"He Was A Mason"
by Roger
M. Firestone, 33 KCCH
rfire@jtan.com
http://mastermason.com/rfire
It
happens nearly every day in the major newspapers of our cities. A prominent
citizen's obituary appears with a substantial headline. The writer begins with
the most recent details age, cause of death, current residence. There follow
several paragraphs recounting the eminent man's life. He was president of his
country club, he headed this or that charity drive, he was an executive of
these corporations, he attended such and such a college and high school, he was
on the board of trustees of his religious congregation, and so on, often for a
substantial number of column inches. Finally, towards the end of the obituary,
just before the funeral arrangements are specified and the survivors listed, we
find the brief sentence, "He was a Mason."
Curious,
isn't it? Although the remaining details of his career were copiously
enumerated, his Masonic activities are summarized in one sentence. Perhaps he
was Master of his Lodge, serving "in line" for as long as eight years
to reach that station. It could be that he gave his time instead as presiding
officer in one of the several York or Scottish Rite
bodies. Maybe he took a number of parts in the many degrees of the two Rites.
Or perhaps he was one of those who had less skill in memorization but took
other responsibilities: for costumes or dining services or Masonic blood
programs, even receiving an honorary distinction from the Scottish Rite for many years of such faithful
"behind-the-scenes" service. Possibly he was active with one or more
youth groups under Masonic sponsorship, giving up his football game-watching on
weekends with the other guys to raise funds at car washes or driving cars full
of teenagers to annual meetings in distant parts of the state. He might have
been a superior fund-raiser for the Shriners' children's
hospitals, or even represented the Lodge in local civic activities, such as
parades for patriotic holidays. Yet none of these is mentioned by the newspaper
writer, who was given as much space as seemed necessary to outline other
aspects of the career of a distinguished man.
Of
course, we might suppose that it is the editor's decision
that Masonic activities are not of interest to the general public, being that
they are the doings of a secretive and selective body. It is not obvious
how that position might be reconciled with mention of the man's country-club
presidency, which is probably pleased to have an exclusive membership, or his
church activities, relevant only to members of the same denomination, or even
his rise to prominence in a business corporation, whose internal doings are
often cloaked in secrecy as deep as that of any Masonic body. When Masons
constitute more than one percent of the adult male population, and almost
certainly a larger percentage of those who actually read something besides the
sports pages in the newspaper, the reasoning behind such an editor's position
may be strained.
It
is more likely that lack of knowledge about the role that Masonry plays in our
society contributes to the brief treatment Masonic activities received in the
obituary. Other than the Shriners' Hospitals, few
Masonic charities receive any kind of regular mention in the press. And even
those Hospitals are still thought of by much of the public as being for
crippled children, often overlooking their more recent important role in the
treatment of and research into serious burn injuries. Scottish Rite aphasia
work, Royal Arch Research Assistance, Masonic cancer hospitals--all find the
most infrequent acknowledgement of their contributions to society. The same is true
of Masonic service projects, even on a local scale. Did Masons help organize
the local Independence Day celebration or aid in cleaning up some
poorly-maintained parkland in your town? How would anyone know, if you don't
tell them? When writing a monthly Lodge bulletin is a burden, there is even
less likelihood that a newspaper press release is going to be prepared by the
secretary, junior warden, or whomever. Perhaps the obituary writer never even
had the information about the man's Masonic career because his family didn't
know it was important, or his Lodge failed to provide the details.
We
should not be surprised that a man's Masonic career is little noted in the
memorial of his passing. This is nothing new in Masonic history, after all.
According to our traditions, it was at the very founding of our order that a
great Masonic architect was rudely interred without proper recognition of his
contributions to the Fraternity. In later history, it was often to be that
Masons would suffer punishment or even martyrdom for their membership in and
contributions to the Craft and to the principles of freedom. Against such a
background, mere indifference could even be considered to be an improvement.
Yet how much better off might our world be if the contributions of Masons and
Masonry were more widely recognized and encouraged? How many more young men
might be set on the course of self-improvement through Masonic membership if
the examples of great men as Masons were better known? For the past two
centuries of American history, a nearly-constant one-third of the leaders of
our country, beginning with the signers of the Declaration of Independence and
including all three branches of the government, have been Masons. This is a far
higher proportion than in the population as a whole. Did Masonry provide these
men with the inspiration and training to achieve leadership roles in the
country? Did Masonic principles guide their thinking when tough decisions had
to be made? For presidents such as George Washington and Harry Truman, the
answers can only be "yes." Of others--those in Congress and the
judiciary--we know much less. These are stories that must be told to the rest
of the world, not just among ourselves. "He was a
Mason" appearing in an obituary is too little evidence to inspire the
uninitiated to seek Masonic light.
However,
there is one sense in which we may take pride in the way such an obituary is
written. When "He was a Mason" appears at the end of the article, it
serves as what the accountants call "the bottom line," a phrase that
refers to the number indicating whether an enterprise has showed a profit or a
loss. To those who measure things by numbers, everything above the bottom line
is simply a detail, one element of many that go to make up the big picture as
represented by the final total. Seen in this light, the many contributions the
deceased man made to society are parts of a totality.
They do not stand alone, independent and unrelated to one another. Each gift
this man made to his family, his fellows, and his country were components of
that whole summarized in the final words, "He was a Mason."
Masonic
honors and titles are of limited value anyway. They mean much among brothers
and companions, somewhat less among family and friends, and little indeed to the
non-Masonic world. But if each of us resolves to live according to the
principles we embraced when we became members of this ancient and honorable
institution, we should be pleased to reflect that there is no higher honor to
come to us when our lives are complete than that they should be summed up by
that simple but profound phrase, "He was a Mason."
This
article appeared in the June 1996 issue of The
Scottish Rite Journal, published by The Supreme Council, 33°,
Southern Jurisdiction, of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite.