In Parshas Bamidbar, we are introduced to life in the desert. It’s not exciting. It’s not glamorous. It’s not exotic travel. It’s the same cloud, the same camp, the same manna—day after day. But it was also the greatest training ground in history. It’s where Hashem shaped us into His nation. And that’s what Sefer Bamidbar is all about. Desert life is not about destinations; it’s about formation. It’s about forming and forging ahead with a mission and purpose in life. We might not always know where we’re going, but if we’re with our families, with Torah, and with Hashem, we’re going everywhere that counts.
Rabbi Fischel Schachter tells the following story with his signature blend of humor and heart: It was Chol HaMoed Pesach. Now, Chol HaMoed with a large family is anything but “chol.” It’s packed. It’s hectic. It’s loud. Baruch Hashem! So there I was, erev the second days, trying to survive the Pesach whirlwind when my wife—how shall I put this politely—“suggested” that I take the kids out for a while. Now, I know how this works, so I preemptively turned the request into a command to myself. I clapped my hands together and announced, “Everyone into the van! We’re going on an excursion!”
“Where?” the kids asked. “You tell me,” I said cheerfully, “where do you want to go?” That was a mistake.
The older kids groaned, “If we see the Prospect Park Zoo one more time, we’re going to turn into monkeys!” Another yelled, “Not the Aquarium again!” And then, I had a brainstorm. I quickly swerved and turned onto the Belt Parkway.
“Tatty, are we going to the airport? Are we flying somewhere?” Noon on Chol HaMoed? No, we’re not flying anywhere.
So what were we doing? We were going to the airport. Why? Because the AirTrain at JFK goes from terminal to terminal—and guess what? It’s free. You get a great view. It’s quiet. Quality time with the kids. And... it’s free! Did I mention that?
“Listen,” I explained to the kids, “typically, you wait in line for four hours and pay twenty bucks to ride something for thirty seconds. This ride is longer and costs nothing. What more do you want?” They were skeptical. But their only alternative was going home to help their mother with the dishes, so they agreed. Suddenly, one of my kids asked loudly, “Tatty, you’re wearing your shtreimel and bekeshe... you know, there aren’t going to be a lot of other Yidden at the airport right now.”
I retorted, “You’ve seen the way other people dress? I think we’re the least of anyone’s fashion concerns.”
And then—relief! We pulled up to the platform, and what did I see? Yidden! Everywhere! Boro Park, Flatbush—we were all there. The platform was tile-to-tile covered in macaroons, orange peels, and matzah crumbs. I felt like I had just arrived at the Mirrer Yeshiva on Chol Hamoed. Baruch Hashem, I wasn’t the only one with this brilliant idea.
We boarded the AirTrain, and my kids were in heaven. They waved at every other AirTrain full of Jewish families. They were pointing at planes, giggling, and clapping. It was a 10-minute loop around the airport, and we stayed on for over an hour.
At one point, the train stopped, and a man boarded. A real live pilot—wings on his uniform, rolling suitcase, the whole look. He stood there, taking it all in. You could tell he’d flown to distant war zones and survived typhoons, but this? This Chol HaMoed mob on the AirTrain? This was new. I quickly told one of my kids to give him a seat.
The pilot waved it off. “Nah, I’ve been sitting for 16 hours. I don’t need to sit anymore.”
I asked him where he flew in from. “China,” he said. Then he looked at me and asked, “Mind if I ask you something?” Whenever someone says that, you always mind—but you can’t say so. “Sure,” I said, dreading the next question.
“Are these all your kids?” I smiled. “Nah. Some are in Israel. Some are at home helping my wife.”
We started schmoozing. Then he asked, “So, rabbi, which terminal are you heading to? Maybe I can help you find it.”
I hesitated. “Eh... I’m not sure.” He offered to look at my ticket. I stammered, “You can’t. It’s... an electronic ticket.”
I was spiraling. The more he asked, the deeper I was digging myself into this fictitious flight. Finally, I confessed. “To be honest, we’re not going anywhere. We’re just riding the AirTrain going around the airport. We’ve been here about half an hour.”
There was a long pause. He looked at me confused and asked, “Why?”
“Well,” I hesitated before plunging ahead, “these kids don’t have TV at home. They don’t play computer games. They don’t even own their own phones. So it’s up to me to give them quality time, something wholesome and fun. It’s not easy finding places that meet our standards. So... here we are.”
He nodded. Then he got real. “I fly the world. Three weeks out, one week home. Sometimes not even that. If I end a flight in Australia but live in Denver, by the time I get home, I have to head back. My wife left me years ago. My daughter sends me birthday cards out of obligation. I’m all alone.”
He paused. Then he said something I’ll never forget. “You know, rabbi, you’re going nowhere... but you’re really going everywhere. I’m flying all over the globe. I know exactly where I’m going. I have my itinerary for the next year and a half—departure times, arrival gates, routes, everything. But you? You’re going around in circles on a little train with your children. And you’re going somewhere. Because you have a life. You have a family.”
And with that, he walked out. I sat there with those words echoing in my mind: You’re going nowhere—but you’re going everywhere.
(Excerpted from Rabbi Yaakov Astor’s column in the Monsey Mevaser)
Rabbi Dovid Hoffman is the author of the popular “Torah Tavlin” book series, filled with stories, wit and hundreds of divrei Torah, including the brand new “Torah Tavlin Yamim Noraim” in stores everywhere. You’ll love this popular series. Also look for his book, “Heroes of Spirit,” containing one hundred fascinating stories on the Holocaust. They are fantastic gifts, available in all Judaica bookstores and online at http://israelbookshoppublications.com.To receive Rabbi Hoffman’s weekly “Torah Tavlin” sheet on the parsha, e-mail This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.