and take the count of their names.” (Numbers 3:40)
Who will tolerate you in your juggling with forms and numbers. . . and bringing down the Lord of all who founded the heavens to the number. . . Nor should they seek to prosecute inquiries respecting God by means of numbers, syllables, and letters. For this is an uncertain mode of proceeding, on account of their varied and diverse systems, and because every sort of hypothesis may at the present day be, in like manner, devised by anyone. (Irenaeus, Haer. 1.15.5, 2.25.1)Footnote 1
Introduction
A. Naming God
Naming is one of the fundamental devices of cognition. Since cognition is based, as noticed already by Aristotle, on our ability to recognize commonalities and differences,Footnote 2 it is not easy to pick a name for a referent which, being completely unique, at the same time also contains all other referents within itself. Such a referent remains essentially beyond any taxonomy—that is, unknowable and, therefore, unnamable. However, our ability and need to contemplate such an entity makes its naming necessary. Indeed, over the course of history such names have been achieved through diverse and often interdependent modes of revelation, tradition, and speculation.
The central idea of Jewish thought—the concept of the one and only God, the sole creator and ruler of the universe—developed through elaboration of a set of terms enabling the possibility of referring to this original theological construct. These Hebrew designations of God—his names, titles, and attributes, some borrowed from existing cults and others unprecedentedly original—underwent transformation as they evolved towards a monotheistic conception.Footnote 3 This transformation was as semantic as it was structural. That is, being integrated into monotheistic usage, these pre-monotheistic terms underwent an evolution of their meanings. By developing and complementing each other, they came to form a new conceptual structure (or, more precisely, multiple structures) of the only God and his characteristics.
B. Translating God’s Name
Devising names for God is a linguo-theological development that has, in fact, never ended. It continues in our days, having been transplanted to multiple cultural contexts. However, during certain phases of history it accelerated, becoming more productive and influential. The transformation of religious terminology that occurred when the Hebrew faith was exported onto Greek soil became the basis for all subsequent developments. This Hellenization of God was similar to and different from the long, painful, and inspiring process of the reduction (or, if you prefer, promotion) of earlier Semitic deities to the names and titles of the Hebrew God. Both processes were intercultural and had immense consequences for religious and secular thought. The main difference is that the latter process was shorter in duration, has much better documentation, and belongs to the period when speculative thought began to displace myth.
Among the nearly one hundred terms and metaphoric and descriptive epithets applied to God in the Hebrew Bible and early post-biblical Jewish literature,Footnote 4 the most significant and least translatable was the name of four letters (the Tetragram). The most common equivalent for the Tetragram (on the meanings of which, see below) came to be the Greek κύριος (often in its contracted form—
),which combined a diverse set of meanings ranging from the mundane “master, lord” to the royal human or divine “Lord.” This polysemy has been partly inherited through the biblical usage by the English word Lord and its equivalents in other languages, such as Dominus, Signor, Herr, Господь, et cetera. The introduction of κύριος, as well as its equivalents in many languages, proceeded not without deliberation or resistance. The inadequacy of any term to be applied to the concept of the monotheistic God caused and continues to cause unceasing attempts to introduce alternative terminology. These philosophical and taxonomic difficulties were compounded by cultic and magical considerations, as well as by the social-religious concerns of group identity.Footnote 5
The demand for alternatives and surrogates appeared already in Hebrew usage. In parallel with the development of the Greek tradition that was based on it, this development further complicated the already perplexing undertaking of translating the Hebrew term. The situation with finding a Greek equivalent for the Tetragram was complicated by the fact that during the period under discussion, oral usage of the Ineffable Name had already become extremely limited.Footnote 6 Thus, two functional forms co-existed: the original written but now tabooed form, alongside various Hebrew and Aramaic substitutions.Footnote 7 As was formulated later, “I am not pronounced as I am written” (b. Kidd. 71a). Therefore, the Greek word could render not the Tetragram itself, but its substitutions in Hebrew and possibly Aramaic (adonai, mara(n), ribbon, shema, etc.). Since the meanings and connotations of both forms of representation—both original and substitutional—were relevant in Semitic usage, both had to be taken into account when translating to Greek.
C. Lost in Translation
It was, of course, an impossible task to translate this Hebrew name. The Greek term inevitably failed to express most of the diverse elements of content contained not only in the Tetragram itself but even in its most common Semitic substitutions.Footnote 8 However, the incongruity of Greek equivalents was much more striking in relation to the Tetragram itself. It is not surprising that some Greek translators simply gave up on the challenge and kept the Hebrew word intact (sometimes in paleo-Hebrew script) or even left an empty space (into which the Hebrew word was probably supposed to be written later).
Compared to the Hebrew Tetragram, Greek κύριος provides a functional description instead of a name (and thus, contributes rather to theology than mythology). However, in addition to bringing new opportunities for theologizing the term in certain respects,Footnote 9 it also brought theological constriction and the loss of a wider exegetical perspective. This is because the Greek term lacked a number of the Tetragram’s semantic and functional characteristics, such as: 1) verbal meaning; 2) the quality of a proper name; 3) uniqueness; and, moreover, its 4) phonetic, 5) graphic, and 6) numeric values. Before introducing our new analysis here (which relates mainly to the last point), it is important to demonstrate what pains ancient Judeo-GreekFootnote 10 translators were prepared to take in order to overcome these deficiencies and to preserve at least some of the characteristics of the Tetragram that could easily be lost in translation. These include:
1) Verbal meaning. The Tetragram’s verbal meaning of “be” or “cause to be,” actualized in the Hebrew texts of Ex 3:14 and Hos 1:9, was lost in κύριος and other equivalents. However, it found actualization in the substantivized participle ὁ ὤν (or τὸ ὄν) “the One who is/the Being,” which translated (אשר) אהיה in LXX Ex 3:14. This term was frequently used as God’s name by Philo (Abr. 107, 119–123, esp. 121; Det. 160, Mut. 11–13, Som. 1.231–4). Outside Philo it is rare but exists (Wis 13:1; 4 Macc 5:24; Josephus, Ant. 8.350; Rev 1:4, 8; cf. 4:8; 11:17; 16:5). This Judeo-Platonic term was also appropriated and widely used by Naassenes and other groups defined as Gnostics and possibly by the second-century Neopythagorean philosopher Numenius of Apamea.Footnote 11
2) Proper name. The very existence of ancient Near Eastern gods was connected to their ability to be “called by name” (Enuma Elish 1.6–10; cf. Ex 3:13).Footnote 12 This entire sphere of “Name” mythology and mysticism would be lost with the substitution of a descriptive title for a nomen proprium. Knowing the name is a religious value (Ps 9:11; 91:14). God’s name is “on” his messenger (Ex 23:21). The name can be loved (Ps 5:11), praised (Ps 7:17; 9:2), and trusted (Ps 20:7); it can protect a person (Ps 20:1). God’s name is in fact his very presence (Deut 12:5; 1 Kg 8:6 et pass.). Some verses, in fact, do not make sense unless the proper name is meant (Ex 6:3; Isa 42:8; Jer. 16:21; Ps 83:18). The fact of its existence and magic powers was known also to non-Jewish Greek authors.Footnote 13
Attempts to preserve God’s prosoponym are reflected in fragments of the Greek Bible that preserve the Hebrew name amidst a Greek text, either in original Hebrew writing or its graphic imitation or phonetic transcription, as discussed below. But neither of these options endured, and additional strategies were also employed. Greek equivalents of the Tetragram could be likened to proper names grammatically. Thus κύριος was often used without an article in the LXX.Footnote 14 Most curiously, the loss of God’s proper name was partly compensated by the introduction of new ones. God’s Hebrew titles and attributes, being permitted for pronunciation, were sometimes transliterated and thus began life anew as proper names. Thus, in Greek there are El (Ἔλ), Saddai (Σαδδαΐ), and Sabaoth (Σαββαώθ). The latter eventually usurped the place of the Tetragram as a proper name of God. However, the loss of the original proper name, the importance of which biblical texts often refer to, could not be ignored. The name was reinvented by medieval Latin scholars (based erroneously on Masoretic vocalization of the Tetragram as its substitute Adonai) and may be found in Christian usage in several verses of Tyndale’s Pentateuch (1530), the Geneva Bible (1560), the Bishop’s Bible (1568), the King James Version (1611), and (more consistently) the American Standard Version of 1901.Footnote 15
3) Uniqueness. The Hebrew version of the Name was not only personal, but also unique. The Greek equivalent was anything but unique and could bear other religious and profane meanings: from deities and demons to worldly rulers and “masters,” in the widest spectrum of senses related to ownership of property and slaves, authority over disciples, or even polite address. Thus, in addition to losing some original meanings of the Semitic surrogates of the Tetragram, the Greek title gained new meanings absent in the original forms. This profane-sacral polysemy of κύριος enabled cases of confusion or intentional play among the meanings of “master,”Footnote 16 “teacher,”Footnote 17 “king,” and “divine being.” Even uniquely biblical combinations of divine titles did not always help to differentiate God from his creatures in Greek. A striking example is the phrase δέσποτα κύριε (“Lord God” or “lord master”)—used in the LXX to render the Tetragrammaton or
(e.g., Jonah 4:3; Dan 9:15)—which also appears in Judith 5:20 and 11:10 as a form of address to the vicious Holofernes. This situation could and did cause certain confusions for religious thought. When applied to Jesus, this enabled his assimilation with God and had consequences for the emergence of binitarian and trinitarian theology.Footnote 18An additional reversal of functions accompanied the Greek set of God’s names. Among the Hebrew names and titles of God only the Tetragram and Shaddai are unique. All the rest are descriptive titles with profane usage as well. In Greek it is precisely the other way round: the renderings of the Tetragram and Shaddai (παντοκράτωρ, ἱκανός, πανηγεμών) are mostly descriptive and have profane meanings as well, while some Greek equivalents for other Hebrew nomina divina had mostly sacral usage in Greek (like θεός or ὔψιστος). Thus, as in the case of seeking to preserve the quality of a proper name (see above), there was a structural need for a unique form when rendering the Tetragram. It is likely that the introduction of an innovative contracted form was intended to solve this problem (as well as the even more pressing issue of the profane-sacral ambiguity of κύριος). Eventually, however,
would be used with a profane meaning as well.Footnote 19 This failure of the Greek tradition was ameliorated in its Cyrillo-Methodian offshoot, where the Slavonic form господь (contracted was eventually isolated for reference to God only.Footnote 20 In the Western tradition the first consistent attempt to indicate the uniqueness of God’s name came about only with the complete capitalization of “HERR” in the Luther Bible of 1522 to 1534.Footnote 214) Phonetic value. Despite the tendency to taboo oral usage of the Name, its phonetic form has been transcribed into Greek as ιαω and other similar forms.Footnote 22 Some scholars suggest that this form was, in fact, the earliest Greek equivalent of the Tetragram, which was transcribed just like other proper names in the LXX.Footnote 23 This Greek transcription of the Hebrew form possibly gave impetus to the development of a new theological and rhetorical device in Revelation: “I am the Alpha and the Omega”—the two letters adjacent in ιαω (1:8; 21:6; 22:13). This conception is close to that constructed on the verbal semantics of the Hebrew name in Rev 1:4 and parallels (see above).
5) Graphic value. Another extreme was furnished by graphic imitation of the Hebrew letters by means of visually similar Greek ones (ПIПI), as witnessed inter alia by Jerome (Ep. 25 ad Marcellum).Footnote 24
6) Numeric value. Based on the information presented heretofore, one may receive the impression that Jewish Greek literati, while going to great lengths to express diverse meanings and features of the Tetragram, totally neglected only one aspect: its numeric value. Is this likely?
There are two possible answers to this question.
One would be that the very question is superfluous: the Tetragram did not have a numeric value at the time when its Greek equivalents were introduced, because Jews did not assign numeric values to their letters until a relatively late period. Hebrew-Greek translations started in the third century BCE, while Hebrew alphabetic numerals are not attested before the late second century BCE.
This answer cannot satisfy for three reasons: 1) The search for equivalents of the Tetragram did not cease in the later period, after Hebrew alphabetic numerals had been documented. In fact, our data primarily pertains to this later period. 2) Furthermore, indirect evidence of Hebrew alphabetic numerals exists from an earlier era. 3) And most importantly, as this article will demonstrate, the numeric value of the Tetragram does appear in Greek translations.
This study suggests that the numeric value of God’s name not only was not neglected but, on the contrary, was introduced with clarity for an authentic target audience. Drawing upon the well-documented graphic identity of the Hellenistic sigma and digamma in the form of the lunate c, I will demonstrate that the nomen sacrum 
, a commonly employed contracted form of κύριος, used as an equivalent of the Hebrew Tetragram, was isomorphic to the Greek alphabetic numeral 
(kappa-digamma, 20+6=26). Thus, it must have been devised as an isopsephism of the Hebrew divine name (yod-heh-vav-heh, 10+5+6+5=26). This suggestion aligns well with the fact that the majority of supposed cases of isopsephism found in the Hebrew Bible are also based on the number 26, a numeric representation of the name of God (see the section “Numerology of 26 in Hebrew” below).
The numeric value of 
is conspicuously absent from ancient Jewish and Christian sources and has been overlooked in the extensive research literature on nomina sacra. This oversight is especially striking given that the observation could have aided in resolving several issues concerning the origins of nomina sacra, revisiting some old questions, and shedding new light on the interpretation of important texts.
The article will begin by presenting the paleographic evidence and exploring possible alternatives for the numeric reading of 
(section A, “The Numeric Value of 
”). It will then delve into a discussion of the broader phenomena that made possible the introduction of 
, along with its manifold implications (section B, “The Name-Number 
in Context”). An overview of the diverse evidence presented below has been organized into a timeline, which can be found at the conclusion of the article.
The Numeric Value of
The intellect suffers to pass unnoticed those considerations which are too obtrusively and too palpably self-evident. (Edgar A. Poe)Footnote 25
A. as 26 and the Origins of “Nomina Sacra”
The so-called “Milesian” system of Greek alphabetic numerals included three ἐπισήματα, additional characters, among which was the archaic character digamma, used for the numeral 6. This digamma was known also as vau (βαυ, an equivalent of the Canaanite waw), or simply as ἐπίσηµoν “a remarkable sign” (a name it shared with koppa [90] and sampi [900]) or alternatively as γαμ(μ)έξ/γαβέξ.
In fact, the Hellenistic ἐπίσηµoν with a numeric value of 6 is called “digamma” mostly in modern usage, while in antiquity the names and especially the forms of this sign were quite different.Footnote 26 One of the graphic variants of the Semitic as well as the Archaic Greek waw/digamma was ϝ (originally inverted; this form was inherited by the Latin F). Already in the Classical period, this form had developed a square variant without a tail—
, which by the Hellenistic epoch had lost its angles to take on the rounded form 
, thus making it fully homographic with the lunate sigma.Footnote 27 Greek paleographic data indeed shows that the new digamma was often homeo- or fully homographic with the sigma. What is important for our discussion is that this is true not only for the late minuscule script—where digamma, stigma (a ligature of sigma and tau), and the word-final sigma with a tail (ϛ) were identical or highly similar (to the extent that the digamma was often called “stigma”)—but, even more strikingly, for the Hellenistic script as well, where digamma and sigma were both often depicted as a lunate C.Footnote 28
This frequent graphic identity of the numeric digamma and the sigma is known to paleographers and corroborated by Graeco-Egyptian papyri.Footnote 29 I will adduce only one example out of many instances. In Chester Beatty P. 47 (P. Beatty III; TM 61628),Footnote 30 a manuscript of Revelation dating from the third century, in 9:13–14 (fol. 1a) the number 6 appears twice (underline added):
P.47 (fol. 1a), Rev 9:13-14 (Dublin, Chester Beatty Library, CBL BP III).
In Rev 13:18 (fol. 7a) the number 6 appears as part of 666:
P.47 (fol. 7a), Rev 13:18 (Dublin, Chester Beatty Library, CBL BP III).
And finally, in the same manuscript κύριος as 
is found in Rev 11:8 (fol. 3a):
P.47 (fol. 3a), Rev. 11:8 (Dublin, Chester Beatty Library, CBL BP III).
In all these cases, the number C (6) is undistinguishable from the letter C (σ).
Thus, 
, the main Greek equivalent of the Tetragram, the most common contracted form of κύριος, was completely indistinguishable from the Greek numeral 
(26), the numeric value of the Tetragram in Hebrew. These two forms were perfect homographs.
Two additional factors further enhanced their identity: 1) The contracted form of abbreviation, in which only the initial and final letters of a word are denoted—in contrast to suspension, in which the end of the word is omitted (as in 
for κύ[ριος])—was not known in this period outside Jewish/Christian-Greek texts. It must have been a Hellenistic Jewish innovation imitating consonantal writing and based on early attested West Semitic practices.Footnote 32 Thus, when this abbreviating convention was introduced, it required a special effort to recognize it as such, whereas the numeric signification of such abbreviations would have been much more readily recognizable.
2) The identity of 
as a number was enhanced by the use of a macron (supralinear horizontal stroke), while outside the Judeo/Christian-Greek tradition and its successors, the macron was utilized mainly for numerals and never for abbreviations.Footnote 33 In fact, our hypothesis positing a numeric significance of 
may suggest a solution to the question of why all nomina sacra were presented—unusually for a general Greek reader—in this semi-numeric form. The very choice to present the name of God as a number might also lie behind the choice to use supralinear strokes for all other contracted nomina sacra.Footnote 34
The perception of 
primarily as a number could be intensified by its mundane usage, for example, on coins:Footnote 35
Top: Coin 1. Lycia, Phaselis, c. 218/7–186/5 BCE. AR Tetradrachm (30 mm). Bottom: Coin 2. Nabataea. AR Quarter Shekel or Drachm (17.5 mm).
Thus, outside the Jewish/Christian usus, the sign 
could signify only a number and nothing else. At the same time, when found in a Jewish/Christian text it becomes (for a competent reader) both nomen sacrum and numerus sacer.Footnote 36 “The name which cannot be expressed in words” (Irenaeus, Haer. 1.14.9)Footnote 37 was thus conveyed by means of a number.Footnote 38
In addition to representing an original numerical value, 
served additional purposes. As we have already noted, it aided in distinguishing between the sacred and profane meanings of κύριος. In early manuscripts, there is a noticeable effort to employ the contracted form for the former and the full form for the latter.Footnote 39 It becomes clear now why the abbreviated form was chosen for the divine name and the full form for the mundane usage, rather than vice versa. The association of 
with the divine name went beyond mere convention: 
was a form more closely related to the Tetragram than was κύριος. Furthermore, this usage also sheds new light on the possibility of early binitarian Christology, when 
with its enhanced divine associations was applied to Jesus.Footnote 40
B. as 220 and Amicable Numbers
The association of 
with its “authentic” numeric value, 220, is less visual. Whereas 
is fully identical graphically to a shorthand for the number 26, the number 220 would not normally be written in this form (but rather as 
).Footnote 41
However, this “correct” isopsephy of 
was also meaningful enough to play a role in the choice of this contracted form. 
is the isopsephon of neutr. ὅλον “everything,” “whole, perfect”—a term often applied to God in early Christian textsFootnote 42—as well as of acc. sg. οἷκον “house, temple.” The combination of both these words together—
—appears in LXX 1 Kg 6:22 [Hebrew כל הבית] and Acts 2:2. All three isopsepha occur together in sequence in LXX 2 Sam 6:11: ευλογηcεν 
ολον τον οικον (lit. “blessed Lord the whole house”).
If this might be mere coincidence, it would seem less accidental that 220 is also a member of the pair of Pythagorean “amicable numbers” 220 and 284 (φίλοι ἀριθμοί, two numbers equal to the sums of each other’s proper divisors)—the only pair of such numbers known before the seventeenth century. The second member of this pair, 284, is an isopsephon of θεός, as well as of ἀγαθός and ἅγιος.Footnote 43 These combinations of isopsepha of amicable numbers frequently appear in biblical texts (some are also widely used liturgically):
ὁ θεός (ה׳ אלהים and אדני ה׳; Gen. 2:15 et pass. in the Bible) and θεὸς 
(אל ה׳; Josh 22:22; Ps 118[117]:27; appears in “Theos Kyrios” of Matins);Footnote 44 ἅγιος 
(קדוש with ה׳; Lev 20:26 et pass.; Isa 6:3 et pass.; 1 Sam 2:2; Ps 99[98]:9; etc.; appears in the Doxology) and 
ἅγιος (Isa 43:15; 45:11; Ez 39:7; etc.); ἀγαθὸς 
(טוב ה׳; Ps 135[134]:3; Lam 3:25; etc.).
It is difficult to ascertain whether these numerological considerations underlay the choice or at least the reception of 
and, if so, how early. We do not know at what date this Pythagorean concept became known to translators, editors, and readers of the Greek Bible. Iamblichus of Chalcis (ca. 250–330 CE) in his commentary to Nicomachus’s Introduction to Arithmetic ascribes it to Pythagoras himself and says that “220 and 284, the parts [proper divisors] of each are able to produce the other, according to the word about friendship that Pythagoras revealed. When he was asked what is a friend, he replied: ‘another I,’ which is shown in these numbers.”Footnote 45
The question still remains: why is the numerical symbolism of 
not explicitly mentioned in extant literature from that period, despite its apparent and consequential nature? Was it too obvious, or did it perhaps become forgotten? Yet in a similar case, without the sole witness of the Epistle of Barnabas 9:7–8 we would not know about ancient awareness of the numeric value of 
, the suspended form of Ἰησοῦς. Its Hebrew isopsephism has also been noticed only recently.Footnote 46 With regard to 
, the use of triliteral forms 
and oblique cases (gen. 
, dat. 
, acc. 
, voc. 
), in which numerical significance with respect to the Tetragram is lost, might provide evidence of a lack of awareness of the special numeric value of 
Footnote 47 These forms, however, might also be later developments produced by analogy to 
. In general, there is much irregularity in scribal practices regarding nomina sacra, and in most papyri they appear together with the full forms of the same words.Footnote 48 In any case, the nominative form of κύριος was much better represented in the LXX (3,369 occurrences of the nominative against 3,963 occurrences of the four other cases combined). An additional fact that may speak in favor of awareness of the numerical value of 
is that, while there are two ways to abbreviate κύριος—by suspension 
and by contraction (
)—the contracted form was normally preferred.Footnote 49
The Name-Number in Context
Although translations from Hebrew to Greek are believed to have started in the third century BCE, it is unclear when or by whom (pre-Christian Jews or Christians) the nomen sacrum/numerus sacer 
was introduced. It is not even known when 
s full form or other nomina sacra were adopted. In order to clarify questions regarding the provenance, relative chronology, and meaning of 
, it is necessary to consider several other, henceforth related topics. From now on the introduction of 1) κύριος and 2) nomina sacra should be discussed in conjunction and correlation with other issues connected to 
, such as 3) the chronology of Hebrew alphabetic numerals, 4) the earliest Hebrew and especially 5) Hebrew-Greek isopsephy/gematria, and specifically 6) the numerology of 26 (the numeric value of the Tetragram) in Hebrew and 7) Greek, as well as 8) the phenomenon of names-numbers.
A. The Introduction of κύριος
The Greek κύριος (in its full and contracted forms) overcame all possible competitors as a regular equivalent for God’s Name, but not without resistance. It by no means represented the immediate default choice of translators, but was apparently either preceded by or else challenged by diverse attempts at alternative renderings of the Tetragram.Footnote 50 Some of these alternatives continued in use after κύριος had already become the dominant equivalent of the Tetragram. Even then κύριος was often used without full consistency, even within a single text.Footnote 51
B. The Introduction of “Nomina Sacra”
Like many other phenomena of Hellenistic Judaism, nomina sacra are not found in any early Jewish text that can be securely identified as non-Christian. Consequently, most contemporary scholarship tends to attribute nomina sacra to Christian circles, and they even became a primary criterion for distinguishing Christian texts from Jewish ones.Footnote 52 Even when nomina sacra do appear in overtly Jewish texts, such as the inscriptions of the Beth-Shean synagogue and the Samaritan synagogue in Thessaloniki (both containing 
, with the latter featuring it four times), these instances are explained by Christian influence, due to their later attestation in Jewish usage.Footnote 53 Other criteria used to identify Christian manuscripts are equally problematic.Footnote 54 If some of them could equally well be classified as Jewish, then this would cut the ground out from under the very discussion of Jewish versus Christian precedence regarding nomina sacra. Furthermore, even the discussion of such precedence presupposes a Jewish-Christian dichotomy, which can often be anachronistic,Footnote 55 especially when considering early Jewish Christians or the fluid boundaries between proto-rabbinic and proto-Christian groups.Footnote 56 Late ancient Christians, non-Christians, and Greek-speaking Jews shared not only books and vocabularies but also the nomina sacra, and there may even be some indirect evidence for their pre-Christian provenance.Footnote 57 The Hebrew association of 
adds additional weight to this possibility.
A similar problem of provenance arises with the usage of abbreviations and especially of numerical shorthand relevant to our case. Zachary Cole observes that although extant evidence shows that Jewish scribes avoided numerical shorthand while Christian manuscripts regularly contain it, this does not necessarily mean that Jews did not use shorthand.Footnote 58 The distinctions between surviving Jewish and Christian materials (when the two can be discriminated), including differences in the use of abbreviations, may be attributable to the technical characteristics of extant material. These differences may be a result of the less professionally produced Christian papyri in this period, which stand in contrast to the more professionally executed and better institutionalized publication practices of extant early Jewish and later Christian manuscripts.Footnote 59
In favor of a Jewish origin of nomina sacra speaks also the fact that the very practice of abbreviation through contraction was unknown to the Greeks outside the Hellenistic Jewish/Christian corpus. Alan Millard has connected contracted abbreviations to a similar West Semitic practice known from Phoenician and Palestinian coins of the Hellenistic period and also found on coins and graffiti in the Punic sites of North Africa.Footnote 60
C. Hebrew Alphabetic Numerals
Thus, 
could theoretically be an early Hellenistic Jewish invention. Can it be attributed to early manuscripts of the LXX? Could 
have been initially and intentionally devised by early Jewish translators for rendering the numeric value of the Tetragram?
This could be possible only if Hebrew alphabetic numerals (documented no earlier than the late second century BCE) had already been in use in at least the third century BCE. Otherwise, if 
preceded Hebrew letters-numbers, its numerical implications should be recognized as accidental. Hence, in order to estimate how early the Greek number-name 
could be introduced, we need to determine the historical point at which the Hebrew numeric value could have become relevant.
The alphabetic numeric system which the Greeks widely used in the Hellenistic period is known as “Milesian” (alternatively, “Ionic” or “Alexandrian”). It replaced the older acrophonic system (the “Attic” or “Herodianic”Footnote 61) and was decimal additive, having three groups of enneads (sets of nine letters): for 1–9, for tens (from 10 to 90), and for hundreds (from 100 to 900). It corresponded to the Egyptian system that was based on the same principle but with four enneads.Footnote 62 In order to have three complete groups of nine letters the Greeks had to complement their alphabet of 24 letters with three additional ones in order to reach the total number of 27 characters (corresponding to the number of letters in the Proto-Canaanite alphabet).Footnote 63 For this purpose they chose to use three Semitic letters, which were known from archaic Greek abecedariaFootnote 64 but had fallen out of use as superfluous for the phonological systems of most Greek dialects. As already mentioned above, these obsolete characters—digamma (6), koppa (90), and sampi (900)—became known as the ἐπισήματα “remarkable signs” and were introduced during this period exclusively as numeric signs.Footnote 65
An earlier widely accepted conjecture was that the Greeks had borrowed the numeric values of letters together with the letters themselves from the Phoenician alphabet.Footnote 66 The contemporary scholarly consensus, however, which is based on expanding archeological evidence, is that the Greeks could not have borrowed the West Semitic alphabet-based numeral system for a very simple reason: the Semites started using it later than the Greeks. In fact, alphabetic numbers in antiquity are well documented only for two languages, Greek and Hebrew,Footnote 67 and Greek precedency is supposed due to its earlier attestation. Regular usage of Greek letters-numbers is attested only for the late fourth and the third centuries BCE, but there are also a few earlier examples from the fifth through fourth centuries BCE.Footnote 68 Meanwhile, Hebrew numerical letters of the first decad are known not earlier than 141 to 136 BCE, when Hebrew letters-numbers appear on the shekels of Simon Maccabaeus.Footnote 69 Hebrew letters-numbers of a decimal system (as in the Greek “Milesian” one), as far as is presently known, are found only beginning in 78 BCE (a coin from the twenty-fifth [כה] year of Alexander Janneus),Footnote 70 with one less obvious case arguably belonging to 103 BCE (possibly dated to the fortieth [מ] year of Simon Maccabeus).Footnote 71 The likelihood of Greek precedence is exemplified well by a bilingual Palestinian Jewish Aramaic-Greek ostracon dated to the sixth year of the reign of Ptolemy II Philadelphus (277 BCE), where the Greek text uses alphabetic numerals while the Aramaic one still resorts to non-alphabetical abstract Aramaic signs.Footnote 72
However, despite the several early attestations, some arguments have been advanced against the antiquity of the Greek Milesian system. No literary alphabet is attested with its specific compound (containing both vau/digamma and koppa alongside psi and omega). If the Milesian system were ancient, we would expect to see variations (as demonstrated by the extreme variability of early Greek abecedaria). The absence of variants suggests that the system was regularly implemented only relatively late and under the influence of a later Hellenistic rather than early classical type of political authority. This has led some scholars to propose that the Milesian system was developed in the first half of the third century BCE, most probably under Ptolemy II Philadelphus in Alexandria, from where it spread to other Greek centers and became universal.Footnote 73
In this light, the conjecture of a possible Canaanite origin of alphabetic numbers seems less improbable. Notably, in the supposedly original Greek system, the old-new Canaanite characters were not only restored (or borrowed anew) but also placed according to the order of the original Canaanite alphabet.Footnote 74 Even more important is that we do have evidence of Canaanite letters used by Phoenicians as numerals for their dated coinage as early as the fourth century BCE.Footnote 75 However, since the coins show Canaanite letters-numbers of only the first ten numerals (unless one dubious case includes kaf as 11), it is unclear whether their system was decimal (like the Milesian one) or whether their letters-numbers were used within the framework of a more primitive system of ordinalia or “letter labels” (whereby each letter of the alphabet is assigned a consecutive number without assigning values of tens and hundreds). This method of numeration was used by the Greeks alongside the Milesian numbers but was normally reserved for specific genres or usages: numbering books and paragraphs, boundary stones, panels of jury-members, et cetera.Footnote 76 Its usage here is probable, since Greek numbers on coins from the same Phoenician mints obviously belonged to ordinalia (with kappa for 10, omega for 24, etc.). Below we propose that the same system might underlie the earliest Hebrew gematria and some cases of Jewish-Greek isopsephy (see the sections “Numerology of 26 in Hebrew” and “Numerology of 26 in Greek” below).
D. Early Hebrew Isopsephy/Gematria
Two additional phenomena may support the antiquity of Semitic letters-numbers: numerical abbreviations presumed for the proto-text of the Masoretic text,Footnote 77 and letter-based numerology conjectured for the early books of the Bible and attested in other Semitic sources.
No direct uncontested evidence exists for numeric symbolism based on letters-numbers in the Bible. Due to the presumed Greek origin of numeric letters, most scholars consider attempts to detect usage of alphabetic numerals or isopsephism in biblical texts as anachronistic. The question of whether biblical numerology is obviously present or simply read into the text by a given researcher has thus become a matter of subjective interpretation.Footnote 78
However, some voices do favor at least the possibility of the opposite presumption.Footnote 79 Since the late 1980s a series of works have appeared that lend more weight to numerical criticism of the Bible and cannot help but explain various phenomena in the biblical content and structure through means other than isopsephy. Parallel phenomena have also been found in other Semitic sources, which are likewise unequivocally independent from the Greek tradition. As a result, Mesopotamian origins of isopsephy and associated numerological techniques have been proposed.Footnote 80
If we accept these interpretations, we would have to reevaluate not only the history of Hebrew gematria preceding the influence of Hellenistic isopsephy but also the much broader question of Semitic versus Greek precedence in the introduction of alphabetic numbers (as discussed in the previous section). Such interpretation-based textual evidence stands in contrast not only to the lack of direct archeological evidence but also to the positive textual and archeological evidence of Jewish usage of alternative systems. These systems are always foreign, whether Egyptian hieratic, Aramaic, or Greek.Footnote 81 However, the fact that Jews used foreign numeric systems does not prove that they were limited to them, just as evidence of their usage of foreign languages does not imply that they did not use Hebrew. Similarly, the Greeks themselves also used two or even three systems simultaneously (the ordinal, acrophonic Attic/Herodianic, and alphabetic Milesian/Alexandrian)—sometimes even in the same document.Footnote 82 It has already been suggested that the absence of early archeological evidence for Hebrew numeric letters may be due to their usage being limited to sacred or esoteric purposes, while Jewish profane usage resorted to internationally used systems instead.Footnote 83
E. Hebrew-Greek Isopsephy
Greek isopsephy is known from at least the third century BCE and becomes better attested from no later than the first century CE, especially among Jews and Christians.Footnote 84 Examples of isopsephy based on Greek letters’ values employed by Jews and Christians can be found in, e.g., Syb. Or. 1:232–331, 5:12–51,Footnote 85 Rev 21:17, Barn. 9:7–9, Gen. R. 68.12, as well as in copious discussions of letter-based numerical symbolism in Gnostic and early Christian literature. Isopsephy was, in fact, part of numerological beliefs and practices widely involved in cultic, magic/scientific, mystic, theological, and philosophical discourses starting from Pythagorean numerical mysticism and continuing through Platonic and Aristotelean number theories (which considered inter alia numbers as “primary causes of existing things”; Aristotle, Met. 13.1080a) and on to early Christian debates over the theological significance of numbers.Footnote 86
In the case of 
, however, we are dealing with interlinguistic isopsephy—when the numeric values of letters in one language are signified by the letters-numbers of another language and thus the numeric identity is found between the forms of different languages. Such Hebrew-Greek isopsephies are attested not earlier than the first century CE. Among the most famous are the “number of the beast” of Rev 13:18 and the numeric value of Hebrew דוד (14) lying behind the symbolism of the three sets of fourteen generations in Mt 1:17.Footnote 87 Irenaeus discussed the importance of using Hebrew (“propriam Hebraeorum linguam”) and not Greek for isopsephic speculations (Haer. 2.24.1–2). Hebrew-Greek gematrias have been proposed for Asc. Mos. 9:1,Footnote 88 3 Baruch,Footnote 89 and one more nomen sacrum: the suspended abbreviation 
for Jesus (Ἰη[σοῦς]), which is homographic to 18 (as noticed already in the Barn. 9:7–9 and Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 6.278-80). With regard to the latter, Larry Hurtado has proposed the Hebrew isopsephon חי (“alive” and 18).Footnote 90 Thus, 
may be not the only nomen sacrum homographic to a numeral with a Hebrew isopsephon. (For even more examples, see the section “Names-Numbers: Nomina sacra as Numeri sacri” below.)
F. Numerology of 26 in Hebrew
It is noteworthy that the majority of supposed cases of biblical isopsephism are based on the number 26, a numeric representation of the name of God:Footnote 91
- beatitudes (אשרי formulae) are found 26 times in Psalms;Footnote 92
- the refrain “for his grace is forever” is repeated 26 times in Ps 136;Footnote 93
- the expression “for you are with me” divides Ps 23 (“The Lord is my shepherd”) into two groups of 26 words each;Footnote 94
- verse 26 divides Ps 22 into two groups of 60 and 26 words;Footnote 95
- verse 5 divides Ps 82 into two groups of 26 words each;Footnote 96
- verse 9 (“But you are exalted forever, O LORD”) divides Ps 92 (“A Psalm of the Seventh Day”) into two groups of 52 (=26x2) words each;Footnote 97
- Ps 80 contains 130 (=26x5) words, of which vss. 9–16 (“Lament over the vine,” a metaphor for Joseph) contain 52 (=26x2) words; cf. Deut 33:13–17 (Moses’s blessing of Joseph) below;Footnote 98
- Ps 79 contains 130 (=26x5) words;Footnote 99
- Deut 5:14 (the commandment to observe the seventh day) contains 26 words;Footnote 100
- Deut 32:1–3 (“Exordium,” the introductory passage of the Song of Moses) contains 26 words;Footnote 101
- Deut 33:2–3 (on the appearance of God) contains 26 words;Footnote 102
- Deut 33:8–11 (Moses’s blessing of Levi) contains 52 (=26x2) words;Footnote 103
- Deut 33:13–17 (Moses’s blessing of Joseph) contains 52 (=26x2) words;Footnote 104
- Deut 33:26–29 (the conclusion of Moses’s blessings) contains 52 (=26x2) words;Footnote 105
- Hab 3:3–7 (on the appearance of God) contains 52 (=26x2) words;Footnote 106
- Genesis 49:2–27 (Jacob’s blessings) contains 26 verses.Footnote 107
If we accept these calculations as meaningful and not accidental, then the symbolism of 26 would become the earliest attested case of Hebrew gematria. This might have been based solely on the numeric value of the Tetragram—which would not be surprising, given the centrality of the term for Jewish thought and religious practice. This is all the more relevant considering its esoteric usages vis-à-vis the esoteric character of presumed early Hebrew isopsephism.
Here we arrive at an important point. If we bring together the data outlined thus far on Semitic numerals, biblical isopsephy, and numerical symbolism of the Tetragram we may justifiably conclude that the Hebrew isopsephism behind 
did not require an elaborate Hebrew decimal system. In fact, we can and should separate the discussions of Semitic versus Greek precedence for decimalia from the question of precedence regarding ordinalia (on which, see above in the section “Hebrew Alphabetic Numerals”). Ordinal numbers are attested much better and earlier for Semitic sources and may well have preceded the Greek ordinal system, because 1) the order of Semitic letters had been established before it was adopted by the Greeks; 2) Semitic ordinalia might have been used already in an Aramaic inscription of the early eighth century BCE;Footnote 108 3) the antiquity of this system in Hebrew may be corroborated by the use of alphabetic acrostics in Psalms (24, 34, 37, 111, 112, 119), Proverbs (31:10–31), Lamentations (1–4) and possibly Nahum (1:2–10).Footnote 109 Most cases of presumed early Hebrew isopsephy are based on the numeric value of the Tetragram and thus could apply the system of ordinal numbers, since the Tetragram consists only of numbers from the first decad (10–5–6–5). This means that undergirding early Hebrew isopsephy could be ordinal rather than decimal numbers. Therefore, even if the Hebrew decimal system is a late development, the Hebrew numerology behind 
would not be anachronistic, even if we date 
itself to the very beginning of Hebrew-Greek translation practice.
G. Numerology of 26 in Greek
The numerological significance of 26 can be observed in the usage of the Johannine “I am” (ἐγώ εἰμι) sayings, which identify Jesus with the “Father.” This phrase is unique to Jewish Greek texts and is thought to render the Hebrew אני הוא found in passages such as Deut 32:39 and Isa 48:1. In a manner similar to the patterns observed in the Hebrew Bible discussed in the previous section, it occurs precisely twenty-six times in the Gospel of John.
When transferred into Greek the number 26, the numeric value of the Tetragram, would have taken different forms depending on the Greek numerical system used. While in the alphabetic Milesian/Alexandrian system the number 26 should be written as 
, in the acrophonic Athic/Herodanic notation the same number 26 would be represented as ΔΔΠΙ (also a tetragram that, like the Hebrew Tetragram, contains three signs).Footnote 110
However, the most interesting numerical sign would be provided by the Greek system of ordinal numbers.Footnote 111 With an alphabet of 24 letters, the number 26 could be written as either AB or BB,Footnote 112 but in the Milesian alphabet of 27 letters the 26th place was occupied by omega (the last, 27th, letter is sampi). This arrangement corresponds to the sequence of Proto-Canaanite alphabetsFootnote 113 and is known from different periods in Greece, including in the period before the introduction of the Milesian system. Twenty-seven letters with omega in twenty-sixth place are found, for example, in the Abecedarium of Samos (660 BCE):Footnote 114
Abecedarium of Samos. Included by kind permission of the Hellenic Ministry of Culture, Ephorate of Antiquities of Samos and Ikaria.
With ordinalia derived from the set of 27 characters, the omega could have been used for 26 (instead of a regular ordinal 24 or decimal 800). Although most cases of ordinalia that we know are based on the standard set of 24 letters, there is also evidence of ordinal numbers based on other types of alphabets. A fifth-century BCE bronze inscription from Locris has vau/digamma for the number 6 among its nine ordinalia (from alpha to theta, which number the nine paragraphs of the text).Footnote 115
It has already been suggested that ordinal numbers could be used specifically for isopsephic calculations in esoteric cryptography by Orphic and Pythagorean mystics as well as by early Christians.Footnote 115 Some cases of numerological symbolism in the New Testament can be interpreted only through isopsephism based exclusively on ordinalia.Footnote 117 Jewish usage of 27 Greek ordinalia would have had significant implications for interpreting “I am Alpha and Omega, said the Lord” (Rev 1:8; cf. 21:6; 22:13; Irenaeus, Haer. 1.14.6–8; 1.15.1–2; etc.). In this case, the entire phrase, written in shorthand, becomes a numerical riddle: ἐγώ εἰμι τὸ 
καὶ τὸ 
λέγει 
—“I am [both] 1 and 26, said 26.” The riddle is based on the reference to κύριος εἷς ἐστιν “the Lord is one” of LXX Deut 6:4 (which could be spelled as 
εcτιν “26 is 1”; cf. also εἷς ὁ θεὸς of Mt 19:17).Footnote 118 The use of two different systems of numeration in the same document or even phrase has well attested precedents and typology.Footnote 119
H. Names-Numbers: “Nomina Sacra” as “Numeri Sacri”
Early or late, intentional or accidental, the homography of the name 
and the number 
could hardly have passed unnoticed by the authentic original audience (in contrast to the modern scholarly community). It could, thus, have played a role in the numerological interpretations that were so popular in at least the early centuries CE.
However dated, 
represents a widely attested phenomenon, that of the name-number, which is observed most often with the names of deities. The focus on the numeric value of God’s name in Hebrew—and, more especially, the complete identity of God’s name and number in the numerus sacer/nomen sacrum 
—should be regarded in the context of the graphic identity of the names of gods with other numbers attested in Mesopotamian cuneiform documents (from the eighth-century BCE Akkadian to the second-century BCE Parthian). For instance: the sign of the moon god Sin was identical to the number 30; the name of the sun god Shamash, to the number 20; Enlil, the head of the Sumerian pantheon of gods, to 50; Igigi, the word for great gods of heaven and earth, to 600; et cetera.Footnote 120 This is not yet isopsephy, since numeric value is assigned to whole words instead of letters or their combinations, but the result is the same: meaningful homography of gods’ names and signs for numbers.
We have had occasion to note that Greek isopsephy is applied most often to proper names.Footnote 121 The Pythagorean tradition associated numbers with gods,Footnote 122 so it is no wonder that these isopsephic names often belong to gods, like Isis (420), Sarapis (662),Footnote 123 and deified Roman emperors.Footnote 124 The deity Abrasax (Abraxas) is addressed by its isopsephonic number 
(365).Footnote 125 The name of Mithras as well was known to Jerome as an isopsephon of the same solaric number.Footnote 126
Christians applied similar numerological practices to their deified figures. Numbers could substitute for the name of Jesus, who was called ἐπίσηµoν (a letter for 6)—because “Jesus is a name arithmetically symbolical, consisting of six letters” (Haer. 1.14.4–7; cf. 2.24.1;Footnote 127 Hippolytus, Ref. 6.40, 44)Footnote 128—or titled by its isopsephon 888 (ibid. 2.24.1; cf. 1.15.5; Syb. Oracles 1.324–31). The Holy Spirit’s symbolic representation, a dove, Greek περιστερά, was known as an isopsephon of 
(801; Haer. 1.14.6). The contracted form of ’Iη[σοῦς]), the nomen sacrum 
, could also be understood as the number 18 (Barn. 9:7–9; Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 6.11).Footnote 129 The nomin sacrum 
(’ῦς Χριστός Θεός) can be interpreted as a gematriacal atbash of 153 and a contracted form of ιχθύς “fish” (cf. “153 great fishes” in John 21:11).Footnote 130 The number 
(643), an isopsephon of θεὸς βοηθός “God the helper,” was used to substitute for Χριστός, Mιχαήλ, Γαβριήλ “Christ, Michael, Gabriel” (or 
, “Christ born of Mary”).Footnote 131 Knowledge of the numeric isopsephon of the divine name could be considered important, “a gift of the knowledge of your great name, of which the number is 9999” 
; again, a tetragram compiled of three signs; cf. ΔΔΠΙ in the section “Numerology of 26 in Greek” above and AIEI in the next section).Footnote 132
Such homographies may or may not be intentional. Dan Nässelqvist cites five nomina sacra which might be confused with numerals: 
(18 or ’ησοῦς), 
(16 or ’Ιησοῦς), 
(25 or κύριε), 
(450 or υἱόν), 
(650 or Χριστόν).Footnote 133 In fact, Greek, due to its morphological structure, has many words (and, thus, contracted forms) ending with C, some of which would be isomorphic to numerical signs with 6. Among them are the nomina sacra 
(606 or χριστός) and 
(406 or υἱός). The contraction 
(θεός or 9 and 6) is not homographic to the Greek 15 
but reflects the structure of the later attested Hebrew טו (9 and 6) for 15, which is used instead of the combination of yod and heh (because of the latter’s homography to the first two letters and short form of the name of God).Footnote 134
Two conjectures of isopsephy have already been based on digamma-sigma homography, both related to the number of the beast in Rev 13:18: 1) the interpretation of 666 
as an isopsephonic value for the Greek form of Trajan’s family name Ulpius (Oὐλπιος, with the word-final sigma counted as 6 instead of 200)Footnote 135 and 2) the interpretation of the variant of the same number, 616 
,Footnote 136 as a mimicry of the contracted forms of Christ 
and Jesus 
, whose similarity is possible only in the case of digamma-sigma homography.Footnote 137
In fact, these two nomina sacra could be names-numbers as well. Although the numeric value of 
is 210, graphically this sign is fully identical to the shorthand of the number 16, differing from 
(26) “in one iota” (10).Footnote 138 An alternative shorthand for 16 was a combination of the Latin 10 (X) and Greek 6 (C) signs: XC. Such mixtures of Roman and Greek numerical letters in one number are well known from early Byzantine coins but might have earlier origins.Footnote 139 Under this convention, the two main Christian nomina sacra, 
(Ἰ[ησοῦ]ς] and 
(χ[ριστό]ς), are numerically identical. Often appearing together, a combination of 
(which becomes the most widely used Christogram in Eastern Christianity: ICXC) is isopsephic to Hebrew כבוד “glory” (32), whose Greek equivalent δόξα is commonly related to or even identified with Jesus (Heb 1:3 et al., esp. Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ τῆς δόξης in James 2:1).Footnote 140
Conclusions
It can hardly have been a coincidence that the nomen sacrum 
, a perfect isomorph of the Greek number 
(26), became the main equivalent of the Hebrew Tetragram which has the very same numeric value. This model of naming belongs to the well-attested phenomenon of names-numbers, that is, names homographic to numeric signs. Moreover, this manner of representing deities is found in diverse traditions, from ancient Mesopotamian to Hellenistic polytheistic, Mithraic, Gnostic, and Christian practices.
Larry Hurtado proposed a similar pattern for another nomen sacrum, 
, isopsephic to the Hebrew חי (18), but claimed that “in none of the other nomina sacra forms (other than 
), however, does the numerical value of the letter combinations appear to have been significant.”Footnote 141 Based on this observation, he suggested that the meaningful numerical value of 
supports the precedence of abbreviations of Ἰησοῦς (Jesus) over other nomina sacra, indicating their Christian origins.Footnote 142 Nevertheless, the numeric significance of 
demonstrates that it was not merely created by analogy with abbreviations of ἸησοῦςFootnote 143 and that the verbal-numerical ambivalence of nomina sacra was a broader and potentially earlier phenomenon.
Zachary Cole adduced several examples of “theological orthography” of numeric abbreviationsFootnote 144 and noted that
the mechanics of abbreviating numbers were so similar to names that, apart from context, the nomina sacra can be at times visually indistinguishable from abbreviated numbers. Both modes of abbreviation involve ordinary Greek characters and a horizontal stroke placed directly above the letters in question. Thus, the potential for signaling a sacred number lay close at hand in a system of numerical abbreviations, the question here is if scribes ever exploited this possibility.Footnote 145
It seems that now we can answer this question positively. What remains is the question of how to date this phenomenon.
Most of our knowledge on Hellenistic Judaism comes through Christian hands, and it is often difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish pre-Christian Jewish heritage preserved in Christian sources from original creativity confined to Christian groups. Therefore, the observations presented in this article may be interpreted in at least two ways:
1) 
could be a Hellenistic Jewish innovation that devised an inventive way to connect the widely used κύριος to a numeric value of the Tetragram. An even bolder theory would assert the precedence of 
to the term’s full form, thus explaining the very choice of κύριος by numerological considerations. In other words, 
could have been initially and intentionally devised by early Jewish translators in order to preserve the numeric value of the Tetragram in Greek. In this case, we would be justified in regarding 
as a relic of an original Jewish tradition that a) introduced the Semitic mode of contraction (instead of Greek suspension), b) used with such contraction the Greek mode of presenting numbers (with a macron), and c) chose κύριος for the name of God—all in order to preserve the numeric value of the Hebrew Tetragram. An additional factor in devising 
could have been its authentic numerical value of 220, a member of the only pair known in that period of amicable numbers (with 284, isopsephic to θεός, ἅγιος, and ἀγαθός; all these words are found in combination with 
in biblical and liturgical collocations). Preserved by Christians, 
was imitated in their new names-numbers, such as 
. These could have been modeled after it or devised independently, based on the same graphic phenomenon. This interpretation has the advantage of explaining why nomina sacra were presented in a numeric form.
2) Alternatively, as it is unknown to early manuscripts or inscriptions that are undoubtedly Jewish, 
might have been just one of the Christian names-numbers that are attested in Christian sources of the second and third centuries CE. 
could possibly even be secondary to 
and 
and imitate their numeric isomorphism. However, even if a Christian invention, 
, being based on Hebrew isopsephism, must have belonged to the early Jewish-Christian community.
Whether κύριος and/or nomina sacra including 
were originally Jewish pre-Christian or were introduced by Christians, it is now evident that the distinction between the profane and sacred meanings of κύριος through the use of its full and contracted forms was not merely a convention but a consequence of the contracted form’s closer association with the Tetragram. Furthermore, due to the same association, the application of 
to Jesus and the consistent effort to differentiate it from κύριος in the mundane sense, as attested in early manuscripts, may have played even a more significant role in early Christian binitarianism than is usually attributed to κύριος, thus potentially tilting the balance in favor of the early high Christological hypothesis.
The introduction of the name-number 
became possible by a synergy of several overlapping innovations, some of which may be connected to third-century Alexandria. These include: a) the graphic development of Greek writing, which produced the homography of C; b) the regular introduction of alphabetic numbers (most probably following standardization of Greek scripts on the basis of the Ionian alphabet in the fourth century); c) the subsequent introduction of Greek isopsephy; d) the invention of contracted abbreviations and their marking with a sign reserved for numbers (macron); and e) Hebrew-Greek translations, in which the former novelties could be implemented.
This could have been possible only if Hebrew alphabetic numerals (documented no earlier than the late second century BCE) were already in use at least during the third century BCE. Such a circumstance is not improbable in the light of a) the scarce but obvious evidence for West Semitic letters used by Phoenicians as numerals for their dated coinage already in the fourth century, and b) even earlier but conjectured evidence of biblical isopsephy-based numerical symbolism, and specifically the abundance of the number 26 which accounts for the absolute majority of these cases. Moreover, there is no need to conjecture an earlier existence of a Hebrew decimal additive system, since the isopsephy of the Tetragram could have been based on a more archaic system of ordinal numbers.
All these factors produced an opportunity to create forms that answered to certain intellectual needs. The graphic isomorphism of names and numbers was only a specific case of the wider phenomenon of paronomasia that played an important role in constructing ancient Israelite and early Jewish theological discourse.Footnote 146 At the same time, various forms of numeric symbolism were deeply integrated into Hellenistic religious and philosophical thought. Multiple precedents of names-numbers, isopsephy (including interlingual Hebrew-Greek examples), and other graphic-verbal-numeric plays reflect the widely attested fascination of ancient Jews and Greeks alike with similar intellectual inventions. This makes our reconstruction of the numerological considerations underlying the introduction of 
and some other nomina sacra at least probable.
The reconstruction of the numeric value of 
should affect our perspective on several fields of knowledge and shed light on some unresolved questions, including the chronology of the introduction of Hebrew alphabetic numerals, the problem of biblical isopsephism, the introduction of Greek equivalents of the name of God, the history of nomina sacra (including the question of their Jewish versus Christian origins), and the problem of early high Christology as reflected in the terminology applied to Jesus.
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