Passing the Port without a Passport
Two years before the passing of my father, zy”a, I participated in the hilula of the tzaddik, Rabbi Chaim Pinto, zy”a, in Morocco. Mr. Massoud Ben-Chayoun, a”h, a wonderful and kind-hearted individual, who helped me tremendously at the beginning of my career, also attended the festivities. He assisted in the establishment of the holy institutions, and was very close with our family. When Father heard about Mr. Ben-Chayoun’s participation in the hilula, he asked that I meet him at the airport in Casablanca.
When Mr. Ben-Chayoun stepped off the airplane in Casablanca, to his great dismay, he discovered that he was forbidden to set foot on Moroccan soil, because his passport had expired. There seemed to be no solution. In spite of the anguish, he would have to turn on his heel and retrace his steps back to Paris.
I remained with him in the airport the entire night. I tried to encourage him by saying, “If Father instructed me to escort you, this implies that he has given his blessing that you will participate in the hilula.” Mr. Ben-Chayoun accepted my words, all the while hoping for a miracle.
The following morning, I noticed a clerk entering the airport to begin the day’s work. I turned to Mr. Ben-Chayoun and told him to inform her about his predicament. What could he lose? Maybe his salvation would come through her.
He did as I suggested. The woman heard his story and called in the manager. He was the only one who could help in such a case. Mr. Ben-Chayoun entered the manager’s office, and I remained outside. They spoke together for a long while. My nerves were taut in apprehension of the outcome of their conversation.
As they were speaking, I noticed that the plane to Paris was closing its doors and slowly but surely gathering speed for take-off. Mr. Ben-Chayoun missed his flight and would have to wait for the next one.
After some time, Mr. Ben-Chayoun left the manager’s office, his face wreathed in smiles. He related that in a most amazing twist of fate, the manager had given him a special dispensation to remain in Morocco without a passport for the duration of one week, the exact amount of time necessary to participate in the hilula.
We felt like dreamers, clearly seeing Hashem’s great hand in the matter. Hashem had accepted Father’s prayers as well as Mr. Ben-Chayoun’s request to participate in the hilula.
Mr. Ben-Chayoun later related that the airport manager had questioned him regarding his occupation and his past. Suddenly, the two discovered that they were childhood friends, who had learned together in school. With great emotion, they fell upon each other’s neck. The entry authorization was not long in coming.
When we arrived at the place where the hilula was to take place, I tried playing a trick on my father. I asked Mr. Ben-Chayoun to stay outside for a few minutes, while I entered Father’s room. “I feel bad to have to tell you this,” I began, melodramatically, “but Mr. Ben-Chayoun did not have a valid passport, so he was sent back to France.”
“It can’t be!” Father said assuredly, his eyes fixed in the distance, “I see Ben-Chayoun participating in the hilula.” I could contain myself no longer. I admitted that, in a most miraculous manner, Mr. Ben-Chayoun had arrived at the hilula. We all rejoiced with him.
Father knew that, with siyata di’Shemaya, Mr. Ben-Chayoun would overcome all obstacles in his path and participate in the hilula. Father’s prayers were always accepted on High, for “the will of those who fear Him He will do, and their cry He will hear” (Tehillim 145:19).
