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By Rabbi Mikhael Dahan

Before Nissan 5747, while I was studying in 770, my older brother Rabbi Eliyahu Dahan called me with a special request. He had gone on shlichus to Lille, northern France just a few months before, and he needed help with the mivtzoyim for Pessach that was fast approaching. Getting people to sell their chometz and distributing shmurah Matzah to the entire city and surroundings was too big a task to perform alone. So Eli asked me if I would come with a few friends to assist him, at least ten days before Pessach. I was reluctant to accept. After all, I have never traveled back home for Pessach from 770 before Yud Alef Nissan, and I wasn’t keen on missing it this year. After discussing it with some of my friends, scouting for willing candidates, my chaver Berele Pachter A”H said that he would go, but I’d have to join him.

We were set to travel to Paris on Thursday, 3 Nissan and go to Lille on Sunday. However, wanting to catch one more Mincha with the Rebbe, and then getting caught up in the last-minute shopping, I missed my flight. After booking for Sunday, I called my brother to let him know that I will not be there on Sunday as planned, but Berele will, so they can get started. Without getting frustrated at the change of plans, Eli asks me for one more favor. “Since you’ll be at the farbrengen this Shabbos, would you give in a bottle for the Yud Alef Nissan farbrengen of next Thursday?”

You see, it was customary for shluchim who were planning a major event to give in a bottle of Mashkeh before Shabbos. In the middle of the farbrengen, the Rebbe would pour some of the vodka in his cup, spill some of it from his cup back into the bottle, and then from the bottle to the shliach who would invite everyone to the event and give out some of the maskeh to the people in 770. Though it was unusual for a bochur to go up for a bottle, I felt that I owed it to my brother to acquiesce. It was the least that I could do to atone for my delay. As planned, in the middle of the farbrengen, I went to get the bottle from the Rebbe. After pouring some mashkeh in my cup, the Rebbe asked me “Noch imetsen fort mit dir?” (Is anyone else traveling with you?) Assuming that The Rebbe was asking me if there was anyone else here that was traveling with me so he can give him mashkeh too, I stood in silence, unable to utter the word “Nein” to the Rebbe. So the Rebbe asks again “noch imetsen fort mit dir?” At this point, the mazkir Rabbi Groner, who was opening the many bottles that were on the table, told the Rebbe “Ehr fort alein” (he is traveling alone) and motioned to me to proceed to invite the crowd to the event taking place in Lille next Thursday.

When I arrived in Lille on Monday morning, I perplexedly told them what happened by the farbrengen. Berele immediately exclaimed “I wrote to the Rebbe on Thursday that I was traveling with you to Lille for mivtzah Matzah, so the Rebbe saw you coming up alone, he was in fact asking about me!” Now it all made sense. My confusion turned into awe. I may have forgotten about Berel Pachter when I was standing in front of the Rebbe, but the Rebbe didn’t. Out of the hundreds of letters that came in every day, the Rebbe paid attention to the details and cared that nobody shall be left out.

The campaign was a success, some of our friends came to join us from Antwerp, which is a short drive away. The farbrengen was well attended, me and Berele took turn distributing the Mashkeh that the Rebbe sent through us for the occasion.

Fast forward 36 years. I told this story at the Yud Alef Nissan farbrengen in Montreal a few months ago. The Mashpia Rabbi Itche Meir Gurary asked me if I had ever written to Rebbe to explain why I didn’t answer him when he asked if anyone else was going with me. When I answer in the negative, he told me “You should write today!” But I couldn’t because I didn’t know my friend’s mother’s name. So, in the morning of Yud Alef Nissan, I called Berele to tell him what had happen the previous night and to ask him for his mother’s name. He was full of enthusiasm when he heard the mashpiah’s reaction. “You should write today! Wow, look at the derher of a chosid! 5747, 5783, what difference does it make? Just write to the Rebbe as if it was yesterday!”

He then told me that everything is Behashgocho protis, and it was the right time to ask him for his mother’s name to write to the Rebbe, because he had recently started treatment. He didn’t want to elaborate, he wanted to remain positive and was full of faith that everything will be fine. He sounded just as positive as when we spoke a few days after getting home from a medically induce coma resulting from his severe bout with Covid-19 at the onset of the first wave. I was overtaken by an emotional storm. On the one hand, hearing such terrifying news, on the other hand, hearing such strong bitachon. I immediately sat down to write a letter to the Rebbe, detailing the topics that I discussed by the farbrengen the night before, especially to motivation to make everyone we meet sell their chometz. I mentioned that I had already started on that very morning, getting a Jew that I met to fill out the mechiras chometz form. I then recounted the story and expressed regret for not answering when asked if anyone was traveling with me, explaining that I forgot at that moment that my friend had gone ahead. And of course, I poured my heart begging for his immediate and complete recovery, so he can continue to inspire his surroundings.

I put my letter in a volume of Igros Kodesh. I was stunned at the site of the first few words of the letter that were on that page of volume 10, letter 3255: “After your silence, I was please to receive your letter with a Pan to read at the Tziyun. And I enjoyed reading about the farbrengen of Yud Tes Kislev, and mainly about the good resolutions in the realm of actions, and especially that these resolutions already started to materialize.” Unbelievable! Every part of my letter was addressed. This time I made sure to include my friend in my interaction with the Rebbe, and once again, the Rebbe didn’t forget to mention him. “Niflah!” (marvelous) was the one worded reply from Berele upon hearing this development.

Niflah, indeed.

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