A Tribute to Rabbi Meir Chaim Gutfreund

With the world of opportunity open wide before him, Reb Meir Chaim Gutfreund, who passed away on the 17th of Cheshvan, sacrificed all for the sake of his people, and the Torah he cherished so much. 

The young rebbi sat in the black swivel chair in the menahel’s office. This was his first progress meeting with the Cheder of Brooklyn’s veteran menahel and founder, Rabbi Meir Chaim Gutfreund — and he assumed it would be a quick process. He began with the first name on his class list.

“Let’s start with Adler,” he said.

“Baruch?” Rabbi Gutfreund interjected. “He has a lot of chein, that one.”

The new rebbi was taken aback. There were three parallel classes at the Cheder, and Rabbi Gutfreund was the menahel of two other schools as well; he couldn’t possibly keep track of thousands of individual talmidim! Perhaps the menahel was somehow acquainted with the Adler family.

After discussing Baruch with the menahel — who was jotting down information in a fresh notebook — the rebbi moved on to the next name on the list.

“It’s been tough to keep Dovid engaged,” the rebbi began. “I constantly try new tactics to keep him focused on the material, but I keep losing his attention.”

Rabbi Gutfreund was quick to respond. “Didn’t his rebbi from last year recommend additional kriah therapy?” Without skipping a beat, the elderly mechanech reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an older notebook. He flipped through it until he found the page with the class they were discussing.

“Here’s a summary of my last meeting with his previous rebbi,” Rabbi Gutfreund explained, and showed the new rebbi the note scribbled near the boy’s name, which read: May need additional kriah help to keep up with the pace in the classroom. Revisit next year.

As they went through each name on the class list, the rebbi was astounded to discover that the menahel was intimately familiar with each child — his strengths, weaknesses, and whatever struggles he may be facing at home. He would occasionally glance at his notes from the previous year, but in most cases, he already knew the information. While his recommendations were succinct, they were all thoughtful, compassionate, and goal-oriented. The rebbi soon realized that he was sitting with a true master.

Rabbi Meir Chaim Gutfreund passed away a few weeks ago after a severe illness, and although his family and multitudes of talmidim are now bereft of his love and leadership, he left them an inspiring legacy. He taught them to never be afraid to do the right thing, regardless of whatever personal struggles they may encounter along the way; he taught them how to give of themselves wholeheartedly; and, most of all, he taught them how to believe in people and to empower them to reach their fullest potential.

Those who knew Rabbi Meir Chaim Gutfreund over the past three decades can describe his many accomplishments for the klal and for individuals.

However, you may not hear the backstory of this master of chesed and champion of his talmidim. Rabbi Gutfreund’s early years tell the tale of a man who dared to follow his ambitions against all odds. A young Meir Chaim was raised by parents who were pioneers in serving the tzibbur, fighting relentlessly for the growth and proliferation of Torah in America.

In Search of Pure Chinuch

Rabbi Shalom Shachne Gutfreund was a paragon of the piety of yesteryear. As a devout disciple of Rav Elchonon Wasserman and Rav Boruch Ber Leibowitz, Reb Shalom Shachne kept the teachings of his beloved rebbeim close to his heart throughout the Holocaust and all the way across the Atlantic. He eventually married Esther Lobenstein and settled in Vineland, New Jersey, where he worked on his father-in-law’s farm.

At the time, there were no local schooling options for Vineland’s many frum families, who mostly sent their boys to Far Rockaway for day school. Reb Shalom Shachne initially planned on sending his eldest son, Shlomo Zalman, there as well. But when he attended the orientation, the concerned father realized the faculty followed some unorthodox ideologies — and being a true talmid of his rebbeim, Reb Shalom Shachne immediately withdrew his son from the school.

A few days later, Reb Shalom Shachne convened a meeting of local frum families and secured commitments to establish a school for the community. From its modest beginnings — it started with just six boys — the school soon grew into a beacon of Torah education for Vineland’s frum community.

Not long after that, Reb Shalom Shachne and his wife realized that Vineland wasn’t the ideal place to raise frum children. The closest shul was miles away, and the children would fare better in a larger community. In 1961, the family decided to move to Monsey, where Reb Shalom Shachne rekindled his longtime connection with Rav Reuven Grozovsky, son-in-law of his revered rebbi Rav Boruch Ber. However, even in Monsey, the chinuch didn’t meet the Gutfreunds’ standards. Before long, Reb Shalom Shachne took matters into his own hands, and was instrumental in the founding of Yeshivah Beis Dovid, one of Monsey’s first heimishe chadarim.

All of this made a last impression on Reb Shalom Shachne’s son Meir Chaim. He grew up watching his parents diligently striving to provide their children with pure chinuch. That sacrifice would reap dividends for decades to come.

After Meir Chaim Gutfreund married Dina Augenstein of Boro Park, the couple settled in her hometown. Meir tried out some odd jobs, initially struggling to make ends meet. But as time went by — some attribute it to a personal brachah he received from the Ribnitzer Rebbe — he became very successful, amassing large amounts of real estate.

By his early thirties, Reb Meir felt financially comfortable enough to return to learning part-time, a reflection of his lifelong love of learning. His children share how his favorite time was the summer when he could spend many extra hours devoted to Torah study. He kept a cheshbon of how many times he reviewed each daf of Gemara.

During those years of learning in Beis HaTalmud, which he considered his home, he compiled a sefer titled A Gut Vort — a collection of Torah thoughts for the Shabbos table.

But his passion to do something significant for the tzibbur continued to grow.

Ambitious Undertaking

Reb Meir’s feelings for chinuch were no secret. He would often relate to family members that his experiences growing up in fledgling communities taught him the importance of stable schools where the talmidim enjoyed their learning. He dreamed of creating a school where he and his faculty could invest maximum effort in securing each child’s successful future in Yiddishkeit.

Reb Meir would realize his dream — albeit not in the way he expected. In the late 1980s, the principal of Bais Yaakov of Boro Park approached the Novominsker Rebbe with an urgent plea: There was a dire shortage of schools for the city’s frum girls, and a new Bais Yaakov was desperately needed. The Rebbe called a meeting with several wealthy balabatim in Dayan Brody’s shul, where he apprised them of the critical need for a new school. Reb Meir was present, and immediately offered to take on the project.

A short while later, he flew to Eretz Yisrael to ask Rav Shach for guidance on this new undertaking. He described his determination to establish a new Bais Yaakov — but the Ponevezher Rosh Yeshivah had a curious response.

“The tzibbur may need a Bais Yaakov, but that can be done through others,” he said. “When a yachid like yourself has such a passion for chinuch —and is willing to give so much of his own wealth for this cause —he should open a cheder for boys.”

Reb Meir was somewhat baffled by the gadol’s instructions, but he knew what he had to do. Upon his return to America, he set about single-handedly establishing a new cheder in Brooklyn. Reb Meir purchased a property and went from shul to shul to recruit talmidim. He was determined to overcome any obstacles that could arise.

“No one ever said doing the right thing would be a piece of cake,” he would often say.

“He was very clear to anyone who questioned his initiative — this was what Rav Shach told him to do, so he was going to take it all the way to the finish line, no questions asked,” says Rabbi Gershon Gutfreund, Reb Meir’s nephew.

One kollel yungerman from Beis HaTalmud related that when Reb Meir’s walked into Beis HaTalmud and started telling everyone that he was opening a new school, “we all thought he had gone off the wall. Why was this young clean-shaven businessman getting himself involved in opening a school? What could he possibly bring to the world of chinuch?”

With time, the answer would become readily apparent.

After the Cheder was established in 1991, Reb Meir subsequently assumed the role of menahel, and his peerless dedication to his talmidim came to the fore. Reb Meir’s brother-in-law, Rav Zev Egert, related at the levayah that ever since he’d met Reb Meir when he was a 16-year-old bochur, he would talk about his dream: “One day, I’m going to open a yeshivah that is 100 percent dedicated to its talmidim.”

Indeed, Reb Meir merited to live his dream.

“Rabbi Gutfreund wanted school to be geshmak for every kid, even if they came from homes that weren’t so well-off,” says Rabbi Nachum Sacks, a longtime rebbi at the Cheder. “He once saw a boy coming to school without a briefcase, so he went and bought him one.”

Another rebbi remembers how Reb Meir would give boys money to buy snacks and supper when he sensed they couldn’t afford it.

Reb Meir would meet with each rebbi three times a year and discuss each talmid’s progress.

“When he saw that a boy’s grades were declining, he would explore which therapies were warranted — and paid for them out of his own pocket, when necessary,” one rebbi says.

These therapies were often very expensive, especially given the sheer number of students, but Reb Meir was never fazed by the price tag.

“Many years ago, there was a boy who came from a different school, and Reb Meir heard that he had been bullied terribly in the past,” recounts this rebbi. “When Reb Meir met with the boy, he noticed that a facial feature was a likely cause for the name-calling and teasing. Reb Meir promptly arranged for a medical procedure to remove the uncomfortable feature, and the boy was successfully integrated into his new class. He thought out-of-the-box, always looking for ways to boost a child’s self-esteem, even if it meant doing something unconventional.”

Reb Meir would accept boys into the school as long as there was a chance that they would succeed — even if the odds seemed negligible. A couple once approached him to ask if they could send their son in the middle of the school year. Reb Meir knew that it was a tricky situation; there were mental health issues in the family, and the boy had performed poorly in his previous school. On top of all that, the class was full, and it wouldn’t be wise to cram in another boy who could potentially destabilize the classroom dynamic. For most schools, this would be a nonstarter.

But not Rabbi Gutfreund. He called a rebbi familiar with the boy and asked: “Tell me, does the boy have a disruptive personality?”

The rebbi answered that although there were difficulties at home, and the boy would need some assistance, he wasn’t the type to disrupt the class.

“Perfect, then I’ll take him.”

It didn’t take long for Reb Meir to also establish a high school for the Cheder boys — named Mesivta Shalom Shachne for his father a”h — which was run according to the same principles as the elementary school. When he began shopping around for a camp for his talmidim, Reb Meir’s primary goal was an enjoyable experience for his students — regardless of the cost to him.

He was once about to sign a contract with the owner of one camp, when he asked: “If a bochur needs some forks and plates for his room, would he be allowed to take some from the lunchroom?”

The owner answered that as per the camp rules, the lunchroom and its contents were for mealtime only. Upon hearing that, Reb Meir kindly thanked the man for his time and called off the deal.

“It was a rare phenomenon,” one close talmid relates. “He wasn’t concerned with his personal comforts at all. He drove an older car, ate very simple meals each day, lived in a very modest home… but when it came to his talmidim or those in need, he just threw money at them.”

One rebbi tells a story that emphasizes Reb Meir’s true motives behind his involvement in his institutions. “I recently told him that it would probably be wise to open a kollel for the Cheder’s alumni, here in Brooklyn,” he relays. “The trend had become for yungeleit to settle in Lakewood, and the lack of local yeshivah families could cause the school to lose its relevance.”

But Reb Meir didn’t miss a beat. “If the school won’t be needed anymore, I’ll be perfectly fine closing it down.”

Reb Meir started the school to fill a need; if that need no longer existed, then he’d direct his resources to help the tzibbur in other ways.

Helping Those in Need

Aside from his talmidim, Reb Meir was always looking for ways to help others. Over his years in the public sphere, he got to know many families in financial need — and once they were on his radar, he never forgot about them. He would offer struggling families any assistance that he could — whether financial or emotional.

“He would always answer the phone, even when he knew that the caller was expecting a lengthy chizuk conversation,” one rebbi relates. “I was once in a meeting with him when he got a call from a parent going through a difficult episode. He promptly wrapped up the meeting, called the parent back, and was on the phone with him for close to an hour. No matter how busy he was, he didn’t want to keep a Yid in distress waiting.”

Reb Meir was a master at discretion. At the shivah, one of his sons shared that when he was a child, he would join his father each Friday on a special secret project. Reb Meir and his son would take a stack of checks, pack them into envelopes, and then head out for a drive around Brooklyn. Reb Meir would stop at each address on the ever-growing list, and his son would run to the front door, stick the envelope through the mail slot, and dash back to the car before he could be seen. Most of these Erev Shabbos beneficiaries never discovered the source of their pleasant surprises.

His dedication went beyond giving money. One Erev Shabbos, Reb Meir heard that there was someone in a hospital in Manhattan who needed to show his medical records to the staff. Although it was late, he got into his car and took the papers to the hospital. As he started to head back, he realized he wasn’t going to make it to Boro Park before the zeman, so he phoned a friend in Williamsburg and asked if he could join him for Shabbos. He then parked his car and walked from Manhattan to Williamsburg, passing through neighborhoods that most Orthodox Jews would never dream of entering. Of course, Reb Meir never bothered telling the fellow in the hospital about his harrowing experience. He did what he had to do.

R

eb Meir invested much of his personal fortune in building up the Cheder and supporting its talmidim — but his largesse extended even further. A few years ago, the Kamenitz Cheder in Lakewood was in financial distress. When the situation was brought to Reb Meir’s attention, he knew what he had to do: Buy out the school and restructure it on a more financially stable foundation.

Rabbi Nachum Sacks remembers hearing about Reb Meir’s intentions while they were in the Catskills for the summer. “I went over to him and asked, ‘What do you need this Kamenitz headache for? Don’t you have enough responsibilities already?’

“He simply answered, ‘For Torah! The children need to learn Torah!’

“I shook my head slowly and said, ‘Reb Meir, I really don’t think you should do this.’ But he didn’t listen to me. He bought the school, and together with some sponsors, he built a new building and revitalized the entire mosad. Today, Kamenitz has three parallel classes per grade, and it’s a highly sought-after school.”

Another rebbi relates that he asked Reb Meir before the purchase if he had gone through the school’s numbers to make sure it was salvageable — to which he curtly answered, “No.”

The same was true when he opened the Cheder of Queens three short years ago. Reb Meir was approaching 70 when he heard from members of the Queens Bukharan community that they desperately needed a mainstream yeshivish school. Reb Meir jumped right in, successfully founding a school that breathed new life into the Bukharan community.

Rabbi Meir Chaim Gutfreund is now in the Next World, basking in inthe rewards he never sought in this world. And from that vantage point, he surely reaps much nachas as he watches thousands of Yiddishe kinder learning every day in the schools he built.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1039)