Good day, Brethren,
Although the story I will share with you today is presented as a parable, in many ways it reflects my own journey and the experiences I have had — and continue to have — since I first entered our beloved brotherhood nearly 41 years ago at Doric Lodge No. 140 in Fort Lauderdale. Through my eyes, many facets of masonry have changed over the past four decades. Yet, some of the most meaningful and enduring principles have remained constant: brotherhood, fellowship, moral instruction, and the pursuit of further light. It is my sincere hope that you enjoy today’s masonic message as much as I have enjoyed preparing it for you.
************************************************************************************** Today, I want to share a simple story about a young man named John. John was new in town. He had a new job, but he wanted something more than work, dinner, and sleep. He wanted fellowship. He wanted purpose. He wanted to belong to something meaningful.
One day, a co-worker invited him to Hiram's Fishing Club. John liked the idea. As a boy, he had fished with his father and grandfather, and he remembered the quiet joy of the water, the patience of casting a line, and the hope beneath the surface.
At the meeting, the members had dinner first, then in the fellowship hall they read the minutes, gave the treasurer's report, and heard committee reports. Then John was brought forward and asked, "John, What do desire most?"
John thought for a moment a bit confused and then answered, "To fish? " John had the right answer and the members welcomed him warmly. Then they told John, "Since you are new, we need you at the clubhouse every Saturday. There is work to be done and we need your help."
John came eagerly. He cleaned rods, polished tackle boxes, untangled lines, sorted hooks, and organized bait buckets. After several Saturdays, everything was ready. So, John asked, "When do we fish?"
The president looked at him and said, "Fishing? This is hardly the time for recreation. There is more equipment to polish."
At that moment, John understood. These men belonged to a fishing club, but they did not fish. They only maintained the appearance of fishing. So, John lost interest, and he left the club.
Sometime later, a co-worker introduced John to the Blue Ridge Hiking Club. John imagined trails, maps, mountains and the discipline of preparing for a journey. Again, there was a meal, minutes, reports, and bills. Again, he was asked, "What do you desire most?"
This time, he answered with confidence: "To hike."
But soon after that faithful night, John discovered there were no hikes, no trail instruction, and no lessons in navigation. When John suggested programs that might teach those things, one member finally said, "Son, we really do not care much about hiking. What we really care about is our annual pork butt sale."
Once again, John understood. They bore the name of a hiking club, but they had forgotten the purpose of the trail.
Then, about a month later, John met a mason at work. That caught his attention in a different way. John remembered that his grandfather & dad had been masons but he had never truly understood what it meant.
So, his friend invited him to come to the lodge. John followed the proper process. He completed the necessary paperwork. He was investigated, balloted upon, and, in due time, accepted.
On the night he came to the lodge, they served a spaghetti dinner with green beans, and day old cookies for dessert. After dinner, the brethren entered the lodge room, and John was left outside to wait. Then, at the proper time, he was prepared and brought into the lodge. During the ceremony, the Worshipful Master asked him that ancient and important question: "What do you most desire?" This time, John was not caught off guard at all. He answered clearly. He answered sincerely. He answered from the heart. So now I ask you Brothers, what kind of lodge do you think John had joined?
Did he join a lodge that truly labors in masonry? Or did he join a lodge that has become little more than a social club with a square and compasses on the wall? Did he join a lodge that teaches the meaning of our symbols, the lessons of our degrees, the duties of brotherhood, the practice of morality, and the pursuit of truth? Or did he join a lodge where, month after month and meeting after meeting, there is activity, business, and routine, but very little masonry?
Brethren, that is the question this story places before us. A fishing club that does not fish will eventually lose those who came seeking the water. A hiking club that does not hike will eventually lose those who came seeking the trail. And a masonic lodge that does not teach masonry will eventually lose those who came seeking light.
As Florida masons, we lose, on average, roughly 1,400 members each year. Death and relocation may explain part of that loss, but can they explain all of it? Or is there a deeper, less comfortable question that we must be willing to ask ourselves?
We must never forget what a man is truly asking for when he knocks at the door of a lodge. He is not merely asking for minutes, bills, reports, dinners, fundraisers, or announcements. Those things may be necessary, but they are not the heart of Freemasonry. He is asking for light. He is asking for improvement. He is asking to be instructed. He is asking to be received into an ancient and honorable fraternity that teaches a man to subdue his passions, improve himself in masonry, practice brotherly love, relieve distress, and walk uprightly before God and man. That is our work. That is our purpose. That is what makes a lodge different from every other club, civic organization, or charitable association in the world.
We can have dinners, and we should have fellowship. We can pay bills, and we must handle the business of the lodge. We can host events, support charities, and serve the community. But if we do all those things and fail to provide masonic light, then we have polished the tackle box but never cast the line. We packed the backpack but never walked the trail.
Brethren, men do not come to masonry simply because they are looking for another meeting to attend. They come because somewhere within them they believe there is something noble here, something ancient, something meaningful, and something capable of making a good man better.
And they are right.
It is our duty to make sure they find it. Every stated communication should contain some evidence that we are masons. Every lodge should make room for education, reflection, instruction, and the serious discussion of our craft. Every officer, and every brother, should be willing to ask: Are we giving our candidates and newer brothers what they came here seeking?
Because if a man comes seeking light and all we give him is procedure, repetition, and routine, we should not be surprised when his enthusiasm begins to fade. Masonic education does not need to be long. It does not need to be complicated. It does not need to be academic. But it does need to be present. A short explanation of a symbol, a reflection on a charge, a discussion of a working tool, a lesson from our ritual, a moment from the history of the craft, or a reminder of our obligations can transform a routine meeting into a meaningful one. It reminds us why we are here. It reminds us that we are not merely members of an organization. We are masons.
So let us be careful, brethren. Let us not become a fishing club that does not fish. Let us not become a hiking club that does not hike. And above all, let us never become a masonic lodge that does not teach masonry. When a man comes to our door and tells us that he desires light, let us make certain that light is what he receives.
I pray that the Great Architect keeps you and yours safe. Thank you, my brothers, for forty years of light—and for the journey that continues.
Michael A. Salvati
Junior Warden
Ft. Pierce Lodge No. 87 F.&A.M. |
