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Rabbi Fishel's Blog

A Letter to My Dear Older Brother

 

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Dear Yossi,
28 years. 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. Your passion and principles inspire me every single day to be the best that I can be.

To those of you reading this, tonight marks the anniversary of my older brother’s passing. Tonight also 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 in to 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.

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 

Keep Believing

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 at the Chabad Naples, well attended services, and many Yom Tov meals together sharing words of Torah, song and celebration.

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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 that all the hostages will return home to freedom, to life, to light.

Which brings us to this moment of strength and clarity:

Mazal tov to former hostage Noa Argamani, named one of TIME Magazine’s 100 Most Influential People of 2025.

Recognized in the “Leaders” category, Noa’s strength and advocacy have captured hearts around the world. Abducted from the Nova music festival and held in Gaza for 246 days, her rescue by Israeli forces last June was a moment of national and global relief.

Since then, she’s refused to stay silent. She’s become a fierce voice for the 59 hostages still in captivity, including her partner, Avinatan Or. In February, she made history as the first released hostage to brief the UN Security Council. And she hasn’t stopped since.

Sharing the TIME honor, she wrote:

“I made a promise to bring them home, including my love, Avinatan. We must not stop. Bring Them All Home Now.”

Noa’s story is more than one of survival—it’s a testament to resilience, purpose, and the power of one voice.

Even in the darkest moments, she reminds us that strength can be found, hope can be shared, and action can ripple outward. As Noa said: “We must not stop.”

Because each of us, wherever we are, can choose to be a light. We all have the power to be “most influential” in our own corner of the world.

Chag Sameach!

Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos

True Joy Is Never Alone

Dear Friends,

As the holiday of Passover descends upon us, Ettie, Mendel, Yitzi, Chaya and Hinda join me in wishing you and yours a truly joyful Passover holiday. 

We are thinking of family and friends far and near and wishing you a very special holiday full of quality time and traditional experiences creating lifelong memories with family and friends.

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A Path to True Happiness: The Jewish Way

Almost every young person begins life thinking happiness is about getting. If I get the right job, the right house, the right approval, or the right recognition, then I’ll be happy. But then life pulls you aside and teaches you something different.

True happiness, the kind that lasts, doesn’t come from what you get. It comes from what you give.

In Jewish tradition, we have a word for happiness: simcha. And what’s fascinating is that in all the pages of the Torah, you’ll never find simcha happening in isolation. Joy in Judaism is never about one person alone. It’s always something shared.

Let me give you two brief examples.

First, when a man gets married, the Torah exempts him from military service for an entire year. Why? To stay home and bring joy to his wife. Not so he can be happy or go on a honeymoon, but so he can make someone else happy. Because joy in Judaism doesn’t begin with me—it begins with you.

Second, the great festivals of the Jewish year—Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot—are called zman simchateinu, “seasons of our joy.” But listen carefully to who is invited. The Torah says, “You shall rejoice, you, your sons and daughters, your servants, the Levite, the stranger, the orphan, and the widow”. This is not just a guest list, it’s a worldview. Everyone belongs—the powerful and the vulnerable, the insiders and the outsiders.

If your joy isn’t big enough to hold someone else, it’s not joy yet.

As we prepare for Passover, let’s take a moment to see who we can invite or assist to help make their holiday joyful. It’s in the giving that we truly experience simcha.

And most of all, as we recount the story of our liberation, we cannot forget the 59 hostages still held in Gaza. We hold them deeply in our hearts. We will pray for them, cry out for them, and do everything we can—through mitzvot, through support, and through unity—so that they are reunited with their families now, this Passover. And then, together, we will all experience the truest and greatest joy.

Wishing you a meaningful, happy, and kosher Passover.

Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos  

Come Home to Your Chabad Naples Family

Dear Friends,

Can you believe it? Passover is already just a week away! As we prepare for Passover, let’s keep the following in mind.

One of the most remarkable statements in the Haggadah is, “Our ancestors started out as idol worshippers, but now G-d has brought us near to serve Him.”

I think it’s a remarkable statement because it goes against how ancient people typically defined themselves, idealizing and glamorizing their national founders. Jews, however, open their story with: “Our ancestor, Abraham’s father was a schlemiel; he worshiped sticks and stones…”

Why do we say this?

The Rebbe, offers a moving answer. Passover, by all accounts, is the most observed Jewish holiday in our times. Many Jews at the Seder are inspired by the sanctity and majesty of the evening. But some of our brothers and sisters who are disaffiliated fear they’ve discovered Judaism too late and that it’s now too difficult to reshape their lives to live Jewishly.

The Haggadah’s response is clear: “Don’t despair. Know that your predicament is no different from that of our people as a whole.”

“In the beginning, our ancestors were idol worshippers” – just pagans, no different from the people among whom they lived. However, “now G-d has brought us close to His service.”

We grew spiritually. The whole story of the Jewish people is one of rising from the very bottom, of emerging from the lowest depths. Any Jew who returns to Judaism today, despite a complete lack of background, encapsulates our entire Jewish history.

This passage reminds us that no matter how low we’ve fallen, no matter how far we think we’ve gone, we can always return to our faith and tradition. We are children of Abraham and Sarah. We can always come home.

I remember when I was a child at camp, we used to sing the song: “No matter where you may roam, you can always come back home.” Even if, for whatever reason, you’ve felt disillusioned or have not attended shul for a long time, come home to the beautiful Chabad of Naples family, where you’ll be welcomed with open arms and feel like family.

Come and join us tomorrow at 10:30 for Shabbat services, followed by the Kiddush luncheon.

Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom and an early Happy Passover!

Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos

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