“Come in,” came the familiar voice. I turned the doorknob and stepped into the office of Mori V’rabi Harav Ezra Neuberger, zt”l. Rav Ezra’s office was an oasis of calm and tranquility. The walls were lined with a few bookcases of seforim. A couple of chairs sat in the dim light facing the clean desk that held neither a computer nor a phone. I saw him sitting behind the desk, looking at me with undivided attention. Typically, he would give me an appointment – “come back at 1:35.” This time, I had news to share. “My wife had a boy!”

I can still picture his face breaking into a radiant smile as he responded warmly, “You’re shining like a father!”

My connection with Rav Ezra, zt”l, began when I was 20. A young bochur, I entered his shiur and became instantly captivated by his style. There were no fireworks, no layers of chakiros and artful swatches of pilpul. Instead, he offered a structured path, or several, into the minds of the Amoraim and the Rishonim, teaching us how to understand their precious words with care, clarity, and depth. I became so attached that I chose to remain in his shiur the following year. At the beginning of a new z’man, the maarei mekomos he prescribed were often a list of pesukim in Chumash, reflecting his strong sense of the structure of Torah: Torah Sheb’al Peh is built on Torah Shebichsav.

As much as I gained from his shiur, even more impactful for me were the ideas he shared at his Oneg Shabbos. Sitting among the tens of talmidim squished around his dining room table and overflowing into the living room, I tried to soak in his words like the treasures they were. I can’t call them novel ideas – Rebbe would not approve. He always shared “devarim p’shutim” that were, at least to us, the epitome of devarim mechudashim. But one of his oft-quoted refrains were the words of the Ramchal, that devarim p’shutim are often forgotten מרוב פשיטותם. His broad and profound lessons on Torah Shebichsav and Toras Ha’Odom did much more than educate us – they transformed us.

Rebbe made sure the forest was never lost for the trees. I never heard him say even a simple vort that wasn’t yesodosdik. He taught us how to look at Chumash through the lens of תולדות אדם, of מעשה אבות סימן לבנים. What were the worlds of Gan Eden and the teiva? What were the roles of Adam, Noach, the Avos, the Shivtei Kah? What were the struggles between the bnei hagviros and bnei hashefachos; the twin roles of Yehuda and Yosef; the bechira of Esav? Which ten of the “Dibros” constitute the “Aseres Hadevarim”? He spoke about the language of Mikra versus the language of Chazal; the different orders in which the Torah names the shevatim throughout Chumash and why; the relationship between Malchuyos, Zichronos, and Shofaros and why they are at the core of the mo’ed of Rosh Hashana. And so much more. I’ll never forget his creative understanding of מזה ומזה הם כתובים based on a play-doh experiment.

Toras Ha’Odom was the title he used for his lessons on life – fundamental ideas that were simple yet profound: who we are, what our mission is in life; what is bechira. He encouraged us to think for ourselves, to think about ourselves, and to get to know ourselves. Rebbe tried to instill in us his love of questions and would speak passionately about their magnificence. “A question is breathtaking, a teretz is stifling” was one of his refrains.

As a maggid shiur, he was certainly rare but perhaps not unique. In the way he taught us about life and hashkafas haTorah, he may have been unique. But as a baal eitzah, I don’t think I have ever met anyone with such wisdom and clarity. I reserved my most confusing personal questions for Rav Ezra. I would visit his office full of uncertainty. Rebbe would listen quietly and then process my question with the same respect and methodology with which he learned a Tosfos. He boiled the question down to its core and left me with profound clarity.

Rav Ezra taught us that in our present tekufah, beginning with Bayis Sheini, we live in a world of חכם עדיף מנביא, where a chacham is greater than a navi. He, with his profound wisdom, was the ultimate חכם עדיף מנביא.

Rebbe, I wish you were here. I miss you. I miss your Torah, your chochma, and your loving smile. But I will seek comfort in the lessons you taught us. Yaakov Avinu lo meis, I can hear you quoting. Makish zaro lo; ma zaro b’chayim, af hu b’chayim. As long as Yaakov’s children are living, he lives on. We are your children, banecha eilu talmidecha. We will carry on your fealty to Torah and the mesorah, and we will continue living from the glimpses of chochma you gave us. We will always draw inspiration from your love, humility, and greatness, and, with Hashem’s help, try to become the elevated אדם השלם you taught us to be. Ma zaro b’chayim, af hu b’chayim.