The worst prayer in Judaism

Eloqai Netsor was put into the Jewish liturgical canon to fulfill our need for noncanonical nontextual spontaneous personal prayer from the heart.

(I'll let that stand as a paragraph by itself so you can let it sink in and go "Wha?" [I mean so you, not the paragraph, can go "Wha?"!]!)

The prayer begins, "My God, keep my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking guile. May my soul be silent before those who curse me, and may my soul [nefesh] be like dust [ʿafar] before all."

The Hebrew for "keep my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking guile," except for the possessives, comes directly from Psalm 34:14: "Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking guile." The difference is important. In Judaism, we have free will--we are responsible for our own ethical behavior. We may ask God for strength, but we do not ask God to prevent us from doing wrong things; we need to prevent ourselves from doing them. "My God, keep my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking guile" is a complete distortion of Jewish ethics.

"May my soul be silent before those who curse me, and may my soul [nefesh] be like dust [ʿafar] before all." This may sound like a prayer to be a forgiving person, but it isn't. Dust can't forgive. Even if it could forgive, it has no reason to, since it can't be offended. Dust isn't human. We are. Forgiveness is an activity, and this is a prayer for passivity.

The language of Eloqai Netsor reminds us of Genesis 2:7: God formed man from dust [ʿafar] and breathed life into him, and man became a living soul [nefesh]. In the verse, God forms us from ʿafar and we become a living nefesh; in the prayer, we ask that our nefesh be like ʿafar. For those who take the verse seriously--and note that I didn't say "literally"--this prayer should seem both ungrateful and dehumanizing.

Just to clear up any ambiguity, I'll point out that I dislike Eloqai Netsor.

I no longer say Eloqai Netsor; if you know anybody whose first name is "Rabbi," please don't tell them about it. Note that I'm not saying others shouldn't say it. If I were compiling a siddur, it would include Eloqai Netsor in its proper places, since it would be an Orthodox siddur. But there would also be a note saying that some have the practice of replacing it with Hareini Moḥel. The note would be true, since I make that replacement.

Hareini Moḥel is an "I forgive" statement that precedes the bedtime Shema (also known as the hypnagogic "Hark!"!)! It appears in many siddurim at the beginning of the bedtime Shema song and dance. The various Korens and ArtScrolls include it, but Birnbaum does not. Some versions are longer than others, some are more annoying than others. I use a brief rendition, which includes nonannoying material found in all the versions:

I forgive all who have angered or annoyed me, and all who have sinned against me, whether against my body, my possessions, my honor, or anything that is mine; whether under compulsion or willingly; whether mistakenly or maliciously; whether by passing thought, by planning, by word, or by deed. Let no human being be punished on my account.

Hareini Moḥel divides those whom you're forgiving into two categories--those who have angered or annoyed you, and those who have sinned against you. Note that people in the first category didn't necessarily do anything to you--it's about your reaction to them, not about what they've done to you. This shows a realistic understanding of anger. Maybe they annoy you just by existing; maybe they just grate on your nerves. You're forgiving them not necessarily because of anything they've done, but because you need to let go and mensh out. Can someone belong to both categories of people you're forgiving? Of course. (Silly and annoying question; I forgive you for asking, for existing, and for frowning [don't deny it! I saw it!] at my spelling of mensh.)

In Eloqai Netsor one whines: someone cursed me!, I'm going to suffer in silence, and I want my soul to be like dust (maybe it's unfair to call it whining--writing this post is putting me on an anti-Eloqai-Netsor roll). In Hareini Moḥel, we act like adults. We acknowledge that some of our anger may not be rational, we forgive everyone, and we take responsibility.

Minor shande

Likutei Peshatim is a weekly bulletin distributed in Ortho institutions in the Chicago area, containing divrei Torah (vey'z mir) and paid announcements. In the May 5 issue was

JONAH, Jews Offering New Alternatives for Healing, is a non-profit international organization offering wide range of resources, services, and educational programs to the world-wide Jewish community, including helping those with unwanted addictions and habits. JONAH works directly with those who struggle and with their families and friends. For more information go to www.jonahweb.org or call 201-433-3444.

If you go to the website, as I did, you'll find that JONAH is "dedicated to educating the world-wide Jewish community about the social, cultural and emotional factors which lead to same-sex attractions." That seems to be JONAH's entire program. It does not seem to deal at all with chemical addictions. The notice in Likutei is very misleading, and it appears to be intentionally so.

As shandes go, this is minor stuff. The notice doesn't rape children or throw acid in anyone's face. JONAH doesn't seem to verbally abuse homosexuals. Nevertheless, the notice probably gave a moment of false hope to the reader who was looking for an Ortho org that deals with chemical addictions. Whoever placed the notice should be more careful, ashamed of themselves, or both.

On "On"

One of the nice things about working near an enormous library where you have borrowing privileges is that you can impulsively check out stuff that you see footnoted in other stuff you impulsively checked out. So after work today (I leave early on Fridays, and since we're on standard time now, I'll have lots of time), I'll be checking out Joshua Blau, On Pseudo-Corrections in Some Semitic Languages (1970).

I think the most intimidating part about it is that initial On in the title. This guy was serious. Some is also impressive.

Qamaṣim again

Thank you to those who commented on the original post on the ṣohorayim rule--Balashon, Lethargic-Man, and Morris. Even greater gratitude to David Rosenberg for many conversations in real time and space on qamaṣim and related topics. None of these people is responsible for this post. Since I’m completely irresponsible, neither am I.

Before you get any further into this, let me remind you of this blog’s official description: “Speculative miscellaneosities, etc., on . . . Hebrew vowel geeqery . . . and other stuff I don't know much about."

WARNING: This is a geeqy post about Hebrew vowels. If you're not interested, you won't be interested. Next in the pipeline (and it may be months) will be a nongeeqy post about why I don't like "Eloqai neṣor." You're welcome to come back then.

In case you’re going “wha?!” about my unaccustomed way of romanizing Hebrew, I’m thinking of looking for freelance work with a journal that uses this style, and I want to be able to show them that I’m familiar with it.

This post follows the custom of Prof. Werner Weinberg (cited below) and abbreviates ḥq = ḥaṭaf qamaṣ, qg = qamaṣ gadol, and qq = qamaṣ qaṭan.

Let me apologize for not dealing with the meteg. I believe that the meteg is often useful in determining the status of a qamaṣ, but has so many other uses that it isn’t always reliable. I remembered to write about the meteg at the last minute, and this post has been on my virtual desk for so long, so I’m putting the discussion off until another time (b”n). I apologize, because I know some of you are interested in the meteg. Why don’t you write about it, and I can just comment on your post?

So now to finally begin (or is finally beginning illogical? whatever).

In a post dated November 29, 2011, I announced that I disagreed with what I called the ṣohorayim rule (actually, at the time I called it the tzohorayim rule)--the rule that when a qamaṣ precedes a guttural with a ḥq, that qamaṣ is a qq. Although I disagreed with the rule then, I now believe that such a qamaṣ is in fact often, or even usually, a qq, as the rule predicts. But let’s discuss qamaṣim in general before we get to the question of those that are followed by a guttural with a ḥq.

As Gesenius notes in section 9u of his Grammar (downloadable here), “The grammatical origin of the words in question…is of course the surest guide” to the status of a qamaṣ. Makes perfect sense, and in fact the qamaṣ in צָהֳרַיִם is a qq under this guideline, since the word is the dual form of צֹהַר (the qq is the short vowel corresponding to the ḥolam). This, like Gesenius’s statement, is intuitive.

Without any knowledge of a word’s origin, we rely on two qualities of the qq: it must be in an unaccented closed syllable. There seems to be unanimous agreement that an accented qamaṣ is always a qg. But an unaccented qamaṣ in an open syllable may be a qq, and one in a closed syllable may be a qg. Everyone seems to agree that the first qamaṣ in שָׁרָשִׁים is a qq, but it is in an open syllable. This is consistent with Gesenius's generalization; שָׁרָשִׁים is the plural of שֹׁרֶשׁ.

There is at least one whole category of closed unaccented qamaṣim that are gedolim: the ^⊃atei meraḥiq, discussed in Gesenius 20f. When one word that ends with an unaccented open qamaṣ or segol has a conjunctive cantillation and is followed by a word that begins with an accented syllable (this includes monosyllables), the first letter of the second word often takes a dageš ḥazaq. The open qamaṣ that ends the first word was and remains a qg, even after it’s closed by the dageš. An example of ^⊃atei meraḥiq given by Gesenius is שׇׁבִיתׇ שֶּׁבִי (Psalms 68:19). The first word is accented on the bet, the second on the šin. The qamaṣ at the end of the first word is a qg, and it is closed by the dageš ḥazaq in the šin. Thus, the syllable is closed, and yet the qamaṣ remains a qg.

What about the inflected forms of רֹאשׁ that begin with -רָאשׁ? This seems like an obvious case where we need a qq. So why do people treat it like a qg? According to Gesenius (97, near the end [97 isn’t divided into subsections]) רֹאשׁ is “obscured from רָאשׁ"--that is, its ur-form (which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s from Aramaic) is רָאשׁ. There's no way of knowing this if you don't know anything about other Semitic languages; those who have never heard of Ras Tafari should probably pronounce these words with a qq.

Finally, let’s talk about Mordecai. Everybody seems to agree that the name מָרֽדֽכַי comes from the Persian name “Marduk.” If that is correct, and if “Marduk” is pronounced “Marduk,” and if the surest guide to the status of a qamaṣ is its origin, why is the qamaṣ in מָרֽדֽכַי not a qg?

Now, let’s return to the ṣohorayim rule. My former reasoning, which I now reject, was straightforward. A qq, I assumed, has to be in a closed unaccented syllable. More importantly, I assumed that a syllable that ends with a ḥaṭaf vowel is an open syllable. Why? Well, it sure doesn’t sound closed. And in the recorded ši^⊂urim that first got me interested in this stuff, the lecturer said that you can identify open and closed syllables by their sound (assuming that one pronounces an ^⊂ayin at the end of a syllable). Let’s use צָהֳרַיִם itself as an example. The first syllable can’t end with the hei; if it did, the first thing in the next syllable would be the ḥq. That won’t work, because the first thing in a syllable has to be a consonant. But if the first syllable is the ṣade and the qamaṣ, then the syllable is open, and the qamaṣ has to be gadol. (A reminder: I no longer accept this argument.)

I was about to reaffirm my earlier post but allow for exceptions and leave it at that until I came across a paper by Werner Weinberg, “The Qamāṣ Qāṭān Structures.”[1] Weinberg identifies three ways of determining the status of a given qamaṣ--the etymological (he cites the statement of Gesenius that appears near the beginning of this post regarding the origin of a given qamaṣ), the phonological (a qq appears in a closed unaccented syllable), and the morphological. As its title suggests, the paper is largely devoted to morphology. Although Weinberg talks about these as three approaches, he doesn’t actually treat them as separate. At the end of the etymology section, he writes (paragraph 1.4), “Aside from obvious cases, one has to be an accomplished Semitist to use a purely etymological approach--and yet, even the expert cannot always decide between qq and qg.” The footnote attached to this statement lists fourteen footnotes that cite Semiticist minority reports on certain qamaṣim, and all are in the section on morphology, even though he had just said that these were disagreements on etymology.

(Weinberg’s paper has several illogical arguments around the edges. I mention this not out of disrespect for Weinberg, but because I’m implicitly sort of recommending the paper by citing it, and I believe it’s my duty to warn people.)

Anyhow, the insight. The main thing we’re taught about ḥaṭaf vowels, other than that they’re shorter than short, is that they appear under guttural letters when a ševa^⊃ na^⊂ would otherwise be called for; a ševa^⊃ na^⊂ can’t appear under a guttural. True enough. But what isn’t dwelled on as much is the fact that a ḥaṭaf vowel can also stand in for a ševa^⊃ naḥ. We see examples of this all over the Hebrew language. Consider some hif^⊂ils. Look, for example, at מַבְדִּיל. It seems noncontroversial that the ševa here is naḥ. Therefore, the ḥaṭaf pataḥ in מַחֲזִיק must be standing in for a ševa^⊃ naḥ.

OK. Now. Here comes the insight I got from Weinberg (wait for it!). Weinberg has several lists, by category, of words that take qq. I quote the beginning of section 3.1.1 (one of several that make this point):

3.1.1. qoṭl-type nouns, singular inflected: אׇהֳלִי (Jer 10 20), etc. [incl. pr. nouns]; אׇזְנִי (I Sam 20 2), etc….

And a few other sections of Weinberg contain similar lists: 3.1.2 (qoṭl-type dual nouns, including our old friend צָהֳרָיִם [Isaiah 16:3]) and 3.1.3 (qoṭl-type nouns plural construct, such as אׇהֳלֵי [Numbers 16:26]).

Don’t worry, the insight is in the next paragraph.

All of the examples I’ve cited (although not all that Weinberg lists) are consistent with Gesenius’s statement about the origin of the qamaṣ: all come from words whose uninflected singulars have a ḥolam. But in terms of the argument about the ṣohorayim rule, here’s the insight. All of these are, according to Weinberg, lists of “qoṭl-type nouns.” In other words, the second radical carries a ševa^⊃ naḥ. The ḥq under the hei in oholi stands in for a ševa naḥ. The first syllable of the word isn’t the qamaṣ ^⊃alef; the first syllable is the qamaṣ ^⊃alef and the ḥq hei, and (my big insight from Weinberg) it is a closed syllable. The qamaṣ under the ^⊃alef meets the criteria for a qq without invoking the ṣohorayim rule. My big insight should have been obvious--when a syllable ends with a ḥaṭaf vowel that stands in for a ševa^⊃ naḥ, it’s a closed syllable. My problem, as I mentioned earlier, was that I assumed that closed syllables sound like they end with a consonant. [Note to myself: remember to include video of me smashing a rotten eggplant on my head in sheer embarrassment.] The first syllable of צָהֳרָיִם is צָהֳ, but its underlying form is צָהּ; it is a closed syllable. So now I conclude that the ṣohorayim rule often works.

But not always. R’ Mordecai Breuer writes, “A qamaṣ that precedes a ḥaṭaf qamaṣ whose source is a ševa^⊃ naḥ is considered a short vowel.”[2] Note the restriction--“whose source is a ševa^⊃ naḥ.” This strongly suggests that he rejects the ṣohorayim rule as a universal generalization. So do I.

Let’s look at a few other cases. What about כָּאֳנִיּוֹת (Proverbs 31:14), which we sing Friday nights as part of “^⊃Ešet ḥayil”? Here we have a qamaṣ preceding a guttural with a ḥq; how is it pronounced? According to Gesenius (102d), a prefixed prepositional bet, kaf, or lamed that is attached to a ḥaṭaf letter takes the full vowel associated with that ḥaṭaf. Based on some words that are familiar from worship, this makes intuitive sense. Consider בֶּאֱמֶת and לַאֲדוֹנֵי. Using this reasoning, it’s clear that the qamaṣ in כָּאֳנִיּוֹת is a qq. And obviously, since אֳנִיּוֹת begins with a ševa^⊃ na^⊂--words don’t begin with a ševa^⊃ naḥ--this qq is an open syllable.

Although it is obviously open, it may be nonobviously closed. And at this point I’m speculating even more cluelessly than usual. Clearly, an initial ḥaṭaf is standing in for a ševa^⊃ na^⊂, since there is no initial ševa^⊃ naḥ. Nevertheless, let’s look at what happens in a word that begins with a plain old simple ševa^⊃ na^⊂, and imagine what would happen if the gutturals could take a ševa^⊃ na^⊂. An asterisk indicates a hypothetical form that doesn’t really exist.

1a. צְדָקָה
1b. אְנִיּוֹת *

Both of these ševa^⊃s are na^⊂, since they go with the first letter. Now let’s add a prepositional kaf to both. Without making any of the necessary changes, the words become

2a. כְּצְדָקָה *
2b. כְּאְנִיּוֹת *

I don’t know whether these hypothetical ševa^⊃s would be na^⊂ or naḥ. I suspect they’d be na^⊂, and for our present purposes it doesn’t matter. Let’s go one further step, again treating word b like word a.

3a. כִּצְדָקָה
3b. כִּאְנִיּוֹת *

The real ševa^⊃ in 3a becomes naḥ in this situation, and so does the hypothetical one in 3b. Is it possible that כָּאֳנִיּוֹת is derived from 3b? If so, once again we have a closed syllable.

What happens when the article is prefixed to a ḥaṭaf? Gesenius notes that before a guttural, depending on the details, the vowel in the article either remains a pataḥ or is “modified to a S^eghôl or fully lengthened to Qameṣ” (35e) (emphasis added; Gesenius’s italics on the names of the vowels deleted to emphasize my emphasis). In other words, it’s a qg. Before an ^⊂ayin with a ḥq, the article has a qamaṣ (35k), as in הׇעֳמׇרִים (Ruth 2:15). This is a qg preceding a guttural that has a ḥq: exactly what the ṣohorayim rule doesn't allow.

The last instance or noninstance of the ṣohorayim rule that I discuss concerns a postbiblical form. Near the end of the ^⊂Al ḥeṭ, we call God

סׇלְחׇן לישראל ומׇחֳלׇן לשבטי ישורון

I’ve been assuming (maybe incorrectly) that סׇלְחׇן and מׇחֳלׇן have the same vowels. If so, what are they? Is the first qamaṣ a qg (with ševa^⊃ na^⊂ and a ḥaṭaf qamaṣ coming from a na^⊂), or is it a qq (with naḥs)?

The dictionaries I’ve looked at all have מׇחֳלׇן. They also all have an entry for סׇלְחׇן, סַלֽחָן, with the pataḥ version appearing first. I surmise that these are two different pointings for the same word, rather than synonyms, because if they were two different related and synonymous words, they would have separate entries. Since the pataḥ is the short vowel that corresponds to the qg, I gather that the vowel in סׇלְחׇן is a qg--it just seems less Occamly plausible for the two pointings of the same word to differ by a pataḥ and a qq. The mishnaic grammar of M. H. Segal lists some basic forms of nouns formed by adding a final nun:[3]

To me, it seems likely that סַלֽחָן follows the qaṭlan paradigm, while מׇחֳלׇן probably follows that of קָרְבָּן in the quṭlan category. So I now believe that סׇלְחׇן and מׇחֳלׇן have different vowels. I accept this reasoning, but I should acknowledge that Dr. Seligmann Baer disagrees with it. In both ^⊂Al ha-nissim (Hebrew) and Yequm purqan (Aramaic), Baer’s Seder ^⊂Avodat Israel[4] uses פָּרקָן instead of פֻּרֽקָן.

The qamaṣ here is qaṭan; this is obvious because it’s presented as an alternative to a qubbuṣ, and also Baer says so. Baer explains why פָּרקָן works here; maybe it does work, but I don't think he makes a convincing argument for preferring it to פֻּרֽקָן. The reason I mention this is that Baer lists a few Hebrew words that have the same form as פָּרקָן, with its qq, and one of them is סׇלְחׇן. Based on my reading and understanding (slight though it is) of the dictionaries, I believe Baer is mistaken here. And off topic a little, Baer cites the siddur of רפ״ז as precedent for porqan. Does anyone know who this rabbi is? It isn’t in Baer’s list of abbreviations or in his list of sources.

The correct vowels for סׇלְחׇן may be irrelevant. It’s irresponsible to guess authorial intention, especially for me--I mean, well, I’m clueless about my own intentions most of the time. Nevertheless, I’m guessing that the author of the prayer intended that סׇלְחׇן and מׇחֳלׇן be pronounced with the same vowels, so that’s what I’m going to do.

Cluelessness, uninformed speculation, weak assumptions, wild guesses, and more cluelessness, always cluelessness--what blogging is all about. Please comment and correct.






Notes[1] Journal of Biblical Literature 87 (1968): 151-65; reprinted, with very minor changes, in Weinberg, Essays on Hebrew: Presented to Dr. Weinberg in Gratitude and Affection by His Students, ed. Paul Citrin (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993), 237-65. All citations to the paper in this post are from the JBL version.

[2] קמץ הבא לפני חטף קמץ, שמקורו שוא נח, נחשב תנועה קטנה. R. Mordecai Breuer, Ṭa^⊂amei ha-miqra^⊃ (Jerusalem: Ḥorev, 1989), p. טז (frontmatter).

[3] M. H. Segal, A Grammar of Mishnaic Hebrew (Oxford: Clarendon, 1927), 119; downloadable here.

[4] Seligmann Baer, Seder ^⊂Avodat Israel (Rödelheim: Lehrberger, 1901), 100. Hebrewbooks.org has two scans of it--here and here. Some pages have clearer scans in one version, some in the other.

Good news for people in Rogers Park, southwest Evanston, and southeast Skokie

The inconvenient LifeSource location near Old Orchard has been closed for some months now, taking blood donations at various temporary sites. And the day after tomorrow, Thursday, November 17, 2011, a new permanent LifeSource center is opening at Main Street Marketplace, 2436 Main, Evanston (just east of McCormick)--either downright convenient or relatively noninconvenient. (Now that I’m a southeast Skokeleh person, it’s downright convenient for me.) There’s a rumor that the Food 4 Less at the shopping center is changing its name to Food IV Less in honor of the big event.

Before donating blood, remember to hydrate yourself. Also, especially if you’re a female person, iron up. (Personal note: I got a ninety-day ineligibility because my iron was just a little bit below the threshold last time I went to donate. For females, it’s three weeks. The reason is that it’s more unusual for a male to have low iron.)

See you there! February 2, when I’m eligible again. But don’t wait for me.

Geshem and gashem

This is a reworking of (and I hope an improvement on) an old, now-deleted post.Well, the holiday season is over. Which raises the eternal question that I know is on everyone's mind: "Should I say 'Mashiv haruah umorid hagashem,' or 'Mashiv haruah umorid hageshem'"?

But first, let's discuss pausal forms. Those who know from pausal forms are invited to skip down to the paragraph that begins "Gashem is the pausal form of geshem."

Using the siddur, I noticed some strange stuff some years ago. For example, in the Retzeh paragraph that's added to Birkat Hamazon on Shabbat, we find "kemitzvat retzonékha [new clause] uvirtzon^ekhá haniah ["hanah" in Birnbaum] lanu..." What's with the two different endings for the same word? And similarly in the weekday Amidah, we find "vekarno tarum bishu'atékha [new clause] ki lishu'at^ekhá kivinu..."

And in the post-drinking blessing for wine, what's with all the gefen and gafen? "Gafen" must be the basic way of saying it, right? I mean, everyone's heard "borei peri hagafen." So you look up vine in an English-Hebrew dictionary--it's gefen.

And at the end of Birkat Hamazon, we have "vezar'o mevakesh lahem" instead of "lehem," and in Ashrei "ugdol-hased" instead of "hesed."

What's going on? What's going on is pausal forms. In biblical Hebrew, some words undergo a change if they're immediately followed by a major pause. One pausal form is the "-^ekhá" (meaning "your") that becomes "-ékha" in pausation. Thus lishu'at^ekhá and bishu'atékha. Another occurs in nouns with three consonants and two segols (a segol is the three-dot vowel that sounds like a short "e"), such as lehem, melekh, and hesed; the first segol becomes a qamatz (the vowel that looks like a squushed-down capital T). Thus "vezar'o mevakesh lahem" and "ugdol-hased."

"But wait!," you may be saying. "You said the pausal forms are in biblical Hebrew. While some of the things you've quoted are from the Bible--viz., Ashrei and the verse near the end of Birkat Hamazon--others are not. So, not to put to fine a point on it, one needs to ask 'Wha?'!"

If you're saying this, you're right. Much of Ashkenazi liturgy was recast into biblical style in recent centuries, and we sometimes go hog wild, as it were, with the pausalities. Consider the Berakhah Aharonah: "al Yisra'el amékha, ve'al Yerushalayim irékha, ve'al Tsion mishkan kevodékha, ve'al mizbehékha, ve'al heykhalékha." On this and on this and on this and on this and on this. This is a lot of pausativity. (Although I like this one; it makes it more lively than "on this and on this and on this and on this and on this.") But yes, it’s overdone.

* * *
Gashem is the pausal form of geshem. So which one to use? I used to be a gashemite, to use the word of Dr. Shnayer Leiman. Every siddur I've seen has a full stop after "hag*shem" (either a Western-style period or a Hebrew sof pasuk, which looks like a Western colon and is more or less equivalent to a period). This is true even of those siddurim that have "hageshem." And in general, even those shelihei tzibbur who say "hageshem" also pronounce a full stop. So "hagashem" made sense to me. According to Dr. Leiman, this is in fact the rationale of the gashemites.

There are some who are very intolerant of what they consider the wrong pronunciation. Even if I had no other reason to like the virtual person known as Mississippi Fred MacDowell, I would still be eternally grateful to him for pointing me toward Dr. Leiman. Specifically, to shiur by Dr. Leiman on the history and halakhah of the geshem-vs.-gashem controversy. I recommend the shiur highly, even if you're not a vocalization geeq. It's as much history as it is halakhah, and Dr. Leiman's presentation is fascinating, educational, and entertaining. You don't need a yeshiva background to understand it--I, for example, am an am ha'aretz with no training in rabbinics.

This comment from Siddur Tzelota d'Avraham summarizes both the geshemite position and, so that it can be refuted, the gashemite position (you can enlarge the image by clicking on it):

Morid hageshem: The gimmel takes a segol [i.e., it’s geshem]. This is how it’s printed in all the old Ashkenazic siddurim and mahzorim, and also in the Sephardic siddur that is available to me, as well as in the siddur of the Holy Luminescent Rabbi Who Wrote the Tanya (may the memory of the righteous one be a blessing). I’ve heard that a grammarian in Berlin [Isaac Satanow] published a siddur, Vaye'ater Yitzhak, in which he prints it as "hagashem," in accordance with the rules concerning pauses. And in fact Zechariah 14:15 [sic; it seems to me to be verse 17] ends with "yihyeh hagashem." After Satanow, it was published as hagashem in several siddurim. But this is just a complete scrambling of the old books; there is no pause here at all. In siddurim, it's printed on a line by itself; this is to teach that it's said not all year 'round, but only in the winter. But it is connected to the language that follows it; by making the rain fall (morid hageshem), God kindly sustains the living (mekhalkel hayyim behesed). As the Tur (Orah Hayyim 114) notes, "morid hageshem" supports "mekhalkel hayyim" because the rains provide livelihood and sustenance (kalkalah, which has the same root as mekhalkel). It has nothing at all to do with "mehayyeh hametim" (giver of life to the dead), which precedes it.

Note that in the same siddur that makes this argument that there is no pause at all after hageshem, hageshem is followed by a period. As I was saying. This is why I was a gashemite.

I’m not at all competent to evaluate the halakhic arguments for either position. I have become a geshemite for nonhalakhic reasons. When I started thinking about it, I realized that the phrase is parallel to those that follow--they all begin with participles (or what are in Modern Hebrew called present-tense verbs):

mashiv haruah umorid hag*shem
mekhalkel hayyim behesed
mehayyeh metim berahamim rabim
somekh nofelim
verofe holim
umatir asurim
umkayyem emunato lisheney afar

OK. So it’s associated with the following phrases. This doesn’t necessarily mean it should be geshem. After all, Ashkenazic liturgy is heavy on the pauses--recall the Berakhah Aharonah. Maybe it should be pausal gashem. But note the next phrase; it ends with hesed, not hased. Because I’m claiming that the two lines have parallel construction, I choose to say geshem (which is not the same as claiming that gashem is incorrect).

Judging by Dr. Leiman’s lecture, each pronunciation is advocated by bunches of rabbis, and these guys are always right, so you’re probably OK either way. On the other hand, since some of these rabbis say the other pronunciation is downright wrong, it’s possible that you’re non-OK either way.

Yom Kippur haiku

Torn skin! Flowing blood!
Fang punctures on our ankles!
The cats do not fast.