way, as we proudly hold onto these traditions which made us who we are today. If a Jew from the Middle Ages would miraculously show up to our Seder, they would feel right at home.

And yet, each year the holiday and its rituals resonate in different and unique ways, based on the circumstances of our lives and our own growth and maturity. Although the rituals are repetitive every year, their messages are never repetitive, because we are not the same people who we were last year.

This year, perhaps more than any other Pesach in recent memory, there is a paragraph that will resonate deeply. Halfway through the Haggadah we will reach the part where we raise our cups and sing the famous song “Vehi Sheamda” (so many beautiful tunes to those words). As we do so, we will feel the words pulsate through our very being:

“And this is what kept our fathers and what keeps us surviving. For, not only one arose and tried to destroy us, rather in every generation they try to destroy us, and Hashem saves us from their hands.”

The message is twofold:

 1.⁠ ⁠Haters have always existed. Ever since we became a nation, we have had soulless individuals determined to destroy us. Unfortunately, this is not a new phenomenon.

2.⁠ ⁠Much more importantly: We always survive. No matter how much they hurt us, they can never destroy us. The eternity of the Jewish nation is arguably the greatest miracle of history. No nation has been more persecuted, and yet here we are – thriving, growing and more alive.

Antisemites are not only evil, but they are also foolish. Don’t they realize that the harder they fight us the stronger we become? Don’t they see the Divine Hand that assures that their plans will never succeed? And what about us? Are our eyes open to our own miraculous story? Are we confident in the promise of the future that “G-d saves us from their hands”?

Pesach’s eternal message is that no matter how hard it can be, whether in Egypt, Babylonia, Spanish Expulsion, Auschwitz, or Kfar Aza – Am Yisrael Chai. Our nation endures. The harder they try to break us, the harder our resolve to survive and even thrive becomes.

So, while we cry for lives lost, destroyed families and homes, and pray for our captives (hopefully, they are all home by the time you read this), let us also celebrate the miracle of our survival. The Seder is not just about Kneidlach, Matza, and a nice piece of steak.

It’s about opening our eyes to our own miracles, and to feel a strong sense of connection to the collective nation of Israel. We are one heart split into many bodies. We are one soul. We are all in this together.

So to all my friends, family and people of good conscience: Stand proud and strong during these tumultuous times. The pain is real, but we will come out stronger, better and as eternal as ever.

Next year in Jerusalem!

My wife Ettie joins me in wishing you and yours a Kosher and happy Pesach.

 

We spent a week grasping the unimaginable

 Dear Friends, 

The Chabad of Naples trip of 2024 was meant to be another exquisite adventure, uncovering the beauty of our land and the composition of our spirit.

The trip of 2024 in real time would become a journey unmatched in the history of our many trips.

We spent a week grasping the unimaginable in ways never to have been imagined before.

We met with our people all around Israel, sat and listened to their heartbreak until ours felt like it was shattered too.

We hugged and cried with soldiers who had seen the unseeable, and stood with mothers whose babies were torn from their arms and wait for them in Hamas’s tunnels of hell.

We saw the heroism of Israel, the brave people who ran into the fires and showed superhuman strength to guard their people, We got the chills when they said they’d do anything for the nation of Israel, because we saw that it was true. We felt their faith straight through our bones when after all they witnessed and survived, they stood up to thank God, don tefillin, and pledge to light Shabbat candles.

Our enemies intended to bring us to our knees, yet a unified Am Yisrael did just the opposite. We reached in and with a strength so fierce, and determination so focused, we rose to a place unmatched, like the Hasmoneans of old - the enemy forgot who they were dealing with.

We wish I could stay side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder with them until all the pain is healed.

I want to take a moment to acknowledge my dear wife Ettie Zaklos who held the fort back at home. I feel so blessed to be supported by my amazing partner who keeps everything going, for our kids, world famous Chabad of Naples, our community, and of course, #1 Preschool of the Arts! She’s the pillar of support and absolute powerhouse behind and in front of everything I do. Thank you, Ettie!

I’d also like to say a tremendous thank you to every single person who donated. Your donation is feeding and clothing victims of terror, lifting up the injured, and supporting our soldiers.

You’re making a huge difference to the IDF, and to lift their morale when they need it most, and much more.

Your donation is doing incredible things for Israel, and you showed that we can do something. We can show up and make a difference. And now we need to do even more. The need is real!

I would like to encourage you to continue to be strong and continue your support, and the mitzvot you had started doing for our brothers and sisters. 

We pledge to take the message we have heard this week and bring it home to our families, communities, congregations and friends. We understand that at the charge of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, we fight a spiritual battle which needs to be won on all fronts too. And this we promise to do.

Let us make a resolution that we will not rest until our brothers and sisters can walk the streets safely, be happy, and each of the hostages are returned safely.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos 

I confess, I don’t cry often. But this past week I did. A lot.

 Blessing.jpg

Dear Friends,

I confess, I don’t cry often. But this past week I did. A lot.

It was a whirlwind of a visit to Israel. We experienced the highs and the lows. The powerful faith and solidarity, and the heart-shredding pain and anguish. We saw the friendship, love, and heroism, and the wounds, tears, and missing limbs.

In the Re’im forest, at the site of the Nova Festival massacre, we felt the pain of our people. In Chevron, at the Cave of our Patriarchs, and in nearby Beit Lechem at the graveside of Rachel the Matriarch, we remembered why we’re here—the deep roots of the Jewish nation, and our unbreakable tie to the Holy Land.

Sunday was the most difficult day. When I tell you I don’t usually cry—I mean that this time I couldn’t hold it back. The floodgates opened. We stood together at the funeral of a young soldier who fell in battle just the night before. Ilai Zair was and elite commando soldier, only 20-years-old, young enough that he had his whole life ahead of him; old enough to have made a powerful impact on the lives of so many.

We listened to his mother, then brother, and younger sister each between choked tears talk about the gentle soul who they loved and lost, who always thought about his friends and family first, and knew when someone was in pain. He wasn’t one you’d expect to see in a war zone, but he was there because he had to defend his people, and anything he did, he did all the way.

After pouring her pain out before everyone in attendance, and with a quivering but determined voice, Ilai’s sister sang the words, “ani maamin,” “I believe in perfect faith that the redemption will come.”

Tears, heartbreak, and resilience.

This is what we witnessed in Israel, and this is what they asked us to bring back home; the message that while we stand together in pain, we also stand together in hope and faith in a strong future for the Jewish nation. That we will sing and dance and rebuild as we always have.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos

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