About a month ago, I scheduled an in-and-out day trip to San Francisco filled with meetings with students, alumni and friends of JGSI. I took the earliest flight, and made my way to my favorite nook in the United SFO terminal to wrap my tefillin. Wearing the tefillin my dad gave me at my bar mitzvah six mornings a week is a big part of my day, and it’s become even more meaningful since my father’s passing four years ago.

To my surprise, as I arrived at my nook there was another person there putting on tefillin. We talked for a few moments about our mutual love of tefillin, when suddenly an Israeli executive approached us and asked if he could borrow my new friend’s tefillin! I took a quick selfie of the three of us to remember this cute moment and the story I would share with our daughters later that night after getting home.

After a long day, I got the news that my flight was delayed for four hours so I decided to grab dinner. When I made my way back to my rental car, my heart sank. The window was smashed and my knapsack, containing my beloved tefillin, was gone.

I didn’t care about the bag. I didn’t care about the iPad, or whatever other junk was in there. The only thing I could think of was my tefillin. I was pretty devastated and with my extra time began hopelessly combing the neighborhood for hours, poking into garbage cans, offering rewards to people on the street for any leads, but nothing. The police told me they don't bother coming out for petty crime in San Francisco anymore, so I headed down to the station myself to file a police report. The officer told me there was a 1-2% chance of ever getting them back. With a heavy heart, I headed back to the airport.

I knew there was a lesson to be learned here (aside from don’t keep cherished items in parked rental cars) but wasn’t sure what it was just yet.

I didn’t touch down in Los Angeles until 12:30am. As I waited for the Uber, a call came in from a different police station asking me, do you know Shira Sorani? I said yes, that's my daughter… They had my tefillin! Apparently, a Good Samaritan spotted them lying in the middle of the street miles from where they had been stolen, presumed they were religious items and probably meant something to someone, and brought them to the local station. This individual refused a reward and went along their way. Since my name on the bag was in Hebrew, the police only were able to track me down because I had unwittingly tossed in my daughter’s global entry card months earlier. Elated, I called a close JGSI alumnus in San Francisco who picked up my tefillin a few hours later and shipped them back to me the very next day. Just amazing.  

There are so many takeaways to this crazy story; first, never give up hope because miracles do happen! Second, one person’s trash is another person’s treasure. But the thing I’ve been thinking about the most is how seemingly small deeds can have such a big impact.

A few days ago our organization was planning an event for a tiny Jewish grad student community at a campus in the middle of nowhere. They rely on us for their Jewish programming as there is no one else for them to turn to. This often involves a lot of logistical challenges because they’re so remote, so I was asked, why make such an effort for just a few students?

I answered that just like in my tefillin story, the Good Samaritan’s act seemed small but was enormously huge to me. We just don’t know the kind of impact one kind deed can have. And that's why JGSI supports Jewish grad students at every opportunity we can, because the positive effect of providing Jewish community even for just a few students can make an immeasurable difference in their lives.