Perhaps the challenges that Freemasonry presents to us are not so much obstacles in our path as they are invitations to flex and stretch our Masonic muscles.

"The Quiet Reflection of Maturity," stained-glass window, Scottish Rite Temple in Guthrie, Oklahoma; Photo: W. A. Wells, III, 33°

Freemasonry prides itself on offering an opportunity for its members to grow in self-awareness and service to others. "We take good men and make them better" is a familiar Masonic slogan, and the same principle is embodied in the symbolism of the new Candidate as a rough ashlar that will, with proper effort, become smooth and square.

This potential for "more light" is compatible with all major religions and points to what might be called a "generic" spiritual perspective: the assumption that a belief and trust in deity and in an afterlife, combined with self-restraint and compassion for and service to others, leads one over time to a closer alignment with God's Will. I call this a "spiritual" not a "religious" perspective, because it is an underlying principle regarding the individual's relationship to the divine that is not the exclusive claim of any one religion, but rather a common ground shared by all.

Alas, as we know all too well, traveling this "rough and rugged road" is hardly a cakewalk, and we face many challenges on this spiritual journey. "Circumscribing our desires" and "keeping our passions within due bounds" are enough to keep most of us busy for the rest of our lives. These tasks of moderation (or the "Middle Way") point to one of the common components of every spiritual tradition: the struggle to overcome the Ego's appetite for self-gratification and aggrandizement.

The familiar vow "not mine but Thine, O Lord" is echoed in every religion in some fashion, and the believer is encouraged to continually pare his ego back to manageable size, if not transcend it altogether. Indeed, a Lodge full of inflated egos battling each other for attention and the final word is not a pretty sight; hence, the urge towards fraternal harmony implies a brotherhood of men with egos in check.

Thus, it seems more than a little ironic that institutional Freemasonry has come to rely on a steady diet of awards, certificates, plaques, and other honors as rewards for a Brother's good works and service. This is, of course, in the best tradition of "positive reinforcement," and I am not advocating that we drop the practice--especially given my own gratitude for those honors that I've received upon occasion. Nevertheless, one has to wonder whether each new honor doesn't represent yet another opportunity for the ego to tiptoe past its due bounds and run away with the show.

This inherent conflict between Masonry as a spiritual journey and Masonry as a civic institution is hardly of recent vintage; it has been there from the very start. Masonic history provides accounts of early English Grand Lodges parading in public--a rather conspicuous display of good men taking pride in their goodness. Such practices proved sufficiently annoying to some that a whole genre of mock-Masons, such as the Scald Miserable Masons in 18th-century England and the Clampers (E. Clampus Vitus) in 19th-century California, sprang up to parody what they saw as Masonic pomposity.

Most seasoned practitioners of a spiritual path indicate that a regular practice of meditation or quiet reflection is helpful in keeping grounded and detached from one's distracting desires. Here, too, Freemasonry presents a challenge to its members, as it is quite easy to have every minute of one's spare time taken up with Masonic meetings, practices, Degrees, Appendant Body meetings, dinners, trips, and work parties. As I recently mentioned to a friend and Brother, perhaps the real Masonic slogan should be, "We take busy men and make them busier."

Finally, there is the challenge of what might be called the Masonic "persona." This is the public face that we present to other Brethren. While this varies from individual to individual, there does seem to be the curious phenomenon of some Masons who come across as all persona. Hands are shook, bluff greetings given, small talk made, but at the end of the day, one has no inkling of the real person behind the social mask. This is, of course, a common coping device in the business world and in the social sphere in general. After all, one can't be an instant close friend of everyone, nor would one want to be. Still, to reside entirely in one's persona is to miss the benefit of both giving and receiving brotherly love. Personas aren't Brothers--only the individuals inside the shells can aspire to real brotherhood.

Of course, it has also been said that the spiritual journey is primarily a series of challenges to be overcome, that muscles that are never flexed rapidly lose their mass. In light of this, perhaps the challenges that Freemasonry presents to us are not so much obstacles in our path as they are invitations to flex and stretch our Masonic muscles. Athletes speak of "no pain, no gain." Maybe a Masonic spiritual counterpart might be "no might, no light."

Jay M. Kinney Valley of San Francisco, is the Librarian and Director of Research of the San Francisco Scottish Rite and a Contributing Member of the Scottish Rite Research Society. This article is reprinted from the January 2004 Trestleboard of Mill Valley Lodge #356, Mill Valley, California Contact: Jay Kinney, P.O. Box 14217, San Francisco, CA 94114