Editor’s Note: For more on Freemasonry from this blog, see the Freemasonry category.
By popular demand from the followers of my Twitter stream, I’m cataloging my journey into Freemasonry. At this point, I have a vantage point of being involved for a few years, and so I have a bit of perspective on the events. From that perspective, I’ll say that all in all it has undoubtedly been worth it, although not in all the way I expected.
After leaving college, I hit the real world and discovered it to be a cold and lonely place. In college, I had been active in the ΒΚ chapter of ΘΧ, and for all the ups and downs that fraternity life offered, it was an excellent sense of community. I had something that I could work for and with: an organization whose ideals I admired and where people were in the same place as life as me, but where people had very different ideas and engaged in a dialog in those ideas. Furthermore, my brothers in ΘΧ really helped me grow up and become a better man — they held me accountable when I was being an idiot, and the opportunity to be their recruitment chair was one of the key formative experiences in my self-identity as a leader.
It didn’t take me too long after leaving college to realize that I wasn’t going to work well in the role of “alumnus who always hangs out at the house”. So I started looking for another organization which was similar in character, and it didn’t take too long for me to find Freemasonry. I didn’t know much about it — at the time, I didn’t know my great-grandfather was a Mason, and I didn’t know anything about the mythology that it is based on. I simply saw it as a fraternity like ΘΧ but for grown ups. I contacted Minneapolis #19 because they were close to my work, and was put in contact with a guy who was really stellar, and who I deeply admire. His enthusiasm for the organization sold me almost immediately. He talked about how Freemasonry was an organization of peers who were interested in religious ideas and charitable works, as well as the Freemasonic ideological basis of the United States. That was the kind of organization I wanted to be a part of: rich and accomplished. The post-Vietnam struggling of a traditional organization, which he also told me about, was nothing new or intimidating — I had just come off of driving recruitment for a ΘΧ chapter that was damn near closing up.
So I signed up. As I progressed through initiation, I had a voracious appetite for Masonic knowledge. I wanted to know everything. I showed up early to lodge meetings just to talk to the old guys about the history of the lodge and the Grand Lodge of Minnesota. I took the initiation in three consecutive months, and during those months the memorization work given to me was hard — memorization has always been my weak suit. Even so, if I had wanted I could have gotten all the memorization down in about five hours a week of work. However, I spent the entire month leading up to the next degree trying to ring every piece of knowledge out of the oath and the experience that I just had. It was exhilarating — like moving to a foreign country, but without leaving your home.
Each degree of initiation opened up a new take on things. The first degree began the initiatory process by introducing the odd words and customs of the organization, in particular emphasizing the overarching theme of the organization as life and death. The second degree began introducing concepts of duty and really drove home the drive for self-improvement and self-education as a personal responsibility. Yet despite being “in the flow” of initiation, I was completely blindsided when the meat of the third degree hit. The mythology aspect of it was totally new to me, and I didn’t know what was happening. The experience was all the greater for my lack of expectation, and by the end of it, I was totally blown away. I simply didn’t know what to make of it all.
I went from there directly into the Scottish Rite. I was warned against doing that, but there was more information in the Scottish Rite and I wanted to have at it. Plus, the best Masons of my lodge were Scottish Rite Masons, regularly talking about what was going on up there, and it sounded interesting. The Scottish Rite also has one of the most awesome mission and creeds I’ve ever encountered.
Moving through the Scottish Rite was fascinating. The Minneapolis Valley of the Scottish Rite performed each of the degrees, and did a pretty good job of it. For those that don’t know, the degree work of the Southern Jurisdiction of the Scottish Rite is divided into four parts: the “Lodge of Perfection“, the “Chapter of Rose Croix“, the “Council of Kadosh“, and the “Consistory“. Moving through each of those degrees really drove home lessons that were sidebars or consequences of other degrees. I took particularly well to the “Lodge of Perfection” degrees, which are focused so much on governance and a continuation of the mythos: I still remember those degrees clearly and think about their lessons daily. The “Consistory” degrees were also excellent, but they’re effectively the capstone to and climax of the Scottish Rite, so they’ve got lots of energy to work with.
After moving through all those degrees, and having lived with them for a while, I’ve discovered that the Masonic symbols and degree work provided a kind of bridge between my religious symbols and understanding and the real world. The symbol of Christ and Abraham and the messages of Christianity are hard for me to connect to the day-to-day life. I found the Masonic symbols to be a lot more practical than the Christian symbols, while still connecting to the truths that the Christian symbols represent. Unlike some of those Christian symbols, the Masonic lessons have really direct and obvious application to my day-to-day practicalities . And there’s a message I’m still struggling with about the basic nature of all religions — something that’s been curiously picked up in the stuff I’ve been reading about A.’.A.’..
Since my degree work, I went to a “Traditional Observence” lodge, and a bit of a dark spot in terms of my Masonic involvement, and now I’m in Durham, NC. Haven’t started looking around lodges here (need to decide on a church first), but I am certainly looking forward to it..
9 Comments
Robert, I’ve long been interested in the Freemasons, and admire much of what they (you) stand for and do. Unfortunately I do not believe in a Supreme Being. Are you aware of any similar organizations which do not require such belief?
I must say that I am envious of the fact that you had older members to help feed your desire for more light. In my small country lodge, most members do not take learning too seriously, and have never really demonstrated the want to share.
As I moved through the degrees, somewhat in the same manner as yourself, I felt overwhelmed by the shear amount of potential knowledge. Since my raising I have looked many places for assistance in my quest. There are many excellent sites to be found and read on the internet, but as you know it is a never ending search.
Ironically, I am now not only my lodges treasurer but also its Lodge Education Officer! Saints help me.
Good luck finding a church and new lodge.
@Anonymous Coward
I don’t know of any particular organization along the lines of Freemasonry which accepts atheists. I also haven’t really looked, though, since I’m not an atheist.
@Shane Stevens
I’ve got another posting coming up about some of the encouragements and disappointments I’ve had as I moved through Masonry, and what lessons I’ve learned from that. That was requested on Twitter (by you?), but it deserves its own focused post.
@Everyone
Just to be clear — I am a Christian. I did not mean to imply that I had in any way turned away from Jesus when I spoke of my difficulties in applying the Christian message. A few people interpreted it that way, and I wanted to clarify.
AC, you might want to take a look at Secular Humanism. There are organizations throughout the country. Needless to say, secular humanist organizations are nothing like freemasonry lodges which are highly ceremonial. However, you would have plenty of opportunity to learn more about life as an atheist, evolutionary theory, etc. The only ceremonial organizations that I know of that would allow atheists are hermetic orders like the Golden Dawn or the A.’.A.’.. Those organizations would definitely be more in line with the “feeding of the soul” that you may be looking for. Of course, if you are an atheist who doesn’t believe in a soul (or the need to feed it), then secular humanism is definitely the way to go. :)
Secular humanism might be okay. I’ve got a philosophical issue with them: without something external validating the value of a human being, I don’t see a philosophical basis of secular humanist ethics. Without an external validation, I end up at Nietzschean narcissism pretty fast, which means people end up having value only insofar as they can limit my ability to impose my will on my environment.
(Notably, this is why I appreciate Freemasonry’s requirement to believe in a Supreme Being.)
I’ve been trying not to comment here, because it’s likely to end in a flame war. But Robert, you’ve crossed a line.
I’d argue that Religion is an impediment to morality. WTF, you say? Well consider:
1) Religion gives you a cheap way out of guilt. Morality comes, first and foremost, from an ownership of the consequences of your actions- guilt, in other words. Everyone one of the ten commandments can be broken- even by moral people!- in the right circumstances. Thou shalt not kill? Not even in self defense? In a just war? The Quakers may take that commandment seriously, everyone else is crossing their fingers behind their backs.
Every religion I know off offers cheap and easy forgiveness for your sins. Just send a bunch of money to P.O. Box… The more staid and institutional religions aren’t quite so blatant about it, but the end result is the same- accept Jesus into your heart (aka support the religion- maybe not monetarily, but socially), perform this not too onerous of a absolution rite, and you’re off scot-free.
To which I say bullshit. Jesus may have forgiven you- I don’t know, he’s not returning my phone calls- but the crime still exists. The harm created still exists. I’ve hurt people in my life- nothing serious, I’m glad to say, but I have sinned. And it doesn’t matter what sort of performance art I do, they’re still hurt. Some sins I’ve made up for, others I just get to carry around as regrets. But this makes me much more cautious about making irrevocable decisions I might regret later. This makes me more moral- makes me more aware of the fact that I own the consequences of my actions. No easy way out for me.
2) Received morality is unquestionable. Think about it. Supposedly, your morality as a Christian comes directly from God. And who are you to question God? Any assumption that morality comes from a divine being (via this particular book and/or person) leads pretty directly to biblical literalism and fundamentalism. The second you start ignoring something in the Bible you are no longer following God’s morality, but your own. Those words in that book, they’re just suggestions. The difference between you and I is that I’m just being honest about it.
3) Is it a sin when God commands it? I’m not even just talking about modern (post-Jesus) religious wars and crime- although there are more than a few of those- the old testament (literal word of God, remember) is full of crap that’s horrific when you stop to think about it. Murder and rape and robbery and war, all at the behest of a loving and benevolent god. This is the ultimate “get out jail free ” card- you’re not committing a sin because you’re performing God’s will.
4) Religion demeans the human condition, because it promises rewards in the next life- excusing crimes committed in this life. You know where the term “secular humanist” comes from? It’s older than you might think- it actually came from the early Renaissance, and it meant that the secular human- this life, here on earth- had value and deserved respect. This stood in stark contrast with the dominate philosophy and teachings of the church, which said (paraphrasing) it doesn’t matter if you get pissed on this life, your reward is in the next life. Which has a lot of support in the bible. The secular humanist position was that it did matter if you got pissed on in this life. The whole point of secular humanism is that there is a value to a human being, the actual human being in front of you right now. Any point where you’re talking about the value of a human being, you are adopting the secular humanist position.
By the way, this is a very comforting philosophy for the ruling elite. I’m a lord and you’re a serf because God made us this way, and rebelling against that is rebelling against God, and puts your immortal soul in danger. Since you’re only going to be alive for a short period of time, but in heaven or hell for all eternity, it makes sense to put up with the deprivations and crimes in the here and now in return for an eternal reward. Now stop thrashing so, before you splash some piss back on me. Of course, my attitude may be formed by the fact that my ancestors were, by and large, peasants and not nobles.
5) Fear of punishment is not the only motivator. Religion treats people like children. In addition to assuming they can’t figure anything out for themselves or take responsibility for their own actions, it also assumes that the only reason they will do good is fear of punishment. Not everyone needs a Super Daddy, or Almighty Father, to spank us when we step out of line. Simple empathy goes a surprisingly long way. I don’t hurt other people because I empathize with them. Hurting them hurts me.
Do you really feel no empathy what so ever to your fellow man? Can you not imagine that I might, also? We have a word for people who truly feel no empathy- we call them psychotics. Is you contention that all human beings are really psychotics, or just secular humanists? Psychotics scare us for damned good reasons, and it scares me that you can’t think of why someone would value another human being without fear of punishment.
This is especially ironic, given how central avoiding punishment for your sins is to most religions (especially western religions). If there is no morality without threat of punishment, then doesn’t anything that removes the threat of punishment for transgressions undermine morality?
The point here is not to piss people off. although I have no doubt doubt I’ve done exactly that. The point here is that religion has no monopoly on morality. Never has, never will.
Heh. Somewhat funny comment, since I’ve been considering becoming a Quaker as a consequence of theological explorations combined with my active support for nonviolence. My biggest issue with them is that they have wandered too far afield from their Christian roots: although the organization was based on undeniably Christian organizers and principles, at least the Durham meeting seems to be fairly explicitly non-Christian at this point. Which is hard for me, because while I appreciate the place where they’re coming from, there’s some baby-with-the-bath-water stuff I would wish they’d keep around. Anyway — back to the primary point.
Human beings can and will game any moral system, and will flock to those who will enable it. While the social structures around Christianity have fallen into that temptation time and time again, at its core Christianity does not give you a free pass — anyone who tries to tell you that you can do whatever you’d like because you’ve accepted Jesus into your heart needs to double back to Romans and Galatians. To repent in Christianity requires an admission of guilt, acknowledgment of what’s wrong with the sin, and an effort to remedy it: that’s what we’re called to and expected to do. Now, God expects the best out of you, but there’s also a safety net provision — God’s not going to judge you simply because you failed to dot all the “i”s and cross all the “t”s. Maybe you consider that the “get out of jail free” card, but to do so is conflating God not expecting perfection and God not expecting the best. And it really is the best — in reality, if you look at what the Bible teaches, life is actually harder on the Christian than non the non-Christian: Matt 10:37-39 and 16:21-25 echo the same sentiment: “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.”
While it’s true that at the end of the day I’m drawing my own conclusions, by taking my faith into account I also have a larger set of axioms from which to build. The existence of consciousness in other people, while scientifically and objectively unknowable, is a leap of faith backed up by my religious reading. The fact that the consciousness of others has infinite innate value is another untenable philosophical axiom that I take as a principle of faith. These are things taught by Christianity which seem to be reflected in the nature of the world.
Although I believe in the scriptures as the greatest reference book on moral issues and the vessel of a sacred tradition of divine interaction, I also believe that the Bible was written by people, and so its assertions need to be checked against the Creator’s work. The Christian way of thinking about morality, sin, self-sacrifice, and repentance strongly echoes our own (re-)discoveries in economics (Keynesian economics is inherently kenotic), politics (servant-leadership), psychotherapy (personal accountability and growth), and sociology (interconnectedness/self-sacrifice), and so I take that as evidence of Christianity’s accuracy that the key messages laid out — the ones that validate those theories — have some kind of innate and profound accuracy.
This is actually the hardest issue in Christianity, and one that is painfully difficult to struggle with. Kierkegaard explored the Abraham and Isaac story in particular — even if God finally intervened and stopped Abraham, the reality is that Abraham was ready to sacrifice Isaac, and that can’t be confused as anything more than really a deep and profound sin. Yet God both asked for it and rewarded it. Which implies something significant about the non-literal nature of God’s Word, but also about the crisis that Christians have to struggle through. Jesus, after all, was also regularly being identified as a sinner and a heretic, and by the best thinkers at the time in His tradition, He was. This issue is the core of Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, and the general Christian existentialist thinking.
Our Father, who art in Heaven,
Hallowed by thy name,
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done,
On Earth as it is in Heaven
To portray Christianity as being about the next life is to do a profound disservice to the religion. Most certainly, it’s a disservice the ruling elite of the social structures around Christianity — for the exact reasons you lay out — often propagated. But the emphasis on the afterlife is a Greco-Egyptian idea, foreign to the prophets of the Old Testament or to those traditions around Jesus and the earliest epistles. The idea leaks in to some of the latest books and (via Gnosticism and the Roman church) back into the mainstream traditions of Christianity.
Ignoring the last four sentences (I’ll get to them later), I deeply agree with the statement about organized religion often infantilize people. Insofar as it does that, it’s doing more harm than good. I can intellectually understand the justification to a certain extent — people aren’t going to put the study and thought they should into morality, so it’s best just to give them the Cliff’s Notes — but the solution seems to cause more problems than it solves.
Sure. So I can decide not to hurt other people because it upsets me. But that equally means that if it doesn’t upset me, I shouldn’t care about someone being hurt. And if I don’t like someone, so hurting them makes me feel better (and I won’t get punished for it or somehow have that “feel better” reduced), I should go for it. At the end of the day, the “I like people, so I don’t hurt them” argument is just Nietzschean narcissism in much gentler, more palatable packaging.
That’s a just fine philosophical stance: in fact, I think it’s the only defensible atheistic philosophical stance. Unfortunately (from a Christian standpoint), the prescriptive aspect of it is that philosophical stance is that caring about people is self-limiting and self-destructive, and therefore to be minimized insofar as it can be without causing additional harm to yourself.
At the end of the day, the question boils down to this: if you’re in a situation where hurting someone else gains you in real ways more than it loses you — meaning that whatever reward you get outweighs the punishment — should you go ahead and hurt the person? A Christian (insofar as I understand Christianity) has to say “No”. A Nietzschean says “Sure”. This is basic idea behind “just war”, punishment-based prison systems (as opposed to “restorative justice”), etc.
Christianity teaches that avoiding sin is living in accord with the nature of the world and of God — and that we want to be in accord with God and His creation because we love Him. That’s not motivation via fear of punishment, although it’s certainly true that it’s not very comfortable for a Christian to live out of accord with God and His creation.
A beautiful and inspiring look at your journey in Freemasonry. Life is funny–you have no idea how badly I needed this right now.
@AV
Glad to be of service. Let me know if there’s anything else you’re curious about: I was planning on writing more about my involvement in Freemasonry, but didn’t really know what to write on.
I’ve also considered navel-gazing posts on the problem of Jephthah, my growing fondness for the Quakers, and how I came to land at seminary. Over at my garden blog, I just did a self-indulgent post on why I’m doing an organic garden, called This is a Victory Garden. It kicks off with a Voltaire quote, so it’s got to be good, right?
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[...] navel gazing in the vein of Experience of a Freemason: Thoughts a Few Years In, this time about the nature of my faith and my path to Duke [...]