I received a sad letter the other day. It was from a Freemason who felt that he had missed out on potential promotions. He wanted to know - demanded to know - what precise qualifications were necessary for the various honours given out in Freemasonry. He ended his letter, disgruntled at not having been progressed to some Past Grand, or Past Provincial, office by proclaiming bitterly, ‘Thirty-three years in masonry, wasted!’
     My initial reaction was one of astonishment. The thought that someone should have spent thirty-three years in Freemasonry purely to gain some kind of masonic rank was stupefying; as was the fact that he evidently wished me to publish his tirade in the ‘Letters’ page of Freemasonry Today.
     However, upon reflection I realised that his diatribe could not be expressing the whole story for this letter was from a man who had done his work; he had passed through all the lodge offices including that of Master, he had undoubtedly helped raise money for charity and helped others in need. And yet, somehow, during all these years, he had managed to completely miss the central point of Freemasonry. He had not found his way to the Centre from which a Master Mason cannot err. He was erring by placing his focus upon the rewards he might receive; as a result he had become lost in some kind of all-consuming swamp.
     He saw only the outer show of Freemasonry rather than its great inner strength, he wanted a reward and recognition for his efforts; an ambition, he evidently felt, that would be achieved by some promotion which brought a giltedged apron to wear as though one could buckle on strength and insight like some hero’s breastplate.
     There is a lot of this about. We all see it. An awful lot of Freemasons seem to crave some kind of buckle-on reward to justify their efforts. And - we all know - it is really not the reward they crave but the pomp and prestige associated with it.
     Forgotten amongst all this gilt-edged glory is the fact that to receive an honour is to be granted the chance to serve; not oneself, but others.
     Freemasonry long ago realised that the way to avoid the temptations of power and position was to separate the office from the man. The office was accorded the power and position; the man served that office to the best of his ability.
     We can see this worked out in every lodge: a man serves as Master with all the attendant privileges and powers for one year when he is replaced by his successor.
     Our ritual, as always, puts it succinctly: in the address to the new Master it states,
     ‘…you, having been installed in the Chair...cannot be insensible to the obligations which devolve on you as its head, or to your responsibility for the faithful discharge of the duties annexed to the appointment.’
     While the more miserable amongst us can carp about the antiquated language employed, the point is precisely and elegantly made: to become Master of a lodge brings obligations and duties.
     Implicit is the injunction that to achieve any masonic honour is similar: it brings obligations and duties.
     But our ritual teaches us much more about achieving honour and position. During the installation of the Master an address is given to all Brethren present in the lodge. It begins by explaining, ‘…that as some must of necessity rule and teach, so others must of course learn, submit, and obey.’
     And it puts this into perspective by adding, ‘Humility in each is an essential qualification.’
     ‘Humility in each,’ we should note these words for they cover both those who rule and teach and those who submit and obey; the actions of all need to be tempered by humility. A humble man will not be carried off course by power and prestige. Nor will he resent those who are honoured.
     But there is still more that we can extract from this: we are all on our masonic journey, a journey which takes us through the Three Degrees and the Royal Arch as well as on those other trails available to those off-piste masons who search them out, but the journey itself aims to bring insight and wisdom.
     The ritual’s mention of humility reminds us that no matter how little or how much of the path we might have travelled there are others coming along behind who would appreciate stones being plucked out of the trail or wrong turnings indicated.
     No matter where we are on the journey we can all teach and we can all learn. And, we should not forget, we can all stumble into swamps.
     To feel that your journey has been wasted is to misunderstand its point. It is a fact of journeys that at some time the traveller will feel consumed by despair.
     But instead of gazing in horror at the surface of the swamps which seem to stretch to the horizon it is the moment to look inwards, to that Centre from which a Master Mason cannot err. And, we can say, it is there that the true rewards reside.

Michael Baigent, MA