Commencement 2025

Tzofiya Lesack '25

Good evening and welcome to all Friends, family, faculty, and fellow graduates. 

We just celebrated the holiday of Shavuot this past Monday and Tuesday, marking the moment when we received the Torah at Mount Sinai. A holiday that we counted towards, and waited for for 49 days, yet celebrated for only 2. It is a holiday at the core of the Jewish experience and central to defining us as a people.

We stand here today receiving our diplomas, yet days ago we stood at Mount Sinai.

וַיּוֹצֵ֨א מֹשֶׁ֧ה אֶת־הָעָ֛ם לִקְרַ֥את הָֽאֱלֹהִ֖ים מִן־הַֽמַּחֲנֶ֑ה וַיִּֽתְיַצְּב֖וּ בְּתַחְתִּ֥ית הָהָֽר׃

Moses led the people out of the camp toward God, and they took their places at the foot of the mountain.

The Torah emphasizes that all of Am Yisrael stood at the mountain to participate in this profound and unique event. This pinnacle moment marked an important milestone, a change in status from a group of slaves to an official nation, and signified the next step in the Israelites' journey through the desert and into the land of Israel. We take ourselves back to Har Sinai yearly, and relive the experience when our nation joined together to receive the Torah and its commandments

The people arrived at Har Sinai with the help, support, guidance, and leadership of others, often overcoming their fears and worries in the process. The Chizkuni, a 13th-century French commentator, notes that “Moses brought forth the people,” because “without his urging, they were too scared to come forward.” The 18th century commentator Or HaChaim adds to this idea, stating that, “Perhaps this was necessary because the people had become afraid of the Mountain by now. Moses took them to the edge of the Mountain so that they would accept the Torah while standing there.”

Why might the people be afraid?

We read in the next verse:

וְהַ֤ר סִינַי֙ עָשַׁ֣ן כֻּלּ֔וֹ מִ֠פְּנֵ֠י אֲשֶׁ֨ר יָרַ֥ד עָלָ֛יו יְהֹוָ֖ה בָּאֵ֑שׁ וַיַּ֤עַל עֲשָׁנוֹ֙ כְּעֶ֣שֶׁן הַכִּבְשָׁ֔ן וַיֶּחֱרַ֥ד כׇּל־הָהָ֖ר מְאֹֽד׃

Now Mount Sinai was all in smoke, for Adonai had come down upon it in fire; the smoke rose like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled violently.

In this climactic moment, the people don't know what to expect. They see fire and smoke, the mountain is trembling, and we learn in later verses that God's presence brings thunder and lightning. It is an event of many unknowns. Understandably so, the people might be anxious and tense, unsure of what is to come afterwards. 

We have been led here tonight over the course of many years by people who have dedicated their time, effort, abilities, and talents to ensure that we could succeed - teachers, parents, mentors, and role models. They have guided us on a journey through middle school and high school, helping us grow and mature, bringing us to graduation. 

As we prepare to receive our diplomas tonight, we may have questions about our futures. We might hold excitement and fear, readiness and anxiety. Will we succeed and find meaning in our lives beyond Barrack? Will our efforts be fruitful and our hard work pay off? As students, we may feel some sense of nerves that our brothers and sisters felt years ago at Mount Sinai.

But when we pause and look back over the past few years, we realize that we, too, were guided, supported, and led to this moment by outstanding and caring teachers, devoted and loving parents, supportive and thoughtful mentors, and tons of role models.

Moshe tells the people:

אַל־תִּירָ֒אוּ֒ כִּ֗י לְבַֽעֲבוּר֙ נַסּ֣וֹת אֶתְכֶ֔ם בָּ֖א הָאֱלֹהִ֑ים

“Be not afraid; for God has come only in order to test you,.”

Like our ancestors, we have been tested and may be challenged further, but we have no reason to fear. Just as we have journeyed to tonight, we will journey on from tonight and do so successfully.

Moshe led the Israelites to Mount Sinai, and our community has led us to our graduation. We have been guided and supported through each step and challenge, growing as a class and as individuals, prepared for our journey beyond high school. As we enter into a world full of different experiences and broad horizons, let us remember the lessons from our journey thus far and take them with us as we begin the next chapter in our lives. 

Margot Englander '25

Good evening and welcome to our Barrack Class of 2025 graduation! We are so grateful for all of your attendance and support throughout our journeys up until this point. We could not have gotten here, standing on this stage, without your help and guidance. 

Ninth grade seems as if it were pretty long ago. Coming off of COVID, we were eager to meet new friends, start more advanced classes, and get all the new and exciting privileges that come with moving up to high school. We travelled to Camp Green Lane to bond and get to know one another even more, and ended the year with a fun dance on the tennis courts. Sophomore year, we felt as if we had the lay of the land. We welcomed multiple new friends, formed even closer friendships, and settled into high school at Barrack. 

Then junior year came, and with it, Muss. While we missed our friends who were in the States, those of us in Israel began our long-talked-about Muss experience. We climbed Masada (barely making it up before the sunrise), swam in the Dead Sea, explored Tzfat and Tel Aviv, frequented Ofer’s, and prayed at the Kotel. Living together, we formed friendships and created new memories that will stay with us forever. 

It is impossible to speak about our Muss experience, or contextualize the rest of our high school years, without talking about October 7th. We had arrived in Jerusalem the previous day to celebrate Simchat Torah, and spent the night singing and dancing in the synagogue and the streets. We awoke to red alert sirens and news of the deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust. Our day was spent racing up and down the stairs, saying goodbye to our security guard and counselors who were called back to serve, and comforting one another. Even in the face of true fear, it was incredible to witness our grade come together. Dancing and singing in the bomb shelter; offering comfort on the bus ride back to campus and over the next few days on campus.

I will say that you will get incredibly close with people you spend nights with, packed side to side, in a bomb shelter, or sprinting after one another during that one Red Alert Siren on campus. We didn’t just care for each other – we helped raise over $100,000 and packed hundreds of care packages. We channeled our uncertainty, our anger, and our fear into practical help for those in dire situations, trapped down South or serving in the army. On October 12th, the day we started our journey home from Israel, we gathered in a circle with our counselors and teachers. In tears, we expressed gratitude to them for the experience we had had, and wished safety for Nadav and Maayan, who had been called up to serve. In our final closing circle, Danny, one of our Israel Studies teachers, instructed us to drum the floor, chanting “Am Yisrael Chai” and “Od Avino Chai.” He told us that army units chanted these phrases before entering battle, and that all over the country, soldiers were chanting these words, preparing to enter Gaza and protect the north. Together, our final moments on Muss were spent singing, praying for the safety of Israel.

When we came back to Barrack, we were transformed as a class, and our senior year was enriched by the sense of unity we gained abroad. We survived college application season by leaning on each other and supporting each other without judgement. We were there for each other through each celebration and hard moment. We showed up for each other, at events we planned, productions we were part of, games we were playing in, and assemblies we created. Our senior skip day we played paintball, and we engaged in a spirited game of senior assassin. 

We enjoyed our final high school shabbaton, our senior trip, and prom—and now we are here, at the end of our journey, at graduation. This is the last time that all of us will be in the same room together. Some of us are heading off to traditional college experiences, whether that be here in Philadelphia, elsewhere in Pennsylvania, or further across the country, such as Florida, or Ohio, or Maryland. Some of us are going to Israel, for a gap year, or college, or the army. While we may not be physically together following this ceremony, I know that we have made the memories and the connections for lifelong friendships. I am grateful to be a part of this Barrack class of 2025! 

Thank You!


 

עֶרֶב טוֹב וּבְרוּכִים הַבָּאִים לְטֶקֶס הַסִּיּוּם שֶׁל כִּיתָּה 2025 בְּבֵית סֵפֶר בָּרָק. אֲנַחְנוּ כָּל כָּךְ אֲסִירֵי תּוֹדֶה עַל כָּל הַנּוֹכְחוֹת וְהַתְּמִיכָה שֶׁלָּכֶם בְמַסָעוֹתֵינוּ עַד לַנְּקוּדָּה הַזֹּאת. לֹא יָכוֹלְנוּ לְהַגִּיעַ לְכָאן, עוֹמְדִים עַל בָּמָה זּוֹ, ללא הָעֶזְרָה וְהַדְרָכָה שֶׁלָּכֶם. 

 

זֶה מַרְגִּישׁ כְּאִילּוּ כִּיתָּה ט׳ הָיְיתָה לְפָנַי הַרְבֵּה זְמַן. יוֹצְאִים מ–COVID, הָיִינוּ לְהוּטִים לִפְגּוֹשׁ חֲבֵרִים חֲדָשִׁים, לְהַתְחִיל שִׁיעוּרִים יוֹתֵר מִתְקַדְּמִים, וּלְקַבֵּל דְּבָרִים חֲדָשִׁים וּמְרַגְּשִׁים שֶׁל תִּיכוֹן. נָסַעְנוּ לַמַּחֲנֶה Greenlane כְּדֵי לְהִתְחַבֵּר אַחֵד לִשְׁנֵי, וּלְסַיֵּים אֶת הַשָּׁנָה בְּרִיקּוּד מְהַנֶּה עַל מִגְרָשִׁי הַטֶּנִיס.  בַּכִּיתָּה י׳, הִרְגַּשְׁנוּ כְּאִילּוּ אֲנַחְנוּ יוֹדְעִים יוֹתֵר. קִיבַּלְנוּ כַּמָּה חֲבֵרִים חֲדָשִׁים, יָצַרְנוּ חָבֶרוּיוֹת קְרוֹבוֹת עוֹד יוֹתֵר, וְהֵבַנּוּ אֶת הַתִּיכוֹן בַּבָּרָק.

 

וְאָז הִגִּיעָה כִּיתָּה יא, וְאִיתָּהּ Muss. בַּזְּמַן שֶׁהִתְגַּעְגַּעְנוּ לַחֲבֵרִים שֶׁלָּנוּ שֶׁהָיוּ בְּאַרְצוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֵלֶּה מֵאִיתָּנוּ בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל הִתְחִילוּ אֶת חויית Muss שֶׁעָלֶיהָ דִּיבַּרְנוּ זְמַן רָב. טִיפַּסְנוּ לִמְצָדָה (בְּקוֹשִׁי הִגַּעְנוּ לִפְנֵי הַזְּרִיחָה), שָׂחִינוּ בְּיָם הַמֶּלַח, חָקַרְנוּ אֶת צְפַת וְתֵל אָבִיב, פָּקַדְנוּ אֶת עוֹפֶר וְהִתְפַּלַּלְנוּ בַּכּוֹתֶל. חָיִינוּ יַחַד, יָצַרְנוּ חברויות וְזִיכְרוֹנוֹת חֲדָשִׁים שֶׁיִישָׁאָרוּ אִיתָּנוּ לְנַצֵּחַ.

 

אִי אֶפְשָׁר לְדַבֵּר עַל חֲווֹיַת Muss שֶׁלָּנוּ, אוֹ לְהִתְיַיחֵס לִשְׁאַר שְׁנוֹת הַתִּיכוֹן שֶׁלָּנוּ בַּלִּי לְדַבֵּר עַל ה-7 בְּאוֹקְטוֹבֶּר. הִגַּעְנוּ לִירוּשָׁלַיִם בַּיּוֹם קוֹדֶם לַחֲגוֹג אֶת שִׂמְחַת תּוֹרָה, וּבִילִּינוּ אֶת הַלַּיְלָה בַּשִּׁירָה וּבְרִיקּוּדִים בְּבֵית הַכְּנֶסֶת וּבָרְחוֹבוֹת. הִתְ-עוֹ-רַ-רְנוּ לִצְפִירוֹת צֶבַע אָדוֹם וַחֲדָשׁוֹת עַל הַיּוֹם הַקַּטְלָנִי בְּיוֹתֵר לַיְּהוּדִים מֵאָז הַשּׁוֹאָה. הַיּוֹם שֶׁלָּנוּ עָבַר בַּמֵּירוֹץ לְמַעְלָה וּלְמַטָּה בְּמַדְרֵגוֹת, לְהִיפָּרֵד מֵהַמַּדְרִיכִים וְשׁוֹמְרַי הַבִּיטָּחוֹן שֶׁלָּנוּ שֶׁנִּקְרְאוּ בַּחֲזָרָה לַשֵּׁירוּת, וּלְנַחֵם אַחֵד אֶת הַשֵּׁנִי. אֲפִילּוּ מוּל הַפַּחַד הָאֲמִיתִּי, זֶה הָיָה מַדְהִים לִרְאוֹת אֶת הָשִׁיכְבָה שֶׁלָּנוּ מִתְאַחֶדֶת.

 

רִיקּוּד וְשִׁירָה בַּמִּקְלָט הִצִּיעוּ נֶחָמָה בִּנְסִיעָה בְּאוֹטוֹבּוּס חֲזָרָה לַקַּמְפּוּס וּבְמַהֲלַךְ הַיָּמִים הַבָּאִים. אֲנִי אוֹמֵרת רַק דָּבָר אֶחָד – אַתָּה מִתְקָרֵב מְאוֹד לָאֲנָשִׁים שֶׁאַתָּה מְבַלֶּה אִיתָּם לֵילוֹת כָּתֵף אֶל כָּתֵף בְּמִקְלָט, אוֹ כְּשֶׁאַתֶּם רָצִים יַחַד בִּמְהִירוּת בְּמַהֲלַךְ אַזְעָקַת צֶבַע אָדוֹם אַחַת בַּקַּמְפּוּס. לֹא רַק דָּאַגְנוּ אַחֵד לִשְׁנֵי - עָזַרְנוּ לְגַיֵּיס מָעַל מֵאָה אֶלֶף דוֹלָר וְאָרַזְנוּ מֵאוֹת חֲבִילוֹת. הִשְׁתַּמַּשְׁנוּ בְּחוֹסֶר הַוַּודָּאוּת, הַכַּעַס וְהַפַּחַד שֶׁלָּנוּ לְעֶזְרָה מַעֲשִׂית עֲבוּר אֵלָה שֶׁנִּמְצָאִים בְּמַצָּבִים קָשִׁים, לכודים בַּדָּרוֹם אוֹ מְשָׁרְתִים בַּצָּבָא.

 

ב-12 בְּאוֹקְטוֹבֶּר, הַיּוֹם בּוֹ הִתְחַלְנוּ אֶת הַמַּסָּע הַבַּיְתָה מִיִּשְׂרָאֵל, הִתְכַּנַּסְנוּ בַּמַּעְגָּל עִם הַמַּדְרִיכִים וְהַמּוֹרִים שֶׁלָּנוּ. בַּדְּמָעוֹת הוֹדֵנוּ לָהֶם עַל הַחֲווֹיָה שֶׁעָבַרְנוּ, וְאִיחַלְנוּ שָׁלוֹם לְנָדָב וּמַעָיָין שֶׁזּוּמְּנּוּ לְשָׁרֵת. בִּסְגִירַת הַמַּעְגָּל הָאַחֲרוֹנָה שֶׁלָּנוּ, דָּנִי, אַחַד הַמּוֹרִים שֶׁלָּנוּ לְלִימּוּדִי יִשְׂרָאֵל, הֲנָחָה אוֹתָנוּ לְתוֹפֵף עַל הָרִיצְפָּה בִּקְרִיאוֹת "עִם יִשְׂרָאֵל חַי" וָ"עוֹד אָבִינוּ חַי". הוּא סִיפֵּר לָנוּ שֶׁיְּחִידוֹת הַצָּבָא קָרְאוּ אֶת הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים הָאֵלָה לִפְנֵי כְּנִיסָתָם לַקְּרָב, וּבְכוֹל הָאֶרֶץ חַיּיֹלִים קוֹרְאִים אֶת הַמִּילִּים הָאֵלֶּה, מִתְכּוֹנְנִים לְהִיכָּנֵס לָעָזָּה  או לְהָגֵן עַל הַצָּפוֹן. יַחַד, הָרְגָעִים הָאַחֲרוֹנִים שֶׁלָּנוּ במוס בִּילִּינוּ בְּשִׁירָה, ובִּתְפִילָּה לִשְׁלוֹמָהּ שֶׁל יִשְׂרָאֵל.

 

כְּשֶׁחָזַרְנוּ לבארק הַכִּיתָּה שֶׁלָּנוּ הָיְיתָה מְאוֹד מְחוּבֶּרֶת בִּגְלַל הַהִתְנָסוּת שֶׁלָּנוּ בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל. שָׂרַדְנוּ אֶת עוֹנַת הַגָּשַׁת הַבַּקָּשָׁה לקולג' בַּכָּךְ שֶׁנִּשְׁעֲנוּ אֶחָד עַל הַשֵּׁנִי ותָּמַכְנוּ אַחֵד בִּשְׁנֵי לְלֹא שִׁיפּוּט. הָיִינוּ שָׁם אֶחָד בַּשְּׁבִיל הַשֵּׁנִי בְּכָל חֲגִיגָה וְרֶגַע קָשֶׁה. נָכַחְנוּ אַחֵד בִּשְׁבִיל הַשֵּׁנִי, בָּאֵירוּעִים שֶׁתִּכְנַנּוּ, בַּהֲפָקוֹת שֶׁהַיְינוּ חָלַק מֵהֶן, בַּמִּשְׂחָקִים שֶׁשִּׂיחַקְנוּ וּבַּטְּקָסִים שֶׁאִרְגַנוּ. בַּיּוֹם הָהַבְרָזָה שֶׁל כִּיתָּה יב שֶׁלָּנוּ שִׂיחַקְנוּ פיינטבול, ושִׂיחַקְנוּ בְּהִתְלַהֲבוּת בַּמִּשְׂחָק "סניור אססין" (Senior Assassin).

 

נֶהֱנִינוּ מֵהַשַּׁבָּתוֹן הָאַחֲרוֹן שֶׁלָּנוּ בְּתִיכוֹן, מֵטִּיּוּל הַבּוֹגְרִים שֶׁלָּנוּ וּמֵהַנֶּשֶׁף - וְעַכְשׁיֹו אֲנַחְנוּ כָּאן, בַּסּוֹף דַּרְכֵּנוּ, בְסִיוּם הַלִּימּוּדִים. זוֹ הַפַּעַם הָאַחֲרוֹנָה שֶׁכּוּלָּנוּ נִהְיֶה בְּאוֹתוֹ חֶדֶר בְּיַחַד. חֶלְקֵנוּ יוֹצְאִים לַחֲווֹיוֹת הקולג' הַמָּסוֹרְתִּיּוֹת, בֵּין אֵם זֶה כָּאן בפילדלפיה, בִּמְקוֹמוֹת אֲחֵרִים בפנסילבניה, אוֹ מִחוּץ לִמְדִינָה, כְּמוֹ פלורידה, אוהיו אוֹ מרילנד. חֵלֶק נוֹסְעִים לְיִשְׂרָאֵל, לִשְׁנַת Gap, לְמִכְלָלָה, אוֹ לְהִתְגַּיֵּיס לצָבָא. לַמְרוֹת שֶׁאוּלַי לֹא נִהְיָה בְּיַחַד פִיזִית אַחֲרֵי הַטֶּקֶס הַזֶּה, אֲבָל אֲנִי יוֹדַעַת שֶׁיָּצַרְנוּ זִּיכְרוֹנוֹת וּקִשְׁרֵי חֲבֵרוֹת לְכָל הַחַיִּים. אֲנִי אֲסִירָה תּוֹדָה לִהְיוֹת חֵלֶק מִשִּׁכְבַת 2025! 

תּוֹדָה לָכֶם!
 

Or Weitzman '25

Distinguished administrators, beloved teachers, family and friends –

Thank you all for coming to celebrate and support our class, the class of 2025. Let me also thank my classmates for this opportunity to speak. You know me well enough by now to know how much I enjoy having a microphone and how dangerous it is to give me one for five whole minutes.

This is technically a high school graduation, but high school is only four years, and for many of our relationships, four years doesn’t even scratch the surface. I’ve gone to school with some of you for eleven years. Some of you have known each other for even longer – a couple of you, from the day you were born – Right, Goldsteins? 

Whether you came from Abrams, Stern, Foreman, JDS, or public school – most of us didn’t just go to high school together. We've grown up together. 

After elementary school at Stern, my twin brother Lev and I started at our local public school. While Lev welcomed the opportunity to start fresh, I missed the intimacy of my Stern class – and nearly all of those former classmates had gone to Barrack. So in December of 2018, having braved the cruel hallways of Suburban Welsh Valley, I reunited with my grade and started at Barrack. 
 

On my first day, I stepped out of the passenger-side door of a hot-red 2017 Honda Fit, and walked in with my older brother, a senior at the time. I entered a school that immediately felt familiar and warm – that already knew me, knew my family, and my brothers.  

Those were the days of daunting book talks with Mrs. Pransky; of comedy routines in Reform minyan; of love letters stuffed in lockers. Every Saturday night brought a Bar Mitzvah party; a chance to whip out new dance moves – I’m sure my class knows some of mine all too well by this point. 

When COVID hit toward the end of 7th grade, everything changed. Classes moved to Google Meet, and our routines disappeared. But by the time we came back in 8th grade—even if it was under tents in the backyard and layered in sweatshirts, dodging geese poop—something was different. We were taller, our voices a little deeper, we were a little less like kids. And I think, whether we realized it or not, we were glad to be back with each other.

Then came 9th grade – our first year of high school. A new wing of the building, a flood of new people to the grade, and just as many people who left. The grade dynamics changed. It took time to find our rhythm again – to build friendships and connections that worked. We faced new challenges: our first research paper, our first Shakespeare play, and, let’s be honest, our first grades that actually mattered.

By 10th grade, the class felt a little more settled. We’d gotten to know each other, had developed friend groups, and figured out the protocols of Barrack upper school. Some of us even began to drive, and the world felt a little bit bigger. Our class trip to Washington D.C. was a smashing … 5/10! But at least we had each other’s company. 

At the start of 11th grade, most of us travelled to Israel together for Muss. For six weeks, we shared some of the most memorable days of our lives—afternoons at the Tel Aviv beach, long hikes in the sun, and quiet moments at the Kotel. It was the longest, and definitely the furthest, many of us had ever been away from home.

On October 7, we were in Jerusalem. Awakened by sirens, we ran out of our hotel rooms and hurried through the bomb shelter’s metal door. We sat there anxiously while the sirens wore on through the morning. The shelter doubled as a chapel with a Torah, and eventually, we realized this might be our only chance for a morning Simchat Torah service. So even in the midst of the fear and confusion, we made that service happen—praying, singing, and dancing with the Torah.

Over the next few days, we followed horrifying reports from the South and worried about what might come from the North. As administrators scrambled to find us flights home, our class prepared care packages for displaced families, and, led by Jacob Weiner and Ariel Shavit, helped raise almost $300,000— I’m sure many of the donors are in this room.

Back home, we stepped off the plane into a world of fear and division. It was a stressful time that sometimes brought our grade closer together, and at other times, pulled us apart. But as we witnessed and continue to see violence and hatred like never before, having each other meant we were never truly alone. Together, we returned to routine. Once again, we greeted Mr. Lieberman in the halls – felt warm and tingly when he called us scholar; we developed “pain-stakingly” close analyses of Jay Gatsby with Mr. Mclaughlin; and with Ms. Pandian and Mr Maybloom’s much needed support, began the college process. 

12th grade has been defined by the moments we’ve shared as a class—almost as if we all sensed, whether we said it aloud or not, that our time together was running short. We deepened old friendships and formed new ones with people we never expected to. And as our classes wound down, we engaged with our learning in a way I’d never seen before – even when our grades didn’t “matter” anymore. We discussed personal theologies with Rabbi Razin, buried ourselves in biblical texts with Dr. Frei, and acted out dramatic Shakespeare readings with Dr. Greebel. 

         On our final day, I pulled into the parking lot, exited the driver side door of a hot-red 2017 Honda Fit, and met my classmates on the turf beneath a rising sun. We sat together, listening to the music of our childhood – enjoying each others’ company. That afternoon, we honked our horns in celebration, but I think, even in that moment, we felt a quiet sadness for everything we were leaving behind. Since then, we’ve dueled in paintball, decorated cakes, braved roller coasters in the pouring rain—and tried to soak in these final months together, knowing that this is what we had left as a class, as high schoolers. 

         And that brings us to this moment. When we walk through those doors, things will change. We won’t be classmates anymore. We won’t have school, or “Senior Fridays,” as an excuse to see each other, and this  high school experience – the one we've shared for the past four years– will belong to the past. But the countless memories we've shared –- the hushed jokes during Mrs. Siney’s class, the walks to wawa in the bitter cold, and the impassioned debates with Dr. Z and Mrs. Scheinmann  – will endure. And if we can hold on to those moments, we can hold on to the connections they created, even if we don’t see each other every day. 

          I’d like to close with one more memory from the time many of us were in Israel. on one of our tiyulim, we ventured into this cave. We were huddled together deep underground, in pitch blackness. Our teacher Michael was trying to quiet us down, but we were shouting and laughing and poking each other – whoopetartars were echoing off the walls. But then, eventually, our poking and shouting faded, and for just a moment – maybe two minutes – we were completely silent and still. And in that moment, if I had only my physical senses to rely on, I would have thought I was completely alone. But really, I was right beside some of the best friends I’ve ever known. 

         As we go on with our lives — to college, to new cities with new people— it might feel like we’re stepping into the unknown. It might feel, at times, like we’ve left something behind-- the closeness of this grade, this school, this community. We’ll miss each other. But just like in that cave, even if we cant see or speak to each other, our connections are still there – they always will be. 

Thank you.