“And the Egyptians pursued, and went in after them into the midst of the sea, all Pharaoh’s horse[emphasis added], his chariots, and his horsemen” (Exodus 14:23).

The medieval commentator Rashi asks, “Was there only one horse?” Obviously not. He explains the deeper message of this word choice: That no one horse had more value than any other.

What does the Torah have to say about a person making concrete plans for the eventuality of her death? Is it appropriate to sign a health care proxy or to make out a will?

There is no better example than our patriarch, Jacob. When this week’s parsha (Torah potion), Vayechi, opens, Jacob is getting older and sees that his death is not far off. So, what does he do? He plans for it. He calls Joseph to his bedside, refers explicitly to his impending death (“I will lie down with my fathers”), and makes arrangements for his burial.

One of the most insidious messages Hollywood has foisted on mankind is that only the bad have fun. In popular culture, people of dubious character always seem to do the interesting things, drive fast cars, and get all the really good lines. Good guys (and girls) are boring, simple, and one-dimensional.

Yom Kippur is a day of Divine forgiveness. If we have done the work we need to do, the Torah tells us, “On this day he will atone for you, to cleanse you; from all your sins, before the Lord you will be cleansed” (Leviticus 16:30). But what is that work that we must do?

We spend almost a month and a half preparing for Yom Kippur, yet if recognizing our precarious situation in this world is a prerequisite to feeling on this day, Yom Kippur can be overwhelming and discouraging.How does one avoid that?

Both this week’s parsha (Torah portion) and the Book of Genesis end on a bittersweet note. The brothers worry that Joseph still holds a grudge against them; and, despite claims to the contrary, that he will take revenge on them for selling him into slavery. This is why they concoct a story for Joseph that their father, Jacob, gave them clear instructions on his deathbed to tell Joseph to forgive his brothers.

“Through me, kings rule,” wrote King Solomon in Proverbs (8:15). He was not talking about money here, not power, and not family. He was talking about wisdom.

Through wisdom, kings rule.

Who is the first person in the Torah to say “please”?

“Please say you are my sister” (Genesis 12:13).

A child’s first breath is as much a miracle for us as it is for the baby. After nine months, oxygen, which previously flowed through the fetus’s veins from the mother’s own blood, now has to be processed by an untested lung — an organ needing such precision and systems coordination that it would put the skills of a NASA technician to shame.

Difficult choices are something we tend to run away from. It looks great on TV, but who wants that kind of pressure? This presents us with a paradox:The more we limit life by removing the choices, the more boring, repetitive, and meaningless life gets. On the other hand, the more we confront difficult decisions, the more exciting life is — but the more pressure it has.