We all know the story: Moses, the Israelites, the desperate flight from Egypt... But the details? Oh, the Rabbis have some thoughts.

The book of Psalms (Tehillim) is a constant source of inspiration, and the Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations, dives deep into its verses, uncovering layers of meaning we might otherwise miss. Let's look at Psalm 106, where we find that God "rebuked the Red Sea, and it dried up." Simple enough, right?

Well, not so fast.

Rabbi Hunah and Rabbi Aha, in their wisdom, offer two slightly different takes on how this actually went down. One says that God parted the sea "with the blast of Your nostrils," evoking a powerful image of divine breath. The other suggests the waters "stood upright like a heap," a more static, almost architectural vision of the miracle. And, of course, the verse goes on to say: "And the waters were a wall to them on their right and on their left." Imagine that! Walls of water!

But here's where it gets really interesting: what happened to Pharaoh?

Rabbi Judah and Rabbi Nehemiah lock horns on this one. Rabbi Judah insists that not a single Egyptian survived the ordeal, pointing to the verse stating, "There was not one of them left." A clean sweep. End of story.

But Rabbi Nehemiah isn't so sure. He argues that Pharaoh himself actually survived! He finds support in the verse, "And yet for this purpose I have spared you." Spared him for what, you ask? Well, presumably to serve as a living testament to God's power, a walking, talking (or perhaps just shivering and traumatized) reminder of the Exodus.

And then, just to muddy the waters further, "some say" that Pharaoh actually drowned last, bringing up the verse: "And Pharaoh and his army sank in the sea." So, did he survive? Did he drown first? Did he drown last?

Talk about a cliffhanger!

The beauty of midrash, this rabbinic style of interpretation, isn't necessarily about finding one definitive answer. It's about wrestling with the text, exploring different possibilities, and appreciating the richness and complexity of our tradition. It's about understanding that sometimes, the questions themselves are more important than the answers.

So, what do you think happened to Pharaoh? Perhaps the answer lies not just in the text, but in our own understanding of justice, mercy, and the enduring power of storytelling.