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.

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.

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 is the piyyut “Az K’einei Avadim (As slaves, with eyes beseeching,…)” by an unknown paytan for the seventh circuit of the Hoshana Rabba service (on the seventh and final day of Sukkot), published in Adler and Davis’s Maḥzor for Sukkot, Avodat Ḥag ha-Sukkot (1908), pp. 183.

This is the piyyut “Az K’einei Avadim (As slaves, with eyes beseeching,…)” by an unknown paytan for the seventh circuit of the Hoshana Rabba service (on the seventh and final day of Sukkot), published in Adler and Davis’s Maḥzor for Sukkot, Avodat Ḥag ha-Sukkot (1908), pp. 183.

An alphabetical acrostic piyyut celebrating the victory of Esther and Mordekhai over the forces of Haman.

The Italian rite, unique among Jewish rites, has preserved up until very recently the custom recorded in the Talmud, Masekhet Tagnanith, for communally declared fast days. In this rite, sometimes referred to as the Twenty-Four Blessings, six more blessings are added to the liturgy — the Zikhronot and Shofrot portions more commonly recited on Rosh haShanah, and four different psalms, all interspaced with a poetic litany on behalf of the ancestors’ merit and shofar blasts. It’s a fascinatng service!

The alphabetic acrostic piyyut, Adir Hu, in its Latin translation by Johann Stephan Rittangel as found in his translation of the Pesaḥ seder haggadah, Liber Rituum Paschalium (1644).

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.

The Yiddish translation of the Aramaic piyyut “Arkin” is appended to the first known printing of the Maaséh Aqdamut (Fürth 1694). The transcription is based on an earlier transcription of the Fürth 1694 printing published by Isaac Rivkind in “די היסטאָרישע אַלעגאָריע פון ר׳ מאיר שַ״ץ” (“The Historical Allegory of Rabbi Meir, shatz [Shaliaḥ Tsibur]”) the first chapter in Filologishe shriftn vol. 3 (1929), pp. 1-42. (This translation of the Aqdamut appears on pages/numbered columns 40-42.)

“Arkin” is one of two Aramaic piyyutim read by some Ashkenazi communities at the beginning of the Torah reading on the first day of Shavuot (the other being the Aqdamut). The piyyut makes reference to an important legend featuring Mosheh experiencing an ascent in which he must wrest the Torah from angelic entities that are averse to parting with it, or loathe to giving it up, to humanity. Introducing the piyyut she translated in Jewish Aramaic Poetry from Late Antiquity (Brill: 2018), Dr. Laura Lieber writes, “This [Shavuot] poem dramatizes neither the content of revelation, as other poems here do, nor the season of its giving, as the story of Ruth does. Instead, our poet imagines God’s summoning of Moses to the heavens to receive the Torah atop Mount Sinai. God’s voice is most prominent here, although the angels also speak; Moses, however, keeps silent, and the poet depicts him with anything but aggression and bravado. The poet crafts a scene that recreates the tension of the imagined encounter: God repeatedly reassures Moses, who fears angelic aggression, but the angels also express fear of Moses, who is here depicted as having horns, which God encourages Moses to use in self-defense.”