Summers to Grow

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lance around the Teumim beis medrash and you might do a double take: Sitting together with the rebbeim is a yungerman with a trim beard, friendly smile, and rimmed glasses — and on the other side of the hall… is the same yungerman. To an uninitiated visitor, it can take a minute to process that there are actually twin men sitting there: Rabbis Yakov and Chaim Metzger, the Metzger teumim and the life force of this camp who understood this uniquely contemporary need. (When they founded the camp, it sort of named itself.)

The world is divided into two types of people, a popular head counselor once noted: “camp guys” and “not camp guys.” The Metzger twins are undeniably proud members of the former. They are camp guys. Thirty-five years after first enjoying a summer in Camp Torah Vodaas as second graders, the Metzgers are still reveling in the magic of camp — not in a nostalgic, wistful way, but by bringing all the special values that a summer camp experience has to offer to Glen Spey.

Chaim and Yakov are the second to youngest and youngest sons (separated by seven minutes), respectively, to Moshe and Sarky Metzger of Boro Park, where Moshe is the longstanding gabbai of the Shomer Shabbos “minyan factory.” Like many of their Brooklyn neighbors, summers meant fleeing the oppressive Brooklyn heat for the higher altitudes of the Catskill Mountains. For the little Metzger twins, the annual migration wasn’t just an escape to tolerable temperatures with less humidity; it was a foray into the wondrous world of camp, which would become their lifelong passion.

Thirty-five years in camp is a lot of alma maters to remember. Yet today, the 44-year-old Metzgers still have each cheer and camp song engraved in their memory.

“Camp shaped who we are, and we try to replicate our experience, but in an updated way,” says Chaim, as we sit in his Lakewood backyard as camp season is about to begin.The first camp they attended was Camp Torah Vodaas in upstate New York, the mere mention of which evokes vivid memories.

“Ask anyone who went there and they will tell you about the incredible ruach that pulsated throughout. Not a meal went by without spirited cheering, and that intensity and passion stays with a person,” Chaim says. “Positive ruach turns camp from events and activities into a life experience — it gives you that sense of connection and belonging, so you’re not just going through the motions, but living every part of it.”

Camp Torah Vodaas closed after the summer of 1995, just as the Metzgers were coming out of 9th grade. (“We were the last CITs of CTV,” says Yakov.) The next year, the twins enrolled in Camp Rayim, under the direction Rabbi Moshe Rosner. The twins threw themselves into camp first as junior counselors and then as bona fide counselors, and — serious yeshivah bochurim that they were growing into — also introduced learning programs into the regular camp schedule. They spearheaded a “Hamapil” program, distributing siddurim to campers who successfully recited Krias Shema al Hamitah for the duration of camp. Together with Rabbi Avi Oberlander a”h, a fellow Rayim counselor who eventually became head counselor of the camp, yet sadly passed away earlier this year, they pioneered a night seder kollel for counselors to attend after their campers had gone to bed.

“Now the world is hearing about Rabbi Oberlander and the incredible impact he had as a rebbe” says Chaim. “We got to see when those seeds were just being planted — and it happened in camp.”

The twins were climbing the camping ranks when, in 2000, just as they entered their beis medrash year in Torah Temimah, their trajectory was upended. Traditionally, Torah Temimah bochurim went to Camp Silver Lake, the yeshivah’s Woodridge campus, for the first half of the summer where they would continue the zeman, albeit with a lighter schedule in the afternoon, until the yeshivah’s bein hazmanim.

“But camp was such a part of us, we decided that instead, we were going to continue going to Rayim for both halves,” Yakov recalls. “We had it worked down to a science: We’d come back to Silver Lake for shiur every day and be there for the sedorim, but the rest of the day, we wanted to be there with our campers in Rayim.”

Apparently, they hadn’t kept their idea confidential enough and a hanhalah member got wind of their surreptitious plans. Shortly thereafter, a proclamation appeared on the yeshivah’s bulletin board: It stated that no bochur was to leave yeshivah to enroll in another camp while the zeman was in session. That declaration, ostensibly applicable to all bochurim, was a direct hit on the Metzger twins.

“There were no other bochurim who it was even relevant to,” remembers Yakov. “We were the only ones who dreamed up such an idea, and everyone knew it.”

Now, the Metzgers aren’t exactly the rule-breaking type, and if one had to guess, this was probably their only contemplated infraction in all their yeshivah and camp years. Nevertheless, only second to their learning, camp was their passion and they were determined to appeal. Together, they rehearsed a pro-camp argument, describing the power of a fun-filled summer, the learning initiatives they brought to camp, and the positive, year-long effect it had on others. Finally, the two made their way to the hanhalah.

When they finished, the instructions were firm. “Yakov un Chaim,” they were told, “nisht nohr kentz du gein tzu camp — di muz gein! Not only can you go to camp — you must go!”

Marching order received, the Metzgers headed to Rayim that summer as counselors for the ninth grade, introducing more learning initiatives to the staff, and having the desired effect that comes from being earnest and fun bnei Torah. Chaim remembers a teenager who showed up that summer with a sleeve full of non-Jewish music CDs in tow. Chaim didn’t reprimand him, nor did he confiscate the offending discs outright, but one night he engaged his camper in a long conversation about music and the desirable effects kosher music could have on one’s neshamah.

“He didn’t respond on the spot,” Chaim recalls, “but shortly thereafter, he took his entire collection outside and cracked every single CD he had schlepped up to camp. Today, that camper is a popular mechanech in Brooklyn.”

They were having the time of their lives as well. Later that summer, the twins were pitted against each other in Color War, with Yakov leading the blue team and Chaim charged with rallying the reds. (Chaim won by three points, but Yakov contests the results until today, insisting that his dear brother took advantage of their identical features and posed as Yakov when unsuspecting campers were told to hand their davening tickets to their generals, giving him more tickets — and the edge in the closely contested battle.)

What They Really Needed

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year after their shanah rishonah interludes (Yakov married Syma Schloss of Passaic and Chaim wed Esti Mehl of Flatbush), the twins, both of whom were learning full-time in Lakewood’s Beth Medrash Govoha, wanted to get back into camp for the summer season of 2006. They had experience and countless connections within the summer camp industry and could have opted to take positions as division heads or head counselors in one of the dozens of frum boys’ camps dotting the Catskill region. But the Metzgers had another trajectory: They noticed the dichotomy between what was available to bochurim and what they felt bochurim really needed, and decided to experiment.

“A lot of programs were either all-day learning, but with a lot of downtime and no real camp. Others were very sports-oriented but lacking an infrastructure and focus on learning that the boys need. The chiddush was to create a truly bona fide learning camp, but right alongside all the amenities of a great program,” says Chaim.

Just two years earlier Rabbi Rosner had invited Rav Meir Rubin of Passaic and Rav Avrohom Katz of Toronto as rosh mesivta and menahel respectively, to begin a program entitled “Rayim Mesivta,” which was held on the grounds of Camp Rayim. But the two veteran mechanchim needed program directors. The Metzgers, no strangers to Rayim from their teenage years, were natural partners.

They had their initial summer in 2006 with 80 bochurim, and over the next 14 years, they added, adapted and adjusted. They learned some practical tips of creating bochur-specific programming: “One of the first things we saw was that music would be a major component,” says Yakov. “Many teens in yeshivah used to follow professional sports,” he says, “but today’s bochurim? They’re more into music — appreciating the better singers, the bands, and the latest albums.”

And so the Metzgers put a focus on producing music events with top-tier heimishe singers, with an emphasis on channeling the focus on music to make sure it remains Torahdig and uplifting. Teumim’s menahel, Rav Avrohom Katz, who recently relocated from Toronto to Lakewood where he serves as rosh yeshivah of Yeshivas Pe’er Yisroel, gave the Metzgers a barometer of how to measure whether or not a particular genre is appropriate. It’s not the lyrics or beat, he cautioned, but the effect: “When you walk out, do you feel uplifted? If not, then it isn’t for us, but if the answer is yes, then we’re all in.”

There were other innovations, too. Color war was a no-go, but they found a competitive contest in having the various divisions square off in a highly-professional music video competition that is produced by camp cinematographer Eliezer Glustein, who gives the music videos a professional edge. (Watching those videos, with their professional sound and cinematography, it’s hard to believe they were created by a bunch of high-school-aged bochurim, whose talents emerged in an unbelievable way. Last year, Judges Binyomin Miller of “Skinny Pinny” and “Incomplet” fame and Rabbi Yitzchok Hisiger of “Inside the Agudah” named the 12th grade impersonation of Abie Rotenberg’s “My Little Town” from Journeys V the hands down winner.)

And there were more practical considerations. “We also learned that younger kids appreciate the thrill of going off-campus on a trip, while bochurim in general prefer to stay put. So we bring in the special activities instead of schlepping everyone out on a bus,” says Chaim. “Each summer, we have a one-day sports tournament filled with numerous other outdoor activities, instead of us going out.”

And there was an innovation that was a blend of realism and idealism. Camp veterans that they were, the Metzgers knew that the final night in camp is often challenging. The staff is off guard, and campers are running on lots of adrenalin and little sleep. By the time the buses roll out of camp the next morning, the positivity of a great season can be marred by the nocturnal acts pulled off by a few overtired youngsters the previous night. (Chaim remembers one camp director confiding in him that the staff’s golf carts were mysteriously missing the final morning of camp.)

The Metzgers decided to end camp at six p.m. following a banquet — and turn the previous night into an all-nighter, filled with music segueing into a four-hour learning seder, replete with prizes and food throughout the night.

“It was a game changer,” says Yakov. “Today, it’s a highlight of the season. Instead of letting loose and vildkeit, we have bochurim who plow through the entire perek or even mesechta that they learned in camp, or go for hours saying shakla v’tarya to one another.” Instead of leaving groggy and unfulfilled, the campers leave excited and satisfied — and ready for the Elul ahead.

By the time they hit the summer of 2019, camper enrollment quadrupled — but the Metzgers were still listening and learning, and it would take some more fine-tuning to clinch the secret recipe necessary to bring out the best in their bochurim.

On Their Own

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hey left that summer fully intending to return to Rayim for another Mesivta season the following August, but by March of that year, the coronavirus pandemic was in full swing, shuttering schools and shuls around the country.

Yet as the summer neared, thousands of campers who had been cooped up and out of school for the better part of the year held their collective breath, hopeful that at least summer camps would be allowed to open. Alas, it was not to be. New York State outlawed camps from operating that summer. Rayim Mesivta was officially shuttered.

Yakov and Chaim remember when the news hit. It was a steamy, hot Thursday in Lakewood and the twins were — as they  so often  are — sitting together.

Chaim looked up. “Eibeshter,” he said, “we need to find something for our bochurim. We know it’s in Your hands.”

First, the Metzgers set their efforts on finding a location out of New York State. Nearby Pennsylvania was thankfully open for business, and the Metzgers asked some folks in the commercial real estate space to keep their eyes and ears open for a suitable campus.

Beyond an appropriate location, there was another daunting factor. The Metzgers may have been in the camping industry for their entire lives, but their involvement was always on the front end: programming, staffing, and being there for campers. Now they’d be on their own — financing, paperwork and all. Starting a camp three and a half weeks before the season is all but impossible, and Yakov and Chaim readily admit that there is no way they could have managed it alone. Mrs. Esti Metzger, Chaim’s wife, explains how they pulled it off.

“From the second they decided to do this,” she says, “Hashem was holding our hand all the way through, as if Hashem were saying, ‘These are My bochurim and I’m going to get you there.’”

Barely 24 hours had passed from the time they decided to go it alone when a call came in from Rabbi Chezky Margolis, a good friend and currently the director of Camp Kibbutz Hamesivtos, telling them that he had a lead into a potential campus. But, he emphasized, they needed to move fast. Before they knew it, they were on a Zoom meeting with Mark and Amie, owners of a Pennsylvania-based camp that was taking a hiatus for the 2020 season.

“The owners were very pleasant and upfront on the call,” Chaim recalls. “They told us we could come look at the campus, and informed us of the price: a hundred thousand dollars per week and an additional twenty thousand for every day after the four-week term.” The potential landlord also dropped a side note. “He told us that a frum girls’ camp had already given a soft deposit on the campus, and only if the girls’ camp pulled out would they consider working with us.”

There weren’t any other available properties though, and so the Metzgers decided to take the gamble. That Sunday, they headed up the Garden State Parkway, and three and a half hours later, they were in an amenity-filled campus in the Pocono Mountains. The twins loved the site, but the owners remained noncommittal, as they were technically under contract with the girls’ camp.

On the way back to Lakewood, Chaim got a text from Mark: Hey, he wrote I rethought the deal: I’m going to waive the additional 20k/day. Let me know. Chaim didn’t respond until the next morning, when he wrote back that if the girls’ camp wasn’t interested, they’d take it. A few hours later, Mark let them know that indeed, the girls’ camp had backed out, and sent the Metzgers a contract via email. The rent payment clause contained a payment of $20,000 per day past three weeks, and when they next spoke, Chaim reminded Mark that he had specifically waived that payment. Mark seemed momentarily confused and then sighed, “I meant to text that to the girls’ camp! I sensed they were strapped for cash, which is why they were hemming and hawing about the contract, and decided to give them a break to help ’em out!” The text message ended up in Chaim’s inbox though, and Mark, true to his word, honored it.

“That was the first step of open siyata d’Shmaya that we saw,” Yakov says. Three weeks before Summer 2020 was set to begin, a contract was signed, a bank account was opened, and word went out to bochurim in yeshivos across America: Camp Teumim — named for the indefatigable duo who dared to dream — was born.

You Can’t Go On Like This

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fter a packed season that they pulled off against all odds, everyone expected the easygoing wunderkinds to pull it off again for the summer of 2021. By now, though, the secular camps were reopening, and the brothers found themselves again scrambling for a suitable campus. (At one point, it seemed like the only availability was a dental academy where 300 students had gone on summer break. Chaim laughs, as he remembers trying to determine if he could place bochurim in the exam chairs.)   A staff member then got wind that another camp had signed on a large and suitable property owned by the Salvation Army, which created some complicated halachic questions. Rabbi Katz, the menahel, turned to Rav Shlomo Miller, the renowned posek in Toronto, who gave them clear halachic guidance on how they could use the facility. The first camp was happy to assign their lease agreement to the Metzgers. “It was another great summer,” Chaim says grinning. “It was the year that Moshe Berman hit that half-court buzzer beater shot.”

By 2022, they had begun their search yet again, when they had a meeting with an elderly, respected businessman and long-time family friend who had known Yakov and Chaim since they were kids. He had a sizeable real estate portfolio and they wanted to hear different rental options.

Their friend remained noncommittal. “Yakov and Chaim,” he told them finally, “you can’t go on like this, renting every summer. It’s just not how to do things. Landlords can terminate an agreement and they will always sell if the price is right. If you don’t own, you don’t exist. A campus is such an integral part of camp — you need courts, you need a lake, you need a pool. You need a place to call your own.”  With that, he wished them luck.

The twins took his advice and started looking for a place that Teumim would be able to call home.

“The only places for sale were unmitigated dumps,” Chaim remembers. Finally, something opened in the Catskills in what Yakov calls “the perfect location — close enough to the action, but too far to hitch.”

The purchase price though, was several million dollars, non-negotiable.

“We were two yeshivah guys — there was no way we could have come up with that kind of capital or obtain a loan,” says Chaim, “but I also knew that that there were people behind us who believed as much as we did in our camp, and they had the means to make it happen.”

And ultimately, they were in it for Hashem’s bochurim, and they knew Hashem would help.

Somehow, they got approved for a mortgage, and a cadre of generous friends came through with the funding needed for the deposit and the down payment. One of those friends was a young businessman who has emerged as one of the Torah world’s most prolific philanthropists: Mr. Chuni Herzka, a close friend of the Metzger twins, who dedicated the Teumim campus.

All the Extras

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eing in their own campus meant that it was going to last. And there was a freedom it afforded them — finally, they were able to execute their dream.

“We learned a few things along the way,” says Chaim. “If you want bochurim to maximize their potential, show that you care for them, that you love them, and create a ruach that doesn’t stop pumping for a second.”

Going that extra mile means, first and foremost, an abundance of staff, including a bevy of division heads, maggidei shiur, a golf-cart-driving maintenance crew, a full kitchen staff — all with one mission: to make sure every camper has what he needs to not just to make it through camp, but to thrive. Chaim Ahron Pruzansky, a Teumim division head, recalls a mother calling up the Metzgers after finding out that a boy whom she was concerned her son may not want to be bunkmates with was, in fact, slated to be in his bunk. Yakov told the mother that he’ll ask the boy if he minds, but then asked the mother to call her kid as well. “Maybe he won’t be honest with me,” Yakov told the mother, “because he wants to be nice. But if, in fact, he does not want to be with that boy, then we’ll switch things around, because he has to have the best summer possible.”

It also means that the program has to have a level of sophistication, and Chaim and Yakov are admittedly not impressed by old-time memories of “good, old-fashioned fun.”

“Back in the day, it may not have been necessary to pack on all the extras,” says Yakov, “but bochurim today have a more strenuous schedule and have half of the bein hazmanim, so during these four precious weeks, we need to double down.And you know what? This generation is producing an army of bochurim that when put in the right situation, thrive beyond what anyone can imagine.”

A well-known rav who has many talmidim in Teumim and visits them annually, was astounded at the intensity that pulsated through camp, which carried over into the learning. There was a full first seder that was followed by dozens of bochurim just out of twelfth grade delivering high-level chaburahs to their younger peers, and then again at dusk, a full-fledged night seder. A late-night inter-camp game followed seder, and then campers scampered back to the beis medrash — for their third time that day — for a Chumash shiur from a guest speaker. Starting time: 12 a.m. He watched the campers and staff in their nonstop pursuit of learning, sports, and activities, with lots of singing and dancing in the mix, and then go back to the beis medrash without missing a beat. He shared his observation with the Metzgers, who themselves say a daily shiur at the camp.

“The Kotzker said,” he told them, “I don’t want my chassidim to sin not only because they don’t want to, but because they simply have no time to.” That, the rav averred, was the secret to having an uncommon energy in the beis medrash.  “There is so much going on here. The boys feel so satisfied and fulfilled that by the time they come to the beis medrash, they are unstoppable.”

“The tachlis of a camp today is not just to keep the boys in a contained environment, but within that environment, to give over a ruach of unparalleled ruchniyus,” says Rabbi Meir Rubin, rosh mesivta of Teumim. “And we want to keep that energy going so that we don’t have to start dealing with bochurim engaging in vildkeit or outlets that parents don’t want or approve of. The Metzgers have it down to a science — they know exactly what talks to a bochur and they use that to create a program where the ruach is thundering.”

Chaim and Yakov walk to the back of the beis medrash and pull out a thick, 400-page sefer. The gold-on-brown cover lettering makes it look like a typical sefer you’d see in a seforim bookcase. But something about the way they caress it gives the impression that it is anything but. Inside are dozens of chiddushei Torah on various sugyas, and the table of contents reveal authors whose names aren’t familiar.

“We published this last year the last day of the summer,” says Yakov. “Every single page here was written by campers and their rebbeim — and visiting gedolim, such as Rosh Yeshivah Rav Shlomo Feivel Schustal — during the mere three and a half weeks in camp, when they’re supposedly on their bein hazmanim off time.”

The chiddushei Torah were penned right here in camp, and then laboriously reviewed, revised, edited, and finally, proofread by a team of bochurim who stayed up well past curfew to ensure that when the season finally came to end, each bochur would bring home a copy of the sefer, aptly named Urim B’Teumim.

It’s an ode to a generation of bochurim full of urim, to a new genre of camps bringing out the best in them, and to two teumim who never doubted the potential of either.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1024)