by djwood
In 1894 the Indiana Grand Chapter Order of the Eastern Star granted Sharpsville Indiana a Charter and thus established Sharpsville #148 Order of the Eastern Star. They held their meetings at Reserve Lodge # 363 FA &M in Sharpsville, IN.
Reserve Lodge #363 consolidated with Naphtali #389 in the mid 1970”s. Sharpsville #148 continued to meet in the same room (see picture) until 2013. After 119 years Sharpsville consolidated with Cicero #541 OES.
When Sharpsville closed the Lodge for the final time, it was necessary to find new homes for all of the furnishings of the lodge. The officers all shared that responsibility. My cousin Rebecca Dunlap was the Worthy Matron and I was the Worthy Patron. Among the items that were my responsibility, was our ballot box.
My Aunt, Beryl Harlow became a member at Sharpsville #148 in the 1950’s.My cousins Rebecca Dunlap and Angie Lorenz became members in the late 1960’s and I became a member in 2003. We were all voted on using that ballot box. My cousins were Rainbow girls and they were voted on at that time with that same ballot box. Let it suffice to say, that old ballot box is very special to me, my family and all of the remaining members of Sharpsville #148.
It is important to all of the remaining members that we find ways to keep alive the memory of Sharpsville #148. It was in that light that we decided to give our old ballot box a new life. We wanted it to continue to serve the Masonic Fraternity and help the memory of Sharpsville #148. We could think of no better place for it than Millersville #126 FA&M.
by brent
(If you missed it, checkout Part 1: Why I Became a Mason – Part 1
So, as detailed on part one, I was on a quest to discover what it meant to step above the adolescence that plagues my generation and find out what it meant to be a man in the modern world, while somehow connecting to the values of previous generations. Masonry seemed the perfect fit.
A Truly Open House
The first thing that really sold me on Masonry wasn’t the people, who were all nice and courteous as I sat through the informational meeting at the open house; it was the building that made an impression. The moment our tour group entered the Lodge room proper, I was sold. It took my breath away. You could feel the significance of every object in the room, carefully selected and placed, each with its own particular story and history, as well a clear symbol of some lesson of Masonry, as yet unknown to me. Masonic knowledge was all around, and I wanted it.
After a brief overview of Masonry and tantalizing tour of the building, it was time for lunch over a bowl of C.J. Littrell’s famous chili. I saw the real power of Masonry at work. I sat at a table with three men with an age range of 50 years between them, yet I was treated as an equal, without a hint of patronization or condescension.
As a teacher, I’m accustomed to a bit of age-ism. I’ve practically made a career out of being the new guy, the upstart with all the crazy ideas. (Read: young punk.) And as I’ve mentioned before, I’ve never been terribly good at socializing with an all-male crowd (at least, not outside of the comic shop.) But here I was, with three me n who dwarfed me in age, experience, and knowledge of Masonry, but I felt their instant respect. There was no gap, no divide, no sense of the self-importance you might expect from a tight-knit group of older men, ushering a younger one into a society full of tradition and secret knowledge. For a closed order, they were all remarkably open. From the moment we sat at the table, the conversation flowed like we’d known each other for years. There was no warming-up period; I was instantly a part of “the group.” For a guy who’s spent years trying be in “the group” and never learning the knack, it was incredibly refreshing.
Therein lies one of the powers of Masonry; for a society built on rules and rituals and guarded secrets, it would be the easiest thing in the world for its members to act as the ultimate in-crowd, swollen with their own specialness and position in its ranks. (Like most of the frat buys I knew in college.) Yet all the masons I met were immediately open and approachable, making no distinction between past master and petitioner, octogenarian and eighteen-year old. This is no accident: it is carefully cultivated, one of the core values of our order. We meet on the level.
I was also surprised to see how young a lot of these guys were. The scenes I had imagined of a bunch of old farts huddled around card tables was dead wrong. While we have our share of distinguished gentlemen, there was a healthy crowd of urban professionals, a few young punks like me, and a surprisingly large group of men from other countries. The masons had the diversity that I valued, an open and accepting attitude, and an intense mutual respect built on true brotherly love. I was hooked, and brought home a petition to discuss with my wife: after all, a lifetime commitment is not something to take lightly. But I wanted to belong with these men; more specifically, I wanted to be like these men, and Masonry promised to help me be exactly that.
That Mason-y Stuff
Another big draw of Masonry was its secrecy. Who doesn’t feel the need to discover what others try to conceal? The secrets of Masonry are open to any good man who can fill out a petition, but they are secrets all the same.
For the uninitiated, Masonry is divided into three levels, or degrees; the Entered Apprentice, Fellowcraft, and Master Mason. When you receive your third degree, you are a full member of the he order, with all the rights and privileges of a brother mason.
Each of these degrees is conferred in its own specific ceremony. It’s a little hard to describe without going into specifics (for obvious reasons) but these three ceremonies are designed to instruct you in the moral values of that degree, through a mix of symbols, speeches, and rituals. (After all, these degrees were crafter to teach men who at the time were mostly illiterate laborers.) The degree ceremony itself is a bit like a play, where each brother has a part to play and lines to speak, and you are ushered through ritual as both participant and sole audience.
To a guy who studied theater and Shakespeare in college, this was all terribly cool and mysterious. Each degree has a feeling of potency and power, of an ancient act that has been passed down unchanged for hundreds of years. To understand what it’s like, imagine that you’re going to your first graduation, but you’ve never seen one before. Now also picture that this graduation takes place in the 1700’s. You might think everyone looks a bit odd in his or her robes and hoods and sashes and funny square hats. The language might seem a bit strange confusing, and you might wonder why everyone moves those tassels from one side to the other. Masonic degrees are formal ceremonies, like weddings or communion, laden with symbols and their own specific language. The difference is that by keeping these ceremonies closely-held secrets, they have remained relatively unchanged for the past few centuries, preserving the power and potency of the lessons they teach.
The impact of these three degrees is lasting, and mine were some of the most memorable experiences of my life. There is a great honor in seeing your brothers perform their craft, playing the parts and speaking the words that they have painstakingly studied and practice, solely for your benefit. It is rewarding, enlightening, and humbling.
Hard Won, Hard Earned
In modern society, information is everywhere. The internet makes knowledge easy and cheap, in more ways than one. In Masonry, the idea there was a knowledge that must be earned with hard work and dedication was an appealing one. It creates a mindset that refutes that consumerist instant-gratification society we live in. Masonry and its ideas are not cheap, or easy, and certainly not for sale. You must work to obtain them; and in that journey lies one of the cornerstones of Masonry itself, the idea of industry. That noble works are noble because of the work involved.
Masonic light cannot be bought. It cannot be bartered. It cannot be read about on Wikipedia. Masonry requires the ultimate spoiler warning. I’m sure the unscrupulous fellow could find someone willing to break his oath and share all the secrets of Masonry, but even with a complete knowledge of the symbols and rituals, that person would still remain in metaphorical darkness. For to truly understand the work of the Masons, you must work as a Mason. After all, masons at their core were men of labor.
To fulfill the promise of Masonry and become a better man, a man must be willing to work. And there you have the first lesson in Masonry, delivered here by Theodore Roosevelt:
“I wish to preach, not the doctrine of ignoble ease, but the doctrine of the strenuous life, the life of toil and effort, of labor and strife; to preach that highest form of success which comes, not to the man who desires mere easy peace, but to the man who does not shrink from danger, from hardship, or from bitter toil, and who out of these wins the splendid ultimate triumph.”
Or, put more simply, “Nothing in this world worth having comes easy.”
Unique in the Herd
I’ve said before that I’m not a “joiner,” and this much is true. I’ve never contented myself to do things simply because that’s the way everyone else does them, an approach which tends to isolate me and ruffle some feathers. Joining the world’s largest and oldest fraternity seemed to be at odds with that sentiment, at first. But the more I looked, the more I saw that masons were unique. Becoming a mason sets you apart, and identifies you to the world as a man who is special and different: A man who operates under a higher code; a man who is dedicated to the precepts of his faith, and those of his brotherhood. It carries the burden of being worthy of that distinction, to ever walk and act in accordance with those principles. Being a mason marks you as a higher sort of man; so you darn well better be one.
There are few feelings in the world quite like going to lodge on Tuesday nights. We joke that we should have a “baggage check” sign halfway down the stairs to the dining room, because every brother you ask will speak of the feeling of relief that comes as you enter the lodge, the almost palpable sense of the worries of the week falling from your shoulders. Entering a room where everyone man respects you and treats you as an equal, even before they meet you, creates a sense of a second home. It is a place where you truly belong, where you are all bound together by brotherly love and affection.
Masonry is not a network; it is a community. Networks are anonymous. In a community, you are known and noticed; your actions carry weight and consequence, and your contributions are valued. If you leave a network, your absence will not be noted. If you stop attending lodge, there will be brothers contacting you, asking where you’ve been, if everything is alright, if there’s anything they can do to help. People update their status in a network, casting out a thought or a word to see if anyone picks it up in the torrent of information. A community is personal; when a brother asks “How are you doing?” it isn’t empty small talk, but genuine concern and affection. So if you’re missing that old-fashioned feeling of community, and wondering why everyone seems so isolated these days, maybe it’s time to stop networking and go to lodge.
Take-Aways
Non-masons- Masonry is a unique and special organization. You will not be lost in a herd, and it is not another line item to add to your resume. It is an honor and a distinction, and you will be expected to act with honor and distinction, and degree work will teach you how. Degree work is one of the most unique and extraordinary experiences you will have in your life. It will require effort and dedication, which is an essential part of the process of making good men better. A better man is willing to dedicate himself to his work. And along the way, you will be aided and supported by men who have all been through the same experience, who are open and accepting, all willing to lend a helping hand. You will find yourself amongst a diverse and unparalleled group of equals, all acting on a foundation of brotherly love and mutual respect.
Masons-Always remember the honor that you carry as a mason. Remember to act as such. The square and compass denote a man who is a step above, who is literally enlightened. It is not a badge to wear with pride, or with sense of self-importance. It is a call to action, a reminder to strive to be worthy of the ideals that it represents. Remember to treat your brothers with respect, overlooking their flaws and always giving the benefit of the doubt. We may work with stone, but we are all men of clay. We fracture and break. We must do our best to fill the cracks that appear between us with the mortar of brotherly love. We must remember to maintain our equality, and our openness, with new brothers as well as old, and never allow personal slights or grudges to divide us. As a mason, we work with our hands, and must always be willing to extend it across the gap, even to those who seem unwilling to accept it.
by brent
It Was All My Wife’s Idea
No, really. I’m sitting on the couch one day after work, blissfully immersed in my Netflix queue, when my wife leans over and says, “Honey, I want to show you something. But don’t laugh, I want you to think about it…” Then she hands me her phone, open to a Facebook post.
“Freemasonry?” I reply, with a hint of incredulity. Images of National Treasure, Dan Brown novels, and the Simpsons flicker through my mind, but I know my wife well enough to know that she’s probably been thinking about this privately for days, carefully considering it before bringing it up, so I check my initial reaction.
“Yeah. I think it might be good for you, and I think it might be what you’ve been looking for.” I hadn’t realized I’d been looking for anything, but as usual, her insight would prove to be spot-on.
A friend of hers from grad school had posted a link to the Millersville Open House on Facebook. He was a cool young guy, with some amazing tattoos, and it was clear we had a lot in common from Doctor Who to a passion for learning. She told me how she had a lot of respect for him, and he seemed like a really good man, and that was what masonry seemed to be about: Taking good men and making them better.
Not a Joiner
I’ve always been a bit of an outcast, lone wolf, maverick type of guy. (Read: nerd.) I can be socially awkward, and it can be difficult to maintain a circle of friends, especially since moving away from the few I had left from college. I also prided myself on my individuality, on being “different,” not a “joiner.”
So I had honestly never given Masonry a single moment of thought, any more than I’d considered the Knights of Columbus, the Rotary Club, or any of the other clubs on the “Welcome to Plainfield” sign. The only clubs I ever joined were Latin Club, Ballroom Dance, and of course, my old D&D group. When I heard the term “Fraternity”, I thought of all the alpha males who wanted to shove me in my locker in high school. Not a strong seller.
But right away, I could see masonry was different. First, not everyone could join. These guys had standards. Moral standards. Secondly, while requiring a spiritual foundation, they were open to all different faiths. That caught my attention. As devout Presbyterian, I had no problem with Christian organizations, but that sort of rigid institutionalized tolerance bespoke a different breed of men, with open minds and serious intellect.
As a history nerd who dabbled in Shakespeare, the ritual aspect really caught my eye as well. It was refreshing to think that in our world where information is free and easy and ever at your fingertips, there was knowledge out there that must be earned, wisdom that could only be obtained through hard work. And yes, the secrecy was incredibly captivating.
The more I looked, the more I liked. Masonry seemed like it might fill a hole I had not even realized I had. As a fifth grade teacher, I spend most of my day surrounded by women and children. As a card-carrying nerd with no interest in sports, I frequently feel uncomfortable socializing in large groups of men, and always had better friendships with women. But the idea of this sort of manly comradery really spoke to me on a deeper level, and I hadn’t realized how much I had missed those kind of relationships.
Our first child was only a few months old, and none of my friends had children yet. Having a place where I could be around other men, talk with them, learn from them, receive mentorship and guidance; my wife was right. It was what I’d been looking for.
As a devout reader of www.theartofmanliness.com, I’d become fascinated with the idea of old-fashioned, classic manhood. I’d started shaving with a brush and a double edged razor, and had been reading up on Teddy Roosevelt. It seemed a refreshing change from the extended adolescence and “dude-bro” nature the rest of my generation seemed afflicted with. I was 27, with a wife, a baby, and a promising career; I was sick of guys. I needed to be a man. So, the world’s oldest fraternity, dedicated to true manhood? Alright, sign me up.
Take-Aways
Non-masons out there, especially ones of the millennial generation, you might feel like you don’t fit into the mold of the free-wheeling, no-responsibility manchild you see in every Judd Apatow movie and sit-com. You might be ready to take something seriously, to shoulder some responsibility, to work and earn something valuable. You might find yourself looking at past generations, wanting to incorporate the values and resilience of your grandfather’s era, but struggle to combine it with the sensitivity and open-mindedness of the modern age. Like me, you might be wondering how to be a man in the new millennium, but aren’t quite sure what that means, and without role models to show the way, you may feel like you’re stumbling to blaze your own trail. But you don’t have to; masonry is there to light that path.
Masonic brothers, remember the example you provide at all times. My journey through the degrees of masonry began with a man I’ve never even met in person; but there was something different about him that made my wife take notice, something that earned her respect, so much so that I wanted other people to speak about me the way she was describing him. We must bedifferent. We never know where our light might take hold, so we must shine our brightest in all aspects of our lives, to walk uprightly on all our paths, for the benefit of all mankind.
Read PART TWO
by Andy Hoffman
Firefighters are a special breed of people. The first firefighter I got to know really well was my 8th Grade Science teacher who became one of my first and earliest mentors. He told his class stories of fighting fires with flames flying over his head and the peril of the whole room igniting in a flame over. None the less, firefighters put themselves in danger every day for us. The next fire fighter who I got to know well was Floyd Sendmeyer.
Floyd spent many years working as a fire fighter in Indianapolis. I had the pleasure last year of Floyd showing me his fire helmet. I imagine it initially shone of tough black leather, but now has the wear and tear, dents and depressions to serve as a testament to the decades he spent saving lives and serving the Indianapolis community.
Most Millersville Mason’s know Floyd from Millersville Lodge, Millersville York Rite, serving on the fire fighter organization at the Shrine, and also being a steadfast figure at the Indianapolis Scottish Rite, where he recently was honored with the Meritorious Service Award. He is also a Past Master from Sojourners Lodge – a lodge who’s membership is derived entirely from active military personnel and veterans.
On 9/11, I pause to reflect on people like Floyd and Mr. Phillips. Firefighters, Police, Armed Forces Service members, paramedics, and more all put others well being in front of their own.
In 2001 the firefighters and police of New York City came to the aid of a city and country in distress and I am glad to think about and be thankful for their scarifies as they ran into the flames. I am also thankful for on the men and women in our community who run into the flames, not only during acts of catastrophic terror, but every day distress.
If you are a firefighter or service member, we would love for you to leave your comments below to hear your stories.
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