1

Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

2. Adon Olam
The Theological Introduction to Prayer
This literary study of the liturgical poem Adon Olam focuses on the relationship
between its poetry and theology. It follows the version of the contemporary
ashkenazic liturgy as opposed to the later, longer, “sephardic” versions. The
poem is analyzed in the light of its poetics, its biblical and midrashic background,
along with its grounding in medieval and late antique theology. It shows that for
Adon Olam, eternity and infinity no more belie intimacy than sovereignty belies
solicitude. By interlocking God’s grandeur and grace, a mental matrix for prayer
is formed, through which Adon Olam emerges as the theological introduction to
the morning service.

1. Introduction
The origin of Adon Olam is an enigma. It first appears in the liturgies of
Normandy-England and Germany.1 The quality of poetry, the finesse of
articulation, and the depth of philosophical reflection, however, suggest a
sephardic composer of the stature of Solomon ibn Gabirol, Moshe ibn Ezra, or
Abraham ibn Ezra. All wrote poems in 11th–12th century Andalusia, Spain that
significantly parallel Adon Olam in all three characteristics. Of the three poets,
only Abraham ibn Ezra resided in France and England, making him the prime
candidate for authorship. See Excursus.
From the fourteenth century onward Adon Olam has cropped up in a
variety of liturgical settings. It frequently serves as a finale of the Sabbath and
festival service, of the Arvit (evening) service of the Day of Atonement, of
bedtime prayers, and of the deathbed service.2 It may have first penetrated the
liturgy as the conclusion of the evening service of the Day of Atonement. Adon
Olam is a perfect fit for this awesome day. It combines God’s sovereignty and

1
Adon Olam appears in MS Oxford 1195, and MS CAMB U T-S NS 201.4 and in Genizah
texts, but neither their date nor provenance is easily discernible. Its appearance after the
morning Aleinu of Tishah B’Av in Jacob b. Jehuda, Etz Ḥayyim, p. 126, last line, dates it to
1287 England. Since Adon Olam is mentioned only by name, its content must have been
well-known, making it part of the liturgy for some time, allowing for a date at least as early
as 1250. If it is traceable to Ibn Ezra (see Excursus) then it may go back to his stay in
England, c. 1160.
2
See Nulman, Encyclopedia of Jewish Prayer, p. 7f.; and Amir, “Avnei Binyan Mikrayot
LePiyyut ‘Adon Olam’,” p. 14.
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Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

solicitude; it weaves the High Holiday paytanic refrain, “God was king, God is
king, and God will be king,” through the first three lines; it declares God’s rule
“awesome”; and its last two lines serve as a soothing transition from night to
morning on this most fearful day.
Adon Olam now serves primarily as an opener of Shaḥarit. It is not clear
why this came about. One explanation finds in the opening word, adon, an
allusion to Abraham who first called upon God as “Adonai” (Gen. 15:2, 8).3
Since Abraham’s practice of morning prayer set the precedent for the people
Israel,4 it is only fitting that the morning prayers open with Abraham’s call of
“Adonai.”5 However apt such an account, it does not explain why God is
designated adon olam here, and contributes little to the understanding of the
ambience or ethos of the hymn.
The association of adon olam with Abraham, moreover, is a midrashic
trope, not a biblical one. In the Bible, Abraham comes close to designating
God as adon olam when he and Melchizedek refer to God as God as “creator
of heaven and earth” (Gen. 14:19, 22) and as “the God of heaven and the God
of earth" (Gen. 24:3). In the Midrash, Abraham came even closer to a theme of
Adon Olam and to the recognition of God as adon ha’olam. There Abraham is
compared to a man who was traveling from place to place when he saw a
palace aflame. “Is it possible that there is no one who cares for the
palace?” he wondered, until the owner of the palace looked at him and
said, “I am the owner of the palace.” So, from Adam to Abraham there
were twenty generations of which so many were wicked – such as the
generation of Enosh, the generation of the Flood, the generation of the
Dispersion – that Abraham, who himself was of the generation of
Dispersion, began to wonder, “is it conceivable that the world is without a
master?” The Holy One, blessed be He, looked out and said, “I am first,
and I am last; I am adon ha’olam.”6

3
See B. Ber. 7b.
4
See J. Ber. 4:1, 7a, as opposed to B. Ber. 7b.
5
Ḥanokh Zundel ben Yosef, Etz Yosef, Otzar HaTefillot 1:104.
6
Midr. Lekaḥ Tov, ed. Buber, 1:55; see Gen. Rab. 39, 1, ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 365, notes
and parallels. A related midrash (Sifrei Deut. 313, p. 354, l. 14 – p. 355, l. 1; see Kasher TS 4:
948, n. 44.) accredits Abraham with crowning God as king on earth:
Before Abraham came on the scene, the Holy One, blessed be He, was king of the
heavens alone, as it is said, “Adonai the God of heaven who took me from my father's
house” (Gen. 24:7). But once Abraham appeared on the scene, he made Him king
over heaven and earth, as it says: “And I will make you swear by Adonai, who is the
God of heaven and the God of earth” (Gen. 24:3).
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Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

Abraham’s apprehensions of a world gone morally amok were allayed by

discovering that matters must be on course if God is in charge from beginning to
end.
In any case, neither biblical nor rabbinic backgrounds account for how
Adon Olam became the theological introduction to morning prayer. That requires
an understanding of its theology in the lights of its poetics.

2. The Theology of Adon Olam in the light of its Poetics

The key to understanding Adon Olam lies in its poetics, its use of biblical and
midrashic literature, and its roots in the theology of the day.
‫ בְּ טֶׁ ֶׁרם כָל יְּ צִ יר נִ בְּ ָרא‬.‫ אֲדון עולָם אֲשֶׁ ר מָ לְַך‬.1
:‫ ֲאזַי מֶׁ לְֶׁך ְּשמו נִקְּ ָרא‬.‫ לְּ עֵת ַנעֲשה בְּ חֶׁ פְּ צו כל‬.2
:‫נורא‬ ָ ‫ לְּ בַ ּדו יִ ְּמלְך‬.‫ וְּ אַ ח ֲֵרי כִ כְּ לות הַ כל‬.3
:‫ וְּ הּוא יִ הְ יֶה בְּ ִתפְּ אָ ָרה‬.‫ וְּ הּוא הָ יָה וְּ הּוא הוֶה‬.4
:‫ לְּ הַ ְּמ ִשיל לו לְּ הַ חְּ בִ ָירה‬.‫ וְּ הּוא אֶׁ חָ ד וְּ אֵ ין שֵ נִי‬.5
:‫שרה‬ָ ‫ וְּ לו הָ עז וְּ הַ ִמ‬.‫אשית בְּ לִ י תַ כְּ לִ ית‬ ִ ‫ בְּ לִ י ֵר‬.6
:‫ וְּ צּור חֶׁ בְּ לִ י בְ עֵ ת צָ ָרה‬.‫ וְּ הּוא אֵ ־לִ י וְּ חַ י גואֲלִ י‬.7
:‫ ְּמנָת כו ִסי בְּ יום אֶׁ קְּ ָרא‬.‫ וְּ הּוא נִ ּסִי ּומָ נוס לִ י‬.8
:‫ בְ עֵ ת ִאישָ ן וְּ אָ עִ י ָרה‬.‫ בְּ יָדו אַ פְּ קִ יד רּוחִ י‬.9
:‫ ה' לִ י וְּ לא ִא ָירא‬.‫ וְּ עִ ם רּוחִ י גְּ וִ ָי ִתי‬.10
1. Lord eternal who reigned / before anything was created.
2. When His will was fully implemented / was He then hailed “King."
3. And after all ceases to be / alone will He reign awesomely.
4. And He was and He is / and He who shall be in majesty.
5. And He is one and there is no second / to compare or to pair.
6. Without beginning without end / and to Him are power and dominion.
7. And it is He who is my God and my life’s redeemer / my stronghold when in
distress.
8. And it is He who is my banner and my bastion / the lot of my cup on the day I
call.
9. In His hand, I entrust my spirit / that when I sleep I shall awake.
10. And with my spirit shall my body be / Adonai is with me hence I fear not.
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Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

The ten lines of the hymn consist of two hemistichs, each comprising three to
four words.7 Each hemistich is composed of two segments, to use the technical
Hebrew poetic terms, one yated, i.e., a compound sound (adon), and two
tenu’ot, i.e., two simple sounds, (olam), making for eight syllables. The second
hemistich ends with a uniform rhyme. This disarmingly simple structure, with
repetitive endings, generates a feeling of security through regularity and
predictability.8
The ten lines divide neatly into two sections. The first six lines make the
case for God’s transcendence as reflected through the notions of eternity,
sovereignty, uniqueness, and dominion. The next four lines make the case for
God’s immanence as reflected through the notions of care, protection,
providence, and faithfulness. Every line promotes the thesis; every hemistich
enhances the message of the line. The tighter the formulation, the better the
poem. Density of language reflects density of meaning. The result is a
maximum of meaning in a minimum of words. The transparency of its poetics
and the clarity of its theology made Adon Olam the theological manifesto of the
Shaḥarit service that it is.
The poem opens with the address to God as Adon Olam. Since God’s
sovereignty and uniqueness are here made functions of God’s eternity, the
appellation adon ha’olam (“lord of the world”) as found in late rabbinic

7
The jury is still out on whether there is any transcendental meaning to the number ten. The
number is prominent in liturgy and midrash regarding creation, the thematic opener of Adon
Olam; see Chapter 5, “Pesukei DeZimra,” n. 54. Some argue for a correspondence between the
ten lines and the ten sefirot; see below, between n. 64 and 65. Still, sefirotic analysis has yet to
prove helpful in the poetic-theological analysis of Adon Olam, unlike Lekhah Dodi whose
whole poetic-theological agenda is predicated upon it; see Kimelman, The Mystical Meaning
of Lekhah Dodi and Kabbalat Shabbat, passim.
Judged by content and poetics, the additional lines in the fifteen-line alleged sephardic
version (two after line 6, one after line 8, and two after line 10) are accretions; see Gordon,
Tikkun Tefillah 1:105f. For the text, see http://shituf.piyut.org.il/uploded_files/files/adon-
olam.pdf (accessed 8/4/2016). The only line worthy of Adon Olam is the one inserted after
line 5, ‫צּורה‬
ָ ‫“( וְּ הּוא ִראשֹון וְּ הּוא אַ חֲרֹון לְּ כָל חֹ מֶׁ ר לְּ כָל‬And He is the first and He is the last of all
matter and form”). It, however, smacks too much of lines 1b and 6a, and, as we shall see,
disrupts the structure. Indeed, there was no fixed “sephardic” text. The version just cited
shows up in Germany in the fourteenth century; see Kaufman, R. Yom Tov Lipman,
Mihlhoizn, p. 79. Added material in the “sephardic” version varied from siddur to siddur,
ranging from 12 to 16 lines.
8
This is comparable to the first blessing of Arvit where the pervasive redundancy serves to
point out the regularity and predictability of the celestial changes at dusk, to allay fears of
chaos in the face of the enveloping darkness; see Chapter 6, “The Shema Liturgy,” II. D, b.
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Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

literature, is replaced by adon olam (“lord eternal”). The absence of the definite
article (ha) allows olam to retain its biblical meaning as time-oriented rather
than the rabbinic ha’olam, which often is space-oriented.9 It harks back to the
biblical expression El olam (“God eternal,” Gen. 21:33), and specifically Elohei
olam (“Lord eternal”) of Isaiah (40:28), who also refers to the creator of the
whole world as “the first and the last” (48:12), as does Adon Olam.
The temporal dimension of adon olam is made explicit by introducing the
next four hemistichs (underlined in the Hebrew) with the temporal indices of
“before” (1b), “when” (2a), “then” (2b), and “after” (3a). God was before
creation, at creation, and will outlast creation. By progressing from “before”
through “then” to “after,” God is acclaimed as having reigned, as reigning, and
as continuing to reign. Still, God is not hailed “King” until there is a world to
hail Him.10 Thus, the making of the case for the eternity of divine kingship.
The opening lines of Adon Olam are a poetic formulation of the classical
medieval argument for God as a non-contingent being. Since God pre-dates the
world, God can post-date it. God’s existence is independent of the world.
Having preceded creation, God outlasts it. The world’s demise does not affect
God’s ongoing existence.11 As much of Adon Olam, this line incorporates, as

9
See Friedman, Studies in the Language and Terminology of Talmudic Literature, p. 43f. It is
thus equivalent to the expression ‫ אדון עולמים‬in the Adon Olam-like line: ,‫ אדון עולמים‬,‫עולמים‬
‫ אדיר מלכות עולמים חי‬,‫( מלך עולמים‬London MS Or 10655.5, cited by Kretzmer, “The Palestinian
Morning Service in Fragments of an Early Liturgical Rotulus,” p. 45, ll. 4–6) as opposed to
the spatial expression ‫( אדון כל הארץ‬Josh. 3:11, 13; Zech. 4:14, 6:5; Ps. 97:5). For rabbinic
epithets of God that begin with ‫אדון‬, see Marmorstein, The Old Rabbinic Doctrine of God, pp.
62–64. For piyyutim that refer to God as ‫ ;אדון עולם‬see Maḥzor Shavuot, p. 127, l. 41; and
Maḥzor Pesaḥ, p. 449, l. 20. ‫ אדון עולם‬is also an occurring epithet among the Andalusian
poets; for Moshe ibn Ezra, see Levin, The Liturgical Poems of Moshe Ibn Ezra see #76,
1:141, l. 2; #248, 1:495, l. 1; #398, 2:435, l. 1. 1:247, l. 1; for Abraham ibn Ezra, see Levin,
The Religious Poems of Abraham ibn Ezra #76, 1:141, l. 2; #248, 1:495, l. 1; #397, 2:435, l.
1; and for Ibn Gabirol, see Jarden, The Liturgical Poetry of Rabbi Solomon Ibn Gabirol 140,
2:465, l. 1; 222, 2:577, l. 21.
10
ARNA, p. 152: “when He finished His work, He became king over His world”; see ARNA
1, p. 5; B. R. H. 31a. The juxtaposition of before all was created and after all will be
destroyed is already found in Ben Sira 23:34: ‫ טֶׁ ֶׁרם נִ בְּ ָרא הַ כל…ְּאַ ח ֲֵרי כְּ לות הַ כל‬See Sefer Ben Sira
HaShalem, p. 144.
11
This is based on the standard medieval argument from creation on the contingency of the
world and the non-contingency of God; see Maimonides, “Laws of the Foundations of the
Torah,” 1:1–4 with Rubinstein, Maimonides, Mishneh Torah 1:3f.; Baḥya b. Asher, Kad
HaKemaḥ, ‫מציאות השם יתברך‬, pp. 239–41; and Meiseles , “Bakashah Ishit Lo Yedu’ah
LeRabbeinu Zarḥia Halevy,” p. 52, l. 50–51 with note. Similar is the statement of the
Minimal Shema:
‫אַ תָ ה הּוא עַד שֶׁ ּלא נִ בְּ ָרא הָ עולָם‬
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Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

shall be noted, standard theological positions found in Jewish, Christian, and

other Greco-Roman authors from Late Antiquity on. Regarding God preceding
creation, the Jewish first-century Philo already said: “Neither before creation
was there anything with God, nor, when the world had come into being does
anything take its place with Him, for there is absolutely nothing which He
needs.”12 Regarding God outlasting its destruction, R. Abahu already said: “He
creates worlds and destroys them.”13 “Come and see!” says the Talmud:
The measure of the Holy One, blessed be He, is unlike the measure of
flesh and blood. The things fashioned by a creature of flesh and blood
outlast him, but the Holy One, blessed be He, outlasts the things He
has fashioned.14
In line with this, a midrash portrays God saying: “I am He who spoke the
world into being, I manage the order of creation, and I am destined to destroy it,
as well as to renew it.”15 Support for God alone surviving the world was found
in Isa. 2:11, “And God alone will be exalted in that day.”16 For though the earth

.‫אַ תָ ה הּוא ִמשֶׁ נִ בְּ ָרא הָ עולָם‬

‫אַ תָ ה הּוא בָ עולָם הַ זֶׁה‬
:‫וְּ אַ תָ ה הּוא לָעולָם הַ בָ א‬

(You were before the world was created

You are since the world was created
You are in this world
And You are in the next world)
(Seder Rav Amram Gaon 1:7, p. 6, l. 13f.; YS, Deut. 836, p. 110, ll. 11–13).
See Chapter 3, “Preliminaries,” at n. 222. The three divine references in the Shema verse
were taken to refer to God’s pre-existence, ongoing existence, and post-existence vis-à-vis
the created world, just as the synthetic verse “God was king, God is king, and God will be
king forever” was taken; see Eliezer b. Joel Halevy, Sefer RABYah 46, 1:26; and below, n. 20.
The argument of Adon Olam was already expressed poetically in the fifth-century piyyut,
Etten Tehillah, and Azkir Gevurot; see Mirsky, Yosse Ben Yosse Poems, p. 173f. ll. 2f., 10;
and p. 127, lf.
12
Philo, On the Creation, Allegorical Interpretation of Genesis 2 and 3 (LCL 1: 225).
13
Gen. Rab. 3, 7, p. 23 and parallels. For the idea elsewhere in Rabbinic literature; in Halevy,
Kuzari 1.67; and in kabbalistic literature, see Kasher TS 1:87–89; and Sperber, Midrash
Yerushalem, p. 72, along with Wolfson, Philo 1:323 with n. 4. For piyyut, see Rabinovitz,
The Liturgical Poems of Rabbi Yannai 1:304, l. 83; and Elizur and Rand, Rabbi Elazar
BiRabbi Kalir, p. 57, n. 37.
14
B. Ber. 10a; see Lev. Rab. 4, 9, p. 96 with parallels; and Siddur Rav Sa’adia Gaon, p. 64, ll.
14–17.
15
Jellinek, Bet HaMidrash 6:42; see Chapter 5, “Pesukei DeZimrah,” n. 61. On the tendency
of sephardic poetry to allude to midrashic material, see Mirsky, HaPiyut, pp. 532–57.
16
B. R. H. 31a; ARNA 1, p. 5. This matches the Aristotelian claim that whatever is created is
inevitably perishable. Creatio ex nihilo implies the possibility of return to nihilo.
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Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

and heaven may perish, says the Psalmist, “You shall endure” (102:27). In the
last stanza of his famous poem, Kol Beruei Ma’alah U’Mattah, frequently
associated with Adon Olam in the Siddur, Solomon ibn Gabirol (b. 1022)
incorporates the idea by reformulating the verse as “You shall endure, but they
(i.e., all) shall surely perish” (‫)אַ תָ ה תַ עֲמֹ ד וְּ הֵ ם י ֹאבְּ דּו אָ בֹוד‬. The emphasis on God’s
will, in line 2, is also part of the argument from creation. A God that creates is a
volitional God.17 Eternity, as infinity, is too abstract. Lest it elude human grasp,
it must be made concrete. Abstractions do not trigger emotions. To make
eternity conceptually accessible and emotionally available, the poet intersperses
three mentions of ‫“( מלך‬king”), once in each of the first three lines, to the effect
that God was king, is king, and will be king.18 God’s eternity is also made
palpable by breaking it down temporally, in line 4, to “He was, He is, and He
shall be.” The allusion to the Tetragrammaton (YHVH) through the conjugation
of the assonant Hebrew verb of “to be” fleshes out the intimations of eternity –
past, present, and future – that permeate the section.19
Awareness of the allusive nature of the hymn expands the
field of suggestiveness. It calls to mind the pre-prayer meditative practice of
reflecting on the present, past, and future when blessing YHVH, as it says:
“God is King, God was King, and God will be King forever.”20 Closer to the
17
See Davidson, Proofs for Eternity, pp. 2–5. Compare Clement of Alexandria: “How great
is the power of God. His mere will is creation; for God alone created, since He alone is truly
God” (Exhortation to the Greeks 4 [LCL, p. 143]).
18
The idea was a theological commonplace in Late Antiquity among Romans (pagans, Jews
and Christians); see Cicero: “If the gods had a beginning they must also have an end” (The
Nature of the Gods 1.24.68); Josephus, Against Apion 2:190: “God is the beginning, the
middle, and the end of all things”; and Tertullian: “I give that definition (of God) which all
men’s common sense will accept that God is supremely great... uncreated, without beginning
and without end (sine initio, sine fine)” (Against Marcion 1.3). Around 1500, the Italian
Johann Reuchlin, On the Art of the Kabbalah, heir to all three traditions, cited philosophical
kabbalists, such as R. Azriel of thirteenth-century Gerona, Spain, to make the points that God
is “Lord of all,” “one, unique, unified,” “beginning, middle, and end,” and “He is the first
without beginning and the last without end” (p. 120). The absence of a reference to Adon
Olam may indicate that it was not yet known then in Spain, which seems to have been the
case; see below, Excursus.
19
As Jacob b. Asher, Arba’ah Turim, OH 5, states that one should have in mind when writing
out the first two letters of YHVH that He was, is, and will be. ( ‫יכווין עוד פירוש כתיבתו ביו"ד ה"א‬
‫ ;)שהוא היה והוה ויהיה‬see Al-Nakawa, Menorat HaMa’or 2:79. l. 8f.; and Schaefer, Synopse zur
Hekhalot-Literature #637–639, p. 240; #690, p. 252f.; #692, p. 254. Past, present, and future
is also reflected in the three appearances. In line 1, it refers to the past; in line 2, to the
present; and in line 3, the future. See the Greek of Revelation 4:8 where the three tenses are
applied to God as an explication of the threefold “holy” of the Kedushah.
20
See Abraham b. Nathan, Sefer HaManhig 1:85, who cites esoteric works. On the triple
affirmation of this synthetic verse, see Chapter Five, “Pesukei DeZimra,” n. 151f.
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Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

order of Adon Olam is the following formulation of the Midrash: “When they
say: ‘God was king, God is king, God will be king,’ one should contemplate in
the heart that He was, is, and will be.”21 One source even places the recitation in
the morning: “At dawn, an angel stands in the midst of the firmament and
declares: ‘God was king, God is king, and God will be king forever.’”22
Lines 1–3 deploy the idea of God’s eternity as a vehicle to sustain the
image of God’s ongoing kingship. Lines 4–5 expand upon the idea of eternity to
maintain God’s incomparability. This echoes the position of the Qur’an: “God
is the one and only. God is the eternal, absolute, He neither begat nor was
begotten. And there is none like Him” (112:1–4).
The repeated emphasis in line 5 on God being one and having no second
to compare or to pair, 23 bears a polemical cargo against dualism and a fortiori
against trinitarianism.24 Its formulation alludes to a midrash on the verse “I am
first, I am last, and beside Me there is no other” (Isa. 44:6), which states:
“I am first” – I have not received kingship from another.
“I am last” – I shall not hand it over to anyone else in the world.

21
Midr. TanhB, Introduction, 1:126. William Wordsworth employs the same technique to
indicate eternity, saying: “Of first, and last, and midst, and without end” (Prelude 6:640f.).
22
See Zidkeiah b. R. Abraham Anav HaRofei, Shibolei HaLeket HaShalem 76, p. 297 with n
1; and Schaefer, Synopse zur Hekhalot-Literature #406, p. 170.
23
See the same terms in the similar statement from Jellinek, Bet HaMidrash 5:166: ‫ה' אחד ואין‬
‫“( לו שני או דמוי ומישול ושיתוף וחיבור לא בשמים ולא בארץ‬Adonai is one,” and [or: i.e.,] He has no
second or anything akin, or comparable, or associated or connected, neither in heaven nor on
earth”); see Siddur Rav Sa’adia Gaon, p. 64, ll. 6–8; p. 47, ll. 6–8. Already in the fourth century,
in the Samaritan Amram Dare 26, 107, l. 37f., it states: ‫יחידאי דלית לך חבר לא תניאן ולא שותף‬
(“You are one without a companion neither a second nor an associate”). It also states there:
“You are the beginning whose beginning nobody knows; You are the end that has no end.”
Within a century, a piyyut of Yosse ben Yosse, Azkir Gevurot, underscores God’s singularity
in similar terms: ‫ אפס ואין שני‬,‫( יחיד ואין עוד‬Mirsky, Yosse Ben Yosse Poems, p. 127, l. 1), all
inspired by verses of Isaiah such as 45:6, 14; 46:9.
24
Judah Barzillai, around 1100, galvanizes the threefold position of Adon Olam that God has
no beginning or end, that God is the creator of all, and that God’s existence implies
incomparability, in order to counteract dualism. He then states: “We know that there is nothing
like Him and that He has no second, and apparently this explains why those who err, saying
He has a second, are not able to fully understand that He is one” (Sefer Yetzirah, p. 56). The
lack of understanding is due to taking one as an ordinal number, not as a cardinal number,
understanding “one” to mean “not two,” thereby making adding to one possible. But if “one”
means unique, i.e., only one like it, then nothing can be added to that which is incomparable.
By definition, there is no second to what is singular; see Maimonides, “Laws of the Foundation
of the Torah,” 1:1–4.
9
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

“And beside Me there is no other”– I have no second (or: partner).25

Lurking behind this midrash is Eccl. 4:8, which was understood to say: “There
is one, and there is no second, neither has He son or brother,” in which the
subject was understood to be God. Thus, a version of the above midrash states:
“I am first” – I have no father
“I am last” – I have no son
“And beside Me there is no other” – I have no brother.26
A liturgical poem of Yannai, who lived under Byzantine Christianity, combines
all these elements into one line, using the identical words that were to appear in
Adon Olam, saying: “Know that there is one and there is no second to Him,
singular and unique, without brother or son.”27 Similarly, Abraham ibn Ezra
states: “‘One’ in the mouth of His band [Israel or angels] is He called in His
sanctuary. He has no father or mother in His coterie, He has also neither son nor
brother.”28
Lines 1–3 and 5 are equivalent to a statement that sums up the Maimonidean
position: “God summoned the world from total nothingness into existence and
that He [then] alone existed and nothing outside of Him. He then brought all
being into existence by dint of His volition and approval.”29 Only God is
eternal, not the world.
The six lines of section one constitute a credo of creation theology:
Line 1 affirms that God’s reign precedes creation.

25
Song Rab. 1, 9, 1. For the “partner” reading, see J. San. 1:1, 18a. Similarly, the Shir Yiḥud
for Thursday states: “You did not receive Your kingdom, nor did You bequeath Your rule. It
will forever be Yours alone, for not for others is the glory of Your splendor” (Goldschmidt,
Maḥzor LaYamim HaNora’im 2:70).
26
Ex. Rab. 29, 5. See Deut. Rab. 2, 33; and Deut. Rab., ed. Lieberman, p. 65. The versions in
Eccl. Zuta 4, 8, p. 126; and Eccl. Rab. 4, 8, ed. Hirschman, p. 248, with n. 97, and p. 249,
identify the “there is one” of the verse with God by referencing the Shema verse that ends
“God is one.” The former then mentions son, brother, and spouse, while the latter mentions
son, brother, and partner. For this material in the context of the ancient Jewish-Christian
argument, see Kister, “The Manifestation of God in the Midrashic Literature in Light of
Christian Texts,” p. 109f.
27
‫( דעו כי יש אחד ואין שני לו יחיד ומיוחד ובן ואח אין לו‬Rabinovitz, The Liturgical Poems of Rabbi
Yannai 2:142, l. 46; see ibid, 2:145f. l. 78f., with note). Not much later, the Qur’an states:
“God has not taken any son, nor is there any god with Him” (23:91).
28
Levin, The Religious Poems of Abraham ibn Ezra #141, 1:263.
29
Heschel, Maimonides, p. 142; see above, n. 11. For the relationship between divine
creation and volition, see above, n. 17.
10
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

Line 2 affirms that God willed the world into existence.

Line 3 affirms that God alone will outlast creation.
Line 4 affirms God’s eternity – past, present, and future.
Line 5 affirms that God’s oneness implies incomparability.
Line 6 affirms that God is without beginning or end, and alone exercises
power and dominion.30
In the second section, lines 7–10, the concern with God’s transcendence
of the first section paves the way to the concern with God’s immanence.31 Like
Jer. 23:23 (“Am I a God nearby, says the LORD, and not a God far away?”),
Adon Olam finds no disparity between God who is both distant and near.
According to the Talmud, the combination of God’s grandeur and solicitude can
be documented in all three parts of Tanakh.32 As Abraham Heschel observed:
“the dichotomy of transcendence and immanence is an oversimplification,” for
“God remains transcendent in His immanence, and related in His
transcendence.”33 In other words, God is characterized by both immanent
transcendence and transcendent immanence. Still, lines 1–6 focus on God in the
third person, whereas lines 7–10 focus on God’s relationship to “me” as if all
were in the second person, albeit expressed in the third person. The point is that
the “He” who is my personal God is the same He who is the eternal, sovereign
creator.
The acoustics of Adon Olam produce a charged sonic environment. All
ten lines have the external rhyme of ah; five have also internal rhymes of ie. Of
the last four lines, lines 7, 8, and 10 have triple internal rhymes of ie. The above
color-coordinated scheme highlights more specifically its poetics. The first three

30
According to Nathan b. Judah, Sefer HaMaḥkim, p. 133f., most of these are derivative of
God’s oneness.
31
See Abrahams, A Companion to the Authorized Daily Prayerbook, p. 8; and Jacobson,
Netiv Binah 1:92, 153.
32
B. Meg. 31a (R. Yohanan).
33
Heschel, The Prophets, p. 486, as the Talmud says, God appears far away, but nothing is
closer. See J. Ber 9:1, 13a (R. Pinḥas in the name of R. Judah b. Simon); Midr. Ps. 4, 3, p. 43;
Deut. Rab. 2, 10. The idea behind the link between the affirmation of line 6 about God being
without beginning and without end, and the personal address to God in line 7 was explained a
millennium earlier by Plutarch as follows:
God exists… for no fixed time, but for the everlasting ages… in which there is no
earlier or later, no future nor past… without a beginning and not coming to an end.
Therefore, in our worship we ought to hail him and address him with the words
“Thou art,” or even… as some of the ancients did, “Thou art one” (On the E at
Delphi 20, Moralia 5:393 [LCL, p. 345]), adapted from Grant, Gods and the One
God, p. 79.
11
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

lines are held together by the threefold occurrence of the term for “king” ‫מלך‬
(yellow) and the term for “all” or “anything” ‫( כל‬green), one per line. More
frequent is the sixfold term for “He” ‫( הוא‬purple). It dominates line 4 and begins
lines 5, 7, and 8, thereby bridging the first section (lines 1–6) with the second
(lines 7–10). The suffix or indirect object ‫( לי‬blue) also links the two sections. It
makes seven appearances, twice in line 6, thrice in line 7, and once each in lines
8 and 10. Added to those seven are another nine words of lines 5–10 whose
final syllable is an ie. The result is that the ah sound consumes the final rhyme;
the ie sound dominates the internal rhyme, indeed, the ten occurrences of the
Hebrew “me” or “mine,” colored in blue and orange all end with an ie. The
result is ten ahs of external rhyme and ten ies of internal rhyme. By matching
sound and sense, assonance seconds substance, making a sound unit an
ideational unit. The poet links the two sections by using the same ending of ‫לי‬,
twice in line 6, thrice in line 7. The result is that line 6 is the only line of section
one to have an internal rhyme (unless the partial one of line 4 be counted),
thereby linking up with the multiple internal rhymes of the second section (lines
6–10). The result of the whole sound system is a recognizable pattern without
repetitive monotony. The repetitive patterns account for Adon Olam’s singular
singability.34
Each section also has a line of repetitive alliteration. In the first section,
line 4 is dominated by the tenfold occurrence of the letter ‫ה‬. The result is a
series of short intense breaths. It forms a rhythmic cadence of rapid breathing.
By content and articulation, it becomes a kind of exhaling of divinity. This
anticipates lines 9 and 10 with their double focus on “my spirit,” which is about
to be entrusted to God. If line 4 is also informed by the midrashic tradition
behind the first three words of line 9,35 then it is possible that the breathing itself
is evocative of the soul that is conceived, according to Gen. 2:7, as the
inbreathing of God in us.36 Commented [RM1]: Here, notes

34
Almost any tune is applicable; see, e.g., Nulman, The Encyclopedia of Jewish Prayer, p.
8a; EJ 1:415; Wikipedia.org/wike/Adon.Olam; and online ‫אתר הפיוט והתפילה‬,
eb.nli.org.il/sites/nlis/he/Song/Pages/Song.aspx?SongID
35
See below, nn. 45–48, and texts thereto.
36
See Chapter 3, “Preliminaries.” Section 4B, “Soul.” The technique of using expressions of
exhaling to forge a link between breath and soul also characterizes the prayer of awakening,
Elohai, Neshamah; see ibid., n. 60f. and texts thereto. The daily recitation of this prayer could
have induced the author of Adon Olam to employ its method of raising awareness of the link
between soul and breath. There is development in the direction of emphasizing the breathing
element from its talmudic formulation (B. Ber. 60b) to its geonic formulation (Teshuvot Rav
Natronai bar Hilai Gaon, p. 108) to that of Seder Rav Amram Gaon 1:1, p. 2, l. 11–13, and
12
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

“My” dominates the second section. In the last four lines “my” appears
nine times, three each in lines 7 and 8, and three together in lines 9 and 10. Line
8 is also characterized by the threefold use of ‫ נ‬and ‫ס‬, and the twofold use of ‫מ‬.
The line aspires to match the alliterative brilliance, both assonant and
consonant, of Jer. 16:19: ‫נּוסי בְּ יֹום צָ ָרה‬
ִּ ‫ּומ‬
ְ ‫ה' עֻזִּי ּומָ עֻזִּי‬. In fact, there is an
alternative of line 8 that reads ‫הוא נסי ומנוסי‬.37 The parallel is made more striking
by the realization that the last two words of the verse, ‫( בְּ יֹום צָ ָרה‬Isa. 33:2), are
divided into the final word of the last expressions of line 7, ‫בְּ עֵת צָ ָרה‬, and the first
word of the last expression of line 8, ‫( בְּ יום אֶׁ קְּ ָרא‬see Ps. 66:10, 102:3).
Images of conflict, not serenity, mark the transitional lines 7 and 8. They
reflect an effort at grappling with distress through affirming God’s power and
providence. Line 7 reflects the ambivalence by incorporating Job’s call of
desperation who, out of fear of abandoning hope, cried out, “My Redeemer still
lives” (19:25). There follows in rapid succession a series of images spelling out
the precariousness of the poet’s situation. Nonetheless, the transcendent God
remains a stronghold38 in distress, the banner around which to rally, the
bastion39 to which to flee, and all else failing, the consummate cup of salvation
to which the poet can call out.40
The image for “stronghold” in line 7 refers to God as ‫“( צּור‬rock”). This
biblical image for power and stability bears the connotation of invincible

more recent versions. The geonic formulation would have been the one most likely familiar
to our poet.
37
See Siddur R. Hertz Shatz 1:7f; and NY JTS MS 7443 Genizah; ENA 2491. This reading
characterized some pre–1600 ashkenazic siddurim; see Siddur Eizor Eliyahu, p. 4, note. Both
readings can allude to Ex. 17:15; see also 2 Sam. 22:3, Jer. 16:9.
38
‫ – וְּ צּור חֶׁ בְּ לִ י‬The expression exploits the polysemy of ‫ חבל‬as rope, portion/destiny, and pain.
For the double use of it as rope and pain, see Ps. 18:5f., with Ḥakham, Sefer Tehillim 1:81, n.
12f. For the double use of it as portion/destiny and rope, see Sifrei Deut. 312, ed. Finkelstein,
p. 354. For the synonymous use of it as lot, portion, and destiny, see Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer
24, ed. Luria, p. 54a (ed. Bӧrner-Klein, p. 265). For the fourfold use of it as rope, portion,
pain, and area, see the Andalusian poet, Abu’l Hassan (Meir) ben Eleazar, an older
contemporary of Ibn Ezra, in Fleischer, “A Collection of Andalusian Poems with Homonym
Rhymes,” p. 221. Obviously, the expression can be intentionally polysemous. For the
attendant problems of translation, see
http://judaism.stackexchange.com/questions/48703/meaning-of-the-phrase-tzur-chevli-beit-
tzarah-near-the-end-of-adon-olam. Michael Bohnen, of Boston, suggested “lifeline” as a
connotation of “rope.” In any case, it evokes the associated use of ‫ חבל‬and ‫ צורי‬of Ps. 18:3–5
combining them into ‫צּור חֶׁ בְּ לִ י‬.
39
See Isa. 49:22 for banner and Jer. 16:19 for bastion.
40
See below, n. 43f.
13
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

protection, a Gibraltar.41 Here its use rings with its consonant ‫“( צָ ָרה‬distress”).
The poetic counterpoint of ‫ צָ ָרה‬is ‫ צּור‬making God a dependable savior.42
Without attending to the alluded verses, which serve as the intertext, the
elliptical nature of the last trope will be missed. Line 8a literally reads: “The lot
of my cup on the day I call.” This conflates two verses. The first is: “God is the
portion of my lot and my cup” (Ps. 16:5). The second is: “The cup of salvation
shall I raise, and upon the name of the Lord shall I call.”43 Referring to God as
“the lot of my cup” stems from the first verse; “on the day I call” stems, with
the addition of “the day,” from the second verse. The cup of the first verse now
merges with the cup of salvation of the second verse. The result is that the
worshipper appeals to God as his cup of salvation.44 In sum, God does not raise
a banner or even extend a cup. Rather, God is the redeemer, stronghold, banner,
bastion, and cup in time of need.
Both lines 7 and 9 use the same word for “when” (‫ (בעת‬as opposed to the
first word of line 2 (‫)לעת‬. This allows the distress of line 7 to be specified by the
apprehension of not waking up, of line 9.
The two concluding lines (9–10) account for how and why the hymn
came to function as a bedtime prayer. Indeed, it may have been composed for
that purpose. Upon retiring, the worshipper seeks assurance of awakening.
Sleep is not portrayed in terms of reduced consciousness, but as the entrusting
of the spirit into God’s care in expectation of its restoration. The opening three
words of line 9 are from Ps. 31:6, “In Your hand I shall entrust my spirit.”
According to one midrash, this is the warrant for the entrusting of the soul into
God’s hands nightly as a precondition for its daily restoration and renewal.
According to another, it is the basis of the idea that “As long as one is alive, the
soul is in God’s charge.”45 According to a third, upon awakening with the
restored soul, one acclaims God’s kingship.46 All three informed the creation of

41
See Ps. 89:27 ‫“( אֵ לִ י וְּ צּור יְּ שּוע ִָתי‬My God, and [or: i.e.,] the rock of my salvation”).
42
See Fishbane, The JPS Bible Commentary Haftarot, p. 318.
43
Ps. 116:13; see Ps. 112:3.
44
See Jacobson, Netiv Binah 1:154 with n. 41, above. The cluster of words in Hebrew is
evocative of the line from Ibn Gabirol, ‫( וצור מחסי וכוסי מנת חלקי וגורלי וחבלי‬Jarden, The
Liturgical Poetry of Rabbi Solomon Ibn Gabirol #139, 2:464). A similar line was penned by
Ibn Ezra:
‫ הּוא חֶׁ לְּ קִ י וְּ חֶׁ בְּ לִ י‬/ ‫גֹורלִ י‬
ָ ‫הּוא ֶׁעז ְִּרי וְּ הּוא‬
.‫ הּוא נ ִֵרי בְּ אָ פְּ לִ י‬/ ‫הּוא מָ נֹוס בְּ יֹום צָ ָרה לִ י‬
see Levin, The Religious Poems of Abraham ibn Ezra #43, 1:78, l. 16f.
45
See Midr. Ps. 25, 2, ed. Buber, p. 210; and Sifrei Num., ed. Hurwitz, 139, p. 185; ed.
Kahana, p. 466f.
46
Num. Rab. 20, 20.
14
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

the later Modeh Ani prayer.47 The Talmud has the whole verse recited before
retiring at night.48 As a deathbed prayer, the awakening motif post-sleep
becomes a resurrection motif post-mortem, as happens often in the liturgy.49
Since God’s succor has been at my side through all adversity, He will
surely manage to get me through the night, allowing me to come to terms with
my mortality upon falling asleep. Having restored my soul, in line 10, to what
would have been my corpse )‫) גְּ וִ ָי ִתי‬, I know that YHVH will be there for me and
fear not.50 Lines 9 and 10 not only have ‫ רּוחִ י‬in common, but the first and last
syllable of the last two words of line 9, ‫אישָ ן וְּ אָ עִ ָירה‬,
ִ are condensed into the final
word of line 10, ‫א ָירא‬,
ִ thereby sounding out why when I sleep I fear not. Only
the climactic last line contains the Tetragrammaton YHVH, in its use of Ps.
118:6, though traces of the Tetragrammaton permeate line 4. The repetitive
rhyme scheme throughout guarantees that the sound at the end of each strophe
is predictable. It structures the poem and provokes a desire for recurrence.
Repeated predictable sounds create the desired sense of security shielding me
from the vagaries and apprehensions of the night. Reciting a highly structured
poem enhances my sense of a highly structured world. Along with the assurance
of God’s closeness, perception of structure exorcizes the anxiety of sleep. With
a God so powerful and providential, “I” can face any eventuality.51
This helps account for how what may have been a bedtime prayer became
the opening of the morning service. “Such a history may suggest that Adon
Olam guides one through sleep to awakening and provides the continuity that
comes from abiding in the Divine Presence throughout the night.”52

47
See Chapter 3, “Preliminaries,” Section 2, “Modeh Ani.”
48
B. Ber. 5a.
49
See Chapter 7, “The Amidah,” nn. 269–72 with texts thereto; and Kimelman, “The
Rabbinic Theology of the Physical,” pp. 954–70.
50
See Ps. 118:6 and its context. The sentiment of entrusting the soul to God finds its
complement in the popular English bedtime prayer:
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
51
The same effect is achieved in Arvit by beginning with the first blessing and ending with
the apotropaic Hashkiveinu; see above, n. 8; and Chapter 6, “The Shema Liturgy,” n. 142. As
the Stoic Epictetus said: “to have God as our maker, and father, and guardian – shall not this
suffice to deliver us from griefs and fears?” (Discourses 1.9.8).
52
This formulation is that of Professor Michael Duggan of St. Mary’s University who also
helped me clarify several points in this essay. Dahlia Marx shows how the beginning of
morning prayer in the Jewish liturgy often takes its cue from the end of nighttime prayer,
creating a liturgical continuum from going to bed to getting up; see chapter 3,
“Preliminaries,” n. 20.
15
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

For Adon Olam, God’s sovereignty, universality, eternity, and dominion

prompt the divine solicitude that renders the worshipper the object of divine
concern making God “my redeemer” (line 6). The strategic placing of Adon
Olam with its opening of creation at the opening of the service whose leitmotif
is creation53 cultivates faith in God as the Creator, eternal king, and protecting
redeemer in the face of the tribulations of life. The rhetorical strategy consists in
persuading the worshipper of God’s capacity and concern, so that prayer proves
to be neither futile nor frustrating. If God controls but lacks care, prayer is
frustrating; if God cares but lacks control, prayer is futile.54 For Adon Olam,
eternity and infinity no more belie intimacy than sovereignty belies solicitude.
By interlocking God’s grandeur and grace, a mental matrix for prayer is formed
through which Adon Olam emerges as the theological introduction to the
service.55 It is thus most fitting that in many rites Adon Olam follows Mah
Tovu, thereby making the theological introduction to prayer and the morning
liturgy follow in the wake of the psychological introduction to prayer and the
morning liturgy.56

53
See Schonfield,
Undercurrents of Jewish Prayer, p. 127.
54
As in the other cases, the theological logic of Adon Olam harks back to Late Antiquity. In
this case, the logic of the position is attributed to Epicurus (341–270 BCE). It deals with the
problem of evil, but is, mutatis mutandis, applicable to prayer.
God either wishes to take away evils and is unable; or he is able and is
unwilling; or he is neither willing nor able; or he is both willing and able.
If he is willing but unable, he is feeble, which is not in accordance with the
character of God. If he is able and unwilling, he is envious, which is
equally at variance with God. If he is neither willing nor able, he is both
envious and feeble, and therefore not God. If he is both willing and able,
which alone is suitable for God, from what source then are evils? Or why
does he not remove them?
Cited by Lactantius (c. 250CE – c. 325CE), A Treatise on the Anger of God 28.
55
In this vein is the observation that ‫ אדון עולם‬is the numerical equivalent (207) of ‫אין סוף‬
(“infinity”) (see Horowitz, Seder Sha’ar HaShamayim, p. 59; and Ḥạ lamish, The Daily Life
Routine of the Kabbalist, p. 216f., n. 23), indeed, the first and second words are each
numerical equivalents.
56
For Mah Tovu as the psychological introduction to prayer, see Chapter 1. Adon Olan and
Mah Tovu began to appear on the same page as early as the fifteenth century; see Siddur
LON BL or 10186 (accessible through ktiv.nli.org.il); and
http://web.nli.org.il/sites/nlis/he/Song/Pages/SongPicture.aspx?SongMaterialID=8
16
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

3. Excursus: Bibliographical Historical Postscript

This consummate sephardic poem crops up first in the ashkenazic rite, making
Adon Olam the best-known liturgical poem of least-known origins. Its
provenance is a conundrum. Date and place of composition, author and date of
liturgical debut liturgy remain a mystery. It may have first appeared in in the
Siddur in thirteenth-century Ashkenaz. Its diffusion from Ashkenaz throughout
the Jewish world matches that of Aleinu, which also first appears in the daily
liturgy in the first half of twelfth-century Ashkenaz.57 However, unlike Aleinu,
which consistently served as a liturgical finale, Adon Olam’s penetration into
the liturgy occurred at different places, at different periods, and with different
roles. Nonetheless, the two now serve as theological bookends to Shaḥarit with
Adon Olam as its theological introduction and Aleinu as its theological
conclusion.58
Adon Olam appears in MS Oxford 119559 and in Genizah texts,60 but
neither date or provenance is known except that they are likely pre-fifteenth
century.61 A date and provenance, however, can be assigned to its appearance
after Aleinu of Shaḥarit of Tishah B’Av in Jacob b. Jehuda, Etz Ḥayyim, p. 126,
of 1287 England. Since it is mentioned only by name, its content must have
been well-known, making it part of the liturgy for some time, allowing for a
date at least as early as 1250.
By the early fifteenth century, Adon Olam shows up in The Rothschild
Vienna Maḥzor of 1415 at the end of Arvit of Yom HaKippurim (fol. 189v).
About the same time, R. Jacob Mulin (1365–1427, Mainz, Germany), The Book
of Maharil, p. 331, also mentions its recitation at the end of Arvit of Yom
HaKippurim, which was still the practice two centuries later,62 and in Worms
for at least three more centuries.63 It appears in JTS MS 4057 of the fifteenth

By the early seventeenth century, some initiated the Shaḥarit synagogue service with Mah
Tovu followed by Yigdal, an alternative theological introduction, and then Adon Olam; see,
e.g., Sofer, Siddur of Shabbatai Sofer 2:1–6; and Tabory, “Introduction,” Siddur Hanau of
1628, p. 36f. By 1575, Yigdal already appears in a Cracow siddur.
57
See Chapter 8, “Aleinu,” part 5.
58
For the liturgical relationship between the two, see Chapter 10, “Conclusions” Section 2,
“Aleinu and Adon Olam.”
59
See Ḥalamish, Studies in Kabbalah and Prayer, p. 336.
60
CAMB U T-S NS 201.4 Cambridge University Library Taylor Schechter collection NS
201.4; JTS MS 7443 Genizah; NY JTS ENA 2491.
61
See Davidson, Thesaurus of Mediaeval Hebrew Poetry 1:29a–b.
62
See Yafeh, Levush Malkhut 619.4, p. 587a.
63
See Zunz, Rites of Synagogue Liturgy p. 70; and Wormser Mihagbuch des R. Jousep
(Juspa) Schammes 1:179, n. 54f.
17
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

century and in a siddur printed in Trino in 1524. Shabbatai Sofer64 of the early
seventeenth century attributes a text of Adon Olam, with an additional fourteen
lines, six of which (lines ll–16) refer to the ten sefirot, to R. Yom Tov Lipman
Milhausen of Prague, also of the early 1400s. By the early sixteenth century,
this expanded version concluded the Sabbath Musaf of Mahzor Romania.65 The
text is printed in Kaufman, R. Yom Tov Lipman, Mihlhoizn, p. 79. Since these
texts of the early 1400s Germany were unlikely innovative, they indicate the
presence of Adon Olam in Germany of the 1300s. It is possible that our ten-line
version goes back to the twelfth or thirteenth century and that its expanded
sefirotic version is of the early fourteenth century. Its absence from the Worms
Siddur of 145766 shows it was not yet universal in Germany.
Already in the fifteenth century, Adon Olam was on the verge of
achieving its present status as an opener or near-opener of Shaḥarit. It is thus
“included in Shaḥarit in the Siddurim of Ashkenaz from the beginning of the
1400s.”67 For example, as the opening of Shaḥarit, Adon Olam appears in the
fifteenth-century Siddur LON BLor 10186 and in Seder HaBerakhot, published
in 1449–1452.68 By 1548, it appears in Benjamin b. Meir HaLevi’s, Ma’aglei
Tzeddek, p. 4a, before the blessing of hand laving. The format announces itself
as a poem in which all ten lines have their external rhyme highlighted.
Benjamin b. Meir, albeit an early sixteenth-century rabbi in Salonica, hailed
from Germany and was a descendant of Jacob b. Moses Molin, MaHaRIL. His
work relates to the Maḥzor of the German rite. Adon Olam also appears in the
printed editions of Siddur R. Hertz Shatz 1:7, of early sixteenth-century
Germany, but since it lacks commentary, it was probably inserted later to update
it to current liturgical practice. The expansion of Ibn Gabirol’s Kol Beruei
Ma’alah, by Moses Alashkar of sixteenth-century Egypt and Palestine,
incorporates themes and phraseology from Adon Olam.69
By 1591, Moses Mot of Poland advocated beginning and ending with it.70
Similar directions appeared around then in Siddur Venice of 1587. A slightly
expanded form of Adon Olam appears in Maḥzor Venice of 1598.71 Within a
generation, Isaiah Horowitz noted that some congregations were reciting it and

64
Siddur of Shabbatai Sofer 2:6–8
65
See Goldschmidt, Liturgy, p. 136; and Zunz, Rites of Synagogue Liturgy, p. 81f., n. 189.
66
See Kirchheim, The Customs of Worms Jewry, p. 12, n. 1, p. 353; and Wormser Mihagbuch
des R. Jousep (Juspa) Schammes 2:243.
67
Yonah Fraenkel cited from E-mail of his son Avraham Fraenkel, September 19, 2016.
68
See Haberman, apud Berliner, Selected Writings 2:230.
69
See Siddur Otzar HaTefillot 1:103, stanzas 5, 9, and 10.
70
Matteh Moshe 1:31, p. 52b; 1:116, p. 99b.
71
See Ḥalamish, Studies in Kabbalah and Prayer, p. 336, n. 2.
18
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

provides a kabbalistic commentary.72 His contemporary, Shabbatai Sofer,

provides the same format as Ma’aglei Tzeddek with the aforementioned
addition.73 In the seventeenth century, Adon Olam continued to spread
throughout the Jewish world. By the nineteenth century, it penetrated even the
Yemenite liturgy, where it appeared at the end of Musaf in its fifteen/sixteen-
line allegedly sephardic format.74 As is common in the legitimation of
innovation, Adon Olam was ascribed to celebrated figures of the hoary past.75
Instructively, Adon Olam is absent from the Spanish commentaries of the
fourteenth century such as the Or Zaru’a of David b. Yehuda HeḤasid, the
Arba’ah Turim of Jacob b. Asher, and the Abudarham of David Abudarham, as
it is absent from the Spanish-based Kabbalistic liturgical works of the early
sixteenth century such as Ibn Gabbai, Tola’at Yaakov and HaEizovi, Agudat
Eizov. It does appear in the printed edition of Cordovero, Siddur Tefillah
LeMoshe 1:2a, of 1892, but not in the late sixteenth-century commentary,
indicating a later updating.76 This coheres with its absence from the Luria-
inspired liturgical corpus of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century,
along with Makhir, Seder HaYom of 1599 Safed. Even the Luria-inspired siddur
of Koppel, composed in early eighteenth-century Poland, but published in 1804,
has no commentary to its Adon Olam, indicating a later dating for its inclusion,
probably when published. 77
A roundabout indication of Adon Olam’s acceptance in Germany is in the
piyyutim of R. Yeḥiel b. HaROSH, of Toledo, Spain, circa 1400. One of them
begins like Adon Olam with ‫אדון עולם אשר לו המלוכה‬.78 It differs from the ‫אדון‬
‫עולם אשר מלך‬, of line 1, only in its final rhyme scheme of ‫כה‬. It then moves, as
does Adon Olam, to the subject of God’s everlasting greatness and rule. As
Adon Olam, it also is composed of two hemistichs each of eight to ten syllables
all ending with the same sound, kah. That Adon Olam served as the model is
also evident from another piyyut of his (ibid., p. 56f.) of similar structure and
rhyme scheme. There, the opening line begins with the verse, “God is the
portion of my lot and my cup” (Ps. 16:5), that is behind line 8b of our Adon
Olam. That line then ends with calling God ‫נסי‬, as does the beginning of our line
8. Its line 5, ‫לצור מעז היה אל לי‬, corresponds to our line 7. Finally, it uses ‫חבל‬ Commented [RM2]: is this “To” or "God”? if God then add
a top-dash
twice, first in the sense of pain (line 8b), and then in the sense of portion (line

72
Seder Sha’ar HaShamayim, p. 59,
73
Siddur of Shabbatai Sofer 2:6–8.
74
See Gavra, Meḥkarim BeSiddurei Teman 2:243.
75
See Mot, Matteh Moshe, p. 52f., n. 5; and Horowitz, Seder Sha’ar HaShamayim, p. 59.
76
See Kimelman, The Mystical Meaning of Lekhah Dodi and Kabbalat Shabbat, p. 20, with
n. 127f.
77
See Siddur Kol Yaakov, p. 31b. On the updating of the Siddur, see Mirsky, “Variants
between the Commentary and Text in Siddurim,” pp. 195–200.
78
See David, The Poems of Yeḥiel Ben HaRosh, p. 55.
19
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

16a). These correspond to the two likely meanings for its use in line 7b.79 An
important difference is the absence of philosophical acumen, an absence typical
of ashkenazic piyyutim.
The borrowing from Adon Olam indicates that Adon Olam was known in
Spain circa 1400. However, in the light of the currency of Adon Olam in
Germany then, and its otherwise absence in Spain, it is more likely that R.
Yeḥiel b. HaROSH learned it from his illustrious father who hailed from
Germany. This would place Adon Olam in Germany of the late 1200s, since
ROSH, his father, came to Spain in the first decade of the 1300s.80 It is tempting
to speculate that the adoption of Adon Olam in the ashkenazic liturgy harks
back to the academy of his teacher, Meir of Rothenberg (born in Worms, 1215),
who himself authored some twenty liturgical hymns, some following sephardic
models.81 R. Meir of Rothenberg also had extensive contact with R. Avidgor b.
Elijah Katz of Vienna who had taught in Italy.82
Were it the case that Adon Olam first penetrated the liturgy, as did other
hymns, as an addendum to Arvit of Yom HaKippurim,83 then it may have been
part of the post-Arvit hymns of R. Meir of Rothenburg (1215–1293), as was
initially Aleinu. In any case, its absence from the Franco-German liturgical
works of the 1100s and the early 1200s supports the claim for its introduction
into Germany only in the mid to late 1200s. This would explain its occurrence
in Jacob b. Jehuda, Etz Ḥayyim, of 1287, as noted above. This verges on
confirming the tradition of Moses Mot,84 of late sixteenth-century Poland, that
Adon Olam goes back to Judah (b. Samuel) HeḤasid, who died in Regensburg
in 1217. This is even more striking in the light of the fact that an associate of
Judah HeḤasid, R. Barukh b. R. Shmuel of Mainz, was influenced by sephardic
piyyut, and that an ancestor of Judah HeḤasid, Elijah the Elder, who died circa
1060, was acquainted with the poetry of Ibn Gabirol – imitating Gabirol’s
techniques in his own piyyutim.85 In any case, this tradition supports the other
indicators of a thirteenth-century, German provenance.

79
See above, n. 38.
80
There are cases where R. Yeḥiel’s brother, R. Jacob, cites R. Meir of Rothenberg directly,
see, e.g., his Arba’ah Turim, OH 473.
81
For the liturgical creativity of his circle, especially in piyyutim, see Kanarfogel, The
Intellectual History and Rabbinic Culture of Medieval Ashkenaz, pp. 436–43; and idem,
“New Directions in the Study of Piyyut Composition in Germany During the High Middle
Ages,” pp. 43–61, For the sephardic influence, see Kanarfogel, The Intellectual History and
Rabbinic Culture of Medieval Ashkenaz, p. 442f.; and Fleischer, The Yotzer, pp. 670f., 680–
83, 704–06.
82
See Kanarfogel, The Intellectual History and Rabbinic Culture of Medieval Ashkenaz, p.
441.
83
See Zunz, Rites of Synagogue Liturgy, p. 155; and Chapter 8, “Aleinu,” n. 112.
84
Matteh Moshe 31, p. 52b.
85
See Urbach, Arugat HaBosem 4:96 with n. 57; and Grossman, The Early Sages of France,
pp. 101f., 562, 610.
20
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

What about its author? No line is sufficiently distinctive to establish

authorship.86 As noted, many of its expressions are commonplaces. As noted
below, most of its phrases and ideas occur elsewhere. Even the terms of
philosophical bent are used in their general sense, not in their technical sense.
Nonetheless, since the interface between poetry and philosophy is the matrix of
the poem, it must be factored into the determination of authorship. The
identification of the author requires a match between poetic dexterity and
theological acumen.
Even though Adon Olam has all the hallmarks of classical Hebrew
Hispanic poetry, the evidence for its recitation before the fifteenth century is
ashkenazic, making a Spanish birthplace unlikely. There are several ways of
accounting for this anomaly based on the pivotal role of Abraham ibn Ezra as
cultural broker of Hispano-Jewish culture during his peregrinations through
Italy and northern Europe.
The peculiar combination of Hispanic poetry and German usage may
indicate an Italian provenance. Liturgical creativity often moved from Italy
northward to Germany, especially in the formative period of ashkenazic culture.
The ashkenazic-cultivated practice of inserting the Song at the Sea before the
Yishtabaḥ hails from Italy.87 Even early Palestinian piyyutim such as U-n’taneh
Tokef reached Ashkenaz via Italy.88 The difference is that the latter is early
Palestinian piyyut, likely of Kalir, whereas Adon Olam follows later Hispanic
models. An explanation for Adon Olam’s possible Italian origin is that it was
composed in the wake of Ibn Ezra’s visit of some five cities in Italy in the
1140s. His influence led some to dispense with the Kaliric rhyme of two root-
consonants in favor of the prosody of the two metrically balanced hemistichs of
Hispanic Hebrew poetry.89 Moreover, from the fourteenth to the sixteenth
century many Hebrew manuscripts from Spain reached Italy.90
An Italian provenance also accounts for the absence of Adon Olam from
the classical sephardic-based liturgy, albeit redolent of the poetry of the great
Andalusian poets of the eleventh and twelfth centuries – Solomon ibn Gabirol,
Moses ibn Ezra, and Abraham ibn Ezra – metrically, lexically, and

86
Cf. Liebes, “Rabbi Solomon Ibn Gabirol’s Use of the Sefer Yetzira and a Commentary on
the Poem ‘I love Thee,’” p. 88, with n. 53.
87
See Chapter 5, “Pesukei DeZimra,” Section 11.
88
See Kimelman, “U-n’taneh Tokef as a Midrashic Poem,” pp. 119–21.
89
See Yahalom, “The Influence of Ibn Ezra on Italian Piyyut,” pp. 10–14.
90
See Perani, “Manuscripts Brought to Italy by the Jews Exiled in 1492,” pp. 287–310.
21
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

philosophically.91 All three were also models for subsequent Italian piyyut.92
Thus, the likes of Manuello Romano, known as Immanuel of Rome (1261–
1332), could qualify for authorship.
Immanuel’s poem Eftaḥ BeKinor so overlaps the poem Yigdal that it has been
attributed to him.93 Both attest to the writing of philosophical poems like Adon
Olam then in Italy. Both the Yigdal and Adon Olam share the divine epithet
Adon Olam. They also share the theological agenda of focusing on God’s
existence, unity, incomparability, and eternity by virtue of having preceded
creation. Adon Olam’s anti-dualistic exclusive monotheism, which, as shown,
derives from paytanic material of Byzantine Christianity, also takes on a
poignancy in Catholic Italy it would lack in Muslim Spain. Nonetheless, since
Adon Olam appears in a London Siddur of 1287, it predates Immanuel of Rome
by at least a generation and thus if anything would point to an earlier Italian
poet. There is, however, not yet evidence of an earlier Italian poet with the
requisite poetic dexterity and philosophical acumen.
Other support for an Italian provenance is quite late. Adon Olam appears
in its ten-line form in the 1485 Maḥzor KeMinhag Roma, p. 22, in Arvit of
Shabbat after Yigdal.94 Also, in Italy of the early 1500s, Samuel b. Moses Anno
composed a piyyut called “Adon Olam,” which opens with the same four words
as our Adon Olam.95 There is also a High Holiday sephardic piyyut, possibly of
Italian provenance, BeTerem Sheḥakim,96 that contains many parallels to Adon
91
Expressions from the poetry of all three show up in Adon Olam, as do expressions of
others of the time. For example, David ibn-Bakodah’s line ‫ ומלכותו‬/ ‫אשר לו עז וממשלה ועצמה‬
‫( בטרם כל קדומה‬Shirman, HaShirah HaIvrit BeSefarad U’VeProvence 1:2, p. 356) reverberates
in Adon Olam, lines 6b and 1b. In any case, the fixed regular metrical patterns require a post-
tenth-century dating when these patterns were introduced into Hebrew poetry by Dunash ibn
Labrat, modeled on Arabic poetics.
92
See, e.g., the impact of Ibn Gabirol on Immanuel of Rome in Katz, Openwork, Intaglios
and Filigrees, pp. 252–61.
93
See Kasher and Melammed, “The Emergence of the Piyyut Yigdal Elohim Ḥai,” pp. 155–83.
94
This is also where it appears then in neighboring Romania; see Maḥzor Romania; see
Goldschmidt, On Jewish Liturgy, p. 136.
95
See Bornstein, MiShirei Yisrael BeItaliah, p. 1, l. 1.
96

.‫ ה' מֶ לְֶך‬.‫ בְּ טֶׁ ֶׁרם ְּשחָ קִ ים ַוא ֲָרקִ ים נִ ְּמתָ חּו‬.1
.‫ ה' מָ לְָך‬.‫ וְּ עַד ל ֹא ְּמאֹורֹות ז ָָרחּו‬.2
:‫ ה' יִּ ְמֹלְך לְ עֹולָם וָעֶד‬.‫ וְּ שָ מַ יִ ם כְּ עָשָ ן נִ ְּמלָחּו‬.‫ וְּ הָ אָ ֶׁרץ כַבֶׁ גֶׁד ִתבְּ לֶׁה‬.3
:‫ ה' יִּ ְמֹלְך לְ עֹולָם וָעֶד‬.‫ ה' מָ לְָך‬.‫ה' מֶ לְֶך‬.4

.‫ ה' מֶ לְֶך‬.‫ וְּ עַד ל ֹא עָשָ ה אֶׁ ֶׁרץ וְּ חּוצֹות‬.5

.‫ ה' מָ לְָך‬.‫צּורים ֲעלֵי א ֲָרצֹות‬ ִ ְּ‫ ּובַ הֲכִ ינֹו י‬.6
:‫ ה' יִּ ְמֹלְך לְ עֹולָם וָעֶד‬.‫ עֵת יְּקַ בֵ ץ נְּפּוצִ ים מֵ אַ ְּרבַ ע ְּתפּוצֹות‬.7.
:‫ ה' יִּ ְמֹלְך לְ עֹולָם וָעֶד‬.‫ ה' מָ לְָך‬.‫ ה' מֶ לְֶך‬.8
22
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

Olam. It begins with a reference to the world before creation (line 1) using the
term ‫בְּ טֶׁ ֶׁרם‬, as does line 1b of Adon Olam. It also weaves the expression, “God
was king, is king, and will be king” in lines 1–3 and 5–8 as do lines 1–3 of
Adon Olam. It also serves as its refrain in lines 4 and 8. It maintains in lines 1–3
that God preceded and will outlast the world as do lines 1–3 of Adon Olam.
Moreover, the transitional term in line 7 for time is ‫עת‬, just like in line 7 (and 9)
of Adon Olam. Finally, as Adon Olam, the bulk of the poem focuses on God’s
transcendence before shifting to immanence in line 7, except its example of
God’s involvement in human affairs is God’s ingathering of the dispersed, not
God as personal redeemer as in line 7 of Adon Olam.
Adon Olam was more likely composed in Ashkenaz as all the early
evidence is ashkenazic. Two candidates for authorship are Rabbeinu Tam (R.
Jacob b. Meir) and Abraham ibn Ezra. Ibn Ezra visited the northern French
town of Rouen, Normandy in 1147 where he likely met Rabbeinu Tam, the head
of the academy of Champagne, and became better acquainted with the biblical
commentary of his older brother RaSHBaM.97 Rabbeinu Tam himself composed
poetry following the metrics and style of Hispanic poetry, possibly under Ibn
Ezra’s influence,98 and the general impact of sephardic culture on Northern
France at the time.99 “Indeed, piyyutim of R. Yosef ibn Avitur, R. Solomon ibn
Gabirol, R. Judah Halevy, and R. Abraham Ezra crop up in medieval ashkenazic
prayer rites.”100 The linkage of Adon Olam to the Normandy academy of
Rabbeinu Tam can account for its early occurrence in Jacob b. Jehuda, Etz
Ḥayyim of 1287 England, since this siddur, of Normandy origins, often cites
Rabbeinu Tam as a halakhic authority,101 probably based on the fact that his
students R. Yom Tov of Joigny and Yaakov of Orleans ended up residing in
England. Thus, the eleventh-century Elijah the Elder’s imitation of the poetry of

See Davidson, Thesaurus of Mediaeval Hebrew Poetry 2:427, p. 19f.

97
See Kislev, “The Commentaries of Ibn Ezra and Rashbam and the Dispute over the
Ingredients of the Altar Incense,” pp. 64f., 78–80.
98
See Urbach, The Tosaphists, p. 109f.; Fleischer, Hebrew Liturgical Poetry in the Middle
Ages, p. 436f.; Hollender, “Attraction and Attribution,” p. 37; Weinberger, Twilight of a
Golden Age, p. 6; and Dinur, Yisrael BaGolah II:3, p. 83. For the impact of Ibn Ezra on
Ashkenazic culture, see Kanarfogel, The Intellectual History and Rabbinic Culture of
Medieval Ashkenaz, pp. 451, n. 23; 443; and below, n. 99. Rabbeinu Tam may likely have
also authored the Shavuot piyyut Yetziv Pitgam, as the authorial acrostic of the Hebrew is
Yaakov ben Meir, i.e., Rabbeinu Tam; see Frankel, Maḥzor Shavuot, pp. 570–72.
99
See Grossman, The Early Sages of France, p. 562; and above, n. 81.
100
Kanarfogel, The Intellectual History and Rabbinic Culture of Medieval Ashkenaz, p. 443.
101
See Jacob b. Jehuda, Etz Ḥayyim, pp. 30, n. 5; 34, n. 1; 37, n. 26; 42, n. 5; 43, n. 23; 240,
n. 21; 251, n. 25; 265, n. 28; 267; 272, n. 38; 289, n. 8; 293, n. 9; 295, n. 30; 303, n. 35; 308,
n. 7; 332, n. 140; 333, n. 3; 335, n. 24; 339, n. 6; 344, n. 8; 346, n. 31; 352, n. 11; 354, n. 28;
359, n. 5; 396, n. 19; 399, n. 9, et al.
23
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

his sephardic contemporary Ibn Gabirol102 is paralleled by the twelfth-century

Rabbeinu Tam’s imitation of his sephardic contemporary Ibn Ezra.
Still, a better case for authorship can be made for the poet-philosopher
Ibn Ezra himself.103 He likely spent his last sixteen years in France and England,
possibly dying in London in 1164. In 1158, he penned in England Sefer Yesod
Mora VeSod HaTorah104 on the biblical commandments and Iggeret HaShabbat
on the Sabbath. The attribution of Adon Olam to Ibn Ezra, while in northern
France or England, possibly London, accounts for its presence in the late-
thirteenth siddur from London and its absence in the liturgy of Spain of the
time. Its acceptance coincides with the high regard of Ibn Ezra among
Ashkenazi Hasidim.105 Indeed, Sha’arei HaSod HaYiḥud VeHaEmunah of
Eleazar of Worms contains lines parallel to Adon Olam such as ‫אין לו תחילה‬
‫ ואין לו סוף‬corresponding to 6a, indeed he explains ‫ ה' אחד‬to mean ‫שאין לו קץ‬
‫ותכלית‬, which corresponds also to 6a. He also refers to God as ‫“( קדמון‬anterior”)
as does 1b. Finally, he uses virtually the same expression of 5a to underscore
God’s singularity.106
Ibn Ezra’s authorship accounts for the many parallels between Adon
Olam and his poetry, as shown below.107 This obtains regarding both the
metaphysical claims of the first six lines and the personal religious claims of the
last four lines. Similar parallels stud the poetry of Solomon Ibn Gabirol and
Moses Ibn Ezra, among others, as noted above, but they did not reside in
northern Europe. Other indicators are the frequent use of kol (“all”), in any
sense, as key to both the philosophy of Ibn Ezra and Adon Olam, both place
emphasis on the individual, and both play with the meaning and pronunciation
of the Tetragrammaton.108 His contemporaries such as Moshe b. Levi and
Eleazar b. Halfon also penned poems beginning with “Adon Olam.”109 Finally,

102
See above, n. 85.
103
Levin, The Religious Poems of Abraham ibn Ezra, Avareikh Na, #500, 2:652, note to l,
finds an allusion to something similar in Adon Olam.
104
See Ibn Ezra, Yesod Mora VeSod Torah.
105
See above, nn. 97–100; Dan, “Pesaq Ha-Yir’ah Ve-Ha-Emunah and the Intention of
Prayer in Ashkenazi Hasidic Esotericism,” p. 214; and Fleischer, “Prayer and Piyyut in the
Worms Maḥzor,” p. 44, n. 235 (Statutory Jewish Prayers 2:1129, n. 235). In the sixteenth century,
R. Samuel b. Moses de Medina (MaHaRSHDaM) and R. David b. Zimra (RaDBaZ) affirmed
Ibn Ezra’s authority in liturgical matters; see Safrai, “Nusaḥ HaAri and the Polemic Over
Prayer Customs in the Aftermath of the Expulsion from Spain,” pp. 371, and 374, n. 41.
106
See Dan, “Sefer ‘Sha’arei HaSod HaYiḥud VeHaEmunah’ LeEleazar of Worms,” p. 143.
107
For the nature of his poetry with bibliography, see the survey of Tobi, “Abraham ibn Ezra:
The Poet,” pp. 105–26.
108
See above, n. 19 and text thereto. For the three points regarding Ibn Ezra, see
Langermann, “Abraham ibn Ezra.”
109
See Schirmann, New Hebrew Poems from the Genizah, pp. 108, and 381, l. 38.
24
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

the only non-talmudic morning blessing ַ‫ הַ נותֵ ן ַל ָיעֵף כח‬110 is alluded to in a mid-
twelfth-century poem of Ibn Ezra111 and first crops up in an English siddur of
the mid to late twelfth century.112
The multiple comparable expressions between Adon Olam and Ibn Ezra
strengthen his candidacy for authorship. The parallels show that the two share
the same theological universe.
‫ בְּ טֶׁ ֶׁרם כָל יְּ צִ יר נִ בְּ ָרא‬.‫ אֲדון עולָם אֲשֶׁ ר מָ לְַך‬.1
:‫ ֲאזַי מֶׁ לְֶׁך ְּשמו נִקְּ ָרא‬.‫ לְּ עֵת ַנעֲשה בְּ חֶׁ פְּ צו כל‬.2
:‫נורא‬ ָ ‫ לְּ בַ ּדו יִ ְּמלְך‬.‫ וְּ אַ ח ֲֵרי כִ כְּ לות הַ כל‬.3
:‫ וְּ הּוא יִ הְּ יֶׁה בְּ ִתפְּ אָ ָרה‬.‫ וְּ הּוא הָ יָה וְּ הּוא הוֶׁה‬.4
:‫ לְּ הַ ְּמ ִשיל לו לְּ הַ חְּ בִ ָירה‬.‫ וְּ הּוא אֶׁ חָ ד וְּ אֵ ין שֵ נִי‬.5
:‫שרה‬ ָ ‫ וְּ לו הָ עז וְּ הַ ִמ‬.‫אשית בְּ לִ י תַ כְּ לִ ית‬ ִ ‫ בְּ לִ י ֵר‬.6
:‫ וְּ צּור חֶׁ בְּ לִ י בְּ עֵת צָ ָרה‬.‫ וְּ הּוא אֵ ־לִ י וְּ חַ י גואֲלִ י‬.7
:‫כוסי בְּ יום אֶׁ קְּ ָרא‬ ִ ‫ ְּמנָת‬.‫נִסי ּומָ נוס לִ י‬ ִ ‫ וְּ הּוא‬.8
:‫ בְּ עֵת ִאישָ ן וְּ אָ עִ ָירה‬.‫ בְּ יָדו אַ פְּ קִ יד רּוחִ י‬.9
:‫ ה' לִ י וְּ לא ִא ָירא‬.‫ וְּ עִ ם רּוחִ י גְּ וִ ָי ִתי‬.10
Citations of Ibn Ezra are from Levin, The Religious Poems of Abraham ibn
Ezra. See also
https://benyehuda.org/read/15057
https://kotar.cet.ac.il/KotarApp/Shop/AddToCart.aspx?site=default Commented [RM3]: this looks wrong

For line 1 ‫אֲדון עולָם‬, see #76, 1:141, l. 2; #248, 1:495, l. 1; #398, 2:435, l. 1. It is also
the titular opening words of the last two.
For line 3, see #42, 1:76, l. 15f; #43, 1:77, l. 3; #51, 1:93, l. 3; #63, 1:113, l. 1
For lines 1, 4, anibd 6, see #8, 2:137source? Commented [RM4]: ?

For line 5a, see #134, 1:250, l. 13; #334, 2:233, l. 1.

For line 5b, see #42 1:75, l. 3; #55, 1:99, l. 2; #60. 1:108, l. 6.
For line 5f., see #156, 1:292, l. 1f.
For the verse, and possibly the midrash behind l. 5 (above n. 26f.?), see #141,
1:263, l. 2l and #376, 2:359, l. 10.
For line 6, see #461, 2:561, ll. 5–7.

110
See Chapter 3, “The Preliminaries,” n. 154.
111
Yotzer BeḤokhmah Ruḥi; see Levin, The Religious Poems of Abraham ibn Ezra, #236,
1:460, ll. 14a.
112
MS Oxford, Corpus Christi College, 133, folio 2.
25
Kimelman Chapter 2 Adon Olam

For line 6b, see #507, 2:649 l. 11b with note 11.
For line 7, see #395, 2:432, l. 20.
For lines 7–8, see #43, 1:78, l. 16f., and above, n. 44.
For line 8, see #503, 2:640, l. 27f.
For line 9, see #177, 1:333, l. 1.
For line 10, see #10, 1:33, l. 20.
The overlap suggests that Ibn Ezra reformulated his poems and that of his
fellow Andalusians to produce this consummate liturgical poem. It would be
ironical to have the straightforward poem of Ibn Ezra penetrate the ashkenazic
daily liturgy while the poetry of the reigning master-liturgist of the day, Kalir,
which Ibn Ezra lambasted for its complexity and obfuscation, was relegated to
the Holidays.113

113
See Ibn Ezra to Eccl. 5:1 with Yahalom, Poetic Language in the Early Piyyut, pp. 185–96;
and above, n. 89. On the changing fortunes of Ibn Ezra-like liturgical poetry versus Kalir-
like, see Safrai, “Nusaḥ HaAri and the Polemic Over Prayer Customs in the Aftermath of the
Expulsion from Spain,” pp. 365–88.
26

Kimelman, chapter 5, PZ