Traditional Ashkenazi practice entailed the recitation of a large number of seliḥot piyyutim in every single one of the Yom Kippur ‘amidot. In many Ashkenazi communities today, these are (excepting Ma’ariv and Ne’ilah) skipped on account of time. But this has always felt like a great shame to me, because seliḥot are, in a sense, the theological and liturgical core of the Yom Kippur practice. So a while back I made a bunch of spreadsheets to compare all the attested Yom Kippur seliḥot rites as listed in Goldschmidt’s maḥzor, and designed an abbreviated cycle of seliḥot for Shaḥarit, Musaf, and Minḥah. Each cycle features two regular seliḥot, one ‘aqedah (a retelling of the binding of Isaac), and one pizmon (a final seliḥah with a repeated refrain, sung communally), for a total of four seliḥot and five repetitions of the thirteen attributes. This is the first result of this process, for Shaḥarit. Musaf and Minḥah selections will arrive eventually, albeit probably not this year.

This piyyut, “Ḥanaiah, Mishael, and Azariah,” was originally written to be recited as an introduction to the targum of the Second Commandment, the prohibition on worshiping other gods. It is a dispute-poem retelling the story of Ḥanaiah, Mishael, and Azariah, the three “holy children” of Daniel chapter 3 who would rather be thrown into an oven than worship an idol. It’s an intricate multi-part acrostic that I absolutely love. (I also am partially convinced it may be influenced by the apocryphal “Song of the Three Holy Children,” if not in context then in the idea of an extensive poem related to their story.) Since the original poem’s acrostic only goes halfway through the alphabet, the great Meir bar Isaac Nehorai of Orleans wrote a continuation that is also included here.

Azalat Bekhita, is probably incomplete, extending only to ḥeth in known manuscripts. It features multiple people, places, and things important in Moshe’s life taking turns to eulogize him. It’s been translated preserving the acrostic and monorhyme scheme. Taken from Sokoloff and Yahalom’s Jewish Palestinian Aramaic Poetry from Late Antiquity (2018), it is presented here vocalized with an original translation.

Amar Kiris l-Moshe, is a midrashic narrative of Moshe going to Adam to ask why he cursed humanity with death. It’s been translated preserving the acrostic and monorhyme scheme. Taken from Sokoloff and Yahalom’s “Jewish Palestinian Aramaic Poetry from Late Antiquity,” it is presented here vocalized with an original translation.

This piyyut, “Itgabar,” was originally written as an introduction to the sixth commandment, the commandment of not murdering. It is a poetic retelling of the death of Joab in I Kings 2:28-34. Joab, the leader of David’s armies, was a notoriously violent man, the slaughterer of Abner and Amasa. He died in a correspondingly violent way, struck down by Benaiah son of Jehoiada within the Tabernacle itself. Surprisingly enough, this poem frames Solomon as an unjust and cruel ruler, treating Joab’s death as a tragedy rather than the quid-pro-quo consequence it is portrayed as in Kings. In this location, it almost goes so far as to calling Solomon himself a murderer.

This piyyut, “Amar Yitsḥaq,” was originally written as an introduction to the fifth commandment, the commandment of honoring your father and mother. In the eyes of the payṭan, the quintessential example of honoring your father is an incredibly morbid one — Isaac, encouraging his father to go through with it on the altar and begging him to strike true, so that the sacrifice isn’t rendered unfit! It incorporates midrashic narratives about Isaac’s total willingness to go through with the sacrifice, as well as his longing for his mother in the process. To our modern eyes it is quite a disturbing work! But it’s worth remembering that there were many cases in medieval Europe of Jewish parents so desperate and terrified on account of the Crusades that they killed their own children rather than have them submit to baptism. Perhaps this poem provided those who heard such horrific stories some comfort.

This piyyut, “Joseph Overpowered,” was originally written in the Byzantine era as an introduction to the seventh commandment, the commandment against adultery. It tells a midrashic elaboration of the story of Potiphar’s wife’s attempt and failure to seduce Joseph. It’s honestly a bit racier than one would expect from a liturgical text, with quite a few double entendres on the topic of sexuality. Like the two prior piyyutim — Amar Yitzḥak and Itgabar — it begins in medias res.

This piyyut, Amar Oyev (The Enemy Said), the sixth in a series of Aramaic piyyutim from the seventh day of Pesaḥ, is meant to be recited as an introduction to the targum of Exodus 15, verse 9.

This piyyut, Man K’vatakh (Who is Like You), the seventh in a series of Aramaic piyyutim from the seventh day of Pesaḥ, is meant to be recited as an introduction to the Targum of the verse that includes “Mi Khamokha.” The English translation preserves the Hebrew acrostic of the Aramaic.

This piyyut, Tanun Shvaḥeih (Tell the Praise), the eighth in a series of Aramaic piyyutim from the seventh day of Pesaḥ, is meant to be recited as an introduction to the Targum of Exodus 15:18, the famous verse “Adonai yimlokh l-‘olam va-‘ed.” The English translation preserves the Hebrew acrostic of the Aramaic.

The complete qedushta cycle (colloquially called “yotzros,” although it is not technically yotzrot but rather qerovot) for Shabbat Sheqalim by Qallir, including all the catenae of verses and repeated refrains often skipped in Ashkenazi practice. Alphabetical texts are translated with alphabetical acrostics.

Qallir’s reshut for the Ṭal service on the first day of Pesaḥ. Also included is an acrostic English translation, as well as the catena of verses found in manuscripts but missing from most modern printings

The works of the great paytan Yannai were, with the exception of a small handful of poems, almost completely lost until their rediscovery in the Cairo Geniza. This poem, an acrostic comparison of the days of Moses and Jeremiah, was written by Yannai to serve as part of the Musaf Ḳedushah on the first Shabbat after 17 Tammuz, on which the opening section of Jeremiah is recited. It bears structural and linguistic similarities to the later famous ḳinah Esh Tuqad. In its liturgical context, it was intended to introduce the final few verses of the Ḳedushah . Nowadays the custom of poetic inserts into the ḳedushah is nearly extinct, but the poem stands as a moving and powerful work nonetheless.

This piyyut of unknown authorship is certainly ancient, showing the lack of a rhyme scheme characteristic of the REALLY old piyyutim (see also Aleinu or El Adon). It is still found in some Ashkenazi and Teman maḥzorim, with many different mostly minor variants (which have been combined together somewhat eclectically into one text here). It is presented here along with an English translation attempting to preserve the Hebrew acrostic. Originally it was recited before the Ashrei leading into musaf, but perhaps for those who follow Ashkenazi customs a more appropriate location would be as an introduction to the Yizkor service on Shmini ‘Atzeret — which for those who don’t keep second-day yontef is the same day. It could also be adapted as part of the liturgy for the seventh of Adar, although the final verse (the old Western rite berakha for finishing a full Torah cycle) would have to be elided.

This Aramaic poem, written in the early Byzantine era by an unknown author, can be found in its entirety within the Targum Sheni for Esther 7:9. It features an argument between an assortment of trees over which one is required to bear the great dishonor of having to be the one to hold Haman. It’s also chock-full of anti-Christian polemic and references to Toledot Yeshu.