Reflections
ArchivedAugust 1, 2023
A Next.js website exploring Bereshit (Genesis 1) in Hebrew — the numeric codes, the letter-level meanings, and the spiritual architecture of the Bible's opening verses. A fascination with origins, encoded meaning, and the layers that surface when you read a text in its original language.
Purpose
Built a website dedicated to Genesis 1 (Bereshit) in Hebrew, exploring the numeric codes embedded in the text, the meaning of each Hebrew letter, and the spiritual dimensions that the English translation obscures. The origin story — of everything — has always fascinated me. This project was an attempt to sit with it in a structured way.
Stack
What I Learned
- Hebrew is an alphanumeric language — every letter has a numeric value (Aleph=1, Bet=2, Gimel=3... through Tav=400). This means every Hebrew word has a numeric sum, and every verse has a total. Gematria is the practice of finding meaning in these numeric relationships. The first word of the Bible — Bereshit (בראשית) — sums to 913. Whether the numeric patterns are intentional design, emergent coincidence, or pattern-seeking bias depends on your framework. The patterns themselves are mathematically real.
- Each Hebrew letter is also a pictograph with a root meaning: Aleph (א) is an ox head (strength, leadership), Bet (ב) is a house (family, inside), Gimel (ג) is a camel (journey, carrying). Reading Bereshit letter by letter — Bet-Resh-Aleph-Shin-Yod-Tav — produces a different kind of meaning than reading the word as a unit. It is like reading source code at the character level instead of the function level. Both views are valid. They reveal different things.
- The first verse of Genesis (Bereshit 1:1) has 7 Hebrew words and 28 letters (7×4). The middle word — untranslated in English — is "et" (את), composed of the first and last letters of the Hebrew alphabet (Aleph and Tav). Some scholars read this as a grammatical marker. Others read it as a statement: the beginning contains the end. The alpha and the omega, written into the structure of the first sentence.
- Building a website to explore a text forces a different kind of reading than just studying it. You have to decide: what is the structure? How do I present the Hebrew alongside the English? How do I visualize the numeric relationships? What deserves emphasis? The design decisions become interpretive decisions. The website is a reading of the text, not just a container for it.
Key Insights
- The fascination with origins is the same fascination that drives this entire project blog: how did this start? What was the seed? Every project entry asks "what was the purpose?" — which is just "what was the Bereshit?" of that project. The impulse to trace things back to their beginning is not religious or technical. It is human.
- Reading texts in their original language — whether Aramaic prayer, Hebrew scripture, or source code — always reveals more than the translation. The Pray Like This project found this in Aramaic. This project found it in Hebrew. The principle is universal: every translation is an interpretation, and every interpretation loses something. Getting as close to the source as possible is always worth the effort.
- This is the second spiritual project in the blog (after Pray Like This), and it is included for the same reason: the picture of a developer's growth is incomplete without the things that matter when the laptop is closed. The code is the craft. The spiritual inquiry is the context. Both shape the work.
- The numeric structure of Genesis 1 — whether designed or emergent — is the oldest encoding system in recorded history. Millennia before ASCII mapped characters to numbers, Hebrew mapped letters to values and composed meaning at both the linguistic and numeric level simultaneously. For a developer, there is something deeply satisfying about finding structure in text that is both human-readable and machine-countable. It is the original dual-representation format.
This post was composed through a conversation between Brett Owers and Claude Code (Anthropic). The content reflects Brett's recollection of each project and the lessons drawn from it. Some details may be approximate or omitted — the purpose is to paint an honest picture of a software engineer's development over time, not to serve as a precise historical record.