Flying High
Many Jews in France suffer tremendously from anti-Semitism. The tax authorities often irrationally accuse them of tax evasion. These unfortunate souls are then tried in court, where they are unreasonably sentenced to prison terms.
- Mr. Ochayon alone in the airplane
This was what happened to Mr. Ochayon, a French acquaintance of mine. He sat in a prison in Paris, a victim of the times. His distraught mother approached me, time and again, in order to pour out her heart. Amidst copious tears, she begged me to arouse Heavenly mercy in the merit of my holy fathers, for the sake of her innocent son.
A few days before the hilula of my holy grandfather, Rabbi Chaim Pinto, zy”a, this distressed woman came once again. I tried to console her and strengthen her faith in Hashem. The woman then said, “In a few days, the hilula of the tzaddik, Rabbi Chaim, will take place in Morocco. Many will join in visiting his grave. My son, too, wishes to take part in the hilula.”
“Do not worry,” I placated her, “B’ezrat Hashem, when your son will be released, he will merit ascending to the grave of the tzaddik.” But this was not enough for her. “My son wants to go to the grave now.”
“When he will be set free, he will merit going to the tzaddik’s grave,” I tried to reassure her.
She was not satisfied. Her son wanted to go immediately to the tzaddik’s grave, not at some unknown later date. I was busy with phone calls, so I hurriedly promised her, “Hashem should help and allow your son to participate in the hilula.”
The Friday before the hilula, I was with my companion in a Morocco hotel. While preparing for Shabbat and the upcoming hilula, my phone rang. Mr. Ochayon’s mother was calling from France, once again expressing her pain at her son’s continued imprisonment and his apparent absence from this year’s hilula. I tried to strengthen her spirit and told her that it was not too late. We had not yet visited the grave. Only Hashem, the omnipotent One, holds the prison keys. I added a request that when her son was set free she should let me know. Her son should take the first flight out on Motza’ei Shabbat and join us in Morocco.
Two hours before Shabbat came in, the woman called. Her joy coursed through the phone wires. With great emotion, she informed me that the unbelievable had occurred. Approximately one hour after we last spoke, the judge called over her son and set him free. This was quite unusual, in lieu of the fact that the French courthouses are generally closed on Fridays.
Taking a deep breath, and not believing her good fortune, the good woman continued, “Additionally, the judge handed my son a passport, so that he could leave France immediately. In another three hours, there is a flight out to Morocco, which my son is planning to take.”
I glanced at my watch and trembled. This flight would surely involve the desecration of Shabbat, which was fast approaching. I told the mother, “Heaven forbid that your son should desecrate Shabbat! Tell him to wait until Motza’ei Shabbat or Sunday morning. Even if he arrives only on Sunday, there will be plenty of time for him to join in the festivities then.”
Mr. Ochayon accepted my words. Sunday morning dawned with him arriving in Morocco, holding a photo of himself on the plane. He was the only passenger on the entire flight.
When I asked him to explain this strange picture, he related a tale of amazing Divine intervention, which had accompanied him from the moment that he stepped out of the prison gates.
“As soon as I was released on Friday, I hurried to purchase a plane ticket to Morocco, so that I could participate in the hilula celebrations. The ticket agent told me that there was a flight scheduled for Sunday morning, leaving from Charles De Gaulle Airport at 6:00 a.m. There was one seat left. Of course, I quickly bought a ticket for this flight. Then I went home to celebrate Shabbat with my family.
“But a funny thing happened when I arrived at the airport. I showed the reps my ticket, but they could not find any flight to Morocco at that hour. Moreover, they told me that all flights to Morocco did not leave from this airport, but from the Orly Airport.
“My ticket in hand proved that I had bought a seat for the Morocco-bound flight at 6:00 a.m. in this airport. Confounded, the employees called for the manager. After extensive investigation, it was confirmed that there was, indeed, a flight at 6:00 a.m. to Morocco, but it was an empty plane, which would pick up French-bound passengers in Morocco. Only two pilots would be in attendance. There would be no other staff on board and no food or drink.
“Nobody could understand how such a mistake could have happened. When I bought my ticket on the previous Friday, this flight was not meant to appear on the screens of the ticket agents. And by Sunday, it was gone.
“After much pleading with the manager, I was given special permission to fly on this flight, due to the urgency of the matter. I would be the only passenger and would not receive food or drink during the flight. I danced my way onto the plane, oblivious to these conditions.
“To prove the truth of my tale, I asked one of the pilots to snap a photo of me alone on the plane in flight.”
By means of this amazing story of hashgachah pratit, Mr. Ochayon made a tremendous kiddush Hashem among the participants of the hilula. They saw how Hashem had led him by the hand, from his release from jail to his arrival at the hilula.
