We Could Be Heroes

Michael A. Halloran, in his book The Better Angels of Our Nature, provides a description of a Masonic oath that reads: “Whenever I see the grand hailing sign of distress given, or hear the words accompanying that sign, and the person who gives it appears to be in distress, I will fly to his relief at the risk of my life, should there be a greater probability of saving his life than losing my own.” (p. 162-163). The quote, attributed to one William Morgan, a man of questionable character and equally dubious Masonic affiliation, is nevertheless accurate in its intended message. We, as Masons, have a moral duty to help our Brethren in times of great need or dire emergency. But even though this particular passage has been used by anti-Masons both past and present to illustrate preferential treatment among members of the Fraternity, I believe that in it lies a higher directive, when we recognize that we are charged as Masons to render aid to all those who may need it, Masons or not.

The Volume of the Sacred Law tells us that a man once spoke to Jesus about the great commandment to love your neighbor as yourself. “But Teacher,” the man asked, “who is my neighbor?”

“In reply, Jesus said: ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day, he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’ Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’” (Luke 10:30-36, NIV).

There is no doubt in my mind that we owe first responders everywhere a tremendous debt of gratitude. They commit unimaginable feats of bravery and compassion giving hope, comfort, and protection to people who may never know their names, but will never forget their deeds. I know of fire fighters who have taken extra care to try and save a Brother’s Masonic belongings from his burning house; police officers who have gone out of their way to check in on a friend’s family who found themselves in a potentially dangerous situation; and medical personnel who have quieted violent hospital patients with a few whispered words. But not all of us are designed to pursue the unjust, enter a burning building, or treat a devastating injury. 

The majority of us may never warrant the label “hero,” but we are capable of great feats of decency and human kindness. I have known men who have organized efforts to repair and even build houses for the indigent. I have known men who take their 4-wheel drive vehicles out in snowstorms and offer assistance to stranded motorists, all without the thought or want of compensation. I have known men who regularly care for their elderly neighbors’ yards, home repairs, and quality of life issues. I have even known a man who received a call from a Brother in Puerto Rico who requested that he check on his mother, who lived in the area but had recently been involved in an accident. Such examples of selflessness may not rival the actions of the emergency personnel who regularly protect us, but they are no less important to those who find themselves in need. 

So keep that in mind when you donate your loose change to a worthy cause; when you help that fallen person to his feet; when you comfort that frightened child. You may never have occasion to save a life by risking your own, but you certainly may have occasion to change the minds, hearts, and lives of the people around you just by acting as every good Mason should. And in that respect, even we could be heroes, if just for one day.

To Help, Aid, and Assist

“In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing; the next best thing you can do is the wrong thing; and the worst thing you can do is nothing.” 

~ Brother Theodore Roosevelt

As Master Masons, we obligate ourselves to a number of fraternal duties of a “high and ennobling character.” One of the simplest, it may seem, revolves around offering aid and assistance to our “poor and penniless” Brethren approaching us in their time of need. This seems fairly uncomplicated. We all understand that financial hardship can befall any of us without warning and that our Brethren will support us to the extent that they are able. But what about the “poor” in this phrase? You might think it an intentional redundancy or a way to emphasize “penniless.” Clever alliteration, perhaps - or is it something more?

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines the word ‘poor’ initially as you might expect - lacking sufficient money or currency to maintain a certain standard of living. However, I find the alternate definition to be more enlightening: “worse than is usual, expected, or desirable; of a low or inferior standard or quality; deficient or lacking in.” This suggests that our fraternal obligation encompasses more than just monetary assistance. It means we are all charged with helping one another when our souls are in need.

A kind word or compliment may change someone’s outlook on the entire day. Sometimes a Brother with a problem is simply looking for an attentive ear, a good listener. The new member trying to learn his work seeks the positive reinforcement of a mentor, or the guidance of a teacher. The widow or child of a Brother may relish a fond recollection of their loved one. The visitor, willing to attend, but feeling out of place, may be comforted by a friendly smile and handshake. The time spent at dinner with the Brother you haven’t seen in a while may bring him back to Lodge more often. In fact, such things cost us little more than our own efforts.

The heart of providing help, aid, and assistance in accordance with our obligations isn’t so much in the financial aspects of relief, but more so in the act of doing. When you notice someone in need, help them. Offer your time; your attention; your knowledge; your strength; your compassion; and as we are all charged, “do this in a cheerful spirit, for our Great Master has said that he loveth a cheerful giver.”

Think of these things when, during the course of the Masonic year, you pause to honor those Brethren who have given their time and energy to serve Freemasonry and your Lodge. Think of our Pennsylvania brother, Samuel Davis of Keystone Lodge No. 271, who, in the early 1900’s, established an endowment that exists to this day for the purpose of providing relief to the minor children of deceased Freemasons. Think of the help, aid, and assistance these Brothers have provided over the years and continue to inspire in us even today. Think of these things and then do something yourself to make even the smallest difference in someone else’s life. It may cost you very little, but the rewards are bound to be priceless.

Masonic Ambassadors

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” 

~ Brother Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad/Roughing It 

“So, I see we have something in common already,” said the man as he exited his car and walked casually up the driveway toward me.

Well, it certainly doesn’t seem to be showing up for an appointment on time, I thought to myself. He was twenty minutes late already. “Oh, really?” I asked, this time aloud. “How so?”

“Well, for one, I see that we’re both traveling men,” he said pointing to the back of my car and smiling. Ah, that’s right. I have both a Past Master’s emblem and a Scottish Rite crest on the trunk lid, advertising my Masonic background to those inquiring minds who recognize such things. He’s got me there.

And so he did. Though I had never said a word to this gentleman in annoyance, I certainly had thought it. But once we began talking, all of that disappeared. This man whom I had just met was my Brother, and deserved better. The appointment went well, we had a great conversation, and parted as friends. It was only later as I replayed the incident over in my mind did I come to the realization that I had been wrong all along. I didn’t just owe a good and friendly attitude to the man simply because he was a Mason - I owed it to him simply because I was a Mason.

The term “traveling man” is most likely a reference for an ancient stonemason, who would travel great distances in search of work. Often times, this would involve journeys to neighboring lands, where the worker was unknown or unfamiliar with local customs. In such instances, could the man in search of work afford to be arrogant or surly? Of course not. He constantly needed to be mindful of his greatest commodity - himself. That, friends, made him an ambassador.

And we are no different. It’s almost expected to see Masonic ties, rings, lapel pins, and other adornments at Lodge events in the United States. In fact, we’re almost cavalier with the fact that we drape ourselves in the trappings of the greatest Fraternity on earth and forget to live like what we so boldly profess to be. Brethren, to travel is to expand your mind; experience new sensations; meet new people; step outside of your comfort zone; to see the world from a different perspective. As Twain said, it is a means of casting off the mundane trappings of your usual surroundings and drinking in something new. But don’t forget that equally as important as being a Masonic ambassador when traveling in different jurisdictions, is being that same Masonic ambassador on your own turf. Those Masonic emblems are still on your car (mine, too) when you cut someone off in traffic and offer them that special salute as you pass. You’re still wearing that ring and that tie when you’re grumbling about dues or speaking unkindly about someone behind his back. Remember, you don’t stop being a Freemason simply by going home. I have been approached on the job because of the emblem on my car; in a restaurant in another state because of the symbol on my shirt; on an airplane because of the ring on my finger. And each time I felt like an ambassador for Freemasonry, and was proud to play that part. Brethren, every time you put on Masonic dress, be it a tie, a jewel, or an apron, you are acting as a Masonic ambassador, whether you are in your home Lodge, or in some faraway jurisdiction. But you are also a Masonic ambassador when you’re at work, on vacation, or at home with family and friends. The Lodge in your heart, where you were first made a Mason, is always with you, and you should represent it proudly. 

Remember the words of the Closing Charge: “And these generous principles are to extend farther. Every human being has a claim upon your kind offices. So that we enjoin it upon you: do good unto all, while we recommend it more especially to those who are of the household of the faithful.”

The Iron Worker and King Solomon

Worth (n.) – [ME < OE weorth, to honor]  1. Material value, esp. as expressed in terms of money or some other medium of exchange.  2. That quality of a person or thing that lends importance, value, merit, etc., and that is measurable by the esteem in which the person or thing is held. – Webster’s New World Dictionary, 2^nd College Edition, 1984.

It was a comfortable spring evening in Philadelphia, 1859, and they were gathered at the La Pierre House in honor of his friend Henry C. Carey, Esquire, who had asked him to speak on the growing tide of industry in the modern world. The gentleman rose from his place, paused to straighten his waistcoat, and approached the dais. As Joseph Harrison, Jr. strode across the room, he met the occasional gaze of a guest with eyes that beheld an air of confidence, but not arrogance.

Harrison cleared his throat, stroked his freshly trimmed goatee, and looked out over the room. He was greeted with the briefest hint of a smile from his friend, the guest of honor, which he returned with a slight nod.

“In attempting to say a few words on the Mechanical Arts, I am sure you will find the task in unworthy, if not in very prejudiced hands.”

And Joseph Harrison, Jr. was very prejudiced indeed – not in thought or action toward his fellow man, but in his love of something much more ordinary. He was one of the very first American engineers and had spent much of his career building European railways and designing locomotive engines in America. His passion, though, was not merely for mechanical constructs or railroads. Harrison had a great appreciation and deep affection for something far simpler, but of much greater importance – iron. Joseph Harrison, Jr. knew its worth. 

In this particular keynote address, one might have expected him to speak of the growth of industry in Philadelphia, the advancement of the railways, or his success as an engineer both at home and abroad. But he didn’t.  Harrison instead spoke of Jehovah as the “first Great Mechanic.” He spoke of Tubal Cain, a great “instructor of every artificer in brass and iron;” of Noah, Hiram of Tyre, and King Solomon himself, as well as “all those who so cunningly worked in iron, and in brass, in gold and in silver, and in cedar wood on the holiest and grandest of temples.”

Yet for Joseph Harrison, all the artists and their craftwork paled in comparison to what he considered the “true precious metal: iron.” And to illustrate this important medium of mechanics, he did not refer to its many uses and benefits in construction, science, and art. No, Joseph Harrison, Jr. instead, told the story of a man.

***

Upon completion of the Temple at Jerusalem, King Solomon set aside a day for its consecration and invited all of the artisans who had worked on the Temple to the celebration. But as the horns sounded and the throne was unveiled, an Iron Worker was there seated in the place of honor to the right of the King’s seat! A flash of fury spread through the gathered crowd as the Smith, bare-chested and covered in perspiration having come directly from his labors, sat upright with head held high despite the presence of the King. The guards moved immediately to remove the offensive trespasser when Solomon himself cried out: “HOLD! Friend, why are you here?”

The Iron Worker replied, “Great King, did you not declare this a day of consecration and celebration to be shared among the artisans and chief workers on the Temple? I came not unbidden.”

Then the Chief of the Quarry said, “This man is not a stone mason. We do not know him.” And the Chief Woodcutter in charge of shaping the great timbers for the roof said, “Neither is he known to us.” Likewise, an artisan of gilt work spoke up saying, “I do not recognize him as a worker in refined metals, either.”

But the Iron Worker was unmoved and said to the Chief of the Stone Masons, “Who made the instruments with which you carve?” And he answered, “The Blacksmith.” Turning to the Chief Woodcutter, the Iron Worker asked, “Who made the tools you used to cut the timber in Lebanon and shape them for use in the Temple?” And he answered, “The Blacksmith.” And finally, turning to the artisan of gold and precious stones, the Iron Worker asked, “Who made the instruments that enabled you to create the beautiful gilt work adorning this magnificent Temple?” And he replied, “The Blacksmith.”

Then the Iron Worker faced the wise Solomon saying, “Behold, O King! I am the one they call the Blacksmith.” And King Solomon saw his worth and invited the Blacksmith to remain in the place of honor at the right hand of the King. And from then on, the Iron Workers were held in high esteem by all the artisans in the land.

***

Joseph Harrison, Jr. so loved this tale that he commissioned a painting depicting the story. The artist was Christian Schussele and the canvas was completed sometime between 1862 and 1863. It was later reproduced in 1889 as (fittingly enough) a steel engraving by an artist (and 33˚ Mason) named John Sartain and presently resides in the National Heritage Museum in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The print adorns the walls of literally thousands of Masonic Lodges across the country. The fact that Harrison himself cannot be positively identified as a member of the Fraternity is unimportant as there can be no doubt that he saw the worth of the story. The tale clearly illustrates the wisdom in understanding the importance of the contributions of everyone, no matter how great or small, how decorated or lowly, and regardless of outward appearance. It teaches that we should leave our Masonic mark on everyone we meet and everything we do and be aware that others will leave their mark upon us as well. A good friend and Brother reminded me recently that we all have value, but to remember that much of that value comes from others. Just as the stone worker or woodcutter owes part of a debt to the blacksmith for making his work possible, so too, do we owe a debt to teachers, artists, philosophers, scientists, laborers, Masons, and non-masons alike for leading us to seek more light. For without the efforts of all, the Temple never will be completed.

So where does that leave us today? Have you done work worthy of the temple? Have you done enough to be considered in the ranks of the artisans? Of course you have! Your contributions, no matter how large or how small they may seem to you, how elaborate or simple they may appear to others, or how noticeably or without recognition they may pass, are not only important, but absolutely vital to the continued health and success of Freemasonry. This is the merit King Solomon saw in the Iron Worker. This is why you are here - why you deserve to be here.

And yes, I see your worth.

Being Thrice Potent

Freemasonry is a fraternity fraught with impressive titles. It's not unusual to find yourself in conversation with a Worshipful, Right Worshipful, Most Excellent High, or Sovereign something or other from time to time. Don't get me wrong - the titular roles are demanding and those filling the positions are often well-deserving of holding their particular offices along with the lofty monikers. This year I find myself presiding over the Lodge of Perfection in the Ancient Accepted Scottish Rite with the rather impressive title of Thrice Potent Master. But what does that really mean - being thrice potent?

Let’s begin by examining something seen every day within the workings of a typical Lodge. In most progressive lines, the officers advance from one rank to the next, becoming incrementally proficient over an extended period. In this manner, a Brother can spend his days quietly, marking the passing time on the calendar and learning that which is necessary to carry him to the next higher officer's position. What's wrong with this? Well, nothing, I suppose, if you're satisfied with being the status quo and letting minimum standards dictate your level of performance. But what is our real purpose in doing anything? I've never heard of anyone striving for mediocrity. Where is the potency in that? I’m reminded of a passage from the Ancient Charge at Raising: “By the exercise of these rights and privileges [taking part as an active member of a Masonic Lodge], you may improve your rational and intellectual powers, qualify yourself to become a useful member of society, and vie with skillful Brethren in an endeavor to excel in everything that is good and great.” By continuing to study and play an active role in the lives of others, you increase your own potency. This isn’t just applicable to Masonry, either. It is important in your work place, your friendships, and most especially in your family. By taking part in an important conversation, or offering assistance when able, we re-establish some of the basic tenets of the Fraternity as well as expand on them by showing service to humanity, one of the core values taught in the Ancient Accepted Scottish Rite. What we should be doing, and part of being potent in the first place, is challenging ourselves to be more than we already are - pushing the envelope of our knowledge and understanding, while growing in our abilities to think for ourselves and reason with others. Potency is having both the confidence in yourself and the skill to function at a higher level than simply that of what is expected. It is showing a command and understanding of the nuances of the ritual, the rich history of the Fraternity, and having the talent to apply the lessons taught within the Lodge in your own daily life at home and at work.

But where do we go from here? So you can take care of yourself - good for you. This level of potency should enable you to make an impression on those around you. But how are you at taking what you know and making it accessible to others? It's often been said that if you really want to test your own proficiency at anything, then teach what you know to someone else. Make no mistake - it's much easier said than done. For my part, I began by teaching other officers in Lodge the things that I knew. But this is like sharing with family. There's a familiarity and comfort level already built into your audience. When I moved to teaching in the School of Instruction, I found that I needed to start over again. Suddenly, I discovered that what I thought I knew wasn't always correct, and that I also needed to learn how to teach others. I needed to quickly adapt and work with people of different personalities and backgrounds, and to be respectful and patient in how I communicated with them. A much deeper sense of responsibility emerged when I was able to pass on what I’d learned to someone else. Being proficient took on a whole new meaning. This is what I like to think of as being "twice potent.” 

So what about the next level? If having confidence and the ability to govern yourself is potency, and being able to share that knowledge in an efficient and effectual manner with others is being twice potent, then what's left? What exactly do you have to do to become thrice potent? I've thought about this quite a bit, and I think I've finally come up with the answer - nothing at all. 

You see, the truth is none of us can prepare or even learn to be thrice potent. I believe that being thrice potent is an honor that extends from our successors. This may come in the form of seeing those whom we have mentored or counseled excel in their own avocations and endeavors. It may be in a random act of kindness paid forward to another person, or a lesson we once taught conveyed to someone else. These lasting impressions are the final level to potency. A character in a movie once observed that “the man who honors his teacher honors himself,” (The Forbidden Kingdom, 2008). When you recognize the influences of your mentors, friends, and family, then you empower them with a potency that they cannot achieve alone. The key is that the secret isn’t in the title you hold or the number of years you've served, but in the trust someone else reposes in you. Be conscious of that trust. Be mindful of your responsibility to your Brother, your friend, your co-worker, and your family. Your words, no matter how small, carry weight, and in this very simple regard, we all have the opportunity to leave a deep and lasting impression, and strive one day to be thought of as thrice potent.

The Luminosity of Souls

Who is your muse? Do you have one? Several?

Mine have changed over time and I do not doubt that they will continue to evolve and transform as I do. Often, I find inspiration in the people around me, and I believe that is why I like the epigraph from the Sufi poet Rumi so very much. It encourages me to be proactive in choosing the company that I keep and to seek out those who influence me in a positive fashion. Of course, it's human nature for people to associate with those who share opinions and interests similar to their own. That's simple positive reinforcement. At times, the cliché "opposites attract" also comes into play as we strive to fill some personal aspect that, at least subconsciously, we feel to be lacking. What I find essential is having a receptive heart to recognize these influences when they appear.

What I have learned as a Freemason has helped me immensely in this regard. The open-mindedness and impartiality taught in the Fraternity has helped me to better recognize good people and good ideas without the prejudices of society or other biased individuals. My own internal search for Truth has rewarded me with relationships with truly remarkable individuals - men and women of different races, beliefs, backgrounds, and ideas. They have inspired me to become stronger in my faith, to nurture and grow my relationships with family and friends, and to constantly strive for self-improvement. They are beacons along my personal road of self-discovery. I am drawn to the internal light of specific individuals - the luminosity of certain souls - and from them I take encouragement and inspiration. What I learn, I try to pass on to those willing to listen and read, or to be an example as the opportunity presents itself.

What you may encounter on this page both now and in the future may serve you well or not at all. The light does not shine the same for everyone - there's nothing wrong with this. My only wish is that you move forward along your own path recognizing the goodness in people around you and take inspiration from those whose souls shine more brightly in your eyes. Be aware of good people and enlightenment in whatever form it takes. Take every opportunity to improve yourself spiritually, physically, and mentally, and perhaps we will meet again somewhere along the road as beacons to one another and share the luminosity of our souls.