The Tao of Masonry

We Masons love the idea of learning our ritual and ceremonies in a word-perfect fashion. Well, Past Masters love that idea, especially if it means that some newbie officer should be doing the learning while the Past Master does the  complaining  coaching from the sidelines.

Some jurisdictions in the US have a “mouth to ear” tradition, in which the ritual is taught by a proven instructor to one person, or a small group. Other states have printed copies of the rituals and ceremonies that are passed out to (or sometimes, purchased by)  a member. Some states have such monitors written in plain English, while others might use a shorthand or some other kind of code in order to disguise the words – as if you couldn’t already get them from some website, or purchased in book form.

Connecticut is one of those states that has a ritual monitor in plain English; that is, if you can call the sometimes tortured grammatical constructions and archaic words and phrases “plain.” They have had this plain English version for at least ten years before I became a Masons, which was almost another ten years ago. The English version grew out of an older version that used two books: one being encoded (really, just using abbreviations), and the other a key; that version had been used for quite some time.

Recently, some people have been suggesting that we might want to go back to using the abbreviated word code. I have found that the people suggesting this are either old-timers who learned that way in the first place, or young, new guys who are geeky about Masonry. The old-timers claim that people will learn ritual better, since they will have to work harder, and the young-timers are usually the kind of geeks who would, given the opportunity, have been taking a Klingon class.

I used to pooh-pooh the idea because I learned ritual using the plain English books, and I think I have done rather well, at least, if you don’t count the fact that I often find myself substituting some of the archaic words with synonyms that roll more readily off the tongue. But the way that I learn these passages isn’t necessarily the best way for everybody, so I concede that the coded books might have some merit.

That’s why I found it interesting to see an article on Lifehacker this past week, which revisited a study in which  schoolchildren were given copies of material to learn; some were given good copies, while others were given copies in hard-to-read fonts. Researchers discovered that the children who had to work harder to read the material had the best retention.

From the BBC News Article:

Researchers found that, on average, those given the harder-to-read fonts actually recalled 14% more.

They believe that presenting information in a way that is hard to digest means a person has to concentrate more, and this leads to “deeper processing” and then “better retrieval” afterwards.

It is an example of the positive effects of what scientists call “disfluency”.

“Disfluency is just a subjective feeling of difficulty associated with any mental task,” explained psychology Prof Daniel Oppenheimer, one of the co-authors of the study.

“So if something is hard to see or hear, it feels disfluent… We’d found that disfluency led people to think harder about things.

[...]

Students given the harder-to-read materials scored higher in their classroom assessments than those in the control group. This was the case across a range of subjects – from English, to Physics to History.

The lead author of the study Connor Diemand-Yauman told the BBC that psychology is revealing all sorts of “counter-intuitive” results in the field of education.

“Everyday psychologists are showing that seemingly insignificant factors can have big effects on how we process and retain information.”

[...]

It’s an interesting idea, and while I’ll concede that there may be some benefit to the idea that learning ritual in code is inherently better, I think that there are too many variables for this to be definitive.  Again, from the article:

“What really matters most when reading is mindfulness… it’s not printing things badly that’s needed, but more thoughtful reading”.

[...]

“Obviously, if you can’t read it at all, you can’t learn it. At some point you may get so annoyed that you give up without trying! Different people probably have different thresholds.

And in my opinion, that is what holds so many members back; they simply get annoyed at trying to read something that they just don’t understand. Will presenting it in code make the archaic usages any more attractive?

The Grand Lodge Annual Communication was Monday of this week. In Connecticut, they generally follow a pattern: a disjointed opening (because we all know that Grand Lodge officers can’t do ritual), three hours of introductions, another hour of Masonicare presentations, and then an hour break for lunch (after which there seem to be a lot of empty seats). After lunch, we have a few items of business, some remarks from the outgoing Grand Master, a few rounds of applause, and then a disjointed closing. Although I complain about them all the time, I generally try to make time to participate. Connecticut is a fairly small state, so it’s not that much of an inconvenience, unlike some other states which require an 8 hour drive. However, as it happens, several people at work are out this week, so I probably won’t get out of the office early enough to make the session, or even the installation of the new officers later on.

Not that anybody will miss me, of course, seeing that after today, I will have been stripped of my position as the District Grand Lecturer.
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No, it wasn’t because of my latest April Fool’s prank. It’s simply that they have decided to eliminate the position entirely.

I’m still so not the drama, remember ?

My travels over the last three years have given me a few things to think about with regard to the ritual and ceremonies of the lodges in and around my district.

After the District Lecturer position was created, there were still issues as to what the officers should do and how they should do it. Initially, it was expected that they would help the lodges to improve in their ritual skills, but there were never any definite plans as to how they were supposed to go about doing so. Not surprisingly, some Lecturers did little, for fear of over-stepping some boundary. Others tried things such as helping at rehearsals, or having Q&A sessions on lodge nights, or sponsoring practice sessions. However, without any authority to compel the officers of under-performing lodges to participate, you can imagine that the people most often seen at the practice sessions were those who needed the least amount of help. And again, not surprisingly, some people complained that ritual wasn’t getting any better.

There’s an old joke about how many psychologists it takes to change a lightbulb. The answer is none; the lightbulb has to want to change.

Back in 2005, Connecticut tried to implement some small steps to improve the ritual work. They required that all incoming Masters for 2006 be certified in the ability to open and close a lodge. I was in that first class of Masters, and it was witnessed by the District Lecturer, two District Deputies, and their Associate Grand Marshals. A few years later, the certification job was given to the District Lecturers. I’ve complained a few times that often Senior Wardens would wait until the very end of the year before calling me, meaning that October and November would see me visiting several lodges a week.

It didn’t really help, though.

One of the the point that everybody missed is that some lodges have a very strong internal culture that values good ritual work. Those lodges pass these expectations on to new members in various ways; perhaps by showcasing certain good ritual performers, or by asking new officers to start memorizing lectures as soon as possible, or by holding not just one, but a number of rehearsals for degree work. What usually happens in those cases is that new officers will take up the challenge — especially if they are praised for their good work, instead of being carped at for missing a word or two. Yes, some old-timers have told me that they developed good ritual skills because the old-timers before them were harsh task-masters, but times have changed. Nobody wants to be humiliated into not doing a bad job, they prefer to be coaxed into doing a god job.

What I have noticed is that the men from these lodges have consistently better degrees because they enjoy doing it. And they enjoy doing it because they know that their brothers have encouraged them along. More interesting is that even those who consider themselves to be “poor” performers (compared to their peers) are often much better than the average performers at other lodges.

Lodges like that do not need District Lecturers, except, perhaps, to address some of the finer points of ritual and floor work.

Another point that was missed is that the lodges that really need the most improvement tend to be full of officers who don’t believe that they need any help. Connecticut is very liberal in ritual; we have a printed monitor, but several lodges follow rituals that pre-date the Grand Lodge itself. A few others have somehow managed to create their own, but have been doing so for so long that nobody bothers trying to correct them. To accommodate such differences, the Grand Lodge has a policy, which is summed up as “In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty.” So, in the absence of regulation, some lodges have managed to develop “traditions,” i.e., customs that make their work markedly different from that of other lodges.

But a large number of lodges differ simply because they are doing something not just markedly different, but remarkably wrong. When questioned, they simply claim that it’s “lodge tradition,” and expect to be given a pass. Generally, the “tradition’ was an error on the part of one member that was inadvertently passed down to succeeding officers, most of whom learned ritual not from reading the monitor, but from trying to emulate the other officers, and who ended up copying the mistakes as well as the important things.

Connecticut has always had a problem with defining the essentials from the non-essentials, but I think that the overall view of the Grand Lodge itself is to let those lodges alone that are doing good ritual, even if that ritual is not exactly what is in the book. I know that this view drives some of my brothers in other, more rigidly defined states into looking for the smelling salts, but they, themselves forget, that ritual was always fluid and changing, especially in the educational lectures, which often varied from lodge to lodge. It’s a common misconception that the ritual we hear today is the same thing that has been passed down the generations; personally, I believe that this fluidity is one of the most interesting aspects of ritual practice, and should be one of our incentives to travel to other lodges.

Anyway, it’s probably pointless to discuss this any further. As the only official duties of the District Lecturers (certifying that potential Masters can open and close a lodge) were brief, those will now be assigned to the Associate Grand Marshals; the ones in my district are eminently qualified, and they are excellent brothers, as well.

For my part, I’ve been appreciative not only for the support that most of the lodges in my district have shown me, but also for the several lodges that actually asked for my help. It gave me a great opportunity to work with some fine new officers, and hopefully I’ve been able to pass along something useful to them. I w
ish them all the best in the future.

Okay, the post title is a bit sensationalized, but we finally have proof of our theory that high-ranking Masons really have codified the methods that they have used since the Middle Ages  for killing revenants (i.e., zombies and vampires) in their secret rituals. What we have discovered is not so much a preparedness plan as a procedure manual that describes the methodology.

I’d like to say that I hacked the secret files to the Grand Lodge of Connecticut, because it sounds so dramatic, but the truth is more mundane. When I was down at the offices recently, one of the admins had left his PC on, and I noticed the passwords on a sticky note at the top of his monitor. When he stepped out for coffee, I just copied them down. Yeah, so not Kim Possible, but it worked. When I got home, I fired up my laptop and started browsing the folders. I skipped over the usual stuff on the Kennedys, the NASA/Zeta-Reticuli connection, public water flouridation, and found it hiding at the very end under Zombies.

Here is a link to a PDF file right on the Grand Lodge site that describes the ancient Masonic zombie-killing techniques.
EDIT: The higher-ups at the Grand Lodge have taken down the link, but I saved a copy which I’ve uploaded to my Google Docs. You can see or download it here: Zombie Expulsion.

For those of you who are reading this on your phones and can’t open the PDF file, I’m reprinting the text below.

THE MOST WORSHIPFUL GRAND LODGE

OF ANCIENT FREE AND ACCEPTED MASONS

Applicability and Responsibility
This document is applicable to all Constituent Lodges of the Grand Lodge A.F. & A.M. of
Connecticut, and may be of some use to coordinate and appendant bodies.

Responsibility for maintaining this document rests with the Committee on Masonic
Information, and with the approval of the Grand Master.

Synopsis
The purpose of this procedure is to discern appropriate strategies for responding to a zombie infestation that might affect the officers, members, and support staff of the Grand Lodge of Connecticut, A.F. & A.M., or its related appendant Masonic bodies. Methods for permanent expulsion are discussed.

Note
A number of resources are available on the subject of revenants, and it is not the purpose of this Grand Lodge to offer scientific explanations or theories as to the origin of what are popularly known as “zombies”, nor to speculate upon the habits of those stricken with the syndrome. Rather, our intention is to concentrate on maintaining the ancient and traditional methods of eradicating zombies, should an outbreak or infestation occur.

While the media continue to treat the possibility of a zombie infestation with humor, the fact is that most organizations and local governmental agencies are quietly developing contingency plans to deal with potential outbreaks. The Grand Lodge of Connecticut encourages other Grand Lodges to use this procedure as a guideline in developing their own emergency preparedness plans.

Discussion
Throughout history there have been reported cases of attacks by revenants; creatures that were once human, and who have for unknown reasons been reanimated. While such cases are rare, it is important for Freemasons to understand the dangers and learn how to defend themselves; living persons caught mentally and physically unaware by these are generally either killed and eaten, or will fall victim to the same syndrome.

Since the disease affects 100% of the victims, often within 24 hours, it is important for Masons to be aware of the signs of a potential zombie outbreak, or indications that an area is, or is about to become infested.

Typical indications of outbreaks or infestations in an area are generally accounted for by:

- unexplained disappearances of people with whom one had been in frequent contact.
- unexplained violent deaths.
- deaths by apparent animal mauling.
- sudden news blackouts immediately following reports of unusually violent activity in rural areas.

Note that such outbreaks are frequently accompanied by:

- repeated assurances from government and authorities that zombies do not exist, or that there is no cause for alarm.
- increasingly reported sightings of random individuals that meet the typical descriptions of those in a zombified state.

Since the days when Freemasons traveled across England and Europe to build the castles and cathedrals of the Middle Ages, they have learned much about how to deal with small, localized cases. Accordingly, it is the duty of modern Freemasons to prepare for such contingencies, and to deal with them appropriately.

Investigation
Before Masons can manage instances of zombie outbreaks, they must be able to identify them. Although folklore, current literature, and media reports are very descriptive (and often wrong), there are several common elements in identifying an actual revenant.
In general, zombies can be identified by their:

- long periods of apparent inactivity.
- seemingly random attempts at movement.
- lack of physical coordination, especially when walking.
- slow, but deliberate locomotion in the direction of food (or potential victims).
- little or no apparent reaction to new stimuli (loud music, bright lights, etc).
- frequent inarticulate moaning sounds.

With the understanding that new Masons may have difficulty discerning zombies from some of the current living members of the fraternity, and with an eye to avoid repeating some of the sad, but understandable mishaps experienced in the past, it is recommended that zombie investigation committees include at least one experienced Past Master.

Preparation
Once a revenant has been identified, it is imperative that it be terminated, or in Masonic terminology, suspended or expelled from the fraternity as soon as possible, before it has the opportunity to infect other members. Despite the various methods displayed in the popular media, most of those seen are only Hollywood special effects, and are not particularly effective in the case of actual zombie infestations. While flame throwers, chainsaws, and heavy automatic weaponry look dramatic on the big screen, their suitability is ext
remely limited, their fuel and ammunition requirements are high, and the possibility of mechanical components breaking down in the middle of an expulsion makes them much more risky than traditional implements.

It is not widely known that our ancient rituals contain within them a time-proven method for the expulsion of zombies; indeed, in order to avoid panic in the cities, Freemasons have worked closely but quietly with local and national governments for centuries. The industrial revolution of the early 1700s saw a fast rise in the populations of cities, and with it, the potential for more frequent zombie outbreaks. Masonic scholars will not be surprised to learn that the addition of the Hiramic drama to the third degree ceremony shows the ingenious manner in which our early speculative brothers dispatched such infestations.

Purging
Lodges in the midst of infested areas should form the Craft into teams of three men each, with each team preferably having an experienced Past Master.

Individuals that have been positively identified as zombies should be expelled according to the customary methods. As most younger Masons have probably not been educated in the old traditions, it is imperative that senior officers provide more detailed instruction. However, the basics are outlined in the next section.

Individuals that have been only potentially identified as zombies should, if possible, be isolated or tracked until the Past Master, or the most experienced Master Mason available, ascertains that the creature actually is a zombie and not, for example, a District Lecturer, a Past District Deputy, or an appointed Grand Lodge officer, as such misidentifications by inexperienced Masons have been common in the past, even in the best of circumstances.

Expulsion
Masons have always defended their lodges and other nearby buildings, such as pubs and restaurants, from zombie infestations. As the revenants appear to be oblivious to pain, the safest, and most effective methods of expulsion require a team of men. Traditionally, they divided up into parties of three, each Mason carrying one of the tools as described by custom. The easiest way for the team to expel a zombie is to have each member step in for his particular station, and then to remove himself from the situation so as to allow space and time for the next team member. By the time the third member has finished, the zombie should be completely expelled.

The time-honored methods is as follows:
The first team member utilizes a rule, or better, an edged weapon, and strikes as hard as possible across the throat of the zombie. While tradition holds that swords were used in the past, such implements are difficult to acquire, let alone to have within easy reach. However, good quality machetes are common enough, and having such in one’s home or car would give little cause for questions. The team member should try for decapitation, but realizing that cutting through sinew and bone is much more difficult in real life than in the movies, the objective should be to slice across the entire throat, in order to avoid having the machete or other instrument become lodged in the neck of the zombie.

He should then step aside and allow for the next Mason to strike the zombie as hard as possible in the chest or midsection. This creates a shock to the body and causes them to slow down. Tradition indicates that cudgels may have been used (although current research suggests that such weapons were probably too short to be effective), however baseball bats, axe handles, and crowbars are probably better substitutes. Crowbars have the advantage of the curved, hooked end which would be sharp enough to tear open the body cavity.

Finally, the third member strikes the coup d’etat — a hard blow to the head with a heavy, blunt instrument. The human cranium is surprisingly durable, but if the previous blow across the neck was cut deeply enough, the head should separate from the neck. Alternately, striking from the side would have the effect of breaking or smashing the thinner bones of the skull. Circumstances will indicate which will be the better option. Appropriate tools would be setting mauls, small sledge hammers, or brass-faced dead-blow mallets.

Reporting
After the expulsion of a revenant has been successfully performed, it is important for the team to submit a report to the secretary of the lodge, who will need to include it in the monthly records submission to the Grand Lodge.

Please note that if the subject of expulsion was a member of that particular lodge, it is important to note this in the records so that he can be stricken from the rolls, and the lodge not be charged for his annual portion of the Grand Lodge dues.

One of the great things about the internet is how people with seemingly nothing in common can exchange ideas without ever actually meeting in person. Such is the case when I recently began exchanging emails with an amateur historian, an epidemiologist, and a professor of sociology. At first, it seemed that our only common bond was that we all share an interest in Freemasonry; however over time it developed that we all had some questions about our gentle Craft that have never been satisfactorily answered. As we began discussing the dilemma, we also found that we were able to integrate our various fields of knowledge in order to work through the problem. In doing so, we believe that we have managed to solve one of the most puzzling  issues in the early history of the fraternity.

We now have some serious evidence pointing to the origins of what is commonly known as The Hiramic Legend in the Master Mason degree.

Some brief background: Early Freemasonry had only two degrees, the Entered Apprentice, and Fellowcraft (i.e., Fellow of the Craft). This situation was extant before the 1717 formation of the Grand Lodge of England, and continued for some years afterward. Yet, sometime in the mid-1700s, records show that various lodges seemed to have begun performing some variation of this legend. The origins of the drama are unknown, but is often attributed to being some kind of morality play. The drawback of this theory is that the legend draws on the Biblical story of Hiram Abiff; in the Old Testament, Hiram is a relatively minor character.

More confusing is the rather obvious paradox in which the Masonic legend deviates so drastically from the actual Old Testament story: in the OT, Hiram Abiff comes to help King Solomon build his famed Temple, and when finished, goes home to his family with some considerable payment. In the Masonic drama, however, Hiram is shown to be struck down before the completion of the Temple by three Fellowcrafts, who then attempt to hide his body in a makeshift grave out in the dessert. This is the most extreme departure from Biblical scripture recorded in any of the dozens of Masonic ceremonies, and it stands to reason that there is a purpose for this. By taking what we know about Masonic history from that era, and placing it within the context of the social and cultural aspects of the time,  we believe that we have discovered that purpose.

To understand the social context, we need to consider that the early 1700s was the beginning of the Industrial Revolution; prior to this period, most people lived an agrarian-based lifestyle. However, as more factories were built in and around the cities, larger populations were drawn into the urban areas, and by the mid-1700s, larger numbers of people left the farming communities to see work in the factories. Not surprisingly, the population explosion led to issues of public hygiene: the spread of disease, the disposal of wastes, and the proper internment of the growing number of the deceased.

Although we can trace Freemasonry back to the late 1400s and early 1500s, it wasn’t until the early to mid 1700s that we see the rise of organized networks of Masons, via the formation of Grand Lodges. There are no records as to why several London lodges decided to formalize their arrangement, but it wasn’t long before other lodges joined the network — and it was a network, as the lodges we more able to freely exchange information, including the variations of their rituals and ceremonies. It is significant to note that during this period, There were still only the two degrees in Masonry;  “Master” Masons were those who were literally Masters of their lodges. Likewise, the degree ceremonies were relatively simple and the basic ceremonies were essentially the same in each lodge, although many lodges had their own particular set of “lectures” for the candidates.

At some point in the early to mid 1700s, we see records of lodges adding a type of morality play to the degree ceremonies. The main character varies in some of the earliest versions, but by the third quarter of the 1700s, that character was solidified as Hiram Abiff, and the stories became more consistent. Interestingly, they all contain similar elements: A character is beset by three assailants, and is then murdered; each assailant using a different weapon and attacking a different part of the character’s body. In many variations, the Hiramic legend specifies that Hiram is struck across the throat, in the chest, and in the head. The assailants (often referred to as the “Ruffians” in North America) strike with tools commonly associated with Masons: A square, a rule  (sometimes called the 24 inch gauge), and a mallet or setting maul.

While Masons often assume that the assailants use those particular tools as a way to tie in to the tradition working tools in the various degrees, as we unearthed more information about the underlying social context, it became obvious that this line of reasoning has it backwards; that is, the legend itself is an instructional play that uses these tools as a way to reinforce knowledge to which only a few were at one time privy.  And while we can not yet account for the reasoning behind using the character Hiram Abiff (except that he is a relatively minor character in the OT, and the change of storyline would be easily forgotten), we believe that the traditional lessons taught by this drama — about his integrity and bravery in the face of death — intentionally overshadow the real lessons that needed to be passed down to the new generations of Masons living in the crowded cities and urban areas. In this light, it is the Ruffians themselves who are the teachers and exemplars.

Consider: the three blows to Hiram are the neck, chest, and head. Why? Ignoring the symbolism behind this, those are the traditional  and time-tested points of attack in order to dispatch revenants; those re-animated corpses that wander the countryside in search of living flesh.

It appears that the Three Ruffians are exemplifying the secret art of what the popular media now might call zombie hunting.

It’s easy to dismiss this as nonsense because in our modern era, revenants are portrayed as either sexy, sparkly, quasi-supernatural creatures, or as shambling, brain-devouring bogeymen. But before modern medicine and proper burial techniques, folks in the rural areas and countryside knew that periodically some unknown force would re-animate the newly buried, who then roamed the area terrorizing the denizens with their mindless taste for flesh until they were put down. In fact, until Bram Stoker’s fictional account in the late 1800s, there really were few distinctions between what we now call vampires and zombies; they were simply the re-animated, walking dead.

The question now presents itself: how do the Freemasons figure into this?

Consider that before the late years of the Industrial Revolution, firearms were rare, and most people themselves could not afford metal tools and implements, let alone weaponry (and at some points in history, metal weapons were forbidden to those not of the noble class).This is one of the reasons that a wooden stake through the heart became part of vampire lore: no rural farmers had swords, but skewers, posts, and spindles were easy to come by. Although superstitions attached more importance to the idea of using wood, obviously the important part was destroying the heart.

As the need for Masons grew during the period from the 1300s on up, Masons became a well-traveled, and therefore, more educated, class of
worker. Small groups of Masons were almost always carrying various tools and implements, often made of metal. Our research suggests that when traveling through sparsely populated areas, some Masons, being less superstitious than the local population, developed a means of eliminating these revenants in such a way as to expose themselves to as little  harm as possible. This information they eventually passed on to other traveling brothers, after making sure that those brothers would not reveal such secrets to the superstitious; the Catholic Church was still strong in Europe, and since most Masons were employed at cathedrals and monasteries, they would not want to be perceived to be trafficking with the undead.

This brings us to the methods that the early Masons used to eradicate the revenants. Since Masons often traveled in small groups, each would step in for a short, quick attack, then step aside to allow the next attack. While it is suggestive that this two or three pronged approach may have been passed along from the Knights Templar, this is mere conjecture on our part, as the evidence for the link between the early Freemasons and the Templars are unsubstantiated, and beyond the scope of our research. Perhaps at some future time we will be able to explore Templar history to determine how much exposure they would have had to revenants in the Middle East, but for now, we are only concerned with the suppression of the living dead within England and western Europe.

The Masonic method itself is ruthlessly simple. Upon being confronted with an approaching revenant, the first Mason steps in to strike a blow across the throat with an edged implement, such as a rule or stick. If the implement is an edged weapon, such as a sword (a Tyler’s sword?), full or partial decapitation would be the hoped-for outcome. However, even wooden measuring sticks will serve to damage the airway of the creature.

That Mason steps out of the way, and the second traveler will strike a blow across the chest or midsection. This serves to momentarily stun and confuse the creature for the (quite literally) coup d’etat, in which the last, and presumably strongest Mason smashes a hammer, mallet, setting maul, or some other heavy, blunt instrument into the head of the stunned revenant. Minimal risk, maximum damage.
It should be pointed out that blows to these three areas correspond to killing points in more conventional zombie and vampire lore: midsection (heart), neck, and head (brains). Again, understanding that folktales from the middle ages made little distinction between what we now think of as vampires or zombies, it’s easy to see why this method was adopted.

As notions about public health, medicine, disease, microbes, sewage, control, etc., became more widespread, the cases of revenants declined. Soon, entire lodges of Masons might form without any of the members ever having seen, or indeed, having heard of one. Freemasons became one more of the dozens, nay, hundreds of social clubs in metropolitan Europe. As this happened, the secrets of revenant killing were being lost. We believe that it is safe to assume that some inner group kept these secrets alive by codifying them into a ritual in which new generations of Masons could be taught, without making it obvious, and therefore, more more public. Thus, the legend of Hiram being killed by the Ruffians was developed.

When our researches led us to these conclusions, we spent some time in wondering if there were something that we were missing; given our assumptions, wouldn’t that make Hiram Abiff a zombie or vampire of sorts?
Possible signs in the drama we noticed in context were the disagreeable effluvia and the mangled condition of his body (both zombie and vampire lore make references to the unbearable stench of death from the creatures), and certainly one could make conjectures about “raising” him from the grave. But eventually we decided this line of reasoning was inane, and stuck to the more reasonable explanations. In fact, this could well explain why the early dramas featuring other Biblical characters, notably Noah and his three (note the number!) sons eventually morphed into the lesser known Hiram: the lessons about how to defend against the revenants was a lesson hidden inside another lesson, i.e., the morality play about Hiram’s integrity and honor.

Indeed, when you look at the dramatic enactment of Hiram and the Ruffians in the Temple of Solomon, it becomes clear that the Masons actually have been passing down a secret; only, it’s not the esoteric knowledge that we tend to associate with Freemasons, but practical, operative knowledge. Indeed, in some areas Masonic ritual explains that “tools and implements are carefully chosen by our Fraternity to imprint upon the memory [certain] wise and serious truths.”  In other words, to the true initiates, the ceremony was to reinforce the time-tested method of eradication. If it weren’t making light of so serious a situation, I’d suggest that this parallels the “wax on, wax off” education shown in the old “Karate Kid” movies.

Why teach in this manner? Because in sparsely populated agricultural regions, infestations of revenants were probably rare occurrences, and few Masons had to opportunity to experience such circumstances in person. However, as more people moved to the cities in the early 1700s, public hygiene and proper burial techniques did not keep up with the population boom. As the infection which causes “zombieism”, i.e., re-animation became more wide-spread, Masons, with their tools of the trade and penchant for secrecy, were particularly well-suited to deal with the threats. We believe that the Freemasons of London (and later, those in other cities and countries) entered into an agreement — a conspiracy of sorts — with the local and national governments: Masons would continue to practice their strange rituals without interference as long as they continued to watch for and exterminate the reanimated creatures — quietly, of course, so as not to cause a wide-scale panic. From this, it’s not hard to see how rumors of secret Masonic / government conspiracies could have grown into the outlandish idea that the anti-Masons now have.

Now that we have come close to establishing the origins of the Hiramic legend, where do we go from here?

We suspect that there is still a core group, an inner cadre of Freemasons who are knowledgeable about the existence of the revenants, and who still maintain the agreements with world governments so as not to cause wide-spread panic. While we still believe that such cases are rare because of modern technology and medicine, there is some evidence that whatever causes zombieism has not been eradicated. Occasional news reports of unusual animal maulings, unexplained violent attacks, or mysterious disappearances of people hiking in wilderness or areas of low population seem to indicate that the dangers of zombie infestation are still a small, but extant threat.

Having made these discoveries, we are trying to convince the Grand Lodges of various jurisdictions to open their archives on this matter in order that we might better educate the public — both to make them aware of the potential dangers, and to teach them how to cope if faced with such a situation. Unfortunately, the several Grand Lodges that we have contacted about this issue have either denied any knowledge, or have completely ignored our communications.

We further believe that Freemasons of every jurisdiction have a duty to be alert, aware, and educated in these lost arts, should the situation arise in which — Grand Architect forbid! — the number of revenants overwhelm that small inner cadre. Remember, brothers: it’s quite possible that you and your lodge may be the only source of protection in your community.

Sounds like the start of a standup joke, doesn’t it?

Four Fellowcrafts and an Entered Apprentice walk into a bar…

[...]

…and so the bartender replied “You know, the jokes were a hell of a lot funnier back in my year.”

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve gone to a couple of degree rehearsals, have seen three Fellowcraft degrees in my district, filled in for my counterpart (who came down with something the night he was supposed to recite the Letter G lecture) down south in the 4th District , and finished up by going to a nicely done Entered Apprentice degree in one of my other lodges, the one that’s not quite up in Massachusetts.

Whew!

Don’t get me wrong – I really enjoy degree work. I enjoy watching it, and even more, I enjoy doing it.

But why do we shmush them all into the same time period?

Oh, yeah, I remember; because most lodges in Connecticut start their year in January, so they schedule an EA for February, and then follow up a month later with an FC. Then they give themselves a bit of a breather, and sometime in May, the Master Mason degree season will be upon us. Guaranteed there will be one scheduled on my wife’s birthday, too, so not only will my gas bill and dry cleaning bill be up, I’ll need to put aside something for the florist bill.

Anyway, one of the neat things about seeing so many degrees so close together is that I can really compare little details that I might otherwise have forgotten. Most notable among these is the floorwork of the ceremonies; the positions, the walking paths, the stances, and all those other little things that aren’t found in our ritual book.

Yes, it’s true: As I’ve mentioned before, Connecticut does have an “official” ritual manual, which is occasionally even used by some of our own lodges. Unfortunately, the ritual is, in places, somewhat unclear (some would say “ambiguous”) in the matter of floorwork. Without boring anybody with the details, we take it for granted that at certain times different people will walk from place to place in the lodge in order to do certain things. How they manage to get there, though, is sometimes open to interpretation. And that is what makes for the interesting differences from lodge to lodge.

It would be easy to suggest that we simply write a floorwork manual, as they use in some other states. That would, of course, necessitate that we rewrite our actual ritual monitor, which would correct the mistakes in our current monitor, which had already been rewritten to correct that mistakes that the previous rewrite was supposed to have done.

Did you get all of that?

I’ve heard this suggested for several years now, and at one time I agreed with the idea. Now, however, I’m of a different mind. There is an old expression that what passes for a lodge tradition is really a mistake that somebody made, and then the people behind him continued. I admit to finding that amusing, but when you give it some thought, it’s a very cynical way of looking at the variety of fascinating idiosyncrasies displayed by the various lodges around the state. Yes, no doubt that some lodges have a tradition that actually did originate as a result of a mistake or a careless interpretation of a section. But of those lodges that insist that they do things “because that’s the way we’ve always done them,” I’m sure that you can go back in time – in some cases, less than a decade – to discover when it actually did happen. More likely, when somebody in a lodge claims that “we’ve always done it that way,” what he means is that “that’s the way I always remember it being done,” which is really something quite different.

But as to the idea of traditions or customs always arising from a mistake in the workings, not only is it cynical, it’s also wrong. Lodges perform the workings differently from each other simply because our own interpretations of the workings are always going to vary over time and distance, especially when those workings leave room for interpretation.But that doesn’t mean – and some of you may be surprised that I’m writing this – that I’m in favor of codifying our floorwork, or even making our ritual so ironclad that it leaves no room for interpretation. To the contrary, I think that the evolution of ritual is a natural and even necessary process.

I’m aware that some jurisdictions are very strict about passing down their workings “from mouth to ear” and that officers are watched very closely for even the smallest transgressions. While I applaud their determination, I often wonder what’s the point? What are they preserving? Our own ritual in Connecticut is one of the many variations of the Preston-Webb workings that were developed and spread thought out the US after the Civil War in the mid-1800s. Those workings are a compilation of ritual that was performed in England, where there are several other workings which don’t even resemble what is typically done in the US. Even Canada, our neighbor to the north, has a variation of the Preston workings, plus their version of the Emulation workings (which is seen in other parts of the UK) and at least one other set that isn’t quite either one.

I have a copy of the workings from a jurisdiction in Australia, which is a variation on the Emulation workings. I’m calling it a variation because it’s almost, but not quite like the version of Emulation used in parts of Canada, and again, not quite like what is used in parts of England. But it’s defintiely recognizable as Emulation, just as despite the variations from state to state, anyone from the US will recognize workings in any other state.

My point is that ritual – our workings – have evolved over time and space. At what point did some committee of ritualists decide to pick and choose which version would be the “official” workings? And after that, when and why was it changed? Because there has to be a reason that while we are all Freemasons, we use so many small and fascinating variations on workings that, in actuality, aren’t even all that old?

Now, there’s no question that I like some of those variations better than others. In fact, after watching one of the degrees last week, I was discussing the small differences between that lodge and my own, and I had to ask myself if I was biased in my preference simply because Friendship does something differently. That question, in fact, is something that I ask myself just about every time I help out a lodge at a rehearsal; I want a lodge to do their own variation in the best way possible, but sometimes I have to stop myself from suggesting that they do something differently, simply because it’s what I learned, and not because it’s inherently better.

In the last few years I’ve been to about twenty different lodges around the state, and no two of them do things alike. I know that this makes some of the purists absolutely crazy, but lately I’ve begun to appreciate the little differences. And I’ll really try to keep that in mind when I do the next round of degrees in another month.

As the District Grand Lecturer, it’s my job – in fact, my only official function – to observe a potential Master open a lodge, receive a dignitary, go to refreshment, come back to labor, and then close a lodge. If he does is by the book (or at least, pretty close to what they believe might be in the book), then I declare them certifiable certified for ritual, and they have fulfilled that particular requirement in order to sit in the big chair at the East end of the room.

In the year and a half that I’ve been doing this, the weirdest thing for me was to certify a member of my affiliate lodge, Chip Stamm. Why was that weird? Because not only is he a Past Master, he is also a Past Grand Master. But rules are rules, and there’s no reason that former Grand Lodge officers should be exempt from them, right?

Anyway, I figured that would be about the weirdest thing that I would face in my current duties, and frankly, I haven’t thought much about it since last year.

Until now.

A couple of months ago I was at a GL Seminar given for incoming Masters. After the seminar, I was outside the door selling books, trinkets, car decals, and the various other things that we Masons like to buy, when a tall gentleman tapped me on the shoulder and said “Tom, can you get me your contact information?”

“Sure thing, Bro. Jake,” I responded. I wrote my phone number and email down on a notepad and handed him the paper. “Don’t tell me,” I joked, “You need me to come up and certify you for ritual, right?”

He smiled. . . well, more like winced.

“Yeah, it looks like I might be going to the East again,” he said.

My jaw dropped open. You see, Bro. Jake – that is, Right Worshipful Jake – was the District Grand Lecturer who certified me.

Back then, the DGLs didn’t have much of a job. It wasn’t until the end of 2005 that Connecticut made ritual certification a requirement, so there are a number of other Grand Lodge officers who have not had a ritual certification because they weren’t planning to be Master of a lodge.

Anyway, that’s how I ended up at Evening Star 101 on one of their degree rehearsals.

I remember this time three years ago, when I was one of the first Senior Wardens to be certified. RW Jake visited, along with a couple of District Deputies, an Associate Grand Marshal, and the GL officer for our district. A few Past Masters dropped by, and some of the junior officers were on the sidelines. In contrast, Jake and I just grabbed a table in the corner and went back and forth, with the both of us playing all the parts. We were done in 10 minutes, the quickest I’ve ever seen it in my short career. Afterwards, I went upstairs to watch them rehearse for a Master Mason degree.

Yes, he passed.

I like Evening Star lodge; while it doesn’t have the cadre of younger members that Friendship does, it has a down-home, meat & potatoes feel to it that is comforting. Being on the edge of the more rural area of Hartford County, I can imagine that the lodge hasn’t changed much in a generation or two – not in the sense of being stagnant, but in the good way, in that you know that things will be done right, with a minimal of fuss and fussiness that one often see in other lodges.

I’m looking forward to visiting next year; I know that they will have a Master who is experienced, and who has a good sense of humor.

Nothing much to report, except that last night Friendship had a Moving Party Move Up Night in which Bro. Eric assumed the Oriental Chair. Eric has taken on more responsibilities over the last year, and it’s going to be a pleasure watching him as Master.

As expected in Friendship, all of the officers did a great job in their parts. I’m always proud to see our newest members step up to take smaller parts, and last night, I noticed that everyone who did so made the effort to put some animation and – dare I say it? – enthusiasm into their various parts.

We split up the Middle Chamber (aka: the Staircase) lecture, with four brothers stepping in to assist the JD. We’ve done this before at Friendship, and personally, I prefer this. In the US, it’s common for some lodges to put a large burden on a junior officer to memorize this one, 30 minute long lecture filled with arcane usage and words known only to sesquipedalians. The problem that I frequently see is that the poor guy is so focused on the memorization that most of the time the lecture ends up being monotonous. And while old-timers might see one’s ability to memorize 20 pages as a pre-requisite for serving as Master of a lodge, I can think of at least a few other skills that would be more useful.

From Visiting Bros

And it was nice to see one of our old friends who made an hour-long trip to support Bro. Eric, even though he had to be wheeled in on a hand truck.

Every lodge has those people who hold the place together. Generally when we say this, we’re talking in the metaphorical sense of the term: people – usually Past Masters -  who are always there to do ritual, investigate candidates, run the Widow’s Night dinner, etc.

Gerry is one of those other types of people who hold the lodge together in the more literal sense of the term. We have an old building (not a big surprise in New England) that frequently needs TLC in the form of repairing a leaky pipe here, a leaky roof there, installing new floor tiles, storage shelves, replacing rotted boards, and the hundred and one other things that it takes to maintain a century-plus old building. Now our Junior Warden, Bro. Gerry combines the skills of Bob Vila with the temperament of Norm Abrams, and has been our own “Mr. Fixit” for the past several years. If there’s something that Gerry can’t fix, then we don’t know what it could be.

Well, perhaps breakfast. I’ve seen him crack open eggs into a pan of boiling oil, then serve this surprisingly tasty treat over an English muffin layered with bacon and cheese. I can feel the grease clogging my arteries just thinking about it… but it wouldn’t surprise me if Gerry had a miniature plumber’s snake to fix that, as well.

Last week was his first time in the East, on a move-up night for an EA degree. I was there in my official capacity to check his proficiency, and it’s no surprise that he did an excellent job – as did the rest of the officers, all of whom moved up a station, as well.

Rick: Excuse me Doug E Fresh…
Doug: Yes?
R: Have you ever seen a show with fellas on the mic
with one minute rhymes that don’t come out right?
They bite.
D: They never write.
R: That’s not polite!
Am I lyin’?
D: No, you’re quite right.
R: Well, tonight on this very mic you’re about to hear
Both: We swear, the best darn rappers of the year.
R: So!
D: So!
R: Cheerio!
D: Yell -
R: Scream -
D: Bravo!
B: Also, if you didn’t know,
this is called ‘The Show.’

Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick, “The Show“

So, I just finished rambling on about how I thought that long degrees with lots of information and lectures were a good thing, both for the candidates and for the brothers attending lodge. For the candidates, it’s an immersion experience; they are – or should be – awed by the amount of information in the initiatory experience, and although they can’t possibly absorb everything, it should at the very least present them with an overview of the teachings of the Craft. And for the older brothers, seeing good ritual work done allows them to gain new perspectives as their own life changes coincide with the various moral teachings available in the various lectures.

I’ve been to degree ceremonies that have gone on until very late in the evening, usually because of extended dramas or lectures that one doesn’t normally get to see in a typical Connecticut lodge. Sometimes the ceremonies go so well that few brothers leave early; nights like that point out that good ritual ceremonies really do have value for everyone, not just the candidates.

Sometimes, however, I find myself at degree ceremonies that last until very late – but not because of the rituals or lectures. Rather, it seems to be a factor of people wanting to make a large production out of the evening, for what are probably the right reasons – but perhaps missing the point in the execution. For degree work, certain situations just seem to cry out for something special: A good friend, a son, a grandson, a favorite nephew, even (as I’ve seen) a father of a member – especially if that member is the Master – are circumstances that anyone would want to make especially memorable.

But. . . isn’t being initiated or raised not memorable enough?

I’ve been to several degree ceremonies – and they are always the EA or the MM degree – at which there have been several Grand Lodge line officers, Past Grand Masters, several District Deputies, and a number of representatives from the appendant bodies. It’s very nice to see such a show of support, and admittedly I was impressed the first few times I’d seen a wide array of Grand Lodge representatives at a degree. But now I’m beginning to wonder what the lodge has in mind when the officers plan on this type of arrangement. I mean, do any of them realize how long it takes to get 7 or more purple aprons out of the room, properly lined up, escorted back into the room, and then formally introduced?

Never mind, that was a rhetorical question.

There really isn’t any answer because the more purple aprons there are, the longer it takes to line them up by year, get their names, line them up again by rank, add a couple of names for the guys still sitting in the lodge room, line them up again according to the latest protocol, get the names of the late arrivals, pass the names to the Marshal who has now despaired of matching the names to the correct titles, have them walk back into the room in only the vaguest semblance of order, and then read the hastily scrawled names off of the 3 x 5 index card, after which they will be escorted to the Master’s station to shake hands and to be offered a hard, uncomfortable seat in front of the lodge, instead of one of the nice, comfy seats on the sidelines.

The candidates, of course, never get to see any of this. In fact, by the time the candidates actually get to meet the phalanx of officers, they are often too tired or overwhelmed to appreciate the trouble to which the lodge has gone, ostensibly on their behalf. They don’t know anything about officers or Grand Lodge officers or protocol until the end of the night, when the Master is compelled to call upon them, the Grand Lodge officers, for closing remarks.

And does anyone realize how long it takes to get 7 or more purple apron types to get through their closing remarks?

Never mind, that was another rhetorical question.

The real point that I’m trying to make is that we, that is, the more experienced Masters, sometimes forget that the initiatory experience is already overwhelming; too often our inviting large numbers of Masonic VIPs who have no connection to the candidates turns what should be a moving and solemn experience into a spectacle. I once overheard an older member at another lodge tell a couple of newly raised MMs how lucky they were to have been part of what he termed “an historic occasion” at their lodge. After he walked away, the new MMs turned to each other and shrugged. “Whatever,” they seemed to say; not, I’m sure, because they didn’t care, but because they had no context, no frame of reference by which to understand the circumstance of having 2 PGMs, four District officers, and half a dozen poobahs from the local Scottish RIte Valley.

If you are one of those people of the cynical persuasion, you’d begin to think that the reason that lodges have these kinds of spectacles events is to give a big ego boost to the WM. I’m going to stop short of that assumption and instead, charitably suggest that Masters are not thinking in terms of the candidates themselves. Rather, they are thinking in terms of making the degree ceremony an experience interesting enough to draw out the brothers who might otherwise stay home.

And this reasoning I can understand; part of our job success as Master of a lodge is to get the brothers to participate, or at least, to show up. But there are other ways to get them interested:Have a special dinner, say, a cookout or a surf & turf or some other theme night. Have a few visiting brothers do one of the lectures. Have the degree in costume. There are dozens of ways to make a degree night interesting for everyone that would not make it overwhelming for the candidates – or for the 80+ year old members who have to drive home.

Getting back to my original point, I sometimes wonder if having good, well-performed ritual work wouldn’t be enough of an incentive to attract the brothers who are the fence-sitters, the people who might come if only they thought it would be worth spending a few hours down at the old lodge. By “good,” I mean officers who actually study and rehearse their parts, and who have learned to put some feeling and character into their ritual work, and who can make the quality of the work itself the spectacle, rather than the quantity of the visitors.

Watching an old movie the other day reminded me of a discussion I had a while back with someone who intimated that I did not take my duties – or Masonry, for that matter – seriously. Predictably, he went on to mention some of the things that he, himself would do if he were me; including, not unsurprisingly, making sure that people who didn’t abide by the rules would be “dealt with.”

It became apparent that my well-meaning brother was under the a mistaken assumption in which he was confusing the tools that I use in my duties (“levity” and “a relaxed approach”) with my underlying attitude and approach toward them. Obviously, this brother and I hold fundamentally different philosophies as to how the structure of our fraternity works: he seemed to think that just telling people what to do is sufficient, and considered what I do as a District Grand Lecturer something akin to a traveling minstrel show.

See, as the District Grand Lecturer, my duties as assigned are actually pretty light: I just have to administer a test to make sure that the incoming Master is prepared, ritual-wise. However, several lodges have asked me to help them polish their ritual proficiency and floorwork, and so I spend most of my time at rehearsals, giving tips, making suggestions, and (hopefully) inspiring new officers to be better by coaching them along. Not surprisingly, this is exactly how I was taught in my own lodge by some experienced Past Masters. In theory, I could simply read the book to them and say “Okay, that’s what you’re supposed to know. I’ll be back next week to grade you.” In practice, I tend to be light-hearted and jokey (where have I heard that before ?), simply because that was the kind of style that inspired me. I figure that if I’m going to join a half-dozen guys walking around a cold lodge room on a rainy evening, then I want to at least make it enjoyable for myself. If the other people get something out of it, then so much the better.

In the aforementioned discussion, I found myself rather surprised to hear the suggestion that lodge officers should be given the ritual book, and have it explained to them that the rules of our Grand Lodge say that they need to follow the instructions. Their testing, as it were, could then be done by some other officer, thereby obviating the need for District Lecturers. I was surprised because, indeed, this is exactly the case as it has been for the past fifty or more years. Connecticut has a published ritual monitor, and it’s relatively clear what the Master and officers should be doing. The problem is, some people haven’t been doing it. In fact, by my estimation, a hell of a lot of people haven’t been doing it properly for quite some years, and many lodges have had several generations of officers pass without seeing proper ritual work modeled for the younger officers, who would then model it for the officers after them.

This is where I come in. I see that there is a disconnect between what the officers should be doing and what they are doing. So, in my light-hearted and jokey way, I’ve been giving ritual coaching. While I agree that the officers should be doing things a certain way, I don’t believe that throwing a rule book at them will make them change their behavior. My counterpart believes that it doesn’t matter – they knew what the expectations were when they signed up; or at least, they should have done so, because they agreed to it.

So, which one of us is correct?

Actually, he is.

Unfortunately, being right doesn’t always fix the problem.

This is a common situation for people in organizations because of the nature of the various types of people who are in – indeed, who are needed – to run an organization.

Freemasonry, like every other organization, is comprised of people who take on various roles. Most organizations have people who have a command of every rule and regulation, down to the sub-articles and clauses. It needs to be stressed that these people are very important to the organization because without rules, you have no organization! During any discussion in which group members want to “hurry up and do something”, it’s easy to dismiss the comments of the rule-keeper when what the members are proposing run a little out of bounds. “Oh, you’re just being fussy” or “Rules were made to be broken” are typical responses to those who strive to keep order. In our rush to be post-modern action heroes, we often fail to think our actions through to the possible consequences. Organizations in which the members do not follow rules soon devolve into anarchy. Those who keep track of the rules help to keep the structure of the organization intact.

Large organizations typically also have members who understand that the underlying purpose of those rules is to have a better organization, one that is more effective, more enjoyable, or more satisfying to the members. They also understand, however, that sometimes the rules – or the imposition of new rules – have unintended consequences which affect the performance of the organization. To these people fall the unenviable task of trying to achieve long-term goals while working within the scope – if possible – of the existing structure. If they are successful, the rules are usually modified in order to accommodate the new strategies. Masons – indeed, members of any organization – need to realize that both types of people are essential to the health and longevity of the organization, and neither is more important than the other. As Entered Apprentices, we are taught the importance of a proper, true and square foundation to our temples. Those rules and regulations are the foundation of our organization, and it is essential that we understand their importance. Yet, we also understand that we are all human beings, and as such are all different in terms of abilities, skills, and talents with the tools at our disposal.

Friendly competition between the left-brain and right-brain people is necessary for the continued health of the Fraternity; indeed, this is the root of that “noble contention of who best can work and best agree;” but I think that many of us are prone to forget this when we get caught up in overseeing our own very small piece of work that we contribute.

Tao of Masonry | Freemasonry | Masonry

Picture: The Fairly Odd Parents