A Shavuot Prayer Echoed Across the Ocean: Two Lives, One Holy Night

A touching story that shows the incredible power of prayer on Shavuot: “When we were fifteen, my friends and I decided to stay up all night on Shavuot,” shares Tobi Baron, a well-known stand-up comedian in the Haredi community. “It’s called a ‘mishmar’—a tradition to stay awake and learn Torah the whole night. We planned to meet at my house after the holiday meal.”

Tobi lived in a penthouse apartment on the edge of Bnei Brak. Her friends climbed up to the fourth floor, excited for their night of learning. Just then, her father was about to head to shul (synagogue) when he noticed the gathering and asked, “Tobi, what’s going on here?” She answered with excitement, “We’re doing a mishmar this year!”

To her surprise, he said, “Come with me to the roof for a moment.”

She followed him up, and he pointed to the sky. “Tobi, look up. Do you see the sky?” She nodded. He continued, “Up there is the Master of the World—Hashem. He knows where your future husband is right now and what he’s doing this very evening. Today is the day the Torah was given. Pray for a Torah home. Pray to marry someone who learns Torah.”

“I was just a 15-year-old girl,” Tobi recalls. “But my father’s words felt so real. And the sound of Torah learning coming from the shul nearby made everything feel even more holy.”

She remained on the roof, alone, crying and pouring her heart out to Hashem for at least half an hour, praying for her future husband.

After four years in seminary and about fifteen years of dating—“do the math,” she jokes—she finally met and married a kind Torah scholar. He came from an American family that was, in her words, “lightly religious.”

On their first Shavuot as a married couple, he turned to go learn at the yeshiva—but paused by the door. “Do you know when I decided I wanted to live a life connected to Torah?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow—what kind of question is that to ask with your hand already on the doorknob?

“It was on Shavuot night,” he said. “We were invited to a storytelling event at the modern shul. I decided to try learning something from a sefer (Torah book). I actually managed to learn by myself the whole night. And at dawn, I looked out the window and whispered: "That I could stay close to Hashem every day of my life…"

Tobi’s eyes filled with tears. “That same Shavuot night, while an American boy in the middle of Missouri was studying Torah and deciding to return to Hashem—that was the very night I was in 9th grade, standing on my rooftop in Bnei Brak... praying for him.”

This moving story is one Tobi shares throughout the year at every seminary where she performs. “I tell the girls, what you do—he does. There’s a spiritual connection, even if you don’t see it right away.”

“I lowered my head to the ground and cried like never before…”

Tobi continues, “The second part of this story happened four years ago—also on the eve of Shavuot. I was performing at a high school in Beit Shemesh. I told the students about my own Shavuot night in 9th grade, and what my husband experienced that very same night in America. I stressed how powerful this night is for praying—for a righteous husband, for good children.”

“I finished by telling the girls: ‘Guard your inner dignity. Don’t settle for just anyone. Your prayers tonight have real power.’”

As she stepped out toward her taxi, she noticed a girl standing outside, shaking and crying. It was hard to understand her words through the sobs.

“You brought me back… I’m in 11th grade. I’ve been through a lot. I was about to leave everything behind. My suitcase is already packed, and there’s a goodbye letter waiting at home. But when you talked about your prayer on Shavuot in 9th grade… I realized I don’t want to end up with a boy like me. I want to fight for something better. I’m going back home.”

Tobi hugged her tightly and blessed her from the heart.

Six years went by. Then one day, Tobi received a wedding invitation—and a heartfelt letter. The girl had grown into a proud and graceful young woman, deeply connected to her faith. She was introduced to a young man studying in a yeshiva for those returning to Torah and mitzvot.

During their meetings, he shared something from his past: “Six years ago, I was at the 49th level of impurity (spiritually at rock bottom—far from Torah, mitzvot, and meaning). A friend convinced me to come to Uman for Shavuot. I figured, why not?

“On Shavuot night, we were sitting on the ground when someone started singing ‘Ochila La’El.’ Suddenly, something inside me broke open. I lowered my head to the floor and started crying like I hadn’t cried in years. When I finally stopped, I knew: I’m going back to Eretz Yisrael. I’m going back to yeshiva. I want to build a Torah home.”

The young woman began crying deeply. It was like she had returned to that moment on her own Shavuot night. She then shared her story with him—how she had stood outside a school auditorium in 11th grade, suitcase packed, ready to leave it all behind… until she heard about a girl who had prayed on her rooftop.

Tobi ends the moving story: “She finished the letter that was attached to the invitation—and kindly included a tissue. To be honest? It was definitely needed…”