“Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” I have heard those words somewhere along the line, as I suspect we all have. Recently, a Brother and I were speaking to a new petitioner, and I found myself sharing something that I know to be true: I am not the same man who first knocked at the door of this lodge some 20 years ago.
At different points in my journey, I would have reflected on those words in very different ways. As a young man first knocking at the door of the lodge and seeking light, they likely carried one meaning—an invitation of discovery, growth, and perhaps to learn something he did not yet fully understand. Years later, those same words took on a different weight when they were engraved upon the gavel my wife gifted me, and as I was elevated by my Brothers. With it, I was given the honor of presiding in the East and caring for Rochester Lodge No. 21. In that season, the words spoke of leadership, responsibility, and service.
My conversation with the new petitioner, and one of my original mentors brought those same words back to me once again. And now…? Now they carry yet another meaning. Why? The words never changed; the man did.
Each of us is a story unfolding upon the level of time. Perhaps that is why great works of art continue to resonate across generations – reflecting both the comedies and the tragedies that shape our human experience. As a friend once reminded me, pushing through that brings us closer to our creator. Each of us views life through the lens of our own experiences: with all the beauty, scars, strengths, and biases that come with them.
One of the great gifts that the lodge experience offers us is a place to wrestle with those truths. It challenges us to better understand men, to appreciate the importance of the journey, to think critically, and perhaps most importantly… to discover our own potential as we get to “know thyself”. As we travel that path, we must be willing to ask a difficult question: Are we seeing the world as it truly is… or only as it appears colored by our experience, ego, and bias?
To assume we already possess truth and to close ourselves off from growth, correction, or deeper understanding is a danger every man faces. We may think of ourselves as Masters and yet we would be mistaken. Today, we even have a name for part of that struggle: the Dunning–Kruger effect.
The principle itself is far older than modern psychology. It appears throughout sacred writings, in the teachings of philosophers, and in the stories of great men who wrestled with the same enduring questions: Who are we? Why are we here? How should we live?
The more we invest ourselves in the temptations of this life, the more we lose sight of what is truly important. What difference does making a few more dollars make if we never have the time to enjoy the fruits of our work?
In an age of technology, instant information, endless notifications, and the constant pull of immediate gratification, patience has become a rare discipline. We are being conditioned to react rather than reflect—rewarded by the chemistry of convenience, speed, and stimulation.
And still… I would ask us to remember another way.
An older way.
A proven way.
A meaningful way.
A path that demands reflection, perseverance, humility, and perspective. Craftsmen, I would ask us to be patient and understand that we will receive the secrets of eternity when the time is right. A stone shaped too quickly may crack under pressure. A careless strike may chip it in ways that make it useless for the builders’ use.
As Masons, we carry a tremendous responsibility—not only to the Great Architect of the Universe, but to the men who seek our guidance, our example, and our friendship. The world and its distractions may have its grip on society, but I believe we have a stronger grip. We bring hope. The hope of a society rebuilt by good works, guided by good men, and strengthened by lives lived with purpose and the ability to apply our tools and philosophies to every day of our life, and not just memorized words said sometimes in a lodge performance.
We are here to help each other find patience, to do the work, and have the courage to shape ourselves: fitting ourselves as living stones. As you do so, travel well my Brothers…