"All Ritual is
fortifying. Ritual is a natural necessity for mankind. The more
things are upset the more they fly to it. I abhor slovenly ritual
anywhere. By the way, would you mind assisting at the examinations,
If there are many visiting Brothers tonight?"
"You'll find some of 'em very rusty but-it's the Spirit, not the
Letter, that giveth life. The question of visiting brethren is an
important one. There are so many of them in London now, you see; and
so few places where they can meet"
So we read in the greatest of all Masonic stories, "In the Interests
of the Brethren," by Rudyard Kipling. It is a vivid picture of how
our gentle Craft helped its wounded members in the days of the Great
War, dark, dreadful and confused. No Mason can read it aloud; a lump
will climb into his throat and choke him.
It tells of a Lodge of Instruction, formed by the Lodge of Faith and
Works, No. 5837, for the benefit of wounded Brethren, under guise of
giving them a chance to rub up on the Ritual. The scene when the
Lodge was called up at the sound of the Gavel, the rattle of
crutches, the shuffle of feet---some with one leg, some with one
hand---is a picture to break the heart and mend it. The Signs were
fearfully and wonderfully made!
"D 'you like it ? " said the Doctor to a one-footed Brother, as they
sat together, after the Lodge had been seated with difficulty.
"Do I? It's Heaven to me, sittin' in Lodge again. It's all comin' I
back now, watching their mistakes. I haven't much religion, but all
I had I learnt in Lodge," he said with flushed face.
"Yes," he went on, "veiled in allegory and illustrated in
symbols'--the Fatherhood of God, an' the Brotherhood of Man; an'
what more in Hell do you want. Look at 'em." He broke off giggling.
"See! See!" cried the one-footed Corporal. "I could ha' done it
better myself-my one foot in France. Yes, I should think they ought
to do it again! "
Yet in the midst of all the tragic confusion, the Master insisted
that the Ritual be followed as nearly letter-perfect as possible; as
has been the manner of Masonry from the first. In the Constitutions
of 1738 we learn that Grand Lodge may be opened in Form, in Due
Form, and in Ample Form, all alike valid and with the same
authority.
When opened by any other Officer than the Grand Master, the Grand
Lodge is opened only in "Form." If a Past Grand Master, or the
Deputy Grand Master, presides, it is opened in "Due Form." When the
Grand Master himself is in the Chair, the Grand Lodge is opened in
"Ample Form." And the same is true, with but slight variation, on
this side of the sea.
Why does Masonry insist so strictly upon exactness in its Ritual?
There is a profound reason, not to be forgotten or ignored. True, it
is the Spirit, not the Letter, that giveth life; but the Letter does
give a Body, without which the Spirit of Masonry would be a formless
blur, losing much of its meaning, if not all of its beauty. Ceremony
keeps things up; without form the spirit melts into thin air and is
lost.
What is true of Masonry is equally true of religion, of manners, of
art. The poet Tennyson speaks of those "whose faith hath center
everywhere, nor cares to fix itself in form." That is, they believe
in everything in general and nothing in particular. Their faith is
like the earth in the story of creation, as the Bible tells it,
"without form and void " ; a vague sentiment, as filmy as a mist and
as frail.
Manners, it has been said, are minor morals. That is, they are the
forms of a social ritual in which the spirit of courtesy and amenity
finds expression. So essential are they as a form of social
fellowship, that, as Emersion said, if they were lost, some
gentlemen would be obliged to re-invent such a code. The phrase, "It
is not done," has more than mere convention behind it. It bespeaks a
standard, a sense of propriety, a fineness of feeling, a respect for
the rights and feelings of others.
Some of our modern artists are trying to throw off the old classic
forms of music, painting, and poetry. The result is chaos, a
formless riot of color and sound, in which a horse may be green and
a song a mere mob of notes, without melody. Without lovely form the
spirit of beauty fades and is lost. Ages of experience have wrought
out noble forms of art and life,which we cannot defy or ignore
without disaster.
The same is true of Masonry. Gentle, wise, mellow with age, its
gracious spirit has fashioned a form, or body, or an art, if we call
it so, in which its peculiar genius finds expression. Its old and
lovely ritual, if rightly used, evokes the Spirit of Masonry, as
each of us can testify. The mere opening of a lodge creates a
Masonic atmosphere, in which the truths of Masonry seem more real
and true. lt weaves a spell about us, making fellowship gracious. It
is a mystery; we love it, without caring to analyze it.
By the same token, if the rhythm of the ritual is bungled, or
slurred, or dealt with hastily or without dignity, its beauty is
marred and its spell broken. Just imagine the opening of lodge, or
any one of the degrees, jazzed up, rushed through with, and how
horrible it would be. The soul of Masonry would be sacrificed, and
its spirit evaporate. For that reason we cannot take too much pains
in giving the ritual such a rendering as befits its dignity, its
solemnity, and its-haunting beauty.
No wonder Masonry is jealous of its ceremonies and symbols. It
hesitates to make the slightest change, even when errors have crept
into the ritual, lest something precious be lost. Indeed, it is
always seeking "that which is lost," not alone in its great Secret,
but in all its symbols which enshrine a wisdom gray with age, often
but dimly seen, and sorely needed in the hurry and medley of our
giddy-paced age.
Mere formalism is always a danger. Even a lofty ritual may become a
rigmarole, a thing of rut and rote. Sublime truths may be repeated
like a parrot, as the creed in a church may be recited 'without
thought or feeling, by force of habit. Still, such a habit is worth
keeping, and often the uttering of great words stirs the heart with
a sense of the cargoes of wonder which they hold, for such as have
ears to hear.
No matter; our fear of formalism---its mockery and unreality---must
not blind us to the necessity of noble, stately, and lovely form, in
which to utter and embody the truths that make us men. For that
reason every part of the ritual ought to have Due Form, nothing
skimped or performed perfunctorily, in order that the wise and good
and beautiful truth of Masonry may have full expression and give us
its full blessing. Only so can we get from it what it has to give us
for our good.
Take, for example, the Opening of the Lodge, so often regarded as of
no great importance in itself, save as a preliminary to what is to
follow. Not so. Nothing in Masonry is more impressive, if we see it
aright. As a flower "opens its lodge, " as one of our poets puts it,
when it unfolds its petals and displays its center to the sun which
renews its life, so the opening of a Masonic Lodge is a symbol of
the opening out of the human mind and heart to God. It is a drama of
an inward and ineffable thing, not to be spoken of except in the
poetry of symbol.
One sees it more plainly in the English ritual, in which the three
degrees, or grades as they name them, has each its stage. First is
the stage appropriate to the apprentice, a call to lift the mind
above the level of external things. The second is a further opening,
an advance in the science revealing greater things than apprentices
may know. It is an opening "upon the square," which the first degree
is not.
By the time we reach the Third Degree, a still deeper opening of the
mind is implied, "upon the centre," for those of the Master rank,
involving the use of finer powers of perception, to the very center
and depths of being. How far and to what depth any of us is able to
open the Lodge of his Mind, is the measure of what Masonry is to us.
As an ancient manual of initiation tells us, urging us to an inward
quest:
"There lives a Master in the hearts of men who makes their deeds, by
subtle pulling strings, dance to what time He will. With all thy
soul trust Him, and take Him for thy succor. So shalt thou gain, by
grace of Him, the uttermost repose, the Eternal Peace."
Such meanings, and far more than here hinted, lie hidden to most of
us in the simple ceremony of opening the Lodge. How much Masonry
would mean for us and do for us, if only it had its due form both of
ritual and interpretation. It might not explain all riddles, but it
would light many a dark path, and lead us thither where we seek to
go.
Religion, untainted, here dwells;
Here the
morals of Athens are taught;
Great Hiram's
tradition here tells
How the world
out of chaos was brought.
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