*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
I am not a religious man, nor am I one to cling to
superstition. My inclination has always been toward science, reason, and
philosophy — toward understanding through logic rather than ritual, through
inquiry rather than instinct. Yet even a man grounded in science must admit
that there are moments when reason alone feels incomplete. When the earth
shakes, and the very ground beneath one’s feet seems alive, it awakens a part
of the mind that logic cannot silence — the part that seeks meaning in
movement, order in chaos, and balance in what seems purely accidental.
In the last months, the Philippines has witnessed
earthquakes that seem curiously linked to the number ten. On September 30,
2025, at 9:59 p.m., a magnitude 6.9 quake shook Cebu, sending people into the
streets under a trembling sky. Days later, on October 10, 2025, at 9:43 a.m.,
another powerful magnitude 7.4 earthquake struck Davao Oriental. The hour, the
date, and the repetition of the number ten left many wondering: coincidence, or
something more profound?
To a scientist, these are natural events — predictable
outcomes of tectonic shifts. But to the philosophical mind, there is always a
question that lingers behind the logic: Why ten? Why does this number, across
faiths and civilizations, carry the weight of completion, law, and divine
order?
The Ten Commandments come immediately to mind — not simply
as religious rules, but as philosophical architecture. They are, in essence,
the moral geometry of human society. The first few commandments establish man’s
relationship with the divine — a call to humility, reminding us that there are
powers far greater than human ambition. The rest define man’s relationship with
his fellow man — a call to justice, respect, and restraint.
These ten principles form the ethical gravity of
civilization: unseen yet constant, ancient yet relevant. They hold communities
together the same way tectonic plates hold continents — unseen but
indispensable. When societies begin to disregard them — when truth becomes
negotiable, and greed becomes natural — the moral crust begins to crack. And
sometimes, as Jeremiah 10:10 declares, “The Lord is the true God; He is the
living God, the eternal King. When He is angry, the earth trembles.”
This verse speaks not of divine punishment, but of divine
proportion — the reminder that imbalance, whether moral or natural, always
finds correction. The trembling of the ground becomes the echo of the trembling
soul, as if creation itself mirrors the fractures within humanity.
The Qur’an, too, offers its own symmetry. Surah Yunus
(Chapter 10) tells the story of Jonah, who found redemption only after
surrender — a lesson in humility and grace. Surah al-Kawthar, composed of
exactly ten words, delivers an equally profound truth: “Indeed, We have granted
you abundance. So pray to your Lord and sacrifice.” Gratitude and surrender —
two pillars of balance. And Qur’an 49:10 reminds believers: “The believers are
but brothers, so make peace between your brothers and fear Allah that you may
receive mercy.”
In both the Bible and the Qur’an, the number ten becomes a
symbol of completion and reconciliation — not of fear, but of order. The Bible
gives ten commandments; the Qur’an offers ten as a pattern of peace. Both
present the same law of harmony: between Creator and creation, between humanity
and humility.
Science, of course, brings us back to earth — literally. It
reminds us that the idea of a magnitude 10 earthquake remains theoretical. The
largest ever recorded was a 9.5 in Chile in 1960 — a quake so powerful it
shifted the Earth’s rotation by milliseconds. No known fault line could sustain
a 10.0. The laws of physics and geology tell us that there is an upper limit to
the planet’s release of energy.
But the human mind, even when steeped in data, continues to
search for meaning. For every physical law, there seems to be a moral one
beneath it. Nature is not random — it operates through equilibrium. The same
principle applies to human ethics. When greed, deception, or injustice disrupt
that equilibrium, society quakes. When we rebuild our lives on compassion and
truth, we restore balance.
When the earthquakes struck Cebu and Davao, I saw the
familiar Filipino story play out again — chaos followed by kindness, fear
replaced by faith. Neighbors shared food, rescuers braved danger, strangers
prayed together under makeshift tents. In those moments, I was reminded that
the earthquake does not only break; it also builds. It shakes what is fragile,
but it strengthens what endures — compassion, unity, and hope.
Perhaps the number ten, in these tremors, is not a sign of
destruction but of completion. Ten fingers to rebuild. Ten commandments to
remember. Ten reasons to choose what is right when everything else falls apart.
Faith and science, so often seen as rivals, are in truth
reflections of the same quest — the search for order in an ordered universe.
Science tells us how the earth moves; faith tells us why we must move forward.
Both, in their own language, speak of balance. As Psalm 19:1 declares, “The
heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.”
And the Qur’an echoes this equilibrium in *Surah Ar-Rahman (55:7–8):
“And the heaven He raised, and He imposed the balance — so
that you do not transgress within the balance.”
When that balance is broken — by arrogance, by corruption,
by disregard for truth — the world itself becomes the reminder.
So maybe these earthquakes are not signs of doom but signs
of dialogue — the conversation between Creator and creation, between nature and
morality. Maybe Earthquake and Number 10 is not about prediction, but
reflection. It is a reminder that just as the planet finds equilibrium after
every tremor, we too must find moral balance after every mistake.
When the ground beneath us shakes, it is not merely the
fault lines that move — it is our priorities, our values, our faith in one
another. Perhaps, in those seconds of trembling, we are meant to rediscover
what truly holds us together.
Maybe the earth doesn’t shake to destroy us. Maybe it shakes
to wake us. Maybe, in that shaking, the universe whispers the same message
found in every sacred text and scientific law alike — Finish what is right.
Correct what is wrong. Complete what is good.
And when the next earthquake comes — as it inevitably will —
may it find us not trembling in fear, but standing in faith. Because even when
the ground moves, the hand of God remains still. And in that stillness, if we
listen closely, we might just hear the earth not breaking, but praying —
reminding us that faith, in the end, must always be stronger than fear.
____
*About the author:
Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.
