"Are you Jewish?" he asked me in a way that seemed as if his question was a secret. I thought "What?" So, speaking my mind, I said, "Excuse me?"

"Yes I am," I said. I mean, I had no reason to lie.

"Well, I have a problem and think you could help," the man said.

"We have a minyan across the street, but we need ten people to pray at a minyan." The ten people part was news to me; but he didn't have to know that. "We only have nine; we need one more Jew."

Obviously, he wanted me to be his tenth Jew, but I thought, let him ask.

"Could you come over for a few minutes so we could have our minyan?"

Being a frequent watcher of Dragnet re-runs, my first thought was that this was a scam to lure me, kidnap me, and leave me to die on a back road. "I don't know. Is this some sort of scam and you'll mug me or mug a Jew?"

I had a point. I mean, he was dressed in black, wearing a yarmulka.

This was a test, a definite test from G-d. He wanted to see how I would react. "OK," I said. I put my gum in the car and we walked across to his house. There were eight Jews standing in the living room praying.

As I walked in, they stopped praying and looked up at me. I thought they were mad because I disrupted their concentration, but they all smiled and welcomed me in.

Feeling uneasy, I took a seat in the far corner. A man gave me a Prayer Book and showed me the page. I tried to look like I was following, but the Rabbi saw right through me.

"Here," he said, handing me a pamphlet. "Read this instead." "What is it?" I asked. "It's Jewish stories." I read the pamphlet, a pretty interesting story about a Jewish boy who must decide between observing the High Holy days traditions or go on a school trip. In the end, the boy decides to observe the holy days. The reading wasn't terrific, but I was happy to have something to keep me occupied.

It seemed fine until I heard a man say, "Bring him up. Bring him to the front!"

Keeping my head down in the pamphlet, I began to recite my own prayer, hoping they weren't talking to me. I got a tap on my shoulder. Oh well! I made my way up front, when one of the men walked over to a cabinet. He took out a Torah and all the men began chanting a prayer. I didn't know this one.

Being a guest, they gave me the honor of a Torah aliya. So there I was, standing in front of a Torah about to get an aliya, my legs shaking uncontrollably. I couldn't believe I was actually standing in a Chasidic rabbi's living room with people I never met before, sharing an act of truth and kindness.

In a society that is suspicious of strangers and usually cold to each other, we had broken these barriers. I put my faith in these men as if we shared a bond. Here was a perfect case of neighborly trust, no strings attached.

I read the aliya blessing and they seemed impressed with my ability to read Hebrew. To be honest, it was long since I had read. I was surprised myself.

After they read the Torah, I was also given the honor of dressing it. They then burst into a song, clapping their hands. After the service we shook hands with exchanges of appreciation and thanks. I asked if I could keep the pamphlet, just in case this was like a Twilight Zone episode and they disappeared after I left.

On the way home, I felt sad. Has society deteriorated so much that a simple act of trust and kindness between strangers is so unusual, that when it does occur, it takes you off guard? I felt ashamed that I initially doubted the rabbi's intention to think it was a set-up. In the end, I knew I did something special that day and I would never forget it.

All this on the way for a pack of gum.

Courtesy of the Roslyn High School literary magazine