Ritual

It was during the post-meeting refreshments. We had been productive and everyone was in a buoyant mood. Except the guy who approached me at the end of the snack table.

He had that look in his eye. The look of someone who just couldn’t wait to dump on something. “Did you notice our guest had a Masonic ring?”

We had allowed someone to make a presentation proposing s strategic alliance with his organization, which had nothing to do with Masonry. “No, I didn’t.”

“I did. I don’t think we should trust him.”

“Because?”

“Haven’t you read any of those books or seen what’s on the web exposing them?”

He probably meant the conspiracy theory garbage, but my information was more first-hand. “I don’t think I’ve seen what you’re referring to.”

“If you had, you’d know we shouldn’t have anything to do with this guy. You should look it up.”

And you should get professional help. I didn’t say that because I’ve learned that people who need it often think it’s the rest of the world that’s out of step and it does little good to point it out. “I’ll consider that.”

My first exposure came shortly after my thirteenth birthday when I joined DeMolay. DeMolay chapters are usually sponsored by Masonic lodges and use their temples for meetings and rituals.

To the outside world, the rituals might appear to be arcane but I would posit that they are no more so than burning incense or lighting a menorah. And, what the rituals inculcated us with, somewhat mirroring Masonry, was reverence for God, courtesy, comradeship, respect for parents, patriotism, fidelity and other precepts. Really subversive stuff.

A good part of the initiation ritual involves the dramatization of Jacques DeMolay being tried during the inquisitions of the Middle Ages. Serious stuff, which means it’s fraught with possibilities for corruption by adolescent males.

The first instance of this occurred when I played the part of a guard. The inquisitors became angered by DeMolay’s defiance and ordered him dragged from the barely candle-lit room to the rack for some softening up. Steve (the other guard) and I dragged the already battered DeMolay (Tim) to an ante room, which was completely dark to preserve the atmosphere. The script was that the guards would whack their spears against a table to simulate the sounds of the rack, which provided background audio for the ritual that continued inside the main room. On cue, we would drag him back in and he would continue to defy the inquisition. At least, that’s the script.

In the dark room, I heard my own spear hitting the table. But, Steve’s first blow produced a different sound, followed by something heavy falling on the floor. That something was Tim, who had been inadvertently knocked out by Steve in the dark.

We tried to revive him, but failed to do so by the time it was incumbent upon us to drag him back in.

Which we did, depositing his limp body in front of the inquisition table, according to script. The lead inquisitor then again demanded of DeMolay that he relent. At that point, DeMolay is supposed to reassert his defiance, but Tim remained still and silent. The inquisitor must’ve thought he missed the cue and repeated his demand with the same result.

The inquisitor looked at Steve and me quizzically, but we just stared straight ahead. So, he had little choice but to ad lib past DeMolay’s part.

I wish I could say that was our worst screwup, but that would come a couple years later during a command performance at the huge Pennsylvania Masonic temple in Philadelphia. I guarantee this is one of the most awesome buildings you’ve ever seen and you can take a virtual tour (not that secretive, are they?) of it at http://www.pagrandlodge.org/tour/mtemple.html. You may imagine the impact of its grandeur on a gangly group of teenagers.

Or, what that impact should’ve been. To be invited to perform was a great honor. I think we looked at it that way, right up until the time we arrived.

The agenda was that the Masons would conduct their regular meeting, which we weren’t privy to. Then, we would be on.

During their meeting, we were sequestered in the cavernous kitchen that served the entire facility. How could we possibly get into trouble in a kitchen? Two words: cooking sherry. I’d like to say the indulgence was just a need to take off the edge, given the magnitude of what we were about to do. But, it was probably more related to a stage of life when some teenage boys were in a constant quest for alcohol and wasted no opportunity.

Once again, there was a good deal of ad libbing, but not out of necessity. Think Mel Brooks does the Inquisition. We enjoyed the performance a lot more than we did the ride home with our advisors.

Later, in college, I would become involved in a similar organization. Part of the initiation is that you replicate a journey of Pythagorus. You are blindfolded and wearing nothing but gym shorts to simulate the experience. For example, to replicate a trek across the desert, you are lead down a trough of sand that has been heated in an oven.

At one point, everyone yells, “Beware the asp!” and you are bitten. Being somewhat responsible, we didn’t actually employ a venomous snake. Instead, we used an electric cattle prod. That was pretty effective, up until the time it sent one initiate into a seizure. Kind of put a damper on the whole thing.

In another segment, you are mummified to smuggle you out of the country. To simulate this, the initiate is laid on a board and wrapped tightly in a long, cloth towel procured from a machine in some commercial rest room. You are sprinkled with an “embalming fluid,” which I recall was oil of wintergreen or something akin to that.

What could go wrong there? Ask Bill. When we initiated him, the bottle of fluid slipped from Doug’s grasp and drenched his crotch. If you’ve ever gotten some ache relief balm on an area dense with follicles, you have some idea of the burning sensation a little of this can produce. In this case, Bill had the better part of a bottle deposited on his sensitive area and was tightly bound in cloth. You could barely hear the ritual above the screaming.

Amusing times, but it’s probably for the best that I’m past most rituals. Except for the big one at the end. I probably won’t bungle my role there.