Lamenting Unwittingly
At the beginning of Elul, 1985, I was in Morocco with my family, celebrating the bar mitzvah of Amram, the son of my host, Rav Mordechai Knafo. Father lay at home in a coma, each day bringing further deterioration in his condition. R’ Mordechai Knafo was an avid admirer of Father’s. He was afraid that Father would pass on close to the bar mitzvah of his son. In that case, he stated, he would postpone the celebrations.
The bar mitzvah celebration was scheduled for the 5th of Elul. Preparations were at their peak. People came from all over Morocco, France, England, and even as far as Eretz Yisrael. They wished to pay their respects to R’ Knafo, a singular person in the generation, who was full of pure faith in Hashem and unbounded loyalty to the esteemed Pinto family.
My family and I were invited to join the privileged participants at this affair in a large hall in Casablanca. I had no idea that just that day, Father’s condition had declined, and he had been rushed to the hospital. When I arrived at the spacious hall, I was suddenly filled with a sense of foreboding. I felt that I should not enter the simchah hall. R’ Knafo understood my reservations and prepared a private table for me outdoors, where many came to drink a l’chaim with me.
During the festive meal, I turned to the lover of charity and good deeds, the philanthropist, Mr. Shlomo Lasry, who sat at my side. I asked if he would like to travel with me to Essaouira, first thing in the morning, to pray at the grave of my grandfather, the tzaddik, Rabbi Chaim Pinto, zy”a. He consented to go and reported that he was already going to prepare his car for the ride.
During the meal, the wife of Mr. Chaim Knafo, R’ Mordechai’s brother, asked me for a blessing. While speaking, she asked after Father’s condition. In contrast to my usual way, I didn’t respond clearly, telling her I didn’t know. In the meantime, R’ Lasry came back, stating that his car was ready to go. His family was preparing food for the journey.
Suddenly, I had a premonition that something was very wrong with Father. I told Mr. Lasry, “I am not sure that I will travel with you tomorrow. I have an uneasy feeling about my father. Let’s make up that you come to fetch me at 5:00 a.m. If all is fine, I will go with you. But if not, go alone, or we will arrange to go another time.”
At midnight, I left the hall for my lodgings. I called on a disciple from Morocco, R’ Eliyahu Dahan, shlita. I asked that he remain with me through the night and recite passages of Tehillim until Mr. Lasry would call for me. I spread a white sheet on the floor and lay myself to sleep on it.
At 4:00 a.m., loud knocks were heard at the door. My wife and I hurried to see who was calling at this unearthly hour. Imagine our surprise at finding R’ Mordechai Knafo standing there. I invited him in, with blessings of Mazal Tov. I asked if the celebration had just ended, as it is the custom of Moroccan affairs to extend until the wee hours of the morning, and he replied in the affirmative.
- Announcement of the death of the Tzaddik, Rabbi Moshe Aharon Pinto, zy”a
When R’ Knafo entered the kitchenette, he noticed the white sheet on the floor, and R’ Dahan reciting Tehillim beside it.
I was struck by the realization that R’ Knafo was not making a social visit at this unusual hour of the night. I turned to him in consternation, “It is most unusual for a ba’al simchah to come here for no reason, instead of going home to catch a few winks. Have you come to inform me that my father passed away?”
“Chas v’shalom,” was his immediate reply. “I have not come with any bad tidings.”
But I pressed onward. “From the beginning of the seudah,” I began, “I had an eerie feeling. My heart told me not to enter the banquet hall. I also did not respond clearly to your sister-in-law’s questions about my father. I even told Mr. Lasry that I wasn’t sure if I would travel with him tomorrow.
“I could not sleep on a regular bed, but on the floor. I also asked Harav Dahan to recite Tehillim through the night. Now I ask you to tell me the truth. Did Father pass away? Then I must prepare to fly to Eretz Yisrael straight away.”
R’ Mordechai Knafo lowered his gaze. In a small voice, he said, “Yes. When we arrived home after the affair, we heard the terrible news from Eretz Yisrael that your father, the tzaddik, passed away this evening, at exactly 9:00. Baruch Dayan Ha’emet.”
When I reviewed everything that had happened, I recalled that precisely the moment when Father died was when I told Mrs. Knafo that I did not know his condition. I was guided by Heaven not to tell an untruth.
I felt a strong sense of siyata di’Shemaya in the fact that I was not in the banquet hall during my father’s demise. I had also decided against traveling to Essaouira, and, moreover, slept on the floor like the mourner I was.
