As dedicated Roving Rabbis we continuously look out for Jewish people and see how we could be of assistance for anything Jewish they need. Throughout our journeys we have had many inspirational episodes. Here is one of our most amazing experiences:

When we came to the city of Payson we did our regular thing, meeting the Jewish people scattered throughout the city. The way it usually works is that you meet one Jew and that one knows another etc. After meeting a few Jewish families, we understood that there aren’t any Jewish social events to bring the Jewish people together. People asked us, "There are actually other Jewish people living here in Payson!?" They were shocked to hear how many Jewish people we had come across.

Then we met Nancy and Ike Feiges, and they had the greatest idea, "Why don't we gather all the Jews so that we can get to know each other!" they exclaimed. We sprang into action, notifying as many people as we could that on Sunday we will be having a Jewish gathering at the Miller residence in Payson.

it was an unforgettable experience. The gathering was a grand success. We started off with everyone introducing themselves, sang the traditional songs, had a kosher buffet, toasted l'chaim, shared stories, and so on. When we sang the Yiddish classic, "My Yiddishe Mama," there wasn't a dry eye in the room.

Everyone left their contact information so that they could have a Jewish social group, which would get together every so often (hopefully once a month).

The event was really beautiful, it lasted about 2 hours. After the event was over, the men put on tefillin, the woman, who had learned about the mitzvah of lighting Shabbat candles, practiced the blessing so that they will be all ready when Friday night comes. Many left saying that this gathering was so meaningful and it really brought out a sense of Jewish pride. One lady came over to us after the event, and said, "I really feel proud to be Jewish being here. Although, since I have moved to Payson, a year and a half ago, I haven't put up a mezuzah, I think now is the perfect time. Can you please come over to my house later tonight and help me put one put up?"

After everyone had left, we thanked the Millers, and off we set to put up the mezuzah. When we entered the home, our hostess was ready with her hammer and nails. We discussed the specialness of the mezuzah, said the blessing and put it up on her door.

When we sat down, she shared her story, "I used to live in Phoenix, where I was part of a Jewish community. Ever since I had left, I felt a bit alone, not being with anyone else Jewish. I would always say to myself that the only thing missing here in Payson is a circle of Jewish friends. I thank you for bringing the Jews of Payson together. Now I can say that I have plenty of Jewish friends."

Our post-mezuzah discussion.

We met a fine gentleman named Nat at the home of a Jewish family in Payson, Arizona. Nat was in the military, and for many years he fought for our country. This year he will be honored at the Arizona Jewish Veterans Hall of Fame Society. We continue schmoozing, and Nat tells us that his parents weren’t religious, so he did not have a bar mitzvah and had never put on tefillin—but he would have liked to, if the choice would have been his. We told him that it is never too late, and he did so right then and there at the age of 90.

We always keep our ears and eyes open to find Jewish people wherever we go.

I had just said goodbye to Joel at the car parts store where he works. Instead of waiting in the parking lot for my co-rover, Hirshi, to finish with the surgeon he was visiting at the other end of town, I decided to walk all the way to the hotel. We had already checked out earlier in the morning, but they had called us to let us know that we left a bag there, so I was going to pick up the bag before we would leave Show Low, Arizona.

I thanked Adam, the receptionist, immensely for taking the time to track us down and return our bags to us. He then expressed his astonishment at seeing rabbis in town. I, of course, asked him if perhaps he knew anyone Jewish in town.

“Well,” he starts, “I actually can’t think of any. My grandma was, and my mom did light candles sometimes, but we grew up Christian.”

“Wait one second!” I said. “That means YOU are Jewish.” He was shocked and needed some convincing and explaining . . .

Suddenly Julie popped her head in from the back office and said, “Waaaait one second. Is that really true? That means my fiancé, Ryan, is Jewish!” (Ryan is Adam’s brother.) Unfortunately, both we and Adam had people waiting, and the conversation was cut short. We had left him our contact info so that we could keep in touch, but we heard nothing from him.

On Friday afternoon, on our way to Phoenix for Shabbat, I decided to try calling Adam at the hotel (we didn’t have his personal number). Sure enough, I heard a familiar “Adam speaking” at the other end. My heart jumped for joy at the opportunity to reconnect. He apologized and said he misplaced our card. He really wanted to meet us, put on tefillin, and celebrate a belated bar mitzvah. Could we make the trip? Although we already had a get-together planned for Sunday afternoon in a different city, we decided to drive the four hours back to Show Low.

We left Sunday morning at 7:30 AM from Phoenix, and arrived at the park where Adam had arranged to have his bar mitzvah. He wanted it in the outdoors, to be proud of this occasion.

He was there half an hour early, together with his cousin; he was so excited that he brought along an audience. A real surprise was that his brother, Ryan, was going to join us! Wow, a double bar mitzvah. We did the whole thing. We said l’chaim, sang, danced, and even threw candies at the bar mitzvah boys. Finally, it was time to go. After making some good resolutions for the future, we said goodbye. We had our get-together a two-hour drive away.

We stopped off to fill up with gas, and Hirshi ran into the store for a minute. Here is Hirshi’s account of what happened next:

As I am walking out of the store, from the corner of my eye, I sense someone staring at me. I turn around and meet Jacob. He asks, “Are you a rabbi?” I answer in the affirmative. “I never imagined that I would see a rabbi here in Show Low!” he exclaims. We start a conversation. It turns out that his grandmother (mother’s mother) was a Jewish refugee from Russia. I let him know that he is Jewish. He responds, “But I grew up Christian.” I explain that he has a yiddishe neshamah (Jewish soul), and that he is just as Jewish as Moses. “It’s a miracle that I met you. Just yesterday my relationship broke off, and I’m going through a hard time. I needed someone to talk to, and here I meet you!” I explained to him that everything is divine providence, and the fact is that G‑d wants us to be right here, right now. I told him about the incredible string of events that brought us to Adam and his subsequent bar mitzvah. He asks if he can have one as well. We bring our bar mitzvah bag (tefillin, candies, prayers, etc.) from the car, and we were all ready.

Jacob said Shema with lots of concentration. He is well-versed in the Bible, and was familiar with Shema, but now that he found out that he’s a Jew, the words “Hear O Israel” mean so much more to him.

He then asks us, “Now that I know that I’m Jewish, where do I start?” we talked a bit about doing one mitzvah at a time, and gave him some practical suggestions.

And off we hurried, as we were getting late for our afternoon get-together, and we still had a two-hour drive ahead of us.

All because of a lost bag.

Toasting to the bar mitzvah at the gas station.

With a friend we met at the UPS store.

We got into our car, hoping for respite from the Arizona heat, but none was forthcoming. The air conditioning vents were blowing hot air. While I sat there feeling like I was going to faint, Hillel got on the phone and started calling the people we hadn't been able to reach the night before, seeing if someone would be available for a meeting.

It wasn't long before he got though to an older man living in Lake Havasu City who said that he could meet with us right away. We plugged his address into the GPS and were off.

We arrived at an oldish-looking trailer home, wondering if we had possibly made a mistake. Seeing no other house in sight, we forged onward and knocked on the door. We were welcomed warmly and soon sat down to talk.

We found out that our host had once been a very wealthy man and had lost it all to a divorce. He was remarkably upbeat. He told us he's moving to Mexico in a few months because of a job waiting for him there. He told us that G‑d had sent us to him.

We offered him the opportunity to don tefillin. He went to his room and pulled out his own pair. We spoke about the importance of putting them on every day and he said he'd consider it.

He gave us good advice about making goals and posting them in visible places. "Do you smoke?" he then asked us. We told him that we don't. "If there's anything I can leave you with, it's that you should never smoke." I said I would take upon myself never to smoke for the rest of my life as long as he would wear tefillin. A deal was struck, and he committed to putting them on every day. Unlike most deals, where each party does something for the other's sake, here we would each be doing something for our own good. I will keep my body healthy, and he will keep his soul in fine condition. Following his own advice, he posted a note on his desktop screen with a reminder to put on tefillin. We gave him a mezuzah to grace his door for the remainder of his time in Arizona, and he said he'll put it up in his new house in Mexico.

It took forever to say goodbye because the small encounter had left us feeling so attached.

After making numerous calls the night before and not succeeding in arranging any meetings, we drew up a list of homes that we would visit, hoping that someone would be home. There was no one home at the first three houses that we visited, and Hillel and I were starting to feel a little down.

At the fourth house, we met an older Jewish man and his great-grandchild. Hillel shared some Jewish stories with the kid, and I had a fascinating conversation with the elder. After such a fine time, we left feeling much better.

We got back into our car, I turned the key in the ignition, and it didn't start. Twice, three times...nothing. I went into a nearby shop to ask for a jump. There was a friendly lady working there. She gave me cables but was not able to leave the store to give us a jump.

So I took the cables and went looking for someone to help us out, and a man leaving the parking lot graciously offered his services. As I was hooking up the cables, he chatted with Hillel. Would you believe it? His wife's grandfather is the man whom we had just met!

He was there with his son, a boy who had always been upset that he had never been "bar-mitzvahed." So he donned tefillin right then and there, and we held an impromptu bar-mitzvah as I got our car rolling again.

In the presence of these beautiful rock formations, anything seems possible—even probable.

Next, we went to a shop which we knew was of Jewish ownership. We found the owner and started shmoozing. At first, he was kind of cold, suspicious of our motives, telling us that "Jews do not send missionaries." But, as the conversation continued, we became friends. At the end of our visit, we asked him if he would like to put on tefillin and say some Jewish prayers.

So we went upstairs where he would be able concentrate on his prayers. After saying the Shema, he said his own prayer. He spoke from his heart. He prayed for more opportunities to pray while wearing tefillin. Then he made a silent prayer.

After removing the tefillin, he asked if he could buy a pair for himself. Clearly, he was in an emotional mood. We were happy to put him on the phone with a scribe in New York, and he was soon the proud owner of his own pair of kosher tefillin, to be delivered by airmail.

A few hours later, he called to tell us that a miracle had just happened to him. Almost immediately after we had left, the silent prayer which he had made had been answered.