                    MASONIC SPRING WORKSHOP 1978
                      BUILD A BETTER TOMORROW
                   1.  We Have a Stake In It, Too

                       Bro. Dwight L. Smith


An invitation to address such a significant gathering as this is a
challenge to call forth a supreme effort on the part of any man. 
If in the course of my remarks you should detect thoughts
resembling something of mine you have read or heard me discuss
before, it is by no means a coincidence.  On the contrary,  I am
one who believes that a certain message is vital to our Brethren in
our time, worth repeating again and again to all who will hear.

It is a message of faith; a message of appreciation for, and
confidence in, and loyalty to Ancient Craft Freemasonry.

Be patient, then, and understanding, as I play another variation on
an old refrain.

"Build a Better Tomorrow."  What a stimulating theme for
consideration of Freemasons from all parts of this great province
at an intimate week-end retreat!  Tonight I shall ask you to think
with me on the introductory phase of the subject, Build a Better
Tomorrow:  We Have a Stake In It, Too.

Then tomorrow afternoon we can address ourselves to the logical
sequel, Build a Better Tomorrow:  Yes, But How?

It is doubtful whether there ever has been a time in recorded
history when the human race did not yearn for a better tomorrow. 
I'm sure most of you have heard the old story about the incident
wherein our legendary first parents, Adam and Eve, were evicted
from the Garden of Eden.  Quite naturally, they paused and looked
backward with sadness at their former home, and, as they did so,
Adam observed to his attractive consort, "My dear, we are living in
troubled times."

When I delivered the address at your Annual Communication of 1969
in Calgary, I used as my subject, "Put on Thy Strength."  Again and
again I related incidents in which men (most of them Masons) had
done the best things in the worst times.  If we are living in one
of those "worst times," I told the Brethren, then it behooves us to
do what Masons always have done in the worst time -- the best
things.

Prince Hamlet cursed the day he was born to set a disjointed world
aright.  Even then a time our of joint was no new thing.  The
Prophet Isaiah described an age which sounds strangely like 1978. 
He called it "a day of tumult and shouting and confusion... a
battering down of walls and a shouting to the mountains."

Let me acquaint you with some personal correspondence I had almost
five years ago with the late M.W. Brother Conrad Hahn, a great
Masonic leader and a dear friend.  In my letter I had observed that
a moral depression afflicts all of society over most of the
civilized world, and that while our Masonic leadership acknowledges
that fact as it applies to society as a whole, our leaders do not
like to admit that the moral depression has affected Freemasonry as
well.

Wrote "Connie" in reply:

"I doubt that the average Mason realizes the extent to which "the
times" have affected the Fraternity.  He can mouth the principles
of the Craft and wring his hands about the times being out of
joint, but he doesn't really have enough "sense of perspective of
history" to correlate the one with the other.

As a matter of fact, I believe it's more than 'a moral depression'
that's causing modern man's problems.  It's a psychic, a spiritual
crisis which results from man's loss of confidence in practically
all his institutions..."

M.W. Brother Hahn then went on to enumerate those institutions
which, in his opinion, were no longer commanding the respect of
present day man.  He mentioned the churches of the Christian faith,
institutions of learning (that is, schools, colleges and
universities), government and the political process, and
technological development (that is, science).

To the four enumerated by my friend, I would add two.  Under the
heading "government and the political process", I should want very
much to have a subdivision headed the courts and our law
enforcement agencies.  The other institution I would have to add,
even though I am an old newspaper man, would be the agencies that
communicate information and seek to mould public opinion; that is,
the press and television.

M.W. Brother Hahn then went on to say in his letter to me:

The authority of all institutions is being questioned and denied
because the individual has become less and less respected, taken
for granted, and contemptuously ignored unless he conforms without
question to established patterns (which don't seem to be working). 
Modern man is in crisis because he can't identify himself in the
"scheme of things."

Now Masonry has an approach to a solution of this problem:  first,
God; then Brotherhood.  Both are spiritual concepts; both have to
be spiritually elucidated and spiritually exemplified.  How?  Ah,
I wish I could explain it as simply as the Pythagorean Theorem --
but that's what our Masonry must attempt to analyze, to explain, to
teach, and to win commitment to!

In addition to loss of confidence in our institutions, I see much
in our Fraternity to give me concern.  It is our relationship with
each other as Freemasons in a time when there are strains on to
ties of brotherhood.

These are days of frustration for us all.  Wherever we go and
whatever we do, we are constantly beset with annoyances, most of
which are abrasive in nature, some shockingly rude, others
downright insulting.  And the more people there are who must live
in closer and closer contact with each other, the more annoyances
there will be.

Some of the unpleasantness, sadly enough, is beginning to spill
over into our relationships with our Masonic Brethren.  And
Freemasonry, you know, should be different.  If Masons cannot be a
little more kindly, a little more thoughtful and understanding in
dealing with each other, then the message of our Craft has failed
to get through, and we need to go back for a refresher course.

What challenge is offered, then, to Freemasons in our day?  In my
opinion it is to build where others would destroy... to unit where
others would divide... to guard the seed through the long cold
winter where others would throw it out... to provide tiny
sanctuaries of friendship and understanding where men, of their own
free will and be exercising their own choice, may experience
brotherhood on a small scale even though we have not reached that
state of perfection we should like for the human race to acquire.

For I am one who believes with all my heart that Freemasonry has
something worth keeping, and keeping very much as it is.  When our
Brethren of the rank and file try to put into words what
Freemasonry means to them, one of the qualities mentioned most
often is that of its stability.  but today I hear voices of
concern.  You can hear them also if you listen.  They will tell
you, as they have told me, "Freemasonry is all I have left.  One by
one we have seen those strong, stabilizing forces we once could
count upon capitulate and leave the field of battle; one by one
those institutions to which we once could look for moral leadership
have abdicated.  'If the foundations be destroyed, what can the
righteous do?'  If Freemasonry fails, what is left as an
alternative?"

Very well, then, what does our Craft have to offer in these times?

Let us direct our attention for a few moments to the message of the
Fellow Craft degree.  There is something about the Second Degree
that says to me, "If you want to have a self you can live with,
here are some old lessons, tried and true, that might be helpful to
you."

Nowhere does the message come through so loud and clear and with
such urgency as to the candidate, symbolizing as he does the adult
man in the active productive years, bearing the burden and the heat
of the day.

One of my oft repeated expressions is that the Fellow Craft is the
forgotten man of Freemasonry.  Writing in the "Kansas City Star"
around New Year's Day, Bill Vaughan observed that "The year is
always portrayed as an old man or a baby.  Like most people, it
never gets any attention when it's middle-aged."  That may serve to
explain why the Second Degree is looked upon as a necessary chore
that all too many of our Brethren would like to forget or to omit
entirely.  They see drama in the youth on the lower step and in the
elder statesman on the upper, but no romance, no excitement
surrounds the man in the prime of life whose duty it is to do the
work, provide the leadership, and pay the bills.

At the outset of the Fellow Craft degree, as in all the work of our
Craft nowadays, we shall encounter the question of relevance.  (And
how weary I'm becoming of the word and its implications!)  Again
and again we hear repeated, parrotlike, the well-worn phrases:  We
must "make Freemasonry more relevant"; we must tinker with the
ritual to "make it more relevant"; the place of our Craft in the
scheme of things, its message, its teachings, its objectives, its
standards, its grand aim -- all these "must be made more relevant."

At this point I am reminded of Mark Twain's classic observation
about the Volume of the Sacred Law.  "Most people are bothered by
those passages in Scripture which they cannot understand," he said,
"but as for me, I always noticed that the passages which trouble me
most are those I do understand."

So it is with the messages and teachings and objectives of our
Craft.  Modern day society has not lost interest in Freemasonry
because of lack of relevance; the problem arises with the
realization the IT IS RELEVANT -- uncomfortably relevant!

The Fellow Craft degree tells me that to have a self I can live
with I must be a responsible unit of society.

Over and over again with hammer blows the lesson of responsibility
is brought home.  In a day when the "work ethic" is scorned I am
reminded of the dignity, the nobility of labour.  "On the mind all
our knowledge must depend," the ritual tells me, and in my journey
to the Middle Chamber by way of the Winding Stairs I am introduced
to knowledge that has blessed my life and the life of all mankind.

I come face to face with the message of responsibility in the
lesson of the Globes.  I see it in the emphasis on architecture,
with the consequent symmetry and beauty of proportion that result
therefrom.  I find a practical application in the story of the
battle at the passages of Jordan, wherein Jephthah's men made use
of an important bit of knowledge.  The enemy tribesmen who could
not pronounce the test word correctly paid with their lives.

The Fellow Craft degree reminds me that when my work is confined to
the task of influencing the lives of people, that is doing it the
hard way, but it is doing it the effective way.

Permit me this illustration if you will, and be tolerant, if you
can, as I boast a bit between the lines.  There is no doubt in the
minds of a few mid-westerners that the 1976 triumph of Indiana
University in National Collegiate Athletic Association Basketball
was a thrilling American epic.  But even more significant to me
than an undefeated season and a Number One standing in the United
States was the philosophy of Coach Bobby Knight in bringing his
team to victory.  Syndicated columnist M. Stanton Evans tells it
better than I can:

Knight, though only 35, is of the old-fashioned school of coaches. 
He believes in discipline, patience and the pursuit of excellence. 
He also believes in Clair Bee, Woody Hayes, General Patton, and
short haircuts.  what he doesn't believe in are sloppiness,
slacking off, showboating, or the notion that life is a guaranteed
free lunch.

Above all, Knight stresses intensity, hard work, and performing up
to one's potential.  As team captain Quinn Buckner puts it, "He
tells you that if you've done your best, you'll never have any
reason to look back regretfully and wish you had."  Discipline and
patience are in at Indiana University; doing your own thing, or
letting it all hand out, are not.

There's a lesson in that beyond the confines of a basketball court,
and beyond the boundaries of Indiana.  The young people of America
could do considerably worse than look to Bobby Knight and his
hard-working Hoosiers as examples in the game of life.

To have a self I can live with I must recognize that fact that I
live in a universe governed by certain laws that are dependable. 
As a creature occupying space in that universe it is incumbent upon
me to play according to the rules.

Lloyd C. Douglas, a man whom Hoosiers like to claim as an Indiana
author, used to tell about his enjoyable visits to an old man who
gave violin lessons.  The teacher had a homely philosophy that was
refreshing.  One morning Douglas poked his head in at the door and
called out, "Well, what's the news today?"  Putting down his
violin, the teacher stepped over to a tuning fork suspended from a
cord and struck it a smart blow.  "THERE is the good news for
today," he said.  "That, my friend, is the musical note A.  It was
A all day yesterday, will be A next week, and for a thousand
years."

If I'm listening, then, the Fellow Craft degree says to me that
there are things that are reliable, and that it would be wise for
me to build my life on that principle.  Nowhere do I see that truth
illustrated more forcefully than in geometry.  The forty-seventh
Problem of Euclid offers a striking example.  It acquaints me with
the rule of three, four, and five, by which an unknown may be
determined from two knowns.  The same rule applies with the ratios
of six, eight and ten.  Or twelve, sixteen and twenty.  AND IT
NEVER FAILS.

By the Forty-seventh Problem of Euclid I learn that there are
certain truths not dependent upon time, or place, or world, or
universe.  The "situation" doesn't enter into some things, and this
is one of them.  It means today what it has always meant, its
message as relevant as it was five thousand years ago.

The same truth is conveyed to me in the lesson of the Square, which
must be ninety degrees, no more and no less.  Ninety-one is too
much, and not one can settle for eighty-nine.  It has to be ninety,
and it remains ninety year in and year out.  I see it in the lesson
of the Level and the Plumb, in the Winding Stairs, in the
awe-inspiring Letter G.

A few years ago I read with pleasure Merle Miller's book "Plain
Speaking", an oral biography of Harry S. Truman.  One passage in
particular I chose to mark so I might return to it as often as I
liked.  It was a question directed by the author to Dean Acheson,
who was Truman's Secretary of State.

"The Kennedy people talk a great deal about situation ethics,
whatever that means," said Merle Miller.  "How do you think Mr.
Truman would feel about that?"

"You'd have to ask Mr. Truman,"  Dean Acheson replied, "but I
seriously doubt whether he has ever found it necessary to place a
modifying adjective in front of the word 'ethics'."

It behooves me to bear in mind, if I want to live with myself, that
the word "situation", or any other modifying adjective, when placed
in front of the word "ethics", has no place in Freemasonry.  Some
things are true and dependable and right whether we like it or not,
whether it suits our convenience at the moment or not.

And then, to have a self I can live with I must seek tirelessly to
improve myself.

One of my favourite stories is that which describes the occasion
when a believed teacher came to his last lesson.  It was Dean
LeBaron Briggs, of Harvard, who for 50 years had taught English
grammar.  Like all good teachers, he also taught much that lies
beneath and above and beyond that subject.  The students say
expectant, waiting to hear the words that would sum up fifty years
of his life.  They were astonished when he began his lecture
unceremoniously by saying, "I wish to comment on the use of shall
and will."

He paused to let them recover.  Then he drove home the lesson that
not one of them ever forgot:  "If I have sometimes dwelt upon what
seemed to be trifles, it is because small things are necessary to
perfection, and perfection is no trifle."

The Fellow Craft degree has the same lesson to convey.  Now I can
understand the reason for its emphasis on knowledge.  Again I see
the right angle, which will settle only for ninety degrees.  I see
the Forty-seventh Problem, and can conceive of no circumstances
under which it would not apply.  I see the handiwork of those
master masons of long ago in soaring cathedrals, each a symphony in
stone, enduring objects of breathtaking beauty because the hands
that wrought them would accept nothing short of perfection.

It would be to the advantage of the Fraternity if we would all
pause now and then -- rather often, in fact -- and ask ourselves
the question, "Just what is the function of a Lodge of Freemasons?"

Is it to erect, equip and maintain a building?  To furnish members
for other organizations?  To subsidize groups that have been
attached to the Craft and provide facilities for them?

Of course not.  Masonic Lodges can do all these, and more, as a
by-product of that great, compelling force known as Freemasonry,
but to proceed as if building, and subsidizing, and prospective
membership pools were the basic purpose of Freemasonry is to get
the cart before the horse.

Then what IS the purpose of Freemasonry?  What is it all about?

In Indiana, the second question directed to me when I was
memorizing my Entered Apprentice catechism, was:

"What come you here to do?"  (Not in the past tense, but in the
present; not "What came you here to do?", but, "What COME you here
to do?", right now, this very minute.)

In my answer I was taught to say that I had come to learn how to
make myself a better man.  "To improve myself," was the way it was
phrased.

Take particular note of that short sentence.  I sought the
privileges of Freemasonry that I might IMPROVE MYSELF.  Not someone
else.  Not society, nor its institutions.  Not other nations, nor
creeds, nor races.  JUST MYSELF; that's all.  Once I had improved
myself, then there would be some hope that others might be improved
also.

In Indiana, two stones are displayed next to the Master's station
in the East.  One is rough; the other smooth.  One represents what
we are; the other what we can become.

Isn't the real purpose of Freemasonry, then, to take a good man,
one at a time, and try by our teachings to make a better man out of
him?  Our purpose is the same as it was when the stones for King
Solomon's Temple were hewed, squared and numbered IN THE QUARRIES
WHERE THEY WERE RAISED.  And where are those quarries?  In your
Lodge, and mine.

We have heard it said that Freemasonry is an anachronism in this
confused age.  If that be true, what a glorious anachronism it is! 
And with what solemn pride should we be the guardians of its
message until reason shall again prevail!  I was thrilled to read
these forceful lines from the editor of a religious publication who
was commenting on one of the many absurd experiments being
advocated by the leadership of the churches of the Christian faith,
each justified as "an idea whose time has come".

"So was phrenology an idea whose time had come," thundered the
editor, "and haruspicy; and the Emperor Julian's restoration of
paganism; and Arianism; and Hitler's Thousand Year Reich.  History
is soggily full of ideas whose time had come.  Alas for those who
must suffer through them until their time has come to go!"

The man who guides his steps through life by the challenging
paradox known as Freemasonry is quite likely to have a self he can
live with.  For traditionally and basically, our Craft is a
Brotherhood of Squares, made up of men who do the oddest things;
who do not operate in the conventional manner at all.

Hence, in a day when the term "Square" is an epithet of scorn,
Freemasonry quietly reminds us that the Square constantly
symbolizes dependability, and truth, and honour, and unshakable
integrity.

In an age when theologians seem to have lost contact with God, the
Freemason has (or should have) no doubts at all.

In a restless time when men become impatient unless all of the
prolific organizations in an over-organized age has a slogan and
makes official pronouncements on about every subject under the sun,
however trivial; when it is desired mightily that the conventional
pattern be followed -- to maintain lobbies, to publish aims and
objectives, to conduct drives and campaigns, to parade and
demonstrate, its members falling over each other in a ridiculous
effort to be seen and heard -- the Masonic Craft goes (or should
go) quietly about its business with dignity, serene in the
conviction that is has chosen the better part when, "through the
improvement and strengthening of the character of the INDIVIDUAL
MAN, (it) seeks to improve the community".

And so it is that the Masonic Institution, which sometimes is
looked upon with scorn because it does not operate in the
conventional manner, is prepared (or should be prepared) to bear
witness to the fact that the conventional way of our age leaves
much to be desired, and to stand upon its own majestic affirmation
that the way to change human systems is to change human lives.

This, then, is my conception of how Freemasonry can help to build
a better tomorrow:  Instead of trying gimmicks whereby we may be
seen and heard by men, let's try Freemasonry -- the real thing --
the only public relations program that really works.  As Freemasons
we have a stake in a better tomorrow, do we not?  We do, indeed;
yea, more than that; WE HAVE A RESPONSIBILITY.

Whether the English writer, C.S. Lewis, was a Freemason, I do not
know.  But his appraisal of St. Athanasius has a strangely familiar
sound.  To me, it would be the ideal epitaph for one who loves and
serves our Craft through thick and thin:

"It was his glory that he did not move with the times; it is his
reward that he now remains when those times, as all times do, have
passed away."
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