“Upon Leaving, One Says……”

The speaker opens by expressing his love for books about Tzaddikim (righteous people), noting that he finds the final day of a Tzaddik's life particularly electric and beautiful. He relates this to his own father's last day, describing it as a moment of tremendous beauty and power. He poses the question of what a person would do if they knew it was their last day, suggesting that ideally we would live every day with such presence — and that the Tzaddik's greatness is precisely that their last day looks like every other day, only more appreciated.

The rabbi then introduces the Mishnah in Tractate Berachot about Rabbi Nechunia ben Hakana, who would pray upon entering and exiting the Beit Midrash (study hall). He focuses on the exit prayer — a prayer of gratitude for having been part of the learning space. He raises a pointed question: why does the Mishnah teach this law by telling a story about a specific Tana rather than stating it as a direct obligation? His answer is that true gratitude is not merely saying 'thank you' — it is an inner emotional state that naturally arises when one is genuinely present to an ending. The Mishnah tells a story because gratitude at departure is what organically happens to a person who is alive to their experience.

The speaker distinguishes between performative 'thank yous' and deep inner gratitude, arguing that the Western emphasis on teaching children to say thank you is superficial compared to cultivating an internal world of appreciation. He shares that he experienced this himself the previous night at a farewell gathering with his longtime musical collaborator Shlomo, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for their three years of traveling and singing with Jewish communities.

He speaks about the phenomenon of the 'last night of yeshiva' being otherworldly — how students who seemed closed off emotionally suddenly open up because the experience of leaving (Yetziyah) naturally unlocks gratitude. He connects this to the concept of being present at life's major transitions: parents walking their child down the wedding aisle, bringing a child to the airport for the first time. He describes collapsing on airport benches after watching his children depart, overwhelmed by gratitude mixed with sadness.

The talk then shifts to a Torah discussion about Shavuot and the famous declaration of Naseh V'Nishma ('we will do and we will hear/understand'). The speaker frames this as a dialogue between generations: the previous generation, which survived the past hundred years of Jewish history, embodies Naseh — faithful, trusting obedience to Hashem even without full understanding. Today's generation embodies Nishma — a deep yearning to connect, feel, and understand the meaning behind mitzvot. He argues both are essential and complement each other, comparing it to a parent-child dialogue where the parent's Naseh and the child's Nishma together create wholeness.

He discusses the Psalm verse 'Tov Tam VaDa'at' — David HaMelech's prayer for taste (emotional connection) and knowledge (intellectual understanding) in serving Hashem. He connects Naseh with Emunah (faith that mitzvot work even when unfelt) and Nishma with the burning desire to experience mitzvot as meaningful and alive.

The speaker also analyzes the verse 'Even Maasu HaBanim' — the stone rejected by builders becomes the cornerstone. He applies this to David HaMelech's own biography as an outcast who became the source of Mashiach, and more broadly to the many Tzaddikim who had difficult childhoods. He argues that the rejected stone becomes the cornerstone because suffering cultivates humility (bitul), which is the necessary foundation for genuine spiritual construction. He suggests this is why people who have been through difficult experiences often become the most reliable and humble builders of relationships and institutions.

Throughout the talk, the rabbi expresses personal gratitude to specific individuals in the yeshiva — Avraham Lewinstein for his daily consistent presence, Checker Gertzberg for his kindness and construction work, Shlomo Guri for three years of musical partnership, and the broader chevra. He also defends his practice of taking the yeshiva's music and Torah to outside communities, arguing that open Beit Midrash doors mean going out to people, not keeping them out. He closes with a prayer of gratitude to Hashem for assembling this unlikely community of students from across the world.