My Dad was a world traveler. 
I should really amend that statement. 
My Dad worked for an international firm which necessitated his traveling to many exotic locations. 
For long stretches of time. 
When I was a little girl I missed my Dad very much. 
When he would return from a long trip the first question I would ask him was how long he would be staying home. 
The spectre of his prolonged journeys haunted me. 
When he would return, he would regale us with some stories of  his travels. 
For example , he spoke about India and the cows commandeering the streets, making mention that I would be very unhappy amongst the free roaming animals. 
Or South America,  the home of the llama. 
My sister and I probably had the dubious distinction of having the largest collection of llama jewelry on the planet. I always wondered how he managed to find these pieces until it finally occurred to me when I grew older, that he probably purchased these trinkets in the airport on his way home which explains the llama theme from his years of travel to the land where llamas roam. 
My Dad was a pragmatic person and not typically the poetic type, but I best remember his description of a visit to the Amazon (the longest river in the world, not the largest online retailer in the world). 
His journey to that region included a Shabbat and he told us his experience standing by the banks of the river and reciting the Kabbalat Shabbat, the prayers that usher in Shabbat by himself. He pondered that it might have been the first time those prayers had been uttered in that place. 
As a person who kept the dietary laws, my Dad packed carefully, dedicating an entire suitcase to sardines, salami and Matza along with other tasteless non perishable items which ensured he wouldn’t  starve. 
When I was young I thought it was all very glamorous. 
I felt sorry for myself that my Dad was away on these journeys for such long stretches of time. 
It was only later in life that I realized that the person who suffered the most on these journeys - was my Dad. 
He was separated from his family for weeks at a time, subsisting on packaged and awful food,  (sardines - ugh 😑) with the goal to provide for his family. 

When I think back, he never complained about any of it. 
He made light of the challenge and even waxed poetic from time to time. 
In this week’s Torah portion, another double header, Matos-Masei, we are regaled with a list of the many stops the Israelites made on their journey through the desert for 40 years. 
The Book of Numbers ends with the portion called Masei. It lists the 42 journeys and encampments the Jews took in the desert. 
As you can well imagine, the commentaries are puzzled by the need for this list. 
The Torah is not a field guide for desert travel. 
Obviously there is a deeper message to be found from this seemingly superfluous list. 
The Maharal, 16th century Talmudic scholar, teaches that a person, nor a nation is perfect. We are created with potential and our mission is to actualize our potential. This is true for the individual and it is true for for the Jewish people as a whole. Leaving Egypt was only the beginning of the process. There was still much work to be done for the Jewish people to mature and that transformation occurred during the desert wandering. 
When my Dad was home, he taught us the Parsha every Friday night. 
One of his signature phrases was
“The Torah never hides”…
This would be his way of teaching us that the Torah does not make angels out of the Torah protagonists. Rather, we are given a window into the real life challenges, pitfalls and successes that were part of each story. 
Each stop that is mentioned in our portion has a story. And the Torah never hides the challenging moments that transpired in the wilderness. 
And each chapter, glorious or otherwise, becomes part of the fabric of our story. 
Sivan Rahav Meir, journalist and Torah teacher in Israel today, also reminds us that we cannot go forward without making sense of the past. This accounting of the journey propels us into the future by providing an accurate accounting of the past. 
The Torah sets the stage for all of us as we journey through life. Before you reach your next destination 🛑 STOP!
Look over your shoulder, take a moment to reflect and see all you have experienced. 
Nowadays such reflections may seem counterintuitive. We are always rushing forward to meet the next challenge headlong. 
But the Torah says NO!
Before one enters the next stage it behooves us to remember where we came from, what steps were taken on the journey that helped mold who we are today. 
It is interesting that the last portion of the book of Numbers doesn’t end with any recounting of miracles. There is no tale of splitting of the sea or a revelation at Sinai, nor food falling from  heaven. Rather the book ends with a list of stopping places along the journey as if to say the real miracle is the journey itself. The fact that one has arrived and overcome the pitfalls and potholes along the path-that is the quiet miracle to be celebrated. 
When I think about my Dad and the stories he told, the lesson that remains with me is the quiet, tenacious and dignified manner with which he clung to his principles. The Torah was indeed his field guide in the journey of life and ultimately showed him the way forward. 
Safe travels on the journey of life!
Shabbat Shalom and so much love!