“What is that you’ve found?” asked the curious young man with the yarmulke.

“It’s some rusted pendant with a spooky symbol” said the elderly man with the metal detector.

The man had been scanning the sands of Long Beach for the past few years since Hurricane Sandy passed through these environs.  Lots of metal-can-tops, nails, coins and an occasional piece of gold jewelry would turn up.  Easy pickings with little more work than a walk on the beach.  In fact the man shied away from any physical exertion that didn’t involve cashing a check.

“Rust means clean-up work and frankly, I’m a bit superstitious and don’t really like to hold on to these trinkets. Here! You want it?” offered the man.

“Sure.  I’ve never had a real ‘rusty treasure’ before.  Thanks!” said the orthodox young man . And as he tried to stash the rough-surfaced trinket into his pocket, unobserved by him, a part of his religious customary clothing, the white tzit-tzis fringes, got caught and were now embracing the artifact in the solitude of this personal compartment.

When he got home, the young man inspected the pendant and began to scrape some of the rust from its surface.  A multi-triangular figure began to take shape.  He immediately thought that it might be a Mogen Dovid-The Star of David, and went to the kitchen sink for a quick brush-over with some steel-wool.  But the symbol he was hoping for, didn’t materialize.  In fact, instead of a star with six points, there were nine. 

“Oh no…” he thought, “probably some cultish symbol”. 

And as he was ready to toss the pendant, he saw what looked like a Hebrew letter gleaming through the porous rust at one of the points of the star.  More work with the steel-wool and soon his curiosity was rewarded:  the letter “Yud” formed the beginning of some words.  As the rust started to crumble away, the words ”Yom Rishon” – The First Day, were now legible at one point of this strange symbol. But, there were nine points. He began to puzzle over the implication.  What nine days were being depicted here?   Was this some memorial or a calendar? Would his rabbi know?

The phone rang.  It was time for minchah, the afternoon prayer, and a tenth person was needed later this Sunday evening to conclude the day's services.  He’d have to finish cleaning-up the pendant later.                                                      

After the last Kaddish was said, Rabbi Kindberg invited everyone to his usual Sunday evening class for those who were interested in so called “hidden knowledge”. He knew his congregation very well.  Knew who was interested in the practical matters of life, as well as those who were pursuing the esoteric side of all things material.  His Shabbat afternoon sessions were directed toward those who wanted to pursue Talmudic study –the understanding of rabbinic interpretations relating to the down-to-earth approach of daily life’s experiences.  But the Sunday evening class was dedicated to his Mevakshe H’Ruah Seekers of the Spirit, students. Those curiously restless congregants, whose thirst for deeper insight toward the meaning of existence in this life needed guidance.  They would approach him in private to air their frustrations about the senselessness of the present-day world’s treacherous course.  Their insistence and rising anxiety would have to be satiated in order to avert their inevitable course of secular pursuits. The rabbi wrestled with opening the doors to the abstruse topic of Kabbalah for his questionably-prepared congregants. Ultimately he reasoned that a form of pikuah nefesh -saving a life, had to be initiated if his curious congregants were to remain with the shul. After all, he would know what to reveal clearly and what needed to be left vaguely subtle in order to protect their sanity.

Yakov Arieh, the curious young man with the mysterious pendant was in attendance.  The class assembled in silence and after the ablutionary customs and preparatory prayers, they began their exploratory studies. The rabbi continued to read the text from last week’s class:

“Observe that Nefesh, Ruah and Neshumah are an ascending series of grades… the three, in fact, form a unity.”

“What kind of a unity… is it the unity of Tikun Olam?” interrupted Avram Yoel, the math professor.

“What exactly do you think that Tikun Olam-‘repairing the world’ really means Avram?” -challenged the rabbi.

“It is when everything that was broken, becomes fixed… whole again…understandable and sensible. The end of chaos.  Or as we say in mathematics: resolved.  At present, the world seems as though an insoluble equation exists… dividing the world into increasingly more complications… like one divided by infinity.  A situation, in which the answer is indeterminate.” –responded Avram.

The rabbi formulated his response, “And if the world were divided by no complications whatsoever… would the answer not also be the same?  One divided by zero… also an irrational result.  Because where there are no actions, there are no mitzvahs -good deeds, and consequently no purpose.  The trick is to realize that the equation can be stabilized by converting the zero to ‘zero-factorial’ (0!).  And this is our goal here… to realize that complications can be rearranged into a unity.  Is it not true Avram, that ‘zero-factorial’ equals one?”

Avram was taken aback by the rabbi’s astute retort.  He could only agree that “Indeed, in mathematical expressions, zero- factorial did equal one.”  A silence followed as the rest of the class took time to think about this new analogy.

Yakov Arieh’s ponderings took a different direction and he decided to break the silence.  “Rabbi, is there a connection with the words “First Day” and these three gradations?  It seems as though this might refer to creation…no?”  As Yakov spoke, he heard his own voice trail off with an insecure volume and was now regretting his utterances without first seeing the rest of the rusty pendant’s inscriptions. But it was too late.  The rabbi shot a piercing glance toward Yakov and waited for a whole minute before responding.

“Well, Yakov… ‘yom rishon’, the ‘First Day’ is certainly an indication of the beginning of ‘order’…and that can lead to the eventual influence of ‘gradations’.  But not unless there is a ‘guiding force’ to keep the progression of order on track… toward a specific purpose.  So you see, there is a connection.”  The rabbi perceived a new energy that had entered the discussion.  He had to reply with vague references that allowed for multiple perspectives.

At home that night, Yakov cleaned the pendant more carefully.  Two more points of the star were revealed.  The second point was tagged with “Yom Sheni -the second day” and the third point was unmarked.  What happened to the “order”?