In that same audience, the Rebbe also began picking our brains, asking us a lot of questions about the Jewish community of Washington, D.C. and Silver Spring. He was gathering data.
The Rebbe was then quiet for what seemed like a very long time, before speaking up again.
“In Washington,” he remarked, “there are no bubbies.”
Huh? I thought. There aren’t any grandmothers?
He meant that Washington was a transient community because people would come from all over to work for the government. “People have bubbies,” he elaborated, “but they aren’t living in the same place. And that’s a problem because there isn’t anyone to teach the young people about Taharat Hamishpacha.”
The Rebbe was referring to the laws of Family Purity, governing the relationship between Jewish husbands and wives. It is a sensitive subject, so it can be difficult to find teachers to pass these traditions on to the next generation.
Then he looked straight at us: “You will teach Taharat Hamishpacha.”
I was completely flabbergasted. If we weren’t right in front of him, I would have assumed he was talking to someone else. Having only been observant for a year and a half, I felt terribly unqualified. I knew the laws and was following them, but teaching is entirely different. Yet, to my surprise, he had confidence in us that we could do this.
We were by no means chasidim at that point — this was our first time meeting the Rebbe. Yet somehow, he was very convincing, and when we came back home, my husband and I spread the word about what we intended to start doing.
Pretty soon, a whole lot of rabbis and rebbetzins came out of the woodwork, connecting us with people who wanted to learn about Family Purity. We started teaching one-on-one classes to couples preparing to get married; my husband with the grooms and me with the brides, in which they were welcome to ask any embarrassing questions.
In the coming decades, we met a lot of wonderful people who were very mystified about these laws, but soon, they became enthusiastic about them, and they saw their marriages develop as a result. Besides for being a pillar of Jewish observance, Family Purity is a lifesaver for marriages. It teaches couples to relate to each other, to actually communicate, to channel love into listening in ways that deepen their relationship.
And, for people who feel alienated and don’t have any roots — which, as the Rebbe had pointed out, was often the case in Washington — it offered a paradigm shift. Normative religious Judaism in general, and Family Purity in particular, helps a person grab onto something that isn’t superficial. It says, slow down, build relationships, hold on to holiness.
We would have never volunteered to do any of it, however, until the Rebbe told us: “You can do this!”
Yonason and Devorah Adler are retired system analysts for the Social Security Administration currently residing in Baltimore. They were both interviewed in February, 2024.
