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What Freemasonry means to me. |
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Written by JMG
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Sunday, 14 February 2010 06:39 |
What Freemasonry means to me.
I recently received a letter in which the writer asked: "Why are you a Freemason?" The question caused me to think and reaffirm my feelings about Masonry. At first I thought about my own forebears. My grandfather was a Mason for 50 years, my father for 50 years, and I have been a Mason for 60 years. This means that my tie with Freemasonry extends back to 1869 when my grandfather joined the Masons. My feelings on my first entrance into a Masonic Lodge are very clear in memory. I was a young man and it was a great thrill to kneel before the altar of the Lodge to become a Freemason. This must have been the same feeling my father and grandfather experienced before me.
And it must also have been identical to the one that many great leaders of America and the world felt as they became Masons. Prominent among this select group are George Washington, Harry Truman, and 12 other Presidents as well as countless statesmen and benefactors of humanity. So I found myself thinking: "What does Freemasonry mean to me?"
Of course Masons say that Freemasonry actually begins in each individual Mason's heart. I take this to mean a response to brotherhood and the highest ideals. I recall the story of a man who came to me once and said: "I see that you are a Freemason. So am I."
As we talked, he told me of an experience he had years ago. It seems that he joined the Masonic Fraternity shortly after he became 21 years old. When he was stationed in the military, he decided to attend various Lodge meetings. On his first visit to a Lodge in a strange city, he was a bit nervous. One thought was constantly in his mind; could he pass the examination to show that he was a Mason? As the committee was carefully examining his credentials, one of the members looked him squarely in the eye and said: "Obviously you know the Ritual, so you can enter our Lodge as a Brother Mason. But I have one more question. Where were you made a Mason?" With that he told the young visitor to think about it because when he knew the answer the examiner would not have to hear it. He would see it in his eyes.
My friend told me that after a couple of minutes a big smile came to his face and he looked at the examiner, who said: "That's right, in your heart." "Through Masonic teachings, good men practice love and charity. As a Fraternity they spend millions of dollars..." Freemasonry is not a religion though, in my experience, Masons have predominately been religious men and, for the most part, of the Christian faith.
Through Freemasonry, however, I have had opportunity to break bread with good men of other than my own Christian faith. Freemasonry does not promote any one religious creed. All Masons believe in the Deity without reservation. However, Masonry makes no demands as to how a member thinks of the Great Architect of the Universe. Freemasonry is, for all its members, a supplement to good living which has enhanced the lives of millions who have entered its doors. Though it is not a religion, as such, it supplements faith in God the Creator. It is supporting of morality and virtue.
Freemasonry has no dogma or theology. It offers no sacraments. It teaches that it is important for every man to have a religion of his own choice and to be faithful to it in thought and action. As a result, men of different religions meet in fellowship and brotherhood under the fatherhood of God. I think that a good Mason is made even more faithful to the tenets of his faith by his membership in the Lodge.
Freemasonry is much more than a social organization. Through Masonic teachings, good men practice love and charity. As a Fraternity they spend millions of dollars to support hospitals, childhood language disorders clinics, and research into problems that plague man's physical and mental being. Whenever I visit a Masonic hospital, of which there are many, my eyes fill with tears. As I see a youngster, who could not walk, now able to get from one end of the corridor to the other with the aid of an artificial leg, I am thrilled. For a young person to have the opportunity to become whole and productive is to me exciting and wonderful. And this opportunity is given at no cost to his or her family or the state. Living is beautiful but sometimes life can be harsh and cruel.
Whenever or wherever people are in need Masons are there to help. From large undertakings to the smallest of needs, Masons are always there, caring and serving. I have always been interested as to why Masons devote so much time to their Fraternity. A good answer to this question came from a Grand Master who once told me that he enjoys his involvement because it gives him another dimension to living.
The same answer is echoed by Brethren as they meet in Lodge rooms from one end of our Country to the other and around the world. Many of my best friends, associates, and fellow Christians are Freemasons and good churchmen as well. In my travels at home and abroad a goodly number of Freemasons notice my Masonic ring, which I always wear. With pride they say: "I, too, am a Freemason." To me, Freemasonry is one form of dedication to God and service to humanity. I too was a Freemason in my heart and so I will remain. I am proud of my involvement. I am proud to walk in fraternal fellowship with my Brethren.
By The Reverend Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, 33* |
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A date etched into memory |
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The Lodge -
Latest
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Written by Lear
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Monday, 23 November 2009 13:17 |
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November 20, 2009 has now been etched into my memory as one of the proudest days of my life. I can not say it is the most proud; however there are only three events in my life, that I hold above my being raised to a Master Mason.
First was March 29, 2000, the birth of my daughter, Shelby. Which taught me, that no matter how unprepared you may be, the divine, often throws you into the fire. When this happens, you can either flourish or you can turn your head and evade what is usually a life changing event. Thankfully I had the fortitude to make the correct choices.
Second was October 3, 2004, my marriage to my wife, Tracey. I never thought a woman would ever want to marry me. She changed me from the second I met her. Not because she wanted me to change or that I felt that I had to change. Just from her presence in my life I became a better person. I still have a long way to go, but with God’s help, I will live long enough to see that path to its end.
Third was August 15, 2006, the birth of my son Jerel Jr. I have now been blessed with a loving wife, who puts up with all of my shortcomings, a beautiful daughter, and now a son to carry on the family name. I have been very lucky.
Fourth is now November 20, 2009, the day I was raised to a Master Mason. I have always wanted to be a Mason. I just never knew how, or felt that even if I did, I just was not ready. When the opportunity arose and I met with R.W. John Gauger and Brother Michael Weeks for the first time, I felt at ease, I felt ready. Since that day, I have met many new friends. And I use the word friends in the highest regard, because that is one thing that I can honestly say has been lacking in my life up to this point. Much like my wife, the meeting of who would soon become my brothers here at Mt. Tom Lodge, instantly made me a better person.
It is now my most sincere pledge, to do right by my new friends, my Brothers. I would also like to thank everyone at Mt. Tom Lodge, who has helped me to feel welcome. It is also my promise to help all others, who walk into this lodge, under their own free will and accord, are accepted as well as I was.
In closing, there is little more that I can say, except how proud I am to be a Brother in what is, no doubt, the greatest organization of men ever formed.
Fraternally Yours;
Jerel Richard Lear Sr. |
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The Lodge -
Lodge News
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Written by Thomas Knightly
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Friday, 21 November 2008 14:53 |
This story begins way back in the 1940’s. My father’s sister Dorothy married her husband (my Uncle) Red on the Fourth of July, sometime during World War II, and as time went on, they would celebrate their anniversary by having a large Fourth of July Picnic at their home. This is one of my fondest memories growing up, when all of my relatives, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends would come together. On one occasion in the 1960’s, members of the Holyoke Caledonian Kiltie Band (as it was called then) showed up at the picnic wearing kilts and brandishing their bagpipes and drums. I never understood until years later why they showed up, but as a 10 or 11 year old I was enthralled. I knew then that I really wanted to play the bagpipes, a secret desire I never told my parents.
Over the years, I found that I had a small talent for playing musical instruments, having taken piano lessons for years, changing to the trombone in high school, and without realizing it I minored in music in college. During this time I also taught myself how to play guitar, dabbled with the bassoon (I never really grasped this,) and learned the fundamentals of the organ. After finishing college and a medical technology internship, I found myself working the graveyard shift in the laboratory at Holyoke Medical Center. Working this shift left me lots of time on my hands, and I found myself wanting to learn a new and different instrument, which I decided was the banjo! My parents bought me banjo for Christmas of 1981. This is where my story begins. While working that Christmas, one of the ladies who worked as a secretary at night (this lovely lady, actually became my second mother after my mother passed away, God bless you Joan) asked me what I got for Christmas. When I told her a banjo, she asked me if I played anything else. I told her my musical history, and she asked me if I ever had the desire to play the bagpipes. With much surprise, I told her that as long as I could remember, I’ve always wanted to play! But, I had no idea where to get lessons. Which she replied, “my son does.” I met with her son Mike, who also became a dear friend, the next day and was taking lessons the following week. I still have the banjo, and its still in its case waiting for me to retire to teach myself how to play it.
My mother wasn’t all that thrilled with the thought of the bagpipes being played at the house, but being a proud mother she told all her friends and relatives about my new endeavor. The next day I got a phone call from my Uncle Red, who sounded almost overjoyed at the prospect of having a bagpiper in the family. I had taken only two lessons, and Uncle Red came over to the house with several items he wished to give me. As it turned out (and it only took me twenty years to realize), my uncle at one time was a snare drummer in the band who had played at that one memorable picnic, which, by the way, was the band I was hoping to play with. After he gave me his plaid brooch and Glengarry, we had a more serious chat. It was his wish, now that I was to become a bagpiper, to play at his funeral. I of course told him that event was along time away, and that I was a real beginner. He said that it really didn’t matter, because once you start playing the bagpipes, it gets in you blood, and I’d never be able to stop playing. Truer words have never been said.
After a rather lengthy discussion about the history of the Holyoke Caledonian Pipe Band (as it is now called), my uncle declared all I would need now was to have “the ring on my finger.” Now I was really confused. He went on to explain that when he was a drummer, all the members of the band were Masons and that quite often, after band practice, they would travel down to Mount Tom Masonic Lodge on Chestnut Street in Holyoke, and have “second” practice. That being said, my uncle expected me to follow suit, and eventually become a Mason, and the ring on my finger was to be the “Square and Compasses.” I was twenty three years old, and really had no idea who the Masons were, so I just agreed to appease him.
Several years later, I found out who the Masons are, and because of several family dealings with them, (another story for another time) decided that this was THE fraternity I wanted to join. I had a surprise at each one of my degrees, a friend and fellow bagpiper at my first, a co-worker at my second (both of whom I never knew were Masons,) and my uncle at my third. He was so proud, and now I was a true Holyoke Caledonian, both a bagpiper and a Mason! Yes, I did go out and buy the ring for my finger, but this is not the end of the story.
Time Marches on, and lo and behold, I was installed as organist (and by one Master of my lodge, the lodge musician so he could use my piping talents in addition to the organ) and eventually became the Pipe Major of the Holyoke Caledonian Pipe Band. But like I said time marches on, and on a sad day a few of years ago, I got a phone call from my sister saying that my Uncle Red had passed away. I had promised my uncle that I would play at his funeral twenty years earlier, and now that he was not only my uncle but my “Brother”, I knew that this was one request I had to live up to. Yes, I played at his funeral, (barely holding back the tears) and I also participated in his Evergreen Service wearing both my Kilt and my apron.
Weddings and funerals, this is where most families reunite these days. At the post bereavement gathering, once again, my aunts, uncles, and cousins all met to share memories. My cousin Ned, (my uncle’s son, and my “Brother”) stopped me as I left to shake my hand and thank me for playing for his dad, and how much it meant to his mother, sister, and himself. As we finished shaking hands, I realized, my palm was now no longer empty, at which point in time, my cousin said, that he was sure his father wanted me to have it. I was speechless, my wife knew something was wrong, because my eyes welled up, and I quickly left the building. When we got to the car, my wife wanted to know what was wrong, all I had to do was open my hand and show her “the ring from his finger, his Square and Compasses.” I had never felt so honored in my life. My cousin told me that his father had two rings, he had one for himself, and that if his son ever became a “Brother” his son would get his ring.
Two years ago my son turned 18 and wanted to become a “Brother” in my lodge before he went away to college the following fall. On the night of his Third Degree, I wore two rings, mine and my uncle’s. At the conclusion of my son’s degree, (appropriately, Mount Tom Lodge’s Scot’s Night) when presentations were being made, I proudly got up, shook his hand and left the ring from my finger in his palm, my Square and Compasses.
This true tale is dedicated to my dear uncle,
William E. (Uncle Dudley) Rae
Brother Tom Knightly
Organist, Mt Tom Lodge
Pipe Major, Holyoke Caledonian Pipe Band |
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