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Short Talk Bulletin Vol 06 No 02
SHORT TALK BULLETIN - Vol.VI February, 1928 No.2
DUE FORM
by: Unknown
"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 the 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' 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 all'gory 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
had 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 variations, 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 and
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 flimsy as a mist and
as frail.
Manners, it has been said, are minor morals. That is, they are 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 Emerson 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.
It 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 evaporated. 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 is 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, 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 poet 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 more plainly in 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 meaning, 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.
SO MOTE IT BE
