Being a parent to Yosef, my youngest of five, has been a journey of profound challenges, unwavering love and remarkable growth. From the first moments of seeking out specialists to understand his diagnosis, to navigating years filled with intense tantrums and his struggle to connect with the world around him, our family has lived through every heartbreak and triumph together.
Over the years, we have come to see Yosef for the extraordinary person he truly is: a young man with an autism spectrum diagnosis, but also a beautiful soul who brings joy, kindness and depth into our lives. Watching him grow from a little boy who once found it hard to connect with others into a loving son, caring brother, devoted grandson, gentle uncle, and loyal friend has been nothing short of a miracle. His journey inspires us every day, igniting our family’s determination to create safe, nurturing spaces for those with special needs.
We have been blessed with incredible partners on this journey. Organizations like Sinai, Friendship Circle, Yachad and OHEL have been lifelines, helping us build a world where Yosef could form friendships, learn to socialize and find purpose through meaningful work. But while Yosef is my “constant companion,” it breaks my heart to know that this is not the life he ultimately wants — to spend his days by the side of his middle-aged parents. Like any young man, he longs for friends his age, his own community and a place to feel independent and valued. As my husband and I grow older, I yearn for Yosef to have a life that doesn’t rely solely on us but stands strong on its own — a life full of dignity, love and security.
That’s why my involvement with the Bayit, alongside Moshe Kinderlehrer and Adam Chill, is so deeply personal and meaningful. The Bayit is more than a project; it’s a promise — it’s a place where young adults like Yosef can not only live but thrive. Knowing that he could have his own home, a true community where he is accepted and embraced, is a vision that brings me hope and comfort. But this dream hangs in the balance; funding for housing like this is far from guaranteed, and without our community’s support, Yosef and others like him could lose this precious chance to have a home of their own.
Please help us make this vision a reality. Together, we can give Yosef — and so many others — a place to call home, where he will be surrounded by friends and supported with love for years to come.
Shuli and Rue (sisters)
One of our family’s ways of expressing love, respect and regard is through lively conversation. We revel in emotional discussions, political debates, theological arguments — anything from deep, meaningful conversations (“DMCs” as we call them) to passionate exchanges that leave us hoarse and even tearful. This is our family’s love language. We trade movie quotes, reference obscure footnotes, and our inside jokes can be tough to follow for outsiders (even in-laws!). But Yosef can’t fully participate in this verbal lovefest. Language itself can be a barrier for him.
As a child, he wouldn’t stay at the Shabbat table for long. While we engaged in these animated discussions, he remained mostly absent. Yet our love for him runs deep, and he loves us just as fiercely. What we had to learn growing up with Yosef as a brother is that love can be expressed and received in different ways, not just through the lens of theodicy or human rights. We had to learn his language. Here, Yosef, a man of deep faith, became our teacher in communicating with someone who doesn’t communicate in the “usual” way. He even helped us learn how to truly connect with and build a relationship with God through tefillah. And, to be very honest, thank goodness for Disney!
As Yosef has matured, our shared experiences have expanded. We can now discuss work, albeit at a more basic level, talking about expectations and disappointments. We go on nature walks, play video games and bowl together — activities that were challenging when he was younger. He’s an amazing uncle to our children, who see him as kind, funny and endlessly entertaining.
They, too, cherish their Disney movies with him. But we also grapple with how to show him love at this stage of his life. Visits, hangouts and hugs are all a given, but we are also considering how to help him lead the most fulfilling and meaningful life possible. In our eyes, showing him adult love means supporting his independence. He deserves a home designed for him, where he can be cared for and care for others in return.
Yaakov (brother)
While many siblings look alike, the resemblance between myself and my brother Yosef has been described by others as uncanny. We have been confused in various settings (including Facebook), and members of the shul where I am privileged to serve as rabbi have wondered how they could see me in the lobby when they just heard me speak from front of the shul, not realizing it was actually Yosef. While we do have much in common, every so often I am reminded of the stark difference between my brother and me. Years ago, I remember someone once asked Yosef if he had read the Harry Potter books, knowing how much he had enjoyed the movies, but was unaware that he was unable to because of how much he struggles with language and reading.
Books and reading have always been a central part of my life and I was sad to think that worlds of literature and knowledge were not accessible to him in the same way. Despite these differences, however, Yosef remains one of the most upbeat people I know, a person who is genuinely happy when he sees his family and friends. As much as my children love visiting their Bubby and Zaidy, in no small part because they get to see their beloved Uncle Yo, we worry about what will be long-term, what his needs will be as he gets older. We now have the opportunity to provide for Yosef a home, a place to live and develop socially, a world that is accessible to him and those like him.
Moshe (brother)
As the sibling closest in age to Yosef, I’ve had the privilege of spending much of my life with him. It will come as no surprise to anyone who knows him that I consider him to be one of the kindest, most compassionate people I know. He regularly reaches out to check in, whether it’s simply to ask how I’m doing or to talk about whatever is on his mind. He has never once forgotten to wish me — or anyone else he cares about — a happy birthday, and he always speaks about it with excitement in the weeks leading up to it. While his social interactions might be a bit different from those of others, he is incredibly social in his own way, and he forms deep, meaningful connections with those around him. Our conversations, though different from those I have with other family members, are no less meaningful or significant.
What many people might not realize about Yosef is his fierce independence. Even as a child, he was determined to do things without assistance, often resisting my help until he had no other choice, whether that was figuring out a tricky puzzle in a game or working through a challenge by himself. As he’s grown older, that desire for autonomy has only strengthened. Whether it’s managing his own grocery shopping or getting himself to and from work, Yosef seeks out taking responsibility for his life as an adult. Along with his independence, he also wants to experience life the way most people his age do. When he saw others taking a gap year in Israel after high school, he immediately sought out the same opportunity for himself. When he noticed many of his friends starting to work, he was quick to follow suit. Now, as he reaches a stage in life where many his age live independently from their families, Yosef deserves the chance to experience this new chapter in his life, just like any other adult.
Racheli (sister-in law)
I met Yosef for the first time at his 17th birthday party, when I was dating Yaakov and was introduced to the entire Taubes family at that time. I knew that the guy I was dating had a younger brother with autism, but I had never met someone with autism before and I didn’t know what to expect. I confided in a friend who worked professionally with adults with special needs, and she told me to avoid making direct eye contact and to expect to meet someone who is averse to direct conversation and someone without much verbal language.
With regard to Yosef, nothing could have been further from the truth. The whole evening was overwhelming for a girlfriend, but I was struck by Yosef’s calm and kind nature, by his interest in who I was, and by the number of people of all ages who attended that evening and the amount of love everyone had for him.
Over the years, that scene has replayed itself. Everyone who meets Yosef is uplifted by his smile and genuine friendship. In his own way he develops relationships with others, and I see that specifically in the way he interacts with my children. We always look forward to his visits, whether it is walking my kids down the block to school in the morning, joining us on a Sunday afternoon trip to the Museum of Natural History, going to the local playground, or just cuddling at home watching a Disney movie and singing along. As much as he visits and spends time with us outside of his home, we know that he needs a place of his own.
Adam (nephew)
Growing up with Yosef as an uncle I have seen him in different ways over the years. As a little kid I saw him as a fun adult who was always happy to hang out, tell stories and watch movies with me; now that I am older I see him a bit differently. Now that I have started high school, I am focusing on the new exciting aspects coming up in my life. I have begun to think about getting my driver’s license, if I would like to dorm at my yeshiva, and what awaits after finishing high school, like my year in Israel, going to college and even getting my own place. Now that I am older, I understand differently that these things were not always available to my uncle. I understand now that while it is nice that he comes with us on our family trips, rides in our car,and is always around when I visit my Bubby and Zaidy, it has meant that he doesn’t get to have the same experiences and freedoms that all people deserve to have. Uncle Yo having his own home would be a huge step towards balancing things out.
Michael Taubes (father)
Our fifth child, and third son, was born a little over a year after the passing of the world-renowned Torah scholar and religious leader Rabbi Yosef Dov (Joseph B.) Soloveitchik, zt’l, known reverently as “The Rav,” of blessed memory. Since I, this new child’s father, was privileged to have been a student in the Rav’s class for several years toward the end of his illustrious career, as was, many years earlier, this child’s maternal grandfather, and since the male relatives in both my and my wife’s family already had children named for them, we decided to name our baby Yosef Dov in the Rav’s honor and memory.
While we knew full well that the Rav was truly one of a kind in terms of his massive intellect, his penetrating understanding of Torah, of philosophy, and of all academic disciplines, and his masterful teaching, speaking and writing abilities, we hoped that our son would develop at least a fraction of the talents of his remarkable namesake.
As our Yosef began to grow up, we realized that this was not at all the plan that Hashem had for him. He was not going to become anything resembling a Torah authority, a teacher or a Jewish communal leader. Thanks to the tireless efforts of my wife, Yosef’s mother, spearheading a team of many dedicated professionals and others along a long road, Yosef has matured into a wonderful, gentle, kind young man. But in many ways, he certainly will not be the adult we had hoped he would be.
And yet … Rav Soloveitchik was also a deeply emotionally and experientially sensitive person who, as evidenced in some of his works, felt a very strong personal relationship, connection and even friendship, as it were, with the Almighty. And it is this aspect of the Rav’s personality that our Yosef has picked up on.
When he became bar mitzvah, we wondered how he would take to putting on tefillin, given his various sensory issues. He has never missed a day. He gets up well before most of our house stirs each morning to go daven at the early minyan in one of the local shuls. While he doesn’t grasp the depth of the siddur, he is familiar with it and eager to ask me what we are up to when he isn’t sure, though he usually is. He asks me each Shabbos to “do some parsha” with him. He is a full participant in Yom Tov activities, staying up for the seder, fasting on Yom Kippur and the other fast days, sleeping in the sukkah, and attending Simchas Beis HaShoeiva festivities, though he obviously does not grasp their full significance.
No matter where he is, he makes sure to wear a white shirt and tie on Rosh Chodesh. Nobody looks forward to finding the moon and then giving out the cards and reciting Kiddush Levana each month like he does. And in conjunction with almost every one of these events, he talks to God. Literally. His conversations are personal and heartfelt, and shared the way one would share with a close friend or confidant; people who hear this all marvel at his incredible, and all too rare, feeling of closeness to Hashem. And how proud we are of this special kinship.
Speaking personally, I cannot imagine living in our home without Yosef. Aside from being a tremendous help around the house, always willing to cheerfully do whatever he’s asked and responding with his trademark “thanks for letting me help,” he is just a breath of fresh air so much of the time. But I know that he eventually will need to be on his own, in his own place, where he can enjoy independence while still being under the watchful eyes of people who will help care for his needs.
I therefore appeal to everyone to generously support the work of the Bayit. Help us build more homes so that Yosef and adults like him will be able to enjoy the same benefits we all treasure. Don’t they deserve it too? Isn’t it part of our responsibility as a community? Rav Soloveitchik once quoted his famous grandfather, Rav Chaim, as having said that the primary job of a rabbi is to make sure that the community cares for those of its members who need it the most but unfortunately are often neglected. Let us all heed that message!
