Proto Canaanite and the ABCs of Writing

Perhaps the innovation of an alphabet—a system where fewer than thirty symbols represented every sound in a language was inevitable. After all, it had already occurred at least once in Egyptian, if not again in Ugaritic. Though in Egyptian it never reached true alphabetic status, being reserved for the spelling of foreign terms, names, and the like, while Ugaritic all too early disappeared from the scene of alphabetic writings. The first true graphemes of alphabetic writing, those that became our simple ABCs, however, heralded something far more significant than just a better way to do written language. They comprised a sophisticated, indeed an ingenious system of ideographic expressions that has escaped recognition of even the most astute of scholarly inquiry. I intend to demonstrate this proof over the course of these discussions. However, to begin, I need to acquaint you with the alphabetic script of Proto Canaanite.

Proto Canaanite follows upon the heels of Proto Sinaitic, the first vowelless, alphabetic script. And while we don’t have an abundance of Proto Sinaitic inscriptions, we have even fewer of Proto Canaanite. Scholars have attempted to make a case for a direct development from Proto Sinaitic to Proto Canaanite, however there are substantial hurdles. Proto Sinaitic had nearly thirty characters in its repertoire, while Proto Canaanite had only twenty-two. And while similarities between the two scripts exist there is not substantive support to the idea of a gradual transition from the one alphabet to the other.

The problem is compounded by the absence of an authoritative script in Proto Canaanite. The script is evidenced by only a handful of inscriptions, most of which are extremely brief and were produced by amateurs. A given instance—the earliest example we have of a complete alphabetic script evidenced in the Isbet Sartah is by all accounts the work of a practicing student, and manifests errors in letter order as well as letter construction. Equally unskilled, making up a significant portion of Proto Canaanite inscriptions, markings on arrowheads are ostensibly the work of their owners—commoners. Their inscriptions follow the pattern— “arrow of so and so, son of said person.” They indeed witness the adoption of alphabetic writing by a lay populace, but they do not tell us how the script was actually envisioned by its inventor or inventors. To discover that we must first arrive at a semblance of the original script by drawing from extant inscriptions of Proto Canaanite and its sister script, early Phoenician.

To acquaint you with the script of Proto Canaanite or early Phoenician from which it is indistinguishable except by location, we will reconstruct the script using one of its descendent forms—the English alphabet. It may seem surprising, but the Latin Alphabet we use in the English language today is not that dissimilar to Proto Canaanite. On the other hand, you will notice very little similarity to the Hebrew script to which language it is nearly identical. The reason—the early alphabet was employed in Aramaic, the trade language of the day, and borrowed by the Greeks, then by succeeding nations, the Etruscans and the Romans. The alphabet when adopted by global empires largely retained a resemblance to its earlier form, while isolated alphabets, those of local cultures, saw radical reformations of their letter structure. Arabic’s elegantly calligraphic script is a case in point.

Before introducing the script, I want to make note of the content of the graphics I use. Representing both Proto Canaanite and early Phoenician characters, the first line of characters indicate prevalent samples that have been taken from the various inscriptions that we have discovered to date. The second line of symbols indicates how the Canaanite or early Phoenician letters are to be compared with their Latin or English equivalents. So moving on, the task at hand is to retrace the alterations of each letter of the alphabet, while at the same time collecting a significant sample of each, in order to arrive at an adequate resemblance of the original script of Proto Canaanite.

Leading off the alphabetic script, the first letter was called Alef, meaning ox. In the first instance of the symbol we witness in Proto Sinaitic the development of the letter A from a crude representation of an ox’s head. In Proto Canaanite the symbol developed an extended crossbar. Sometimes the arrow portion of the figure was illustrated backed away from the vertical stroke appearing more like a letter K. Both forms are indicated in Proto Canaanite and are significant. Differences in symbol construction perhaps owed to scribal choice, with certain regions or schools of thought favoring one form over another. Over time the crossbar of the letter A that earlier extended outside the boundary of the figure retracts and the figure rotates 90 or so degrees to appear as the letter A, the first letter of the English alphabet.

The letter B followed a similar transition flipping right to left and having more of an angular form, with one small stroke removed off the bottom part of the letter. Sometimes the head of the figure was somewhat more rounded, or the leg rather than bent, was tucked under the symbol. In various scripts the leg, rather than tucked under the symbol was actually folded in the opposite direction. The alternate symbol is illuminating as it points to dynamic features of the script involving complimentary structures in the alphabet’s design. The second letter of the alphabet was called Bet, meaning house, and developed from an initial boxed shape. In Proto Sinaitic the symbol was square or rectangular, resembling the floor plan of a house, but in Proto Canaanite the letter has been substantially altered, becoming more triangular.

The letter C also had an earlier angular form and was rotated appearing like an upside down V, or equivalently resembling an inverted checkmark-like symbol where the two legs are of unequal length, and the figure somewhat rotated. The upside down V design is particularly significant and has a direct correspondence to an underlying design concept in the construction of the script. This inverted V symbol was called Gimel, meaning camel. The early voicing of the C was hard G. Camel was “gamal” in Hebrew, and the name of the third letter was a derivative called Gimel.

The letter D similarly had an angular form appearing like a triangle. The use of the triangle as a character symbol of the alphabet draws from a predisposition to employ geometric forms in the early alphabet. The shape of the letter indicated a flap or door, and was called Dalet. The same letter, adopted by the Greeks, was called Delta, which we connect today to the shape of a triangle, as in a delta wing aircraft. In the English script the letter has been rounded and rotated 90 degrees.

What is going on is that as the alphabet migrated from its early Semitic roots through ancient and classical Greek and on to its Latin form today, two things consistently occurred. Angular forms were often replaced by rounded forms, and letters flipped directions. The letters flipped direction mostly because the direction of writing itself changed. Classical Greek and the Romance languages were written as we write English today, from left to right. However, early Middle Eastern languages like Arabic and Hebrew were written from right to left, and still are today. This was an innovation itself. A few hundred years earlier there was no definite rule to writing. Script was written up or down, or from right or left. Indeed, in the same inscription letters might even switch directions. In one particular practice, script was written “boustrophedon,” or as an ox plows, from right to left, then from left to right, back and forth across stone or clay or whatever surface these early scribes had to write on.

Returning to the task of assembling an authoritative script of Proto Canaanite, the letter E was similarly flipped right to left and written with an extended leg and slanted bars, or in its other case sometimes the entire letter was slanted, the bars perpendicular to the figure. It is easy to recognize the letter E in the ancient glyph. Scholars point to a human stick figure from earlier Proto Sinaitic as being the prototype of this E symbol. Notwithstanding, the E shaped reconstruction of the symbol is noteworthy, indicating a more definitive concept relevant to details of the script that will have to await explanation in a later post. The letter E represented a different sound than it did in Proto Canaanite when it was called the letter Heh and indicated an H sound. Changes of this sort occur often. As the alphabet was adopted by other languages and cultures, letters came in and out of use, and symbols were adopted for different sounds than those they originally intended.

Moving on to the next letter, the F though appearing to relate to the design of the letter E, was actually quite distinct in its original construction. Earlier, the letter was bent in the middle, its prongs angled upward by about 45 degrees. It appeared this way in the Hebrew national script in the first thousand years BCE. However, it also appeared with the prongs fully rotated ninety degrees, or directly upward. This form actually drew from an anterior, more symmetrical symbol shaped like a Y. Initially, the top of the Y symbol was rounded like a bowl. This letter was called Vav, meaning peg, or nail, and indicated an appending or branching action.

We have already observed that letters sometimes got out of order, as was the case with the letter G, which we already visited when we observed the letter C, or Gimel. The two similar sounds, C and hard G, where differentiated in the Latin alphabet by a small tick on the figure. However what may surprise you is what originally occupied the position of the letter G. In Proto Canaanite the seventh letter was the equivalent of the letter Z, as can also be seen in the order of the Greek letter Zeta. However, the Z sound became unnecessary in Latin and was dropped from the alphabet. Later it was reintroduced into the script for our Z sound and so was appended to the end of the alphabet. The zigzag shape of the letter Z is actually late, showing up in Phoenician, but not evidenced in Proto Canaanite’s brief inventory. One reason is that another letter, the Nun, in this same period was almost equivalent to Z’s zigzagging form, and would have been a cause for confusion. The earlier form of the letter Z resembled a capital letter I with bars on top and bottom, and was called Zayin, meaning weapon or arms. Often the bars were quite extended, the symbol describing a strong sideways motion in its form. The form indicated a particular action, a significant concept in the construction of the early alphabet. Eventually, the upright took on a more slanted orientation, which when combined with its extended bars became the zigzagging form we observe today in the English letter Z.

Why am I changing the order of the alphabet? Because thirty-five hundred years ago or so, and perhaps earlier, the alphabet had a set order. Mostly, that order has remained the same for thousands of years, though as I have just demonstrated some changes did occur. Linguists are very interested to understand why the alphabet from a very early period of its existence followed a specific order. What was the intent of this sequence the alphabet anciently demonstrated? That’s a mystery I will elucidate at length in these discussions, though I will give you the gist of the argument now. The alphabet, particularly Proto Canaanite, derives from a sophisticated geometric system. That system may be older than Proto Canaanite, descending originally from a numerical system extant in Proto Sinaitic where there were likely twenty-seven original symbols, or three sets of nine symbols that served a numerical purpose. That is why the alphabet in antiquity followed an exact order. The alphabet essentially functioned as a numeric set. The idea that the letters served as numbers is not a new idea. The Greeks had this utility. Greek letters represented both letters and numerals. In the Tanakh, the Jewish Bible, the Hebrews demonstrate this same numerical usage in acrostic verses of Psalms and Proverbs, where the first verse begins with the letter A, the second with the letter B, and so on. However, their date is in question. The oldest texts of the Tanakh are the Dead Sea Scrolls, and they only date back at most to 150 BCE., not nearly early enough to establish this practice as original to the Hebrews. However, new evidence that I will introduce strongly proposes that the practice originated with the Semites, not the Greeks.

Picking up the alphabet where we left off, the next letter in the sequence following the letter Z is the letter H. The letter H in Proto Canaanite was drawn as a boxlike symbol with a horizontal line dividing it into two equal parts. Removing the upper and lower bars of the symbol we observe the connection of the symbol to the letter H. The symbol was also evidenced by an alternate design where the box image was graphically broken, with slanted upper, middle, and lower bars between the two uprights of the symbol. Additionally, sometimes the figure was portrayed with only two bars slanting between the uprights. The symbol perhaps meant to describe the concept of shattering, as breaking the structure of the box. This eighth letter in the alphabetic sequence was called Het and indicated a guttural H sound as in German “Bach.”

The next letter in the alphabetic sequence is iconically similar—a circle with a horizontal stroke across it, or alternatively a cross through it. We use a similar symbol to mean disallowed. The strike through the symbol, similar to the strike through the previous boxlike symbol, should rouse some suspicion. The boxlike Het was key to unlocking the underlying design behind the construction of the Proto Canaanite script. The symbol of the circle with a strike through it, or two strikes as was more often the case, is the letter Tet, meaning “mud” or “mire.” The letter Tet was rare in Proto Canaanite. Theta is the equivalent letter in the Greek, but the symbol was not needed in Latin and accordingly was dropped from the script, and is also not found in English. Het and Tet are examples of two letters that have mystified scholars. It is not known what the name Het signified, and though scholars know the meaning of the letter Tet, they do not know what the symbol intended to represent. Not surprisingly, both of these symbols are fully illuminated once the principles underlying the construction of the alphabetic script are understood.

The letters I and J come from the same parent letter—the Yod. Both symbols were used for the same sound, and only later in the Latin script did they become distinguished by two distinct sounds. The shape of the letter J in particular references the original symbol, though the rounded portion of the symbol is inverted. The symbol had a half bar at the top of the symbol, a feature still evident in the capital J that is sometimes depicted with a bar at the top. Additionally, the symbol had a bar halfway down the symbol. The symbol emulated the arm cocked in a gesture meant to illustrate the throwing and releasing action of the hand. The meaning of  Yod is expectedly “hand.” And though the evolution of the symbol is somewhat convoluted, the connection to its meaning and parent letter is obvious.

Following the letter J, the next letter, the letter K, was originally flipped right to left and was slanted. The slant developed because the earlier version of the symbol lacked the leg extending beneath the symbol. Instead, the symbol appeared like a V shape with a vertical stroke extending from the intercept upward.
The name of the symbol is Kaf, meaning palm, and indicated an opening motion as of the palm of the hand, or the fronds of a palm tree. Other than the early addition of a trunk to the figure and rotating the symbol, the form of the letter has changed little in the last several thousand years.

The letter L, however, is a different story. Today the letter L is blatantly angular, but originally it was illustrated less so. In fact, in some instances of the symbol the grapheme is represented as a purely spiraling form. The letter also had a form where only the end of the symbol spiraled or was rounded. And sometimes the letter approaches a sharp angle, much more familiar to the form of the letter L in English today. The symbol is called Lamed, signifying “to train,” and represents a shepherd’s crook. Some very early instances of the letter, and I mean Proto Sinaitic, manifested this form. However, it developed at an early point in Proto Canaanite a more circular, spiraling form that was significant of an action component in the construction of the script.

We are about halfway through the English alphabet, though Proto Canaanite having a shorter script brings us further along. The next letter, the Mem, meaning water was written similar to the M today with strong angles, but with an introductory stroke and running the last stroke below the symbol. Such is how the grapheme was formalized in the Hebrew national script. However, earlier in Proto Canaanite the symbol evidenced more of a vertical zigzagging stroke, a stepping down or cascading motion significant of a dynamic action in the structure of the grapheme.

Following the form of the Mem, the next letter, the equivalent of the letter N, had one less up-down stroke. For hundreds of years the Nun parroted the letter Mem in the Hebrew script, as well as in the succeeding national scripts. However, originally the letter Nun, “fish,” had no more connection to the letter Mem, “water,” than to any other letter. Originally the Nun intended a strong directional component—a stroke with a single jog in the middle. Some scholars have suggested the shape of a lightning flash in the form of the symbol. The verbal sense of Nun is “to propagate,” referring to the propagation of seed, but could equally have referred to the propagation of motion, as of lightning, a wave, a fish in water or of a serpent on land. An aside—the earlier representation of the symbol was that of a serpent. One can still see the essence of this motion in the jogging form of the letter N. It is likely that the letter Nun began to mimic the letter Mem when what the Nun initially intended—a dynamic of motion at the heart of the script itself, was less well known, and perhaps even forgotten.

Returning to the alphabetic sequence, for a second time a letter has been moved from its initial order in the alphabet. Originally, the letter that followed the equivalent of the letter N was not O, but the letter X. The X symbol was drawn, however, as three horizontal lines, like the Greek letter Xi, where in the Greek alphabet it indicated the same order, following the equivalent of the letter Nun. In classical Greek the Xi had a small horizontal dash in the middle. Consequently, like connecting the dots, the horizontal line above, the middle dash, and the horizontal line below suggested the shape of an X, and it became such in the Latin script. However, formerly the dashes were essentially equal in length. The Proto Canaanite symbol was built of three strong horizontal stokes with a single vertical stroke as if an axis traversing the figure. Sometimes the vertical stroke exceeded the upper bound of the horizontal bars, but mostly the vertical stroke began even with the upper bar and extended below the figure. The symbol was called Samek and meant “prop” or “support.”

The alphabet resumes its normal order with the letter O—the shape of a circle. The circular form is prevalent in Proto Canaanite and was indicative of a predisposition to use geometric forms in the alphabetic script. The circle is used no less than three times in Proto Canaanite. First in the letter Tet, here in the instance of the letter O, and it will appear again in the equivalent of the letter Q. Early samples of the letter O sometimes included a dot in the middle of the circle. Scholars suggest the dot may have derived from a similar Egyptian hieroglyph for the sun. Alternatively, the dot may have had reference to the pupil of the eye, as the earliest grapheme of the O was ovoid, resembling the shape of an eye. Furthermore, the name of the symbol, Ayin, signified “eye.” The symbol has had little to change since it gained its circular form thousands of years ago.

The transformation of the letter P, however, is more complex. Even the form it assumed in classical Greek was substantially removed from its Proto Canaanite ancestor. Don’t get confused, the letter in the Greek alphabet that looks like the letter P is actually the equivalent of the letter R. Around thirty-five hundred years ago the letter P or its equivalent Peh, meaning “mouth,” was represented in Proto Canaanite by a single curved stroke. Alternatively, the symbol was constructed of a horizontal bar with a curved stroke coming off the right end of the bar. When adopted by the ancient Greeks this same duality of forms persisted, though the letter was rotated 90 degrees. In some cases of the symbol a bent stroke joined a vertical bar, simulating the bar and curved stroke of the earlier symbol. In classical Greek the symbol descends from the curved stoke, becoming an upside down U shape. The same shape is modified, becoming more angular and square in form, the upper bar extending beyond the edges of the figure. Thus evolved the symbol Pi familiar to mathematicians and aficionados of geometry. However, when the symbol first appeared in Latin it was more like the letter Peh, though the curved portion of the symbol was almost entirely closed. The symbol was formed by two strokes, an upright bar and a rounded head, in other words a return to the straight and curved components of the letter Peh, perhaps a residual memory of the earlier symbol. Today in the English alphabet the P, fully closed, hides the existence of its earlier dual construct.

One last hiccup—we insert at this point the only other letter besides Tet that has disappeared from the alphabet. That letter is the Tsadi. The grapheme might be described like the figure of a hammerhead shark with a kink in its tail, although some early examples of the letter are simpler, appearing like a sideways T symbol. The Tsadi represented a “snare” or a “hook,” and graphically demonstrated an object that might easily get hung up or latch onto something. Sometimes the symbol was made very extended, as if the tail end of the symbol was to depict a trip line snaking off to one side. Interestingly tsad signifies “side.” Other vocabulary is telling as well—tsada is “to lie in wait” (as with malicious intent), while tsud signifies “to hunt.” Hence, my comic allusion to a hammerhead shark, as to the hunt or to fishing does not fall far from the mark.

The normal sequence of the alphabet ensues with the letter Q. The equivalent of the letter Q is Qof. It is not clear what the symbol portrayed. Qof meant monkey, but quf signified”coming round”—circuitous motion. The form of the symbol can be retraced by enlarging the small tic of the Q, extending it across and outside the circle, and standing the letter upon the stroke as in the stance of a roadway sign. Rare occurrences of the figure demonstrating the Qof without the stroke running through the circle exist, however, the stroke was customary. The form of the Qof was later modified in various Semitic inscriptions by cutting the circle in half like a top spinning on its axis and other similar modifications, however the original circular design was passed on to the modern English script in the shape of the letter Q.

Following the Q, the letter R is regressed by making the rounded head of the letter angular and removing the extra leg from the bottom of the character. The resulting symbol Resh, meaning head, looked like a triangular flag on a pole. The head sometimes appeared rounded. Though seemingly random, the construction of the symbol had direct relevance to concepts inherent in the design of the Proto Canaanite script involving action correspondences between symbols, which I have committed to explaining in a subsequent post.

Coming after the letter R, the letter S traces its ancestry to a symbol with sharp angles manifesting a zigzagging form. Additionally, this ancestor of the letter S had an extra stroke and was rotated a quarter of a turn looking much like a stretched W. The letter was called Shin and meant tooth. A similar symbol had a rounded appearance depicting the female breasts, Hebrew shad. Both instances of the symbol are recorded in Proto Canaanite, though the angular W form is by far the more dominant. In classical Greek the equivalent symbol was the letter Sigma, rotated ninety degrees and somewhat modified from its Semitic ancestor.

Lastly, the letter T is transformed by dragging the horizontal bar down to the middle of the letter. The letter appeared early as a plus sign, or alternatively rotated 45 degrees like an X symbol. Both versions were present in Proto Canaanite, though the plus symbol appears to be more principal. This letter was called Tav, meaning mark, the final letter of the Proto Canaanite alphabet.

What do we do with the rest of the letters? Well, X, Y, and Z already found their places in the alphabet—X as Samek after the letter N, and Y as Yod in the place of both I and J, and Z as Zayin in place of the letter G. The rest of the letters U, V, and later W, are all distinct modifications of the letter Vav standing for differentiated sounds of the letter. Additionally, the Vav is a natural fricative of the f sound, and hence its connection in position to the letter F. So, if you take into account these modifications, the order is much the same. We inserted two letters, Z and X, back into their original slots. We added two letters that are foreign to the English alphabet, Tet and Tsade. Other than that, we condensed the letters F, U, V and W in the letter Vav, condensed I, J and Y in the letter Yod, and C and G in the letter Gimel. In summary, we added two letters to the twenty-six, which would make twenty-eight, but we condensed nine letters into three losing six to finish with twenty-two letters.

As I committed at the first, we have reassembled from the trappings of the English alphabet with only a couple of additions and some simple alterations the script of Proto Canaanite. Proto Canaanite is the forbearer of the ancient script of Phoenician, the grandmother of all subsequent, enduring systems of alphabetic writing. I have created a body of work showing the varieties of forms of the Proto Canaanite letters and their connections to our modern alphabet. Consequently, we are now ready to open up the mystery of the invention of the alphabet and observe the geometric base and action principles underscoring the construction of the alphabet.

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The Mechanics of Power

Power is a number six. Power is about control, the domain of Gevurah, the sixth of the sefirot—left-center on the tree. Power inherently opposes freedom. Freedom is about allowance, the realm of Hesed, the fifth sefirah. These two, power and freedom, are opposites on the Tree of Sefirot. Power restrains freedom, while freedom has the effect of diluting power.

Humanity is free spirited and not easily constrained. Freedom is about as natural to us as is breathing. We crave freedom, though we do not immediately allow or trust to others that same freedom. There is an opposite need of the human psyche to seek to control or to have power over others. Is this human nature? Or is it a vestige of an earlier evolution, a remembrance of a more violent nature—of fight or flight, survival of the fittest? Perhaps, power is not so sadistic, but rather a survival instinct.

To be human is to care. The word humane means to be compassionate, to consider the plight of the weak, of the needy. To be human is also to be passionate, to love, to be bigger than ourselves—to make allowance for others. Power is not so liberal. Human nature is all over the map. It is messy. Power wants to box in free spirit, to somehow contain it, but it will not be contained.

Power, on the other hand, is invested in self interest. Power leads to the accumulation of resources, of wealth. That is because power rules wealth. Power is literally above or over wealth. This is apparent in the tree where wealth equates to Hod, number nine on the tree, beneath power. Power is the heart of material things. Situated beneath it, wealth sustains power, upholding its existence. Together they create a pact—power seeking wealth and wealth sustaining that power. So to power is added more wealth, hence assuring more power. It is viciously cyclic, a symbiotic relationship if ever there was one.

However, power is under rule or law. Power is only as mighty as rule dictates. Rule or law equates to Binah, number three on the tree. Binah is about separation, to make distinct, to understand, hence definition—rule. Rule is the head of power. In an ideal world power is subject to reasoning, to the understanding of what is right or good.

In the real world, however, power often takes on a different vestiture—to become a law unto itself, to manifest evil. The philosophical question of the problem of evil in Kabbalah is relegated to an error of separation. That is, evil is perceived as a process of separation occurring within the tree itself. In Kabbalah Adam is said to have sinned in that he separated the fruit from the tree, though this of course is not meant to be literal, but symbolic—allegorical. The tree is an emblem of correspondences, of qualities, attributes set in their natural order of likenesses and contrasts—of the balance of a particular nature and its opposite or compliment. When that balance is upset, evil appears in the world.

In the world, we are experiencing and have experienced for some time a reversal of the natural balance. Money has instead come to rule power, and power to rule law. Money has bought power, and power has legislated the will of the elite, the few, over the will of the masses—what is good or of benefit to all. It may seem, indeed, that this is the natural process—for over millennia it has occurred and occurs with such frequency. But instead, what we are seeing is the turning on its head of the natural order of things.

The natural order is reminiscent of the human physiology. In the body the mind rules. More specifically, the mind rules the heart, and the heart rules the body. This process is seen in the actions of the higher and lower centers of the brain. By heart I could substitute the limbic system, or central structures of the brain. When the body is allowed to rule, greed and gluttony have power over the senses, over the mind. When the heart is drawn away by baser persuasions to do what is not in the best interest of the system, the whole body suffers. The heart is the liaison between mind and body that are often at odds. In that battle sometimes the body wins, sometimes it is the mind. The heart is the social moralizer, the high ground of virtue, but still the heart is not adequately disposed to rule. Indeed, we often react out of emotion, putting off our better sense of reason.

Rule opposes creativity. Creativity belongs to Hokhmah, the second of the sefirot. Creativity breaks the rules—is open to anything. But creativity is also born of austerity, of lack. Wealth stagnates, there is no pressure to dream, to imagine. But in creativity is imagination, the power to see the possible. Creativity should not be overlooked as having the greatest potential to overcome the habitual march of power, or the unbridled flow of resources into the coffers of the super rich. Creativity naturally opposes the status quo, and arises at the prospect of injustice.

Rule is also a powerful ally. But rule must be wrested from the grip of power, the assault of moneyed interests. Money does not belong in power. That is more of the upsetting of the cart. Rule is in the right to decide in issues of power, and power is in the right to arbitrate in matters of economic justice. Remove money from politics, and governments will come into alignment with what is reasonable and good for all—common rule.

I hear the cry, free market! A free market is only free when it is free to all. Only a market balanced by the concerns of the worker, where workers are empowered to negotiate their needs, is free. The regulation of power is natural. However, power that capitulates to the wealthy is not natural and not to be trusted. The deregulation of power, of corporate entities, has brought ruin to the market economy. Occupiers of Wall Street in hunt of the culprit of their social woes are on the right scent.

Rule imposes regulations upon the system, creating obstacles to mobility. Mobility is the face of Netsah, the eighth of the sefirot. Opposites always exist across the tree from one another, and on opposite sides of the tree. Mobility is healthy for society and for the economy in general. However, rule is necessary, as also is structure in the case of power. Mobility in the economic system sustains freedom, and freedom sustains creativity. Creativity, for its part, leads to freedom and freedom allows for mobility. This is the relationship of hierarchies on the tree—the lower sustains and supports the higher up, and the upper is the head—ruling, leading, bringing about and enhancing the manifestation of the lower.

Class structure is the manifestation of the balance between power and freedom. Class structure is about relationship, the nature of Tif’eret, the seventh sefirah on the tree. If leaning to the power side, class structure is highly disparate and fractured. If to the freedom side, class structure is less visible and equality is more the norm.

The public’s consent to be governed is of principal importance, and all action comes from here. If the public is content there will be no real change. This is largely based upon our perceptions. How happy do we perceive ourselves to be, and what are our expectations about happiness? More importantly, how empowered do we believe we are to change our circumstances? Motivation is a key factor. Motivation is a core element of the mechanism of Da’at, the fourth sefirah. Essentially, Da’at is where we face our doubts and where we place our confidences—our belief system.

Da’at indicates our scale of positive versus negative emotions. Our emotional orientation largely determines how we interface with society—our social circumstance. Da’at and Tif’eret are complimentary; Da’at is about personal direction—motivation, while Tif’eret regards social position—status.

Imagine that you are living in a prisoner of war camp with the audio blaring 24/7 spewing propaganda about who the enemy is, who you are, and who is right and who is wrong…because that is where you actually are. Not in a prisoner of war camp, but the music is blaring all the same, telling you who you are and what you are supposed to do and where you fit in the scheme of things. Through the channels of media you are constantly barraged by a non ending stream of messages advocating the ethics of the ruling class, the ultra wealthy. This ideological system believes that prosperity is the reward of the deserving, and that self-interest is a right of the ruling class. Absurd and irresponsible patterns of accruing possessions, of amassing wealth, are all consider ethical—it is my money! While social responsibility, the charge of stewardship to make wise use of such abundance, to aid in the pursuit of wellness for all, is downplayed if not downright disregarded. The virtues of social responsibility—taking care of our real problems of hunger, poverty, of racial prejudice, hatred, warring, genocide, of the preservation of our natural resources and the environment are woefully neglected.

The establishment line is so dominant—the propaganda machine incessantly drumming out the virtue of the elitist mentality, that we can scarcely think for ourselves. However, if we are to overthrow the corrupt system of power, this is where we must begin. Ideology correlates with Keter, the crown of the tree. Everything is initiated here—with a change in ideology.  We must establish that a monetary system that promotes wealth to flow and to flow increasingly so into a very minute segment of society is categorically flawed. A system favoring but a very small percentage of the populace, while leaving the vast majority without enough to meet the barest of needs is unreasonable. When wealth is so concentrated there is little remaining to go around for everyone else to make do with.

A real stimulus plan would find a way to flow money and resources into the hands of the impoverished classes—the middle and lower classes. These members of society would indeed spend their income and largely they would spend it locally. They would spend it appropriately and for immediate needs. Do I need say—one hundred and eighty degrees opposite of how banks, corporations, and the wealthy spent their stimulus!

A real solution looks at the whole of society. A healthy economy is one in which access to the harbinger of wealth—education, is readily available to the citizenry and at a cost where one is not subject to unreasonable debt. But education itself has become financialized—made into a business turning a profit at the expense of its students. Graduates enter the market brimmed with debt and often without the education they actually need. Indeed, less is invested in education, because an educated citizenry has been deemed less useful in the corporate economy.

In a healthy economy resources are available to be developed into projected markets. However, in the present economy trillions of dollars are withheld by financiers and not invested in local markets. Overseas markets are more desirable. The country’s skilled labor force after having made corporations rich is increasingly being displaced in favor of a worker bee populace that is exploited for its low pay and absence of benefits. In the downturn of the economy, businesses are learning they can do the same here at home, offering lower pay and little to nothing in the way of benefits. The system is rigged to benefit employers and to stifle any organizing of employees to lobby for their rights.

Social democracy, where the populace of a society, like true democracy, determines what will be the rules of society is labeled by conservatives as one step away from communism, whereas representative government whose chambers are principally manned by members of an elitist group, an oligarchy, parades as democracy. Polls consistently show congress at odds with public opinion, though great pains are taken by elected officials to claim they are doing the bidding of their constituents. Public opinion is at a new low, with Republicans disliked the most, but Democrats not far behind. Trust in government is at its lowest ebb in decades.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt, after serving the longest presidency of any president of the United States, recognized the need for added protections of the liberties of individuals and suggested a second Bill of Rights. The first Bill of Rights protected citizens against excessive powers of government. The second Bill of Rights was to ensure more access to equality for different segments of the population. Among the second rights were the right to a decent wage, the right to be free of unfair advantage in the marketplace, the right to education, the right to health care, the right to adequate shelter, and the right to social security. Critics of the Second Bill of Rights suggest that the second Bill of Rights would destroy freedoms guaranteed by the first—I am assuming an interpretation of the right to unfair seizure of property. For instance, an anti hoarding law might be interpreted as an unfair seizure of property. However, how is the loss experienced by over a million homeowners not a seizure of property perpetrated upon the American public through big bank and mortgage company fraud?

Fundamental to the accretion of power is the absence of the united outcry of the masses, a voice of solidarity among America’s low earners. Sure, a stronger, second Bill of Rights would frame the important issues of the working class, however, the first Bill of Rights has not stopped powerful factions of society from invasions of these basic rights. In the end, the only force that power will reckon with is the specter of an organized electorate united in our common interests. Commonality is the framework of the tenth sefirah, Yesod. This is why one strategy of the power class has been to instigate infighting among the masses by introducing flash point issues such as abortion and gay rights and framing the political differences as pivoting on these issues while they do not. A second common strategy has been to demonize the opposition, to promote fear mongering and mistrust across the isle. A third has been the strategy of falsifying the intent of legitimate measures to bring about needed social reform. A favorite ploy is to rename and repackage them in an unpalatable context—as death panels, socialism/communism, redistribution of wealth, a welfare state, or class warfare.

What power fears, though, is the truth. Indeed, power fears the masses armed with the truth. We have been fed on a diet of half truths, untruths, and outright lies. Though power rises in obscuration, might rises by the torch of enlightenment. We are the people. We claim the right to work and to receive a just renumeration for our labors. A fair week of labor for a fair week of pay—for shelter from the elements, for food for our sustenance, for healthcare for our continued wellness, for education to better our circumstances, for a fair opportunity in the marketplace, and for the security that when we are old or if disabled we will be cared for. We do not surrender any of our rights. We claim our right of the promise of a tomorrow. Not the Armageddon of a world militarized over greed for oil, and the backlash of extremists ideologues—insurgent forces bent on our destruction. We claim for us and our children and our children’s children a world where our barren wastelands and polluted waterways are rejuvenated with ecologically minded policies, where racial prejudice and cultural intolerance are revisited with a sense of global humanhood, and where hunger and poverty are replaced by humanitarian purpose. Humanity shines brightest in its darkest hour. It will be a lot of work, but it will be worth it. And what else is there to do? Our children and their generations after them are counting on us.

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Toward a Comprehensive Theory of the Alphabet

It’s been nearly a hundred years since Alan Gardiner made his quintessential discovery of the inscriptions at Serabit el-Khadim, deciphering a single word, ba’alat, “goddess”—the meager Rosetta Stone of alphabetic writing. Yet, despite nothing short of an all out crusade by academia to get to the bottom of the question of the origin of alphabetic writing, little is actually known with any degree of confidence, and there is debate over nearly every interpretation of the data. Granted, there isn’t much in the way of data—thirty plus samples of Proto-Sinaitic script beginning with Serabit el-Khadim, and merely a dozen or so new inscriptions having actually come to light since. Yet, as illuminating as these are, they often generate more questions than they do answers.

A majority of linguists have focused upon the demonstration of the alphabet as a step, though a very significant one, in a continual process of development of written language. This bias has favored the adopting of Egyptian as a prevalent link in the evolution of the alphabetic symbols, but some scholars suggest any correlation between the two scripts, Proto Sinaitic and Egyptian, is in the same category along with guessing, and pure speculation¹.

Surprisingly, not much has been made of the alphabet as an independent invention—an outlier. Yet there is an elephant in the room—the alphabet comes fully equipped with a mathematical structure, a numerical order. The discovery of the Ugaritic alphabet assigns an early date of fifteenth century BCE to this numerical feature of the alphabet². Some scholars have conjectured a nemonic device in the order of the alphabet, as of a nursery rhyme—a school aid to remind budding scribes (Are these children?) of the alphabet’s content. Or more fanciful, others have suggested the alphabet’s order actually occults a system of lunar and astral correspondences or Sumerian musical scale notations. Specious speculations are not surprising given the alphabet’s conspicuous and enduring numerical order.

Certainly, such purposeful design must implicate some measure of motive on the part of the alphabet’s inventors. An appeal to Occam’s razor, though, suggests that the alphabet is sequenced precisely because it is numerical. Perhaps, from their outset the alphabetic symbols manifested a direct relationship to numbers. This is, of course, the development the script manifests when employed by the Greeks. Each letter stands in as well for a number. Hebrew scholars David Noel Freedman and Geoffrey Driver have long pointed to acrostic verses in Psalms and Proverbs and elsewhere in Hebraic poetry as indicating an early association of the Hebrew characters with numerical properties³.

This numerical association heralds a system predating the Hindu-Arabic numeral system with which we are familiar today. The earlier system employed a primitive but elegant solution, creating nine symbols to stand in for the numbers one through nine, a second set of nine symbols for the numbers ten through ninety, and a third set of nine symbols for the numbers one hundred through nine hundred. Twenty-seven symbols in all—that’s exactly the number of the before mentioned Ugaritic alphabet, minus its vowels. Moreover, even when the alphabet script is later depleted of five of its signs, going from the twenty-seven consonant script of Proto Sinaitic to the twenty-two consonant script of Proto Canaanite, particularly in the case of the descendent Hebrew script, we observe the reintroduction of extra letters to complete this primitive association with numerals. This same numerical correspondence survives in Hebrew today. The obvious conclusion is that the script from its inception references this numerical convention. The larger question, however, asks why this numerical sequence was so significant and broadly evidenced. Could the alphabet by design be more explicitly mathematical?

What would be the purpose of such a script? First of all, let’s note that early writing systems descended from tallying symbols. So, the idea that the alphabet script might have first evolved as a counting script would be par for the course. Second, consider that in a Semitic dialect such as one related to Hebrew one might have found it challenging to perform verbal counting, given that more than half the terms (two, three, six, seven, and eight) began with the sh sound—shtayim, shalosh, shesh, shev’a, and shmoneh. By comparison, one might count “eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” which may work in elimination strategies, but not for counting to any grand or complicated scale. Perhaps these ancient Semites, creative problem solvers they were, devised a system circumventing this inherent weakness of their language.

Contrariwise! I actually think they needed little motivation to deconstruct the sounds in their language, to wonder about the significance in a sound, or to number them. They were perhaps the world’s first linguists, consummate sleuths of language, as well as shrewd contemplators of mathematical constructs—an idea that will gain ground and pivotal weight as we look into the structure of the alphabet.

Alternative theories, observing the purposeful design of the alphabet letters, suggest the alphabet was an independent invention. I will go further and claim that though the alphabet was clearly a product of its time, the invention of the alphabet represents an extraordinary development, an outlier, an innovation well beyond its time… yet it captured the day. Academics have long wondered at the resilience and adaptability of the alphabet—why the alphabet was so immediately and broadly adopted by other nationalities and why it so enduringly persisted. While the fact that Aramaic was a trade language says a lot for the immediate adoption of the alphabet, still the question remains why the alphabet survived and discouraged any challenge of its domain. Linguists point out that both Egyptian and Ugaritic had facsimiles of alphabets, but these never came to broad usage. Some scholars suggest that the real advantage in the Semitic brand of alphabet was due to its reduction in the number of symbols and to their rudimentary design⁴. However, this elegant solution came later.

The first symbols of the alphabet were crude drawings, almost childlike in their execution. For example, the sign for Resh, “head,” is the equivalent of a globe sat upon a pedestal, and the sign for Alef, “ox,” is the head of an ox complete with eye and mouth line. The letter Heh, a human stick figure, is thought to illustrate dancing or celebration, while the symbol for Ayin, “eye,” is straight forward—an almond shape with a center dot to indicate the pupil. Pursed lips indicate the letter Peh, “mouth.” Other symbols appearing more abstract may suggest a trend toward a geometric script—the square motif of a house, an angular fish symbol, a zigzag to indicate a serpent.

It is only later, that is, about five hundred years later, that the alphabet actually develops a script that is graphically elegant and numerically slight (twenty-two letters). Though scholars have pointed to modifications of certain letters, the Alef and Heh notable among them, as indicating a transition between the two scripts of Proto Sinaitic and Proto Canaanite, the transition is abrupt and radical. The new alphabet is no longer iconic or logo graphic. No letter of the script can be immediately recognized to be an image of an object. The claim that the script represents an abstraction of the earlier symbols is pushing an unsupportable thesis. Indeed, the symbols have become… too perfect. Geometric shapes are prevalent. The circle, the triangle, and the square, as well as angles favoring 60 and 90 degrees, pervade the symbols of the reinvented alphabet.

This new alphabet (Should I confer the title second alphabet?) is actually a major revision and an immediate transposition of the first alphabetic symbols—a very successful effort to assign each of the alphabetic characters a new dimension of expressive symbolism, of which geometry played a significant role. This second alphabet was anything but random or accidental, or a natural result of abstraction of the first alphabetic symbols. Indeed, behind the reinvention of each symbol was exercised a purposeful and sophisticated methodology to identify each symbol with a particular action, a graphic nature relating to its sound.

The principle of acrophony—one letter per one sound, was also paramount in the development of the alphabet. Latent similarities in the antecedent Proto Sinaitic symbols are based upon the fact that the alphabetic symbols had been and always were descriptive of basic sound modalities. This enduring identification with sound informed the development of the first alphabetic symbols and was the thread of continuity in the alphabet’s evolution. However, Proto Canaanite took the alphabet one step further—a mathematical script, a coded description assigning numerical properties to what they surely believed were the twenty-two fundamental sounds of creation—the Mother script!

 

1 Jensen, H. (1970). Sign, Symbol and Script: An Account of Man’s Efforts to Write (3rd ed., p. 269). London: Allen & Unwin.

2 Naveh, J. (1982) Early History of the Alphabet. (p. 11). Jerusalem: Magnes Press, Hebrew University.

3 Driver, G. R. (1954). Semitic Writing: From Pictograph to Alphabet (p. 181). London: OUP.

The other scholar I mentioned, David Noel Freedman, taught a class during my Hebrew Program at BYU. I remember him often commenting about phrases of numerical value in the Hebrew Old Testament saying enthusiastically, “Someone should look into these!” I think he found them rather interesting.

4 Allott, R. (2000). The Articulatory Basis of the Alphabet. In www.cogprints.org. Retrieved September 26, 2011

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The Alphabet: Four Thousand Year Old Puzzle

Etched thirty-eight hundred years ago into a limestone cliff running along a remote route connecting the ancient cities of Thebes and Abydos, two brief entreaties herald the dawn of alphabetic writing¹. The two inscriptions, sixteen and twelve characters in length, are among a mass of hieratic and hieroglyphic writings discovered at Wadi el-Hol on the Qena bend of the Nile. Scholars concur the two inscriptions are Semitic in origin, but are unable to reach agreement upon some of the characters and the significance of the inscriptions. Two words, though, stand out—reb meaning “chief” or “rabbi” and el meaning “god.”

The significance of the discovery rests upon a remarkable find in the Sinai Desert nearly a hundred years earlier². There, thirty or so inscriptions, equally of Semitic origin, were discovered at the site of the turquoise mines of Serabit el-Khadim on the Sinai peninsula. Similarly, these inscriptions were found among a large number of Egyptian engravings. Indeed, the Semitic inscriptions only came to light when they were unable to be deciphered as Egyptian writings. Sir Alan Gardner, archaeologist and egyptologist, made the celebrated discovery when in 1916 he successfully substituted Semitic phonemes for the hieroglyphic values of the characters. As proof, among the thirty or so inscriptions are twelve occurrences of four letters in the same sequence. Their picture values are house, eye, ox-goad, and mark. They have no significance as hieroglyphic writings, but when the same symbols are read with Semitic phonetic values they spell the word ba’alat, “goddess.” Like graffiti, Ba’alat marks a temple site alongside numerous hieratic and hieroglyphic inscriptions dedicated to the Egyptian goddess Hathor. Ba’alat is the equivalent Canaanite goddess. Linguists assigned the inscriptions the classification of Proto Sinaitic.

Other inscriptions found in what was once the land of Canaan, scholars have assigned the classification of Proto Canaanite³. These inscriptions are of a later date and are very brief in number. Proto Canaanite refers to early Canaanite writings that are indistinguishable from early Hebrew or early Phoenician. Phoenician holds the unique distinction of being the mother script of every alphabet in use today—or just about. Certainly, every major alphabet on the planet counts as its ancestor the Phoenician alphabet. Although not completely worked out, linguists assert a connection between the Phoenician alphabet and the earlier middle bronze age scripts of Serabit el-Khadim and Wadi el-Hol. Nonetheless, there are troublesome issues. Proto Sinaitic uses upwards of twenty-seven character, while Proto Canaanite and Phoenician get by with only twenty-two. Furthermore, most of these inscriptions to this day are frustratingly difficult to decipher, and accord has been reached on only a few. Perhaps, more understanding of the significance of the characters themselves or the processes involved in their invention could illuminate a solution and alleviate some of the discord.

Many attempts have been made to do just that—to reveal the methodology behind the construction of the early alphabet. Most of these have focused upon looking at a continuation of a process already ongoing within Egyptian or another earlier writing system. Some attempts have focused on discovering what the characters of the alphabet are meant to signify, looking to discover there a clue as to how the alphabet developed. A lot has been made of an Egyptian influence in this process, but there is disagreement as to which hieroglyphic characters are actually the antecedents of the Semitic glyphs and what are the significances of their various representations. Some theories have gone far off the median and are peculiarly speculative in nature, however these accent the real difficulties involved. Indeed, a lot of theories have been put forward, but if anything close to a general consensus is the hopeful outcome, then to date none has been successful.

Considering the puzzle the alphabet presents, I ask some qualifying questions of my own. Some of these I have actually queried linguists and archaeologists and have received clarifying responses, but much is left unanswered⁴. My first question would be, what is to be made of the alphabetic order of the script? From a very early time the alphabet’s sequence is fixed, and does not vary except per scribal error on occasion. Is the order meaningful? If so, why haven’t scholars made more of the numerical structure of the script prior to the Greeks? Of course, the answer is that there is no hard evidence of this structure. However, it still creates a plausibility that the script has a significant numerical component. Second, I want to ask why does the alphabet settle upon twenty-two letters when it is known that some of the letters indicated two distinct sounds? Why not just choose other symbols to represent these sounds? Is there some reason the Semites want to stick to the number twenty-two? Third, how did these early Semites choose their symbols? Is there any significance to their choices or are they random or trivial—like A is for apple, B is for ball? Do the symbols represent simple objects or do they represent something more sophisticated? For instance, many of the symbols indicate basic geometric shapes—angles, crosses, and triangular, square or circular elements. Do these represent abstractions of earlier crude representations, or is there something much more deliberate going on?

Lastly, who were these Semites, these surveyors of the ideological landscape of written language? Was it a single individual? Is the alphabet someone’s brainchild—or is it the joint composition of many minds, a product spanning many centuries? Perhaps the question of genius cannot be avoided, though as in any creation, the creature soon takes on a life of its own, filtered through many consciousnesses, coalescing into something bigger than all its parts. Perhaps we should see these priests and scribes as devotees to the institution of language, to a sacred language. As early as 3,000 BCE, almost the dawn of written language, spell writers in Biblos compose a snake charm in the canaanite tongue, but written in Egyptian hieroglyphics⁵. (Evidently, the Pharaoh needed a spell for snakes understanding Canaanite!) The spell—”Mother snake, mother snake says…come, come to my house,” or as of a lover speaking, “turn aside, O my beloved”—a charm meant to lure away the serpents from Pharaoh’s tomb. Remarkably, here at the outset of scripted language are Semites indicating knowledgeableness in contemporary writing systems, in the very heyday of early script making, seemingly very much at home. Then a few hundred years later, an alphabet—one has to wonder.

 

P.S. Strictly speaking, what I’m referring to as an alphabet is technically an abjad, a consonant only script—no vowels allowed.

 

1 Fellman, B. (2010, December). The Birthplace of the ABCs. In www.yalealumnimagazine.com. Retrieved August 27, 2011

When this discovery was first announced it was said to be the earliest alphabetic inscription to date. Since then, this has been contested—pointing back to Sinai as the birthplace of the alphabet.

2 Goldwasser, O. (2010, March). How the Alphabet Was Born from Hieroglyphs. In www.bib-arch.org. Retrieved August 27, 2011

3 Escritura Proto-Cananea (n.d.). In www.proel.org. Retrieved August 27, 2011

A fabulous site, though unfortunate for some it is in Spanish. However, to read in English copy and paste the url into Google Translate. Just be aware the translation is at times seriously defective.

4 Colless, B. (2009, August 22). Ten Searching Questions on the Origin of the Alphabet. In www.cryptcracker.blogspot.com. Retrieved August 27, 2011

This is actually an email I sent to Brian Colless that I was delighted he posted. Over the past months he has been filling in answers to my questions. He also included a second email I sent him at the bottom of the post.

5 The Hebrew University of Jerusalem (2007, January 30). Earliest Semitic Text Revealed In Egyptian Pyramid InscriptionScienceDaily. Retrieved August 27, 2011

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Malkhut, the non-Sefirah, and the Ein Sof

Do you remember your reaction the day astronomers announced there were only eight planets in the solar system? I do, and I admit to some kicking and screaming. I was pretty comfortable with the idea that there were nine planets, including Pluto. I was even willing to add another planet, if one were discovered out there somewhere, but to have to say goodbye to the planet Pluto was unexpected. It was like they were taking away from me a day of the week. Okay, I’m being a bit melodramatic, but it plays up our disposition as humans to resist disrupting the normal order of things—what we’re used to. We like continuity. So it is understandable that anyone familiar with the Kabbalah might resist the idea of Malkhut being something other than a sefirah. After all it has been that way as far back as the Tree of Sefirot has been documented.

In the last several posts I have been talking about numbers, or I should say I have been talking about the sefirot—to me the same thing. I have been presenting point geometries that agree with the sefirot, and the bottom line from my vantage point is that the sefirot are numerical on a very fundamental level. There seems no escaping the conclusion that they describe numerical properties—the base numbers, one through ten. So, if the point geometries I have described in the last series of four posts are accurate, then Yesod is number ten, the last sefirah. It sounds like a movie title—The Last Sefirah. Seriously though, it leaves Malkhut entirely outside the gamut of the sefirot. I know, that’s anathema! It’s Pluto all over again.

Before you metaphorically burn me at the stake, please consider the alternative. You could click the back button now, leave this blog forever and forget I ever existed…but you’ll never know the end of the story. You have to ask yourself, “Do you have that kind of will power?” Okay, I’m bluffing! Don’t think about that—you probably do have the will power, but maybe you want to know why I think Malkhut was once upon a time something else, not a sefirah? It promises to make for a good story. It’s about what the Tree of Sefirot was first, before it became what it is now.

This story involves the invention of the alphabet. Which alphabet? THE alphabet…the one we are all using today. Because in all its varieties just about every alphabet on the planet has descended from a singular alphabet created about four thousand years ago. And I am going to tell that story in the next round of posts here at Kabbaloney.com. I am going to describe a fascinating piece of history—about an alphabet that was developed around a sophisticated theory of existence, an ideology about number and letter, about making a connection between number and letter. That is why the Greeks inherited from the Canaanites an alphabet with numerical correspondences—letters that also served as numbers. There is sufficient material in the Old Testament to at least suggest that the Canaanites had this penchant for numbers a while before the Greeks. We just have to await the discovery of an earlier Old Testament text. Absent that, I have a theory, the one I am suggesting here, that the alphabet is inextricably connected to the structure of the Tree of Sefirot. And that is an amazing thing. These early Canaanites were not just inventing an alphabet, they were inventing a theory, a theory of the nature of number and letter, a theory of what they understood from their symbols—a theory of everything.

This theory relies upon a central piece of evidence—the numerical structure of the Tree of Sefirot. Getting back to Malkhut, Malkhut has extraordinary significance in this numerical structure. To explain—the ancient Canaanites did not have the concept of the number zero. They had the idea of nothing, but the concept of the number zero represents a later addendum to the numerical script. The Babylonians are the first to use the zero, third century BC., but the name, “zero,” comes from Arabic¹. What the early Canaanites had if we can judge from what has stuck in Kabbalah today, is the idea of “nothing” relating to the Ein Sof, and they had the opposite idea of totality relating to Malkhut, “kingdom.” They did not necessarily employ these terms, but they likely had similar terms to describe the beginning and end of the sefirot.

In Kabbalah today, between nothing and everything—between existence and non existence, exist the ten principal numbers, as well as their twenty-two corollaries, the principal phonemes of the alphabet. In their original design, dating back thousands of years, both the sefirot, the numbers, and the letters of the alphabet were arranged in an elegant scheme of mathematical balances and harmonic intervals. These structures were pervasive in the original paradigm of the Tree of Sefirot. The beginning of this mathematical elegance can be seen in the sum of opposite sefirot that always totals eleven. That total indicates a full range of existence. This same mathematical computation is discovered in the sum of Ein Sof, zero, and Malkhut, eleven. Indeed, this is what Malkhut actually signifies—the sum of existence. You’d think if you had to lose status as one of the sefirot, it wouldn’t be such a bad deal to be the summation of all existence!

The sphere that I illustrate above the tree, separate from it, represents Ein Sof, literally meaning “without end.” Ein Sof is the source of all existence. Malkhut, the sphere I illustrate below connecting directly to the tree, as if it were its trunk, is the reservoir into which all existence flows, like the ocean of mingled waters. Malkhut is the joint connection of all the branches of the tree, and all the potentials of the spheres, all acting in concert, in one smooth and seamless existence. On the level of Malkhut we do not distinguish the individual components of the tree operating in existence, just as we do not directly observe in nature the actions of quantum forces operating in existence.

The Ein Sof cannot be described, though kabbalists as well as myself attempt to do so anyway. Often Ein Sof is described by what it is not. It is the absence of existence; It is without manifestation. However, what can be said of positive existence about the Ein Sof? That is what I believe the Sefirot actually facilitate—that is they convey the nature of the infinite to finite existence. They are the bridge between the infinite and the finite. Prior to their existence as Ten Sefirot they existed within the interior of the Ein Sof. That is what the Ein Sof consists of—the pre manifest versions of the Ten Sefirot. However, within the Ein Sof the sefirot exist without definition—they are not separate, neither do they exist in any kind of affiliation—they have no relationship. In this form they are unimaginable, as the Ten Sefirot are the epitome of distinction and resemblance. However, this variance and similitude is lost in the hidden recesses of the Ein Sof. There their natures are inexplicable by any appeal to reason or by any flight of the imagination.

There is also another way to perceive the Ein Sof, though not any more successfully. The Ein Sof is the antithesis of Malkhut, Malkhut—the summation of all existence. However, what that might be that is opposite of all that is existence—can that be intelligible? No, that my reader can only be incomprehensible, as rightly it should!

 

1 McQuillin, Kristen. “A Brief History of Zero.” Mediatinker.com. 10 Jan. 2004.

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