Geometry and Fr. John Rohr

 

66 Year ago I took a subject in high school that had baffled me to no end, giving me sleepless nights in order to study and resulting in a bit of mental wreck to my young and easily traumatized mind. And yet in all honesty, I understood nothing much about the subject and the "theorems" that we were supposed to get acquainted with.  For the entire year we must have examined, proved, written, questioned, etc. a total of 12 or 15 theorems, and yet I was still totally in the dark. 

And for the love of me, I was just as baffled how I passed the subject.  I distinctly recall that during a grading exam, I had to resort to memorizing and writing down an entire theorem which was composed of many parts, straight out of the book so I could have something to say.  The teacher had promised beforehand that he would include an extra bonus part, a part where we could write out a theorem that we read and understood in the book.  That was the only possible answer I could submit. And it was the shortest one I could find in the book.

The subject was Ge·om·e·try, "the branch of mathematics concerned with the properties and relations of points, lines, surfaces, solids, and higher dimensional analogs."

The experience so traumatizing that even today just being reminded of it throws me into some kind of mental fit.  A few days ago, I was again reminded by it when I saw a picture of the young Jesuit who had come thousands of miles away to teach us the subject.

That young Jesuit himself was quite unforgettable, with his loud and animated ways of teaching a subject that I had thought was as boring and flat as a piece of paper.  He also had the unique habit of putting his chair on top of the table and sitting there, surveying the place like a hungry hawk.  This he did when he was giving out exams, on the expressed supposition that he wanted to make sure nobody was cheating.

And I had figured prominently in one such episode during a grading exam.

I was so clueless and lost I was turning my head every which way when suddenly I felt something hit me right at the top of my head.  It was chalk.   And this young Jesuit was barreling straight at me, jumping off from his high perch but he was smiling though  or maybe smirking.  It was then I felt my eyes moistened  thoroughly humiliated but I said nothing. My first time ever to be thrown at and hit by chalk coming from a teacher.  He came and looked at my paper which was completely blank anyway.  That ended that episode.

But years later, this young Jesuit back in the States and ready for his ordination sends me a nice printed invitation to his becoming a priest, complete with a stampita and personal note, asking how I was and also about my elder brothers that he had also taught. Surprisingly, I had kept those mementoes all these years. Maybe that kind gesture should have given me a clue about how and why I passed that subject having learned nothing, though efforts were certainly not spared.

Last night as I lay awake, this same thought came barreling in into my troubled mind, giving me no respite and forcing me to rise up.  So I did and sat in front of my PC and googled about Geometry theorems, particularly about Theorem 2B which I recall was the theorem I had memorized as my only answer to a bonus question.

One result was a video, so I faithfully went through the whole exercise, listening to a British lady speaker who was not easy to understand, which in turn was made harder by the subject matter.  Anyway, after more than 10 minutes later she was done with the presentation: expressing the theorem, the givens, the proof, etc. and the solution.

I had a small reason to feel good.  I did understand a bit how Geometry worked.  And would have learned more even in high school had I allowed my mind to engage in the subject more and better.

Thanks for the lesson, Fr. Rohr, however late it is.

And here is one final tidbit.  I did learn one thing from him which later on I would relay to some students of mine in high school.

How to make a more or less perfect circle on the blackboard.  How? With your back turned to the board, let your hand with the chalk touch the board and start making the circle as you turn around.

Works every time! 

MOMENTS ABOUT PASSING: When One is 79, pushing 80

I find myself mindlessly marking the number of my many friends and fellow sojourners                                 who have gone ahead.

To the land of mist and uncertainty, a land from where no traveler has returned                                               to tell and reveal.

I fancy myself independent of mind, but deeply curious and quite simply a busybody,                                   with no place to go to occupy one's idle moments.

I eagerly scour the known universe of thought and notions with my feeble steps,                                          eagerly searching about the world of uncertainly we all are bound to end with.

Yet one hardly finds things easy to understand to build on, to unravel the truths                                           about the land who all certainly are going to land into.

Yes, a land who all know we are inexorably heading to, but clearly having no exact facts                             what, where and why we all are destined to it.

A most mystifying thought to consider, given the surety of its eventual happening                                       and we can only exclaim, we know it comes but not when it comes.  

We can anchor our truths only on the faith we inherited or adhere, and rely on the countless                   words piously spoken or written about it.

That, what and how it is will depend largely on how we live and conduct our temporal lives                     on this at times God-forsaken place of trials and tribulation.

That it will be easy and pleasant if we are frugal with the alluring enjoyments and human                      pleasures that vie for our attention here on this earth.

That a life blessed with many prayerful moments of introspection and earnest supplications                    will be a requisite for entry and acceptance. 

But that a life of ease and comfort even in the twilight of one's ebbing existence, a life that tries to          anticipate or co-opt the ultimately fated reality is a sure way not only to lose sight                            of the goal,  but to miss it altogether.

This belief does give one a sense not only of purpose and mission, but one of quiet contentment             and resignation.

That one's sacrificing efforts are truly treasures that merit their rewards elsewhere, where there          is no end and no counting of days and nights.

No more counting of friends and sojourners who have gone ahead.                                                            For soon, here and there, before, now and later will have no meaning, and no sense.

And better still, the vicissitudes of day and night, joy and sorrow, pain and comfort,                               are no longer inevitable choices.