Jews have read sacred texts to commemorate miracles of redemption for a long time. Purim has Megilat Esther. Many communities read Megilat Antiochus or Megilat Yehudit for Ḥanukkah. But to many modern Jews, the most miraculous redemption in recent history was the founding of the state of Israel, as we commemorate on Yom ha-Atsma’ut. Like Purim, the story of the founding of Israel was entirely secular on a surface level, with no big showy miracles like a sea splitting or a mountain aflame. Like Ḥanukkah, a Jewish state in the Land of Israel won its independence against mighty forces allied in opposition. But we don’t have a megillah to read for Yom ha-Atsma’ut. Or do we? Just as Megillat Esther is said to be a letter written by Mordekhai to raise awareness of the events of Shushan, so too does the Israeli Scroll of Independence, Megilat ha-Atsma’ut, raise awareness of the events of the founding of the State of Israel. In this vein, I decided to create a cantillation system for Megilat ha-Atsma’ut. Ta’amei miqra were chosen attempting to follow Masoretic grammatical rules – since modern Hebrew has a different grammatical structure, the form is somewhat loose. Because of the thematic similarities to Purim, I chose Esther cantillation for the majority of the text. Just as some tragic lines in Esther are read in Eikhah cantillation, some lines regarding the Shoah or bearing grim portents for the wars to follow are to be sung in Eikhah cantillation. And the final phrases of chapters II and III are to be sung in the melody for the end of a book of the Ḥumash, or the Song of the Sea melody. They can be done in a call-and-response form, with the community reading and the reader repeating. . . .

A megillah attesting to the terrible events of World War II from the vantage of North African Jewry in Casablanca. . . .

Presenting the full, somewhat short text of the Megillah of Sebastiano, telling the story of a great miracle that occurred to the Jewish community of Morocco on 1 Elul 5338, or August 4 1578 CE. On that day, King Sebastian of Portugal attempted to conquer Alcácer Quibir in North Africa — and inevitably to force the inquisition on the Jews of Morocco. But he was turned back at the last moment, protecting Moroccan independence for several more centuries. This scroll is traditionally recited in Jewish communities in the Maghreb to celebrate the repulsion of the Portuguese. . . .

Behold, a full text of the Megillah of Fustat, telling a story of a great miracle that happened in 1524 CE (5284 AM). . . .

The Megillat Saragossa (also known as the Megillat Syracusa) in Hebrew and English, named after the tale of rescue and reversal of fortune in the cultural memory of some Sepharadi communities, to be read on the 17th of Shəvat. . . .

This is a faithful transcription of the text of the medieval Megillat Yehudith (the Scroll of Judith), not to be confused with the deutero-canonical Book of Judith, authored in Antiquity. We have further set this text side-by-side with the English translation made by Susan Weingarten, and vocalized and cantillated the Hebrew so that it may be chanted. . . .

The Words of Gad the Augur is a lost work mentioned in I Chronicles 29:29. It is also an apocryphal Hebrew work of fourteen chapters, attributed to the Jews of Cochin in India. Most famous for its unique verse for the letter נ (nūn) in its variant of Psalms 145, this text also features multiple unique midrashim, reworked Biblical texts, and Hebrew forms and names not found elsewhere. . . .

One of many variants of this notorious work, the Sefer Toldot Yeshu is an irreverent retelling? a bitter deconstruction? a mocking parody? of the Christian narrative of the birth, life, and death of Jesus of Nazareth. Taking its general structure from the gospels, it coöpts and alters it to make the main character look like a petty, vindictive sorcerer, his disciples into either sectarian liars or loyal rabbinic plants, and his followers into easily duped fools. Toldot Yeshu was a very popular work in medieval times, and you can tell — this sort of a text was certainly written by someone whose primary relationship with Christians was fear. It’s the bitter invective of an oppressed people without power for themselves, the dirty laundry that two thousand years of murder leaves behind. It’s also, just, like unspeakably, hilariously crude. Have a garlicky Nittel, everyone! . . .

This is a direct transcription, including cantillation and non-standard vocalizations, of the cantillated Megilat Antiokhos found in the British Library manuscript Or 5866, folios 105v-110r. . . .