"You know gematria isn't just a Jewish thing, right?" My Greek colleague Dimitri looked at me over his coffee cup with that slightly smug expression academics get when they're about to correct you. We were sitting in a tiny café in Athens, surrounded by stacks of research papers, and I'd just made the rookie mistake of referring to gematria as "that Jewish number system."

Turns out, I had a lot to learn. That conversation with Dimitri kicked off what became a three-year research project exploring how different cultures developed their own versions of letter-number systems. What I discovered changed how I think about cultural exchange in the ancient world – and made me question whether humans across civilizations share some fundamental ways of finding meaning.

When Greeks Did It Too (And Called It Something Else)

The Greeks called their system "isopsephy," and they were using it around the same time early Jewish mystics were developing gematria. I spent a month in 2023 examining graffiti scratched into the walls of ancient Greek sites – not the stuff they put in museums, but the everyday scribbles of ordinary people.

One inscription from Ephesus particularly stuck with me. Someone had carved "Alexis loves Melite: 651" into a wall. The numerical value? It matched "beautiful in form: 651." Ancient pickup line or mathematical poetry? Maybe both.

The early Christians – who were essentially operating at the crossroads of Jewish and Greek culture – took to isopsephy like fish to water. They noticed that "Jesus" (Ιησους) in Greek letters adds up to 888, which they saw as symbolically significant since 8 was considered the number of resurrection (7 days of the week plus a new beginning). Meanwhile, they calculated "beast" as 666. Subtle, right?

My favorite example comes from an ancient wall in Pompeii where someone wrote: "I love the girl whose number is 545." It was basically ancient coded flirting! When I tell my students about this, they immediately start calculating their crush's names on their phones. Some things never change.

Arabic Abjad: Mathematics Meets Poetry

I'm embarrassed to admit I knew almost nothing about Arabic abjad numerals until I team-taught a course with Professor Hassan from our Middle Eastern Studies department. He showed me how this system has been used in Islamic mysticism, poetry, and even architecture for centuries.

"In Arabic poetry," Hassan explained while sketching letters on a whiteboard, "the numerical values often create a second layer of meaning beneath the words themselves."

He showed me a poem where the first line had the same numerical value as the name of the patron who commissioned it. Another poem contained a chronogram – the numerical values of certain letters added up to the year the poem was written. It was like a mathematical signature hidden in plain sight.

During Ramadan that year, Hassan invited me to his home for iftar (the meal breaking the daily fast). His grandmother was visiting from Morocco, and when she heard about my research, she started reciting numerical correspondences she'd learned as a child. "Allah" equals 66, she told me, counting on her fingers. "The phrase 'The Compassionate' equals 329, which reduces to 14, which reduces to 5 – the number of pillars in Islam." I sat there with my mouth hanging open while this 87-year-old woman rattled off calculations faster than I could follow.

India's Sanskrit System: Where It Gets Really Complex

Just when I thought I was getting a handle on these systems, a visiting scholar from Delhi University gave a lecture on Sanskrit numerology that made my head spin. The Katapayadi system assigns numerical values to Sanskrit consonants, but with a twist – the position of the letter in a word affects its value.

What blew my mind was learning that ancient Indian mathematicians encoded actual astronomical calculations into Sanskrit verses. They weren't just finding mystical meanings; they were using this system to remember and transmit scientific knowledge.

I spent a disastrous week trying to learn enough Sanskrit to understand these systems firsthand. My pronunciation was so bad that the language center tutor actually started laughing during our third session. "Perhaps stick to research in languages you can speak," she suggested kindly. Fair enough.

China's System: Numbers That Look Like Words

Chinese numerology works differently but follows similar principles of finding meaning through numerical connections. During a conference in Shanghai, I met Dr. Lin, who studies how certain numbers are considered lucky or unlucky based on how their pronunciation resembles other words.

"The number 8 is lucky because it sounds like the word for prosperity," she explained over dinner. "But 4 is avoided because it sounds like 'death.'" She pointed out that in the elevator of our hotel, there was no 4th floor button – just like some Western buildings skip the 13th floor.

I noticed this everywhere once she pointed it out. Phone numbers with 8s sell for higher prices. Wedding dates with lucky number combinations are booked years in advance. I even saw apartments on the 8th floor advertised at premium prices.

"It's not so different from your Western systems," Dr. Lin said. "You find meaning in numerical patterns; we find it in numerical sounds. Both connect mathematics to language."

The Universal Pattern-Seeking Brain

So why did so many cultures independently develop systems connecting letters and numbers? I think it says something fundamental about how our brains work.

Humans are pattern-recognition machines. We evolved to spot connections because noticing that certain berries made people sick or that specific cloud formations preceded storms helped us survive. We can't turn this ability off – we see faces in clouds, hear messages in random noise, and find meaning in coincidences.

When cultures developed writing systems and number systems, it was almost inevitable that people would start looking for connections between them. It's like we can't help ourselves – give humans two systems of symbols, and we'll find ways to map one onto the other.

I tested this theory on my nephew's 5th-grade class during their career day. I taught them a simplified version of English gematria (A=1, B=2, etc.) and set them loose. Within 20 minutes, they were running around excitedly showing each other words that shared values with their names or finding "secret messages" in their textbooks. No cultural training required – just curious human minds doing what they do naturally.

Cultural Exchange or Parallel Evolution?

The big question that keeps me up at night: did these systems develop through cultural exchange, or did they evolve independently?

The evidence is mixed. We know there was contact between ancient Greek and Jewish communities. The trade routes connecting India to the Middle East and China were active for centuries. Ideas could have traveled along with spices and silks.

But the differences between these systems are as striking as their similarities. Each one reflects the unique structure of its language and the cultural values of its people. The Hebrew system emphasizes theological connections. The Greek system found its way into love notes and political commentary. The Indian system encoded scientific knowledge.

My current thinking? There was probably some cross-pollination of the basic idea, but each culture then developed its system in response to its own needs and worldview. It's convergent evolution with a dash of cultural exchange – like how different cultures independently invented bread, but then traded recipes and techniques.

What This Means For Us Today

Last month, I was using our Gematria Calculator to demonstrate these different systems to a group of interfaith leaders. A rabbi, an imam, and a Greek Orthodox priest (sounds like the setup to a joke, right?) were all looking over my shoulder as I showed how the same phrase yielded different values in different systems.

The imam smiled and said something I'll never forget: "We are all climbing the same mountain from different sides."

That's what I find most beautiful about studying these cross-cultural systems. They remind us that beneath our different languages, religions, and traditions, we share common ways of seeking meaning. Whether through Hebrew gematria, Greek isopsephy, Arabic abjad, or Chinese numerology, humans have always looked for hidden patterns that connect the visible world to something deeper.

In our increasingly divided world, I find something hopeful in that. Our brains work in remarkably similar ways across cultures and across time. We've always been meaning-seekers, pattern-finders, connection-makers.

So the next time someone tells you gematria is "just a Jewish thing," feel free to channel my friend Dimitri's smug academic expression. Then tell them about the love notes scratched on walls in ancient Greece, the astronomical formulas hidden in Sanskrit poetry, or the grandmother in Morocco counting Allah's name on her fingers. We're all part of the same human story – just counting it differently.