Daniel’s battle with the Dragon, one of the apocryphal Additions to Daniel, is affixed to the end of the book in the Septuagint. The editor has here included a new vocalized and cantillated edition of the Aramaic text preserved in the 12th century Divrei Yeraḥmiel (Oxford Bodleian Heb d.11 transcribed by Rabbi Dr. Moses Gaster). The language of this passage is an odd synthesis of Targumic, pseudo-Biblical Aramaic, and even some Syriac forms, so the editor’s vocalization is aiming for a happy medium of all the possibilities. (In several locations Divrei Yeraḥmiel uses incorrect Hebrew-specific forms, probably due to scribal error. These are here marked as a qere-ketiv split.) . . .

A “bikkur” piyyut traditionally added at the end of Hashkivenu for Shavˁuot in the Old French (and Maḥzor Vitry) and Romaniote rites. From the acrostic we know the author was named Yosef ben Yaˁakov. Other than that we know very little about this poem’s origin and age, although its structure fits with the early Ashkenazi piyyut oeuvre. . . .

A blessing before the recitation of psalms, used in the old Eretz Yisrael rite as found in the Cairo Geniza. Since its structure is similar to the blessing before the haftara which is often cantillated, I have taken the liberty of adding psalmodic cantillation to the text. . . .

The custom of reciting BaMeh Madliqin, the second chapter of Mishnah Shabbat, on Friday nights probably originated as an anti-Karaite polemic. While the Karaites were opposed to any use of fire on Shabbat, rabbinic Jews kindle lights before Shabbat, and the recitation of BaMeh Madliqin — the laws of Shabbat lights — emphasized this distinction. One of the best firsthand sources we have for this is the following introductory blessing from the Cairo Genizah (T-S NS 299.150 verso) for the recitation of BaMeh Madliqin, first published by Naftali Wieder in this article. This blessing emphasizes the continuity of the Torah both written and oral from Sinai to the sages and elders. . . .

This piyyut, Izel Moshe (Arise, Moses), the fifth in a series of Aramaic piyyutim from the seventh day of Pesaḥ, is meant to be recited after the second verse of the song proper, as an elaboration on God’s strength. The English translation preserves the Hebrew acrostic of the original. . . .

A prayer for those martyred in the First Crusade and Rhineland Massacres, and by extension, all subsequent pogroms up until and including the Holocaust. . . .

The traditional Ashkenazi qerovot added to the Musaf repetition for Shabbat Sheqalim, alongside a new gender-neutral translation . . .

A Byzantine-era Aramaic piyyut for Purim, perhaps written as an introduction to the Megillah reading. It tells the narrative of the Jewish people from Abraham to the final redemption, focusing on the foes who sought to destroy us and their inevitable failure to do so. Uniquely among early-medieval poems, this one actively mentions the Romans (read: Christians) and Saracens (read: Muslims) and prays for their downfall in non-coded language. This translation loosely preserves the couplet rhyme scheme, as well as the alphabetical acrostic — perhaps with a phonetic punning reference to the name “Shlomo” at the end. . . .

“Elimelekh G’la” is a Byzantine-era Western Aramaic poetic retelling of the Book of Ruth. It was probably originally used as part of the liturgy for Shavuot, perhaps as a poetic addition to the recitation of a Targumic interpretation of the Book of Ruth. (The verses from Ruth and Psalms appended to the coda of the piyyuṭ would suggest such a Sitz im Leben.) But in any case, it has a great acrostic structure and rhyme scheme, and ought to be preserved! Here is included a vocalized text, largely based on the unvocalized text compiled in Jewish Palestinian Aramaic Poetry from Late Antiquity (ed. Yahalom and Sakaloff, 1999) where it’s the tenth poem recorded. ‘ve added a rhyming poetic translation that preserves the Hebrew acrostic. Credit to Laura Suzanne Lieber’s literal translations of these poems (in Jewish Aramaic Poetry from Late Antiquity: Translations and Commentaries, 2018), which have served as a very helpful resource for the project. . . .

A poetic Birkat haMazon text for the breakfast after Yom Kippur found in British Library MS Or. 9772 D. All the opening words of the alphabetical acrostic are from Psalms 111. . . .

This is a reconstruction of a liturgy for a Birkat haMazon for Ḥanukkah witnessed in multiple Cairo Geniza manuscripts, including Cambridge, CUL: T-S H4.13; T-S H6.37; T-S 8H10.14; T-S NS 328.56; T-S NS 328.61; T-S AS 101.293; New York, JTS: ENA 2885.7; Oxford: MS heb. e.71/27 – MS heb. e.71/32; St. Peterburg: Yevr. III B 135. . . .

This is a reconstruction of a liturgy for a Birkat haMazon for Purim witnessed in the Cairo Geniza fragment T-S H6.37 (page 1, recto and verso)‬. . . .

This is a poetic Birkat haMazon for Pesaḥ, from the Cairo Geniza (CUL T-S H11.88 1v). Much thanks to the work of Dr. Avi Shmidman, whose 2009 doctoral thesis is the foundational work for poetic Birkat haMazon studies. He marks it as Piyyut 64, and his Hebrew-language commentary begins on page 394 of his work. I’ve included two translations of the poetic portions — one literal and one preserving the acrostic and rhyme scheme. . . .

The following piyyut seems to have been customarily used in some Babylonian communities as an extensive replacement for the “creator of the vine-fruit” opening of the kiddush. Rav Saadia Gaon forbade it for being an alteration of the talmudic formula, but his successor Rav Hai Gaon permitted it for its cherished status. No communities today have preserved a custom of reciting it, but in 1947 Naphtali Wieder (zçl) published a text he found in the Cairo Geniza, which is replicated and translated below. Daniel Goldschmidt (zçl) suggests that it may be in it of itself a compilation of two different rites. The conjunction point is marked below with a black line. . . .

The Tabula Smaragdina, or the Emerald Tablet, is a cryptic and compact work, part of the Technical Hermetica — a genre of mystical and magical texts of great popularity in the medieval and renaissance era. Traditionally attributed to the legendary figure Hermes Trismegistus, it is considered a foundational text for Near Eastern and European alchemy. It is the ultimate source of the popular occultist expression “as above, so below,” although that specific expression doesn’t appear in the original Arabic text as found in the ninth-century Secret of Creation. . . .

This is a litanic Ḳiddush for a Rosh Ḥodesh meal, constructed based on the Ḳiddush for Rosh Ḥodesh in Jerusalem as described in Masekhet Soferim chapter 19:9, mostly following the GRA’s edition. Traditionally it would be done in the presence of twelve town elders and twelve scholars of ritual purity, but today we could adapt it to be recited at a festive meal for Rosh Ḥodesh in the presence of seven — the minyan count according to the traditional Western practice recorded elsewhere in Masekhet Soferim 10:7. . . .

In Yemenite Jewish children’s schools, this prayer of unknown authorship is said before the lesson in unison. The teacher conducts and the children sing together to a melody. The prayer is printed in tajjim (Yemenite trilingual Pentateuch codices) before the book of Leviticus, traditionally the starting point for a child’s education. The first twenty-two lines of the prayer are an alphabetical acrostic wherein each line spells out the entire letter in which it starts. For instance, the first line spells out Alef, Lamed, and Pe, which spells out the full name of the letter Alef. This is followed by three Biblical verses all starting with the word “Good,” a brief poem in Hebrew, and a concluding passage largely in Judeo-Arabic. Here the editor has included the original text, along with a non-gendered English translation and a transcription of the Judeo-Arabic text into Arabic script. . . .

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. . . .

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. . . .