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Remembering Rebbetzin Sara Freifeld, a”h
The Jewish Home | JULY 28, 2022 Remembering Rebbetzin Sara Freifeld, a”h
By Naftali HalperN
Having raised three children as a single mother, Sara Cohen, Ph.D. was at the peak of her academic career in 1984 when she was in Israel on a Fulbright Scholarship conducting research and teaching at Hebrew University. Perhaps the greatest testament to Sara’s intellectual bandwidth, though, was that she even considered Rav Simcha Wasserman’s suggestion at that time that she should marry Reb Shlomo Freifeld; after all, that would require her to radically change course mid-stream. Yet, after meeting with Reb Shlomo in Israel on several occasions, she readily gave up her scholarship – much to the chagrin of her academic colleagues who were shocked that she would give up such a prestigious position – married Reb Shlomo, and moved back with him to his community in Far Rockaway.
Thus began the second chapter of Sara Cohen’s life, when she affectionately became known to Reb Shlomo’s hundreds of talmidim as “The Rebbetzin.”
Reb Shlomo’s union with the Rebbetzin began an important second chapter in his own life as well, a chapter that at the time seemed unlikely to take place. over a well-oiled spiritual ecosystem.
His yeshiva, Sh’or Yoshuv, was thriving, as were his boys’ and girls’ schools and a full-fledged kehilla of hundreds of families.
One piece of the puzzle was missing, though: Reb Shlomo’s wife Rebbetzin Chaya Sara, a”h, tragically passed away at a young age. She was an angelic person who drew hundreds to Yiddishkeit in her own right. Her loss was devastating to Reb Shlomo and the many who considered her to be like a mother.
Those close to Reb Shlomo sadly accepted the fact that this piece of the picture would remain missing – Reb Shlomo would continue to be mashpia, but he would now be alone.
When Reb Shlomo was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, the outlook dimmed further. Although Reb Shlomo was a fighter and did not allow his illness to temper his passion for building up Jewish souls, it was clear that this was a late stage in his life.
Due to his illness, Reb Shlomo’s house at 707 Bolton Road in Far Rockaway became the epicenter of his dayto-day activities. Reb Shlomo’s family and talmidim fully embraced the role of caretakers in his home.
The house was active from early morning until late at night, with talmidim and other visitors coming and going – some there for a class, some for advice, and some just to bask in their Rebbe’s presence.
On a visit to the house, one may have encountered a visiting rosh yeshiva, a CEO of a large company, or a longhaired teenager who came to find out about “this thing called Shabbos.”
Reb Shlomo’s big personality meant that even mundane matters were infused with meaning, humor, and joy. Whereas one may have expected an aura of intensity when sitting at a gadol’s dining room table, if someone needed cheering up, Reb Shlomo would regale them with jokes and even play practical tricks on them.
Reb Shlomo was a master at bringing out people’s strengths. That meant that if a talmid chacham was at the table, those around would hear a deep Torah thought; if a scientist was present, they might be given a discourse in chemistry; and if someone with a unique sense of humor were there, there would undoubtedly be barrels of laughs.
A well-known visitor who dabbled in poetry quipped upon leaving his meeting at Reb Shlomo’s home: “It may be cloudy out here, but it’s sunny in there.”
In line with Reb Shlomo’s philosophy of infusing even the mundane with meaning, there were frequently lavish seudos. Those, too, were teaching moments for Reb Shlomo. He might take notice of a new student from mid-America and pepper him with questions about life in his hometown; he might ask a composer to teach “the oilam” his newest song; or he might bait an enthusiastic baal teshuvah to try some herring for the first time. All activities in the house, though, had the singular underlying purpose of helping Yidden and spreading Yiddishkeit, even as it was an exciting place to be.
When the Rebbetzin stepped off of a plane from Israel to join Reb Shlomo, this was the new world that she entered.
she would often quip that Reb Shlomo shrewdly told her when they met in Israel that he has “a little shteibel in Far Rockaway.” She would recall how she was taken aback when she went with Reb Shlomo to his “shteibel” the first Shabbos and observed hundreds of men stand up in raptured attention as their Rebbe walked into shul. Laughingly she would add, “Some shteibel!”
Although the cogs of this kehilla were already in rhythmic motion, when the Rebbetzin entered Reb Shlomo’s world, the house at 707 Bolton Road became even brighter.
“She was an aristocratic woman and had the confidence to take it all on,”
noted son-in-law Rabbi Avrohom Halpern at the levaya. “It didn’t take her long to see what the Rebbe was doing and accomplishing in this world, and she jumped in right away and became part of the Yeshiva.”
For Reb Shlomo personally, the Rebbetzin was a caring wife and an intellectual partner who reinvigorated him and was wholly dedicated to him. Despite her stature, she would leap to her feet to tend to his every need, including tying his shoelaces when he could not bend over after several back surgeries. She helped him in an even deeper way by becoming his soulmate.
The Rebbetzin’s intelligence and memory helped her quickly get to know hundreds of people in Rav Shlomo’s kehilla, but her big heart and warm embrace are what drew them close to her. She became the matriarch of Reb Shlomo’s immediate family and the Sh’or Yoshuv family-at-large.
Although one may expect a busy rebbetzin to put other endeavors to the side, Reb Shlomo insisted that the Rebbetzin continue her accomplished academic career. In fact, for their first few years of marriage, the Rebbetzin would fly to Albany, where she served as Associate Dean of Humanities at SUNY Albany. When she returned from those trips, Reb Shlomo would break out in a big smile, and all those around the table could see how he not only wanted to hear about her day but also wanted to bring her up-to-date on what happened while she was out. She would quickly become his intellectual counterpart as he would discuss matters of hashkafa, talk about a student’s accomplishment, or simply seek her opinion about the hot topic of the day.
It was during times like these that the talmidim got to witness the mutual admiration that the two had for each other.
The Rebbetzin had the confidence to add to the conversation when it was warranted but also to demur. If Reb Shlomo, in his excitement, would ask her about something that was outside of her wheelhouse, she might laugh, clutch her pearl necklace, gesture with her hand, and say, “Oh, Reb Shlomo.”
Despite her reverence for Reb Shlomo and her appreciation of the general milieu, the Rebbetzin knew when and how to put her stamp on the house.
Some students joyously recall one time when the Rebbetzin walked into the house during a large seudah, after traveling back from Albany. One of the talmidim’s son was at the seudah and was “trying to eat” a piece of fish; after
all, that is what was being served. The Rebbetzin quickly noticed the young boy, looked down at his plate, and declared, “Someone get this young man a slice of pizza!” home, but seeing the Rebbetzin off to the side and wishing her a good Shabbos was cathartic for many.
Interacting with the Rebbetzin was not just a way for many to hold on to their rebbe, rather, she became a nurturing figure who was there to hear about what was going on in the talmidim’s lives. Their joy was her joy, and their hardships became her hardships.
when Reb shlomo passed away on Sukkos 1990, it left a gaping and unfulfillable hole in the hearts of his talmidim. The world that Reb Shlomo built would have to go on without him. There would certainly be growing pains, but there was one constant during that period: the Rebbetzin. Filing out of shul on Shabbos was different now that people could no longer escort their rebbe
Seeing the respect that their parents had for the Rebbetzin, many children who were like “grand-talmidim” of Reb Shomo kept up with the Rebbetzin and maintained that relationship with her.
Those relationships ensued and grew over the next three decades. Whether it was a simcha, at shul, on the street, or a visit to her home on Purim, talmidim felt like she was not just a link to their rebbe but an essential part of their family.
despIte heR monIkeR, the Rebbetzin saw herself as a regular person. She was just as content sitting at home with her stack of books as she was in places where her role was that of a rebbetzin. She did not preach to others but instead sought to learn from them. Even with her intellectual prowess, she was usually on the listening end of conversations. She was equally as comfortable conversing about light topics – during which her hearty laugh flowed easily – as she was discussing serious issues. Her perspective was humanistic; she looked at the whole person and appreciated all sorts of character traits. She brought out the higher aspects of people, making them feel better about themselves not necessarily by talking but by listening. Even so, she could be blunt and to the point but never in a sharp or personal way.
Granddaughter Baila Halpern recalls how the Rebbetzin would tell her, almost as if disclosing a secret that was not for public consumption, “Baila, all of this intellectual stuff is garbage. The most important thing is to be a good person, a good mother, and to be tuned into people.”
the RebbetzIn’s lifelong quest for truth, Torah, and connection to Hashem was a masterclass in growth. Despite being raised in a mostly secular environment in Costa Rica, where her family fled from the ashes of Europe, at a young age, she already amassed a vast amount of Jewish knowledge and a deep understanding of the nuances of Yiddishkeit. As son-in-law Rav Naftoli Jaeger noted at the levaya, “When Rav Simcha Wasserman suggested to the Shver to meet her, he knew that she had a deep neshama, a brilliant mind, and a true lev tov. She was a real fusion of mind and heart.”
Her closest friend was the Chofetz Chaim’s granddaughter, Rebbetzin Rivka Wiesenfeld. She became like an aunt to the Wiesenfeld children.
Rav Zechariah Wiesenfeld recalled at the levaya that in his youth, when the Rebbetzin was a single mother, she spent most Shabbosim with the Wiesenfeld family. At that point, his father had already passed away and the Rebbetzin was not only a close friend to his mother
but was there for the entire Wiesenfeld family. He would always cherish the lengthy conversations that he had with her about “anything to do with Yiddishkeit.” He noted that the Rebbetzin “was a brilliant person” who was “always growing and always learning.”
“The Rebbetzin didn’t have an easy life; she had many nisyonos ha’chaim,” Rav Wiesenfeld noted, “but with her emunah and strength of character, she rose above all challenges, and even in the most difficult times, she was always cheerful.”
RaIsIng thRee chIldRen as a single mother was certainly not a simple task, but the Rebbetzin succeeded in a most beautiful way. The effort she put into the chinuch of her son Reb Refael and two daughters, Tamar and Ayelet, is evident not only by the loving relationships that they had with her but also by their refined characters, which closely resemble hers. As she and Reb Shlomo married off each of the children to well-suited spouses, her joy and Reb Shlomo’s joy expanded.
For more than two decades, the Rebbetzin lived with her son Reb Refael and his family in Far Rockaway. Reb Refael’s respect and devotion for her was unparalleled. Her daughter-in-law Rivka was like a daughter to her and took care of her until her last days with the utmost love, care, and devotion. The Rebbetzin was full of pride that her son-in-law Rabbi Aharon Mehlman and his wife Ayelet were being mashpia all types of Jews in Manhattan, where Rabbi Mehlman is a rav. And, having an incredible love for Eretz Yisroel, she was so proud that her daughter and son-in-law, Reb Nuchum Berel and Tamar Loring, and their family live in Israel.
Her children’s and grandchildren’s growth in Torah was of the utmost importance to her. Last summer, when a step-grandson finished Shas, she insisted on attending the siyum, even though she was already weak. She didn’t have to express her feelings at this event; the big smile and joy on her face said it all.
Despite her vast accomplishments, including serving as the dean of Touro’s College for Women at one point, the Rebbetzin made it clear that her most significant achievement was presiding over a large family of Torah-dik Yidden. Her nachas continued to grow over the years as her family expanded. Each time that she had another great-grandchild she would shower the mother and baby with gifts and would see to it that the mother was recovering well.
For Reb Shlomo’s family, she filled the role of doting grandmother, blending the Freifeld and Cohen families.
She loved to give to others and happily provided in all ways for her grandchildren. She was always available to talk and had a deep understanding of what each family member needed.
One time she called one of her step-grandchildren and asked him to take a specific piece of furniture that was extremely meaningful to her; it was a relic from her time with Reb Shlomo. When the grandchild said, “Don’t you want to keep this?Aren’t there other grandchildren that should maybe get this?” She responded with her ever-present confidence, “I offered it to you for a reason – trust me. I want you to have it.”
Another step-grandchild recalls how whenever he saw the Rebbetzin, no matter how many people were in the room, as soon as he would approach her, she would greet him, “Oh, hi!” with a tone
By Chaviva Stein
We called her Bubby Rock, because she lived in Far Rockaway.
Bubby Rock was fun. She was generous, and it was always a party when she came to visit us. She would take us out for dinner, or order in, which was very exciting for us as kids who didn’t eat out much. She let us order our own cans of soda too, always Dr. Brown’s Cream Soda. She was always mixing up her words with silly results, one time placing an order for “chicken flickins’” instead of chicken fingers, which we all still quote to this day. I was privileged to live near her after I got married for close to ten years, and she was constantly buying cookies and ice cream treats for my kids when they came over to visit. She indulged us all.
For years, she went down to Florida for the winters, and we would visit her there in her Century Village apartment. Her credit card was always available for us to use on those trips, and I will admit that we took advantage. When we needed something at Target we always threw in a few extra goodies since we knew Bubby was paying for it. She never complained about money or prices, only about how large the portion sizes were at restaurants. Whatever dish she would order, she would inevitably proclaim it too big for one person, and we would all roll our eyes at her small appetite as we devoured our entire dish of penne ala vodka. We thought of Bubby as a fountain of unselfish, lavish abundance.
When I got married, she gave us a nice wedding gift, and later on helped my husband pay for a used car when he got his
of excitement as if seeing him was an unexpected treat.
Each person who would greet her felt like they were the most important person in the world to her.
At family simchos or on occasions such as Purim, when there were many people around her, the Rebbetzin managed to pay attention to each person.
The Rebbetzin taught by how she lived, compounding the knowledge she would impart. One step-granddaughter recalls calling her in a panic because she was asked to give a course on tz-
inius and was unsure if she was up to the task. Seeing this as a good opportunity for her granddaughter and wanting her to succeed, the Rebbetzin pushed her to give the course and, to get it off to a good start, volunteered to speak at the first class.
Her step-granddaughter recalls that class: “There were a bunch of women there who didn’t know what to expect. The Rebbetzin walked in and didn’t say a word about tzinius. Instead, she spoke about what it means to be a lady and how to carry oneself as a lady.”
The women present were awe-struck by her perspective and how her regal stature did not come simply from her tall external posture but from her higher internal view.
Although her presence was magnetic and oftentimes resulted in her being at the center of conversation, she used that to draw everyone into the conversation.
She laughed joyously and easily, confirming to those in her midst that she was truly enjoying her time with them.
The conversation was pliable. At one moment she could be talking about an involved book that she was reading and the very next moment she could take notice of a toddler on the floor in front of her, bend down in her chair, and say in a
sing-song tone, “My gosh, where did you get those pretty little shoes?”
when synthesIzIng a life of deep values learned from his mother, son Reb Refael distilled it to one lesson: she taught her family what it means to have a beautiful life.
Indeed, her physical presence was matched by her regal spiritual posture. This is a beauty that is not bound by physical limitations and survives even after her passing. It is a beauty that all who were fortunate enough to know the Rebbetzin can continue to emulate.
In that sense, like Reb Shlomo, she remains our teacher.
first job all the way in Lakewood. She always asked my husband about his work and was interested in his endeavors. She was so supportive of us as a couple and family, and thought our three kids were geniuses, even though it was she who was the most educated, worldly, sophisticated, accomplished woman that I knew. Although she had been a lauded professor and dean of Touro College, she respected and appreciated my decision of being a stay-at-home mother. Being so close by, I would visit her often, by myself and with my children. She loved to read books and play with the kids, spoiling them with her undivided attention. For the last few years, we had a standing Wednesday dinner in her house together, paid for by Bubby, of course. My kids got to really know her, and her presence was a fixed part of their life. We are going to miss those dinners.
Growing up, she would come to us a lot for Shabbosim and move into my purple bedroom for the weekend. She always slept with her small pocket radio on, in the days before noise machines. The whole night her radio would play, and it was a comforting, happy sound; it meant Bubby was in the house. Bubby loved to clean, and it wasn’t beneath her dignity to organize our pantry and clean out our refrigerator. Of course, my mother never asked her to do this, she did it on her own. This was her version of fun. Bubby liked to tidy up, and it felt like a camp cleanup inspection every time she came to our house. She was a revered rebbetzin but so down to earth.
For a better understanding of who my grandmother was, please read up on all of the other articles being published about her these next few weeks. Find a recording of the levaya; listen to the praise that was sung about her true virtues. The above is just my brain throwing out an assortment of instant recollections about Bubby, and the rest, as they come to me, will be featured, in a more coherent, organized way in weeks to come. But what I personally feel most at this moment is an appreciation for my grandmother’s abundance and the way she made us feel so taken care of in her presence.
If we asked, she would give, and even when we didn’t ask, she would offer. She loved her family and saw to it that we felt her love.
