Many a man has left the Masonic lodge room after the last night of his initiation with the feeling that what he has seen and heard has all been very interesting and impressive but also very queer: it has been so entirely different from the other experiences of his life that it all seems unreal, a strange piece of formality, as if somebody had devised it as an ornate but merely formal way of getting a man inducted into Masonry. It is no wonder that many who go away with such impressions never again take much interest in the ceremonies of initiation. What such a man needs is to have brought home to him that which is the main contention of this present series of studies, namely, that initiation, along with all the more important features of our Craft, is not a strange thing arbitrarily devised by somebody for ornamental and ceremonial purposes, but normal, and natural, and inevitable, —just as natural as the blowing wind or the falling snow. Initiation is something that has been in universal use from the beginning of the world, and it is therefore as human a piece of business as anything that we do, albeit not so common perhaps.

Instead of, approaching the matter in the abstract it is well to begin by observing just what happens to a candidate during the process of his initiation into Freemasonry. First of all, he signs a paper setting forth certain important facts about himself: then he participates in the “work” for a few nights: he binds himself by a solemn obligation to do certain things and not to do certain other things: he takes the oath of secrecy which covers the ceremonies and also what may be said or done in lodge at any time: he contracts to give financial support to the Craft according to its laws thereon: he enters into a new relation with a large group of men who have been similarly initiated and sworn; and he places himself for life under a set of very definite and very noble influences. One could add other items to this list, but as it is it is sufficiently ample to recall to our minds just what is actually done through the process of initiation; and it is perfectly plain that, except for some words and actions in the ceremonies, there is nothing in all this to give anybody the slightest feeling that it is strange or formal: it is all as real and as natural as conducting a day’s business. This is something worth remembering because many who have approached the subject of initiation from a merely abstract and theoretical position are very apt to give us impossible theories of the matter, land us in difficulties, and make us believe that Masonic initiation is something very esoteric or occult: as a matter of actual fact it is nothing of the kind.

I have said that during the ceremonies incidental to initiation some things are done and said that do seem queer to any man when first he encounters them. But even these elements in our “mysteries” are not there for any fantastic or unreal purpose: they are there because we have inherited them from the past, and because they still have for us such valuable meanings that we continue to hold to them. If there is anything in the ritual that seems fantastic to a man he needs only to study the history of the same to have such an impression obliterated.

The unfortunate thing is that many candidates pass through the entire process of initiation without being affected to any depth at all. Why is this? Very often it is the candidate’s own fault. Before entering, or even seeking to: enter, such an institution as Freemasonry he should learn something about it; at least a little of its history, and as much as possible about its present activities. And then, after he has passed through the initiation ceremonies, he should stop long enough to find out what it all means. A man to be impressed by anything must do his own part: nothing can act as a substitute for his own brains, feelings, and actions. Moreover, Masonic initiation is a blessing, carrying with it many precious privileges, and it is therefore worth something of an effort on the part of a man who seeks it.

In all other cases the poor effect of initiation is due to the carelessness of the lodge. A ritual cannot be satisfactorily administered in a mechanical way, as if all one had to do was to turn the crank of a mill. Nor can it ever be a cut- and- dried thing which needs no thought and initiative behind it. No lodge has a right to shove a man through three degrees and then dismiss him without first endeavouring to instruct him in the meaning of it all, without trying to bring home to him what it was designed to do. The whole process should be made one of the most crucial experiences of the candidate’s life, one that he can never forget, one that will change him to the centre of his being, else it is not a real initiation at all, but an imitation.

For consider what takes place inside a man when initiation has been a success. The word itself suggests a “new birth.” The experience, whenever it actually occurs, is a profound one. It is like the crisis of adolescence when a boy finds himself passing through a mysterious change that throws his whole being into turmoil; he grows moody; his beard makes its appearance; his voice changes; he gets a new expression in his face; his muscles develop; his interests change; he begins to take more interest in the opposite sex; he is no longer a boy but a young man. Or it is like the moral and spiritual change which comes over a man who passes through the religious experience known as “conversion” or “regeneration”; he finds himself with a new set of interests; he behaves differently to his family and his fellows; he forms new habits, such as prayer and church attendance; he has a new feeling about God; new beliefs about the great questions that concern man; he calls himself a “new” man. He has been initiated into the religious life, which is to him a new world of experience, and he can never again become what he was, even though all these new interests fade away.

Masonic initiation is intended to be quite as profound and as revolutionising an experience. As a result of it the candidate should become a new man: he should have a new range of thought; a new feeling about mankind; a new idea about God; a new confidence in immortality; a new passion for brotherhood; a new generosity and charity. The whole purpose of the ritual, of the symbols, of all that is done and said, is solemnly to bring about such a transformation in the man. If initiation does not accomplish something of this it is a failure; if it does accomplish it, that fact should forever silence those who have looked upon it as an elaborate and expensive piece of formalism.

Secrecy is so prominent a characteristic of Freemasonry that often in literature we find the latter word used as a synonym of the former, as when we read how a circle of friends were so intimate that there was a “kind of freemasonry” among them. To some this is most objectionable because they deem it beneath the dignity of a great Order to conceal its functionings behind so opaque a veil: or they think that what must be so effectually hidden must contain some taint, or have anti- social influences. “If it is good and noble,” so they say, “why hide your light under a bushel? if your hidden actions are reprehensible then is all your secrecy an elaborate hypocrisy ! or it may be that all your secrecy is merely an elaborate bit of child’s play designed to appeal to curiosity mongers. In any event our best public institutions, the church, school, public hospitals, libraries, and even our political governments, have no need of such a veil.” The fallacy underlying these objections is that the objectors do not know that Masonic secrecy is a peculiar kind of secrecy designed and preserved expressly for the needs of such an institution.

Anyhow, there is nothing objectionable or unfamiliar about secrecy; it is a human necessity found everywhere, and often where it is not apparently in evidence it will be found on examination to equal or even exceed that which lies about the gateways of our Fraternity. Nothing is more zealously guarded than the home. The directors of a business corporation keep their deliberations to themselves. Friendship is based on mutual confidence and that means much secrecy. Governments are very public in function but they are still obliged to carry on many of their activities behind the scenes. Indeed, what would life be without this honourable kind of concealment! how would any man endure to go about in the world with all his inner life exposed to view like the goods in a show window!

Freemasonry partakes of the nature of this more common kind of secrecy, but there is secrecy and secrecy, and one variety of it is one about which we do not often think: I refer to that which is as yet unknown to us, not because we are shut out from it, but because we are not yet prepared or equipped to learn it. Music is a terra incognita to one who knows not one note from another, and cannot recognise a tune. Literature is a vast unknown to the illiterate. Chemistry, physics, geology, astronomy, or any of the sciences, what a “freemasonry” is it in which they exist ! for they are revealed only to the initiated. They are not hidden from us by any arbitrary authority; they are hidden because we wear the hoodwink of ignorance. Much of our Masonic secrecy is of this character. As a matter of fact it is surprising how little of it there is that cannot be published to outsiders: but there is a vast deal of it that remains unknown even to its own initiates because they have as yet made no effort to learn it.

Also, Masonic secrecy exists for certain definite purposes. The Fraternity itself exists in order to keep fixed on a man a certain set of influences, and in order to bring about certain changes in the world, etc.: its secrecy is a means to that end, and helps to make such a purpose possible. If a lodge room were as open to the general public as a street corner all that goes specifically by the name of Masonry would necessarily vanish and the very purpose for which the Order exists would be defeated.

Experience teaches this fact as well as reflection. The Order has existed in one form or another for we know not how many centuries, and it has always been a secret society. Other modern fraternities have found secrecy equally necessary. So also with fraternities in earlier times. The Mysteries hedged themselves about in the most elaborate fashion. The Collegia held their meetings behind tiled doors. The Christian church, in at least one period of its history, often did the same; and so did the numberless guilds of Mediaeval Europe.

There is a psychology of secrecy, the discussion of which is to be recommended, though little space is available for it here. What we value we instinctively guard. Curtains are drawn before the more intimate things of life. Even religion, to a majority of individuals, is a thing for the closet rather than for the public stage, and many a man would rather be thought an infidel than be caught at prayer. In all these, and in scores of cases like them, secrecy is used as a screen whereby to protect sensitive feelings. In many other equally familiar cases secrecy is employed to awaken the desire to explore, the curiosity to know; it stimulates a man to make search for that which is presented to him as a mystery. One may see Masonic secrecy affecting the minds of brethren in the lodge room in both these ways: some are happy to be there because they can give expression to thoughts, to ideals, and to aspirations, often religious, among trusted brethren: and some are there because the veil thrown about our mysteries has enticed them to try to lift it.

To my own mind the noblest effect of Masonic secrecy is found in the atmosphere of kindliness which it throws about all the operations of brotherly aid and charity. The unfortunate member is often helped almost without himself knowing whence his succor comes; there is no publishing abroad of the affliction; the thing is not bragged about; usually the object of this charity does not even make an application: like the stretching forth of a gentle hand he feels himself supported in such wise that his pride need not sink to the level of his fortunes.

If Masonic secrecy did nothing else it would be abundantly justified to every delicate and charitable mind.

While keeping all this in mind it is also well to remember that, after all, Masons themselves sometimes do not understand that this, the secrecy of the Craft, aside from the single matter of its charity, is almost wholly concerned with method rather than with matter. If one will carefully consider the oath of secrecy he made while taking his obligation he will find that he is not in anywise to reveal to others aught of the initiatory ceremony, or of what may be said in lodge: but he is not sworn to keep secret that which Freemasonry really is! Its principles, its history, its spirit, its ideals, its purposes and programmes, he may publish to the world, and the more he publishes them the better.