06/14/2026
A great many of the thoughts and reflections I write about come from conversations with Brothers or from discussions I have seen in various Masonic circles. This one is no different.
The other day, I had the privilege of sitting on an investigation committee for a Brother petitioning to join a Traditional Observance Lodge. As it happens, it was my own Lodge, and I am genuinely excited about the possibility of laboring alongside these men.
During the conversation, I was asked a simple but profound question: “How do you view Masonry?”
Naturally, we discussed charity, philanthropy, scholarships, and community service. These are all worthy endeavors. Masons have long sought to improve the world around them, and in my jurisdiction our Masonic Foundation does remarkable work in that regard. I am proud to support those efforts.
But I do not believe those things are the essence of Masonry.
I have also met men who see Freemasonry primarily as a social organization, not unlike the Elks, Eagles, Moose, or other fraternal bodies. Since I am not a member of those organizations, I will not speak to what they do or do not offer. I can only speak about Freemasonry.
And to me, the heart of Masonry lies somewhere much deeper.
People often say that you get out of Masonry what you put into it. That is true. In fact, it is true of almost everything worthwhile in life. But if I were asked to describe what Masonry really is, my answer might surprise some people.
To me, Masonry is, in many ways, a profoundly selfish endeavor.
Now, before anyone objects, hear me out. We are called to help our Brothers in their search for light and knowledge. We encourage them, guide them, and walk beside them on the path. But we cannot effectively aid another if we ourselves refuse to grow. The work begins within.
I would even go so far as to say that Masonry is a magickal order, pure and simple.
Some time ago, I made a similar observation and someone responded, “There is no place for magic in Masonry.” My Brother, I would respectfully suggest that this misses the point entirely.
In Magick in Theory and Practice, Aleister Crowley defined magick as “the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will.” Put aside whatever modern images the word “magic” may conjure. Consider the definition itself.
Is not Masonry described as a progressive science? Does it not seek to move a man from one state of understanding to another? Through the degrees, the allegories, the symbols, and the lessons, we are challenged to reshape our character and expand our consciousness. If we truly apply those teachings, they change us. I have seen it happen over and over again.
But transformation is never passive. It requires effort. It requires discipline. Nothing of value is simply handed to us. Perhaps that is why, throughout our journey, we are repeatedly asked whether our actions are of our “own free will and accord.”
There is that word again: will.
We often say that Freemasonry seeks to “take good men and make them better.” That can only happen if the candidate—and later the Brother—actively engages with the principles he is given. He must contemplate them, test them, and ultimately live them. After all, every man who petitions the Craft does so because, consciously or unconsciously, he is seeking some form of change.
Our role is to help him apply the science that facilitates that transformation.
In other words, our role is to practice magick.
I once heard a Past Grand Master describe this process not as magic, but as alchemy—the ancient art of transformation. Not the transmutation of lead into gold, but of the rough and imperfect self into something nobler. I have always thought that was a beautiful way of putting it, and I find myself in complete agreement.
As our conversation continued, we turned to the symbolic and spiritual dimensions of the Lodge itself. We speak of the Lodge room as representing King Solomon’s Temple. We often call it symbolic, but I sometimes wonder if that word falls short.
If all creation begins with thought, if symbols shape consciousness and consciousness shapes reality, then is it merely symbolic?
I do not think so.
When the Lodge is properly opened and the officers have assumed their stations, something profound takes place. Through ritual, intention, and shared purpose, we cease to be simply men sitting in a room. We become laborers assembled within the spiritual reality of King Solomon’s Temple—the very place that housed the Sanctum Sanctorum, the Holy of Holies, the symbolic dwelling place of the Divine.
Whether you call that Divine presence God, the Grand Architect of the Universe, or by another sacred name is a matter for your own heart and conscience. But I believe that when a Lodge is duly opened and properly tyled, we stand together in the presence of the Master Craftsman Himself.
And whenever the Master is present, change is possible.
Whenever the Divine is invited into the work, transformation becomes inevitable.
And where there is transformation through will, purpose, and sacred labor, there is—Magick.
I love you and may we govern ourselves accordingly
