Chapter 1: Regarding Freemasonry
My interest in Freemasonry began as I became serious about studying the history of the United States of America. It is impossible to truly examine our beginnings as a nation and not see the Masonic influence over the men who founded it. The mark of Freemasonry can be found etched into our national monuments, hidden in the design of our currency, and intertwined into the very documents that birthed this country.
Much has been made of that. Some of it was actually correct.
Most of what is written today about Freemasons are conspiracy theories shouting about “New World Orders” and other inaccuracies inspired by fiction. I’ve watched the same re-enactments you have on the History Channel of “secret Masonic rituals,” and I can tell you this much: I don’t know what those folks were up to, but it sure did look like fun.
Right? All the masks and robes and stuff? Pretty cool.
I am a Freemason. A brief listing of my pedigree would read: Master Mason in a Blue Lodge, Royal Arch Master Mason and Knight Templar.
Getting in was simple. I applied to each of those various organizations and paid the required dues to show up a few nights and go through the initiation proceedings. That’s the big mystery. That’s how hard it was to do it.
No one in my family has ever been a Freemason before. My father said he was interested in joining many years ago, but could not afford the dues. Coming from a long-line of blue collar workers with large families, I’m not surprised that I’m the first to be able to afford it.
Initially, I had no idea how to become a Freemason. All I knew was that the myths about them both intrigued and entranced me. In short, I wanted to see what went on behind those closed doors, and there’s only one way to find out. So I did.
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The old adage of Freemasons is that “To Be One, Ask One.”
I’ll consider your interest in this book as you’re asking me, but if you tell anybody I replied, a secret team of ninja assassins will come to your house and kill all your goldfish using an ancient dagger from the mines of King Solomon.
***
Just kidding.
***
I showed up on my very first night at the Masonic Lodge after a long, long application process. The Lodge can only do so many First Degrees at any given time, so if there are a lot of applicants, your wait can stretch on for months. Mine did.
But finally, it was the night, and I was there on time. Alone. There was nobody else around.
I walked through the Lodge, looking for people, but saw no one. Finally, I ventured up the steps and saw two closed doors. There were voices inside.
Whoever was supposed to be sitting outside of the doors was not there that night (might have been in the bathroom. He’s an old guy.) so I sat on the bench and waited.
That’s when my mind began to play tricks on me. Was I supposed to knock on the door? Were they waiting for me to show them how serious I was about being a member? Was this all part of some test?
I got up to go knock, then changed my mind and sat back down. What if I was just supposed to wait? What if it was like the scene from Fight Club where you just had to keep showing up and standing outside of the door patiently until someone finally took pity on you and allowed you inside?
So I waited. And waited. And that’s when my imagination started to run wild.
What really was about to go on? I was putting myself at the mercy of an entire room of men who, for all I knew, secretly ran the world and engaged in animal sacrifice.
I comforted myself by thinking that whatever was about to take place inside of that room had been in existence for centuries. Whatever the ritual or ceremony I was about to partake in, it would be much the same as the one George Washington underwent. For me, taking a step into Freemasonry was the equivalent of