It’s always exciting when “one of our own” makes it big. By now, most of us have heard of Judge Rachel (“Ruchie”) Freier, the chasidishe super-woman. So when Rabbi Yisrael Motzen, of Ner Tamid, introduced her last month in a program in memory of longtime congregant Dr. Frank F. Schuster, it made for a fascinating evening.
Rabbi Motzen pointed out how both Judge Freier and Dr. Schuster had successfully persevered to break the status quo with what he called their “holy chutzpa.” Dr. Schuster clung to the unpopular path of Torah in the early 50s, even while facing opposition and hardship in his pursuit of a medical degree at Johns Hopkins. Similarly, Judge Freier overcame many obstacles to arrive at her present position. A “regular” wife and mother in Boro Park, she worked to support her husband’s learning. After he earned his degree in accounting, she, too, went to college and, subsequently, law school. In their shared office, she practiced real estate law, while her husband did commercial financing.
Along the way, Judge Freier created chesed organizations to help poor Jewish families and at-risk youth. Her latest endeavor was establishing Brooklyn’s all-women EMT first-response agency, Ezras Nashim, which she serves as both paramedic and executive director. What she is best known for, of course, is becoming the first chasidic female to be elected as a civil court judge in New York State – indeed, the first chasidic woman to hold public office in United States history.
The evening with Judge Freier featured a conversation with Avital Chizhik-Goldschmidt, features editor at The Forward. Here are Judge Freier’s inspiring answers to Rebbitzen Chizhik-Goldschmidt’s questions.
Q: You are a trailblazer in so many ways. Were you always like this as a child in Bais Yaakov?
A: I always asked questions and always wanted to do more and get things done. I grew up being the child of hard-working parents; nothing came easy, so if you wanted something, you had to work hard. I always accepted a challenge.
Q: Tell us a little bit about how you grew up and your education.
A: I grew up in a very nice frum home. My parents weren’t wealthy, they weren’t politically connected, or from great rabbis. I am the oldest and always took jobs to make money to do things I wanted to do. My parents believed in us. We weren’t pushed too much, but we were encouraged. I wasn’t at the top of the class, and I didn’t always get the best grades. My father would go to PTA and just wanted to know about my behavior and middos. My mother would always tell us, “You can do anything you want to do, as long as it isn’t illegal, immoral, or against the Torah.” Although we grew up as very frum girls, we knew that anything is possible. I went to Bais Yaakov elementary, high school, and seminary. I loved my teachers and always asked questions, but I wasn’t the valedictorian. I was an average student from an average home, raised with incredible encouragement and faith. That is the key: just believe in your kids.
Q: Behind every successful frum woman there stands an out-of-the-box guy. Can you talk a little bit about your husband?
A: A lot of people make a big deal about me being a trailblazer; really, my husband is the trailblazer. He is a very devout, religious chasid who spends half of his day in the beis medrash in the synagogue learning the Talmud and is very careful in his observance of Torah and mitzvos, yet he is very supportive of everything that I’ve been doing. Let’s face it, if we don’t have the support of our families, we can’t succeed. When we first got married, he was learning in kollel and I was a legal secretary. My becoming a lawyer and then a judge was an adjustment for him in the beginning. It evolved; it took time. When people ask me for advice about doing this or that, I always say you need your husband’s support but if you don’t get it right away don’t worry. Give him time; let him see that this is really important to you and you are not going to discount your family and your obligations at home. Then he will come around, as did my husband, kids, and family. It wasn’t always easy for them, but at this stage of the game they are so proud and very supportive.
Q: When did you realize you wanted to go into law?
A: I think it is part of my DNA. When I was a little kid, my mother would have me call up her customers whose checks bounced. If my sister didn’t get paid well in day camp, I was the one negotiating her salary. I was just always fighting for something.
Q: How was it being a chasidic mother of six, in your thirties, in Brooklyn Law School?
A: For me, it was an unbelievable dream come true. For undergrad, I attended Touro College after my first three kids were born. It had just opened up, and it was comfortable for a chasidic woman to go to an all-girls college – even though there were a lot of naysayers every step along the way. Going to law school was the first time I was going to be in a different environment, outside my comfort zone, in a complete academic liberal environment. I said to myself, “Ruchie, you are really going to have to prepare yourself for this!”
One of the books I read said that if you want to protect yourself and safeguard your religious standards, let people know who you are. I told everyone in law school that I was chasidic and that I had six kids, and it worked. I got invited to no parties! I also did outreach work in law school. Before Purim, I came with my kids dressed in costumes and gave out hamantashen. Before Pesach, I brought matzah and made a Seder. I also asked the professors, whether they were religious or not, to get up and share how they celebrated that Yom Tov at home.
I really loved law school; I was like a kid in Disneyland. I made sure that I would stick to my standards. To me, that was the hardest. I try to daven three times a day, and Mincha is the hardest because you have to daven before the sun sets, and if you are a working woman, you can be anyplace when that time comes. But I found a secluded place in school to daven Mincha. I am proud of my Jewish identity, proud of being chasidic, and I was always very open about it – talking, sharing, not hiding it. I never tried to blend in; I didn’t mind standing out.
Q: What hurdles have you faced, professionally?
A: The LSAT was so hard, and it was very hard trying to get into law school. But if you believe that Hashem runs the world, all you have to do is try. As they say in Yiddish, “We have to do - to accomplish, that is only up to G-d.” I also didn’t pass the bar exam the first time. It was obviously part of Hashem’s plan. I learned so much from the failure. When you fail you get up and you just keep on going. Emunah and bitachon are the key elements to succeeding in anything you want to do. Most people don’t realize the extent of the potential they have. I made my deal with G-d to help me make it through law school, and when His children came to me for help, I would help them. After graduating law school, I held up my end of that deal.
Q: In all of your “free time,” you opened B’Dererch, an organization for kids-at-risk in a chasidishe community. How did that happen?
A: Davening is very important to me, and there are three davening trips that I take: one to Lizhensk, Poland, to daven at the kever of Rabbi Elimelech of Lizhensk on his yahrtzeit; one to Kerestir, Hungary, my mother’s hometown, where I daven at the kever of Reb Shayele of Kerestir on his yahrtzeit; and I also go to Meron on Lag B’Omer for the yahrtzeit of Rebbe Shimon bar Yochai. For me, it is a way to connect to G-d, and there is so much to ask for. On one of my trips, I ended up rooming with a woman from our shul who went to daven for her 16-year-old son who was on drugs and not keeping Shabbos. It was the first time I ever heard of kids-at-risk in Boro Park. I told her that, when we return home, I want to help get her kid back in yeshiva. From that innocent naive offer, I ended up starting B’Derech, opening a yeshiva of mostly chasidishe boys in Williamsburg.
Q: In 2011, you started the first all-women ambulance service, Ezras Nashim, featured in a recent PBS documentary “93 Queen.” What prompted you to start it?
A: I got a phone call from an EMT and a doula, who invited me to join a meeting in Boro Park. Out of curiosity of who these women were, I went. They were part of a group of 300 women who trained to be part of Hatzalah in the late 70s to early 80s. Although most let their licenses lapse, they never gave up their dream of serving as EMTs. Since the Rebbe in New Square had just integrated women into the Hatzalah of New Square, they thought the time was right to start a women’s Hatzalah in Boro Park.
I had no idea what I was getting into and zero clue how political it was going to become. Hatzalah is a great organization; we all use it. They save thousands of lives every year. I only take issue with the fact that they don’t let women join, and when I speak to the rabbis privately, they are very supportive but will not say anything publicly. Only rabbis in Israel will voice their support in public. This is not a radical feminist agenda. I was coming from the perspective of women’s dignity and modesty. If a woman has a medical emergency, she has the right to decide who is coming into her home. I am still being challenged.
Q: As a judge, you have the opportunity and power to influence the community and rabbinic leadership in a way that very few Orthodox Jewish women do, as a whole. How do you plan to wield this power for change?
A: I’ve never thought of it that way. I think of it more as an achrayus, a responsibility, to try to change something or get something done. If I don’t, after 120 years, I’ll be asked why I didn’t do something with the opportunity I had. We all have to realize our potential. I always ask myself, is there something more that I can do? It’s all about believing that we have a special place in Judaism as women. We have to stand up for it and not let anyone take it away from us.
