Instead of the melancholy that I expect when discussing the demise of her husband who passed away in his prime just a few short years after their marriage every mention of Rav Shlomo elicits a smile. “We had such good times” the Rebbetzin reminisces. “He just loved people. He enjoyed life. He was the most normal person you could ever meet”

S ara E. Schyfter PhD Associate Dean of Humanities at SUNY Albany and mother of three teens was the model of professional success and sound judgment when she arrived at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. Proud awardee of the prestigious Fulbright scholarship one of the world’s most coveted academic awards she was embarking on a two-year journey of research and education. So it came as quite a shock to her colleagues when barely three weeks after her arrival she announced that she was leaving.

“I’ve found someone I need to marry, so I’m returning to the US,” she explained matter-of-factly.

“But you’re not a 16-year-old!” they spluttered, astonished that someone would forego such an opportunity.

Undeterred, she politely but firmly returned the grant, hopped on a plane to the United States, and in short order began a new chapter in her life as Rebbetzin Sara Freifeld, wife of the legendary Rav Shlomo.

Now, in the elegant dining room of her Far Rockaway home, Rebbetzin Freifeld exudes a self-effacing graciousness that belies her evident sophistication. Tall and willowy, with a ready smile, she carries herself with a nobility that somehow complements her down-to-earth friendliness.

The most striking thing about our encounter is the joy and laughter that punctuate the conversation. Instead of the melancholy that I expect when discussing the demise of her husband, who passed away in his prime just a few short years after their marriage, every mention of Rav Shlomo elicits a smile. “We had such good times,” the Rebbetzin reminisces. “He just loved people. He enjoyed life. He was the most normal person you could ever meet.”

A Giant among Men

Rav Shlomo Freifeld ztz”l, the son of an immigrant shoe salesman, grew up in East New York in the days before a yeshivah education was recognized as the right of every Jewish child. His parents originally planned to send him to public school, but when they were told that in Yeshiva Toras Chaim their son would be occupied and supervised into the late afternoon, while his parents worked, they opted to send him there.

Later on, as a student at Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin, a powerful, lifelong bond was formed between young Shlomo and the rosh yeshivah, Rav Yitzchok Hutner ztz”l. “He taught me everything I know,” Rav Shlomo used to say. Rav Hutner returned his student’s affection, drawing him close and singling him out for important charges, such as representing his Rebbi in the founding of P’eylim, the organization devoted to rescuing Jewish children who’d been placed in anti-religious institutions in the early years of Israeli independence.

Rav Shlomo relocated to Far Rockaway along with Rav Hutner, where Rav Shlomo served as the principal of Chaim Berlin. When the yeshivah moved to Brooklyn, though, Rav Shlomo remained in Far Rockaway. It was time to strike out on his own, and build an institution in his own distinctive mold.

Sh’or Yoshuv, the yeshivah that Rav Shlomo founded, became a magnet for thinking Jews of all stripes. There, skilled talmidei chachamim toiled alongside disenchanted youth who had never learned to read Hebrew. Products of mainstream yeshivos shteiged alongside long-haired newcomers. All were united by the drive to uncover truth — and by the force of their Rebbi’s personality. Story after story tell of how, despite Rav Shlomo’s brilliance, he was able to meet a talmid on his own level. Indeed, many beginners were taught the very basics of learning.

“It wasn’t about quantity, but about mastery. He would tell his students, after they had completed one daf, that the next daf wasn’t harder, just different. Once they had learned one daf, they could conquer all of Shas,” remembers the Rebbetzin.

Lifting His Listeners

Throughout his life, Rav Shlomo exhorted his talmidim to “Be big!” His goal was to raise people out of the confines of their smallness, inspiring them to grow by helping them touch their latent potential. From his rebbi, Rav Hutner, he absorbed the Slabodka approach of emphasizing man’s inherent greatness.

He lived by the motto encapsulated by a phrase in Yeshayahu, “l’hachayos ruach shefalim, v’l’hachayos lev nidkaim — to revive the spirits of the lowly, and to revive the hearts of the oppressed,” words which were engraved on his matzeivah. He did not rebuke; he inspired growth, so that the erstwhile struggle was no longer relevant to the elevated neshamah he had cultivated.

This approach manifested itself in encounters that ranged from the mundane to the life changing. A relative remembers her first Tzom Gedaliah as a married woman. Instead of telling her that he felt she shouldn’t be fasting, Rav Shlomo called her up and asked conversationally, “So, what did you have for breakfast this morning?”

Rav Shlomo also used this approach when talking to the students of Ayelet Hashachar, the seminary he founded with his first rebbetzin and Rabbi Moshe Weitman, a”h. In the early ’70s, the decade of the mini-skirt, covering the knee was virtually unheard of in the students’ circles. One evening, Rav Shlomo entered the classroom unexpectedly, and wrote on the board the pasuk dealing with vows: “Ish o ishah ki yafli lindor neder — When a man or woman separate themselves to make a vow.” He pointed out that the word yafli, meaning, separate oneself, is a derivation of the word peleh, a wonder. Abandoning one’s previous mode of behavior and striving for a higher level, he told them passionately, is literally a wonder!

After this brief, unscheduled lesson, he apologized that he couldn’t remain, and left the room. Immediately, the Rebbetzin (his first wife, who was the scheduled teacher) entered, and explained that he could not continue teaching them unless they upgraded their level of tzniyus. Far from feeling censured, the girls absorbed the certainty that Rav Shlomo believed them capable of working wonders.

Long before the baal teshuvah movement existed, Rav Shlomo was drawing lost souls close to Torah with his fiery love for them and for Yiddishkeit. “He didn’t impact people through fear — he impacted them through love, humor, and acceptance,” reflects the Rebbetzin.

Standing well over six feet, with an imposing build, booming voice, and burning love for every Jew, Rav Shlomo was a giant, both physical and spiritual.

His wife would need to be someone as exceptional as he was.

Displaced Roots

Sara’s father was one of a group of young men from Galicia searching for a place that would open its doors to Jews during the turbulent years preceding World War II. The US was closed to Jewish immigrants, so they chose what they thought was second-best: Costa Rica. “You can walk from Costa Rica to America,” they were assured by the ticket seller, apparently a European unfamiliar with the sheer size of the Americas. San José,                                                                                                                                                                                           Costa Rica, became their destination.

Sara’s mother, fiercely proud of her Lithuanian Tarbut-school education, was a passionate Zionist, equally fluent in the prophecies of Yeshayahu and the poetry of Bialik. In fact, the family speculates that it may have been her influence on her neighbor, the Costa Rican foreign minister, which led to Costa Rica being among the first countries to recognize the fledgling State of Israel.

Though it proved to be a haven from the nightmare of the world wars, Costa Rica was rife with anti-Semitism, which young Sara experienced firsthand. When the administration of her school discovered her Jewish identity, she was summarily expelled.

Looking for a place free from anti-Semitism, Sara completed her education at a boarding school in NY, and went on to acquire a degree in English literature. With Spanish as her first language, teaching high school seemed like the obvious career choice. Despite her excellent command of the language, she was required to complete a series of Spanish courses to receive her teaching credentials. While completing that coursework, Sara was recruited to remain in the graduate program as a PhD candidate, focusing on Spanish literature.

After completing her doctorate, Sara taught college-level courses at SUNY Albany, eventually working her way up to the position of Associate Dean of Humanities. Simultaneously, she raised her three children from her first marriage, while continuing to grow in her observance of Torah and reading voraciously to fill in the gaps of her Jewish education.

While Rebbetzin Freifeld’s educational background was not the usual trajectory of a rosh yeshivah’s wife, this Rosh Yeshivah would prove to be a match for his wife’s intellectual prowess. “Everything I had read, he had read too — psychology, history, science,” says Rebbetzin Freifeld. Entirely self-taught in these disciplines, Rav Shlomo used to create flashcards for himself to help him learn new words that he came across in his reading. “He loved to learn, and he wasn’t afraid of knowledge,” remembers the Rebbetzin.

Meet the Freifelds

It was a year after Rav Shlomo’s first wife’s passing when Rav Simcha Wasserman suggested the shidduch with his relative. At their meeting, in Rav and Rebbetzin Wasserman’s apartment in Mattersdorf, Rav Shlomo casually mentioned that he had a small school back in Far Rockaway. His new bride was more than a little taken aback when she arrived to discover that the “small school” was actually a community, comprising a yeshivah gedolah, kollel, elementary schools, and a vibrant communal life.

After a short engagement, the couple was married, and virtually overnight, Rebbetzin Freifeld found herself at the helm of a bustling community, hosting Rav Shlomo’s visitors with aplomb.

The change was immense. Redirecting the talent and poise that had turned her into an accomplished, highly regarded academic, she dedicated herself to Rav Shlomo and his wellbeing. Although Rebbetzin Freifeld downplays it with her characteristic graciousness, claiming that the transition was seamless, her daughter-in-law points out how different the Rebbetzin’s life had suddenly become.

That first Succos after the chasunah, between 60–80 guests would accompany their Rebbi home after davening — and that was only for breakfast! The talmidim loved to spend time with their Rebbi, and the household was the fulcrum of the community. “It felt like the center of the universe,” says his daughter-in-law, remembering the often dizzying hubbub that greeted her when she married into the family.

Putting her vast professional success on the back burner, Rebbetzin Freifeld threw herself into her new role as Rav Shlomo’s helpmate. “My mother-in-law had a very regal personality to begin with. She was always a rebbetzin without a rav,” says her daughter-in-law, explaining how Rebbetzin Freifeld made her new position look effortless.

The couple was inseparable. He would not forego her company when guests, even illustrious rabbanim, were present. The Freifelds would cook together, and Rav Shlomo’s piquant gefilte fish was famous. Disregarding his wife’s culinary admonishments, Rav Shlomo would craft a peppery offering that would require visiting bochurim to clutch a glass of water as they ate.

“He had an office, but he loved to be home. The yeshivah was run from the dining-room table,” reminisces the Rebbetzin, “and I was there with him all the time.”

Rav Shlomo, for his part, was careful not to stifle the Rebbetzin’s identity. Although she was prepared to resign her position, he insisted that she continue in her teaching duties in SUNY Albany. So Rebbetzin Dr. Freifeld embarked on a long-distance commute — every Monday, she’d fly to Albany to teach her post-graduate classes. The short flight was the one oasis of calm where she could sit back and be offered a coffee to enjoy in quiet solitude. Flying back the same day, she’d find a piping-hot dinner, lovingly cooked by Rav Shlomo and his devoted talmid, R’ Dovid Sitnick. The house would be spotless, the dishes washed. “I suppose he saw my face the first time I came home, horrified to see all the dirty coffee cups left by the visitors who had been over while I was gone,” laughs Rebbetzin Freifeld.

Together, the Freifelds married off the Rebbetzin’s three children and one of Rav Shlomo’s sons, creating an extended clan with strong family ties.

Daughter-in-law Rivka Cohen notes that Rebbetzin Freifeld sees only the good in her family. The Cohens have shared a home with the Rebbetzin for 18 years. “There were five crying children under age six, but everything was always great, the kids were always adorable, and the housekeeping was perfect,” laughs Rivka.

“But it really was!” interjects the Rebbetzin, her compliment entirely sincere.

A Haven in the Storm

Barely a month after their marriage, a shadow fell over the Freifelds’ idyllic existence. The cancer that had struck Rav Shlomo previously — and was believed vanquished — returned with a vengeance.

For the last five years of his life, Rav Shlomo would battle the illness that constantly renewed its attack. In and out of the hospital, his care fell to the newly minted Rebbetzin, who devoted herself to his wellbeing and comfort. Along with Rav Shlomo’s son Avrohom Mordechai and devoted talmid Benjie Brecher, the Rebbetzin stood by Rav Shlomo as he endured numerous surgeries, some of which removed segments of his spine. The procedures caused him terrible pain and made walking and other daily activities unbearably difficult.

Rebbetzin Freifeld was a pillar of support, helping him manage all the minutiae of daily life. ”Now I knew why I needed to be so tall,” quips the Rebbetzin.

Rav Shlomo’s respect for his wife, and his gratitude for her help, shone even brighter during this challenging period. “Anshuldig, Rebbetzin,” he used to say when he needed assistance, “this is not befitting for your kavod.” Even when he could barely rise from his chair, he never stopped trying to ease her responsibilities. A talmid recalls speaking with the Rosh Yeshivah during breakfast. When Rav Shlomo had finished eating, he took a broom and, still seated, began to sweep around his chair, asking, “It’s enough that the Rebbetzin serves me — must she also clean up after me?”

And yet, despite all the pain and difficulties he endured, members of his household do not remember the years of his illness as a troubled time. “It wasn’t hard,” emphasizes the Rebbetzin. “It’s like when there’s a thunderstorm outside — inside you don’t get wet.”

“He was so full of life, you didn’t realize how sick he was,” recalls a family member. Even in the midst of his agony, Rav Shlomo minimized his pain, describing his suffering only as “discomfort.”

The atmosphere continued to be joyous, and the home remained filled with students, advice seekers, and well-wishers. “Every time he came home, it was a celebration. Everyone came,” says the Rebbetzin.

Arriving home from the hospital on Erev Succos, two days before his petirah, Rav Shlomo insisted on going out to the succah that night, saying, “If I am alive, I am going to live.”

Despite the ups and downs of his illness, no one remembers Rav Shlomo fading away at the end of his life. Although he suffered severely, each time he rebounded. Finally, on Shabbos Chol Hamoed Sukkos in 1990, he was stricken by a sudden heart attack. “It was 1-2-3, just like that — he snuck out,” the Rebbetzin recounts. No slow decline, no loss of his faculties. One moment he was there, and the next, he was gone.

His infectious joy was such that it is impossible to feel sad when recalling him, even after death. “You’re not mourning him. You’re happy when you remember him,” says the Rebbetzin. Even 27 years later, he’s not gone, she maintains. He lives on in the impact he left on everyone around him — and, through his biography, in the life-changing inspiration his story continues to spark in the hearts of generations of Klal Yisrael around the world.

Chochmas Nashim for a New Generation

Rav Shlomo’s deep respect for feminine intelligence was not limited to his own wife.

He often addressed women’s gatherings, and delivered a weekly shiur to the women of his community. In his later years, when his illness curtailed many of his regular activities, his Aseres Yemei Teshuvah speech to the women of Agudath Israel in Boro Park was one of the few obligations he refused to forgo. In fact, it turned out to be his final public appearance, ten days before his untimely passing.

Students recall him underscoring the importance of women learning. Through making time in their lives, even during their busiest days, to connect to Torah, he emphasized, women can find their chiyus and connect to ruchniyus. With so many educational opportunities available, he felt that every woman could carve out five minutes a day to learn, which would become a lever to lift up every aspect of her life.

An educational pioneer, Rav Shlomo spearheaded the founding of an innovative girls school, Tapeinu (currently known as Bnos Bais Yaakov). His educational approach was far ahead of his time, and he emphasized the importance of allowing girls to be educated according to their individual needs without boxing them in.

Differentiated instruction was the norm at Tapeinu, with girls in the same class receiving, for example, individualized spelling lists. The school issued no marks; teachers had to assess girls’ success without the artificial pressure of tests. One parent received his daughter’s report card: a two-page description of his daughter’s strengths, weaknesses, and educational successes and failures. “So,” he asked, reading it carefully, “is this an A or a B?”

At a time when everyone around him expected labels and categories, Rav Shlomo saw the whole person.