Every Person Has His Hour

Mr. Gabi Samuel is a regular participant in the hilula of Rabbi Chaim Pinto, zy”a, in Morocco. For many years, he and his wife were childless. They prayed from the depths of their heart that they merit holding a baby of their own.

During one hilula, as Mr. Samuel prostrated himself at the grave of the tzaddik, he was overcome with emotion. All of his pain and anguish spilled out, as he began beating his head against the grave, crying, “G-d of Rabbi Pinto, answer me!” over and over again.

Those standing near him, simple people, were taken aback at his behavior. They tried to stop him from hurting himself, all the while comforting him, “Please don’t cry! Next year, please G-d, you will return here, the father of a beautiful baby boy.”

I watched from the side and replied, “Amen” to their heartfelt blessing. Afterward, I spoke with Mr. Samuel and suggested he undertake certain good behaviors, which would allow the blessing to take effect. Mr. Samuel accepted my words and left the cemetery in a calm frame of mind, secure in the knowledge that Hashem would grant him his life’s dream.

A year passed. We found ourselves, once again, attending the hilula in Morocco. Since the celebration would take place on Motza’ei Shabbat, we spent Shabbat in Essaouira, near the tzaddik’s grave. Some of the participants, Mr. Samuel among them, were sitting together at approximately 2:00 on Shabbat afternoon.

“What is happening with your wife?” I enquired, “Do you have good news to relate?”

“Baruch Hashem, my wife is expecting a baby, in the merit of the tzaddik, just as I was blessed one year ago. But one detail of the berachah was not met.”

“And what might that be?” I pressed.

“The point that when we would celebrate the coming hilula, I would already be the father of a baby boy. My wife is reaching the end of the pregnancy, but she has not yet given birth. There is still some time until her due date.”

“How do you know that the berachah was not yet fulfilled? Maybe your wife gave birth last night, and you do not yet know about it. Or perhaps she will give birth today, before the hilula takes place.”

Mr. Samuel was skeptical. “I don’t think she’ll have a baby within the next few hours. When I spoke to her on Friday, she did not feel the onset of labor at all.”

I did not give up. Instead, I told him that it was likely that at that very moment, as we spoke, she was in the throes of labor.

He was not convinced. According to their calculations, his wife was due only a few days later, on Rosh Hashanah, to be exact. But we all agreed that if his wife had, indeed, given birth that day, it would cause a great kiddush Hashem, proving to all the power of the tzaddik.

On Motza’ei Shabbat, in the thick of the festivities, Mr. Samuel suddenly burst into the room, shouting, “The G-d of Rabbi Chaim Pinto!” numerous times.

“What happened?” everyone asked, worrying for the worst.

Beaming with pride, he pronounced, “My wife had a baby this afternoon, at 2:30 p.m.!”

In this manner, the blessing was completely fulfilled. All this was in the merit of the tzaddik buried in Morocco, Rabbi Chaim Pinto, may his memory protect us always, Amen.