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.

The Secrets of Rebbi Shimōn ben Yoḥai is a pseudepigraphal record of the divine visions of the second-century rabbi, Shimon ben Yoḥai. Scholarly opinion about the date of its composition is divided. Adolf Jellinek thought it was likely authored during the time of the Crusades, while Heinrich Graetz thought it was likely composed in the mid-8th century. The visions described in the secrets portrays the Yishmaelites being led by a violent saviour of the Jews from the hegemony of the Byzantine Empire. It describes the events and rulers of the eighth-century Umayyad Empire, as well as eight-century battles between the Byzantines (known in the text as the Ḳenites or the Kingdom of Edōm) and the Umayyads (known in it as the Kingdom of Yishmael).

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.

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!

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.

The “angels on all sides” formula included with the Bedtime Shema service in many contemporary siddurim.

The origin story of Lilith as told in the Alphabet of ben Sira.

Azalat Yokheved is part of a whole genre of midrashic works suggesting Yokheved lived to see her son die — a concept even found in the Ethiopian literature. With repeated refrains, it emphasizes the desperate search of a mother trying to find her son, retracing all her steps and desperately asking everyone she can. But just as Moshe’s journey to the Promised Land ends without a conclusion, so too Yokheved never finds her Moshe. It’s been translated preserving 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.

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.

The piyyut, El Adon, in Hebrew with an interpretive “praying translation” by Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalom, z”l.

The piyyut, El Adon, in Hebrew with an English 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.

‘Ad Ana Bikhya B’Tsiyon, is one of the oldest qinot of the cycle, dating to the period before rhyme schemes were the norm for Hebrew poetry. It describes the heavenly luminaries themselves as sympathizing with and lamenting for Israel. It goes through the entire zodiac, beginning with Ares and ending with Pisces. It is traditional to stand and recite the last few lines aloud before transitioning into the Ḳedusha d’Sidra.

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.

This translation of “Adonai boker e’erokh lekha” by Rabbi David Aaron de Sola of a piyyut by an unknown paytan was first published in his Ancient Melodies of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews (1857).