These snapshots of gedolim in camp are more than summer moments. They’re lifetime memories

Unforgettable athletic contests, soul-stirring cantatas, breathtaking trips, intense color war competitions, and above all, great camaraderie. While boys take those camp memories with them well into their adult years, some of the most cherished recollections are in another league: a camp visit from a gadol. Away from the standard yeshivah or rabbinic setting, a gadol in camp means that a boy not only gets to see the human side of these larger-than-life personas, but has an opportunity for interactions he wouldn’t dream of during the year.

These snapshots of gedolim in camp are more than summer moments. They’re lifetime memories. 

The Sweetest Song of All

Rav Yeruchim Olshin

Camp Rayim

There was another building down the road whose lights stayed on throughout the night, also reverberating with song — the tunes of the beis medrash.

Like most camps, Camp Rayim hosted a popular band and singer for what’s become the traditional Motzaei Shabbos Nachamu concert. Given the late summer Shabbos, the concert started only at 10 p.m, ending slightly past midnight — and that was just for the younger grades. After catching their breaths for a few minutes, the band was ready for round two — a concert for the mesivta division, in which they electrified the large social hall and kept the energized bochurim dancing into the wee hours of the morning.

And while the social hall pulsated with excitement, there was another building down the road whose lights stayed on throughout the night, also reverberating with song — the tunes of the beis medrash. That Shabbos, Lakewood rosh yeshivah Rav Yeruchem Olshin had come to Camp Rayim, and a family member of his wanted to attend the concert. Not wanting to go to sleep until the bochur was back but uninterested in attending a concert, the Rosh Yeshivah headed for the beis medrash, where he removed his hat and frock and swayed over his Gemara, singing the sweetest of songs. In his own blissful world, the Rosh Yeshivah sat through the night, writing chiddushim and plowing through the yam haTalmud.

By the time the concert (and postconcert ad hoc kumzitz) ended, it was already early morning, and the head counselor made a quick decision to send the bochurim to daven vasikin. Bleary-eyed bochurim entered the beis medrash, only to see Rav Yeruchem donning his tallis and tefillin as well, his eyes shining from a night well spent.

Time Out

Rav Chaim Stein

Camp Kol Torah

Bats were lowered, the ball was reverently dropped and 25 pairs of young, impressionable eyes watched the elderly rosh yeshivah haltingly make his way across the field.

Camp Kol Torah is located on the scenic grounds of the Telshe Yeshiva of Wickliffe, Ohio. For one month during the summer, the grassy areas dotting the large property are converted into sports fields, the cover of the small (“Olympic”) pool adjacent to the dorm is removed, a cheery banner is hung across the back wall of the dining room, and the Henry Beren Campus of Telshe Yeshiva is transformed into a camp setting. Yet for Rav Chaim Stein ztz”l, the venerated rosh yeshivah of Telshe, the focal point remained the same: the majestic beis medrash. Every day, Rav Chaim would make his way from his home on Nutwood Lane to the beis medrash where he learned first seder, and then make his way back home following Minchah.

The route the Rosh Yeshivah took cut right through an area that had been dubbed the “junior baseball field.” (The senior baseball field at least had the metal fence surrounding the batter’s box, and some sand thrown in for authenticity.  The junior field was designated as such, thanks to some rubber bases scattered about.) And the time that Rav Chaim walked home inevitably coincided with leagues. Each day, in middle of the game, one of the campers would excitedly call out, “Rav Chaim is coming!”

Bats were lowered, the ball was reverently dropped and 25 pairs of young, impressionable eyes watched as the elderly Rosh Yeshivah, his holy countenance and demeanor exuding the nobility of Telz, haltingly made his way across the field. The boys on the field may have been too young to understand the Rosh Yeshivah’s shmuessen, yet the image of a talmid chacham whose schedule remained unchanged even on “vacation” — and the kavod haTorah it engendered, left an indelible impression.