Apprentice Freemason

You have recently passed through a ceremony that many people have heard of but few have seen. Perhaps it moved you deeply, perhaps it puzzled you, and perhaps it did both at once. That is a common experience. The first degree of Freemasonry is rich in images and words that are not explained at the moment they are presented, and most new members leave the lodge room with more questions than answers.

This handbook is written to help with those questions. It does not replace the instruction you will receive from your own lodge, and it does not describe anything that Freemasons promise to keep private. Its purpose is to walk beside you through the main themes of the degree and to suggest some of the meanings that generations of thoughtful Masons have found in them. Readers who are not Freemasons are also welcome here. Nothing in these pages is hidden from the public, and an honest outsider may learn from them what the Craft hopes to teach.

People have tried to define Freemasonry in many ways, and none of the definitions is complete. A short and widely used description calls it a peculiar system of morality, veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols. The word “peculiar” here carries its older meaning of “particular” or “its own”. Freemasonry does not invent a new morality. It presents the familiar moral truths in a special form, using the language of the builder.

It may help to say first what Freemasonry is not. It is not a religion, although it asks its members to believe in a Supreme Being, often called the Great Architect of the Universe. It does not offer a path to salvation, it has no sacraments, and it does not tell anyone which faith to follow. It is not a political party, and the discussion of party politics and sectarian religion is traditionally forbidden in the lodge. It is not a business network or an insurance society, although Masons do help one another in times of need.

Positively, Freemasonry is a fellowship of people who wish to improve themselves and to be of use to others. It brings together members of different backgrounds, occupations and beliefs, and asks them to meet on the level as equals. Within that fellowship it offers a structured course of moral reflection, delivered through ceremonies, symbols and the example of fellow members. Its aim is not to make people different from what they are, but to help them become the best version of themselves.

The earliest printed rulebook of the modern Craft, published in London in 1723, expressed the basic expectation in plain terms:

A Mason is oblig'd by his Tenure, to obey the moral Law; and if he rightly understands the Art, he will never be a stupid Atheist nor an irreligious Libertine.

The language is old, but the meaning is still clear. Freemasonry takes for granted that its members are already people of good character. It then offers them tools to deepen that character over a lifetime.

The story of Freemasonry begins with the stonemasons of medieval Europe. The great cathedrals, abbeys and castles of the Middle Ages required skilled workers who understood geometry, could cut stone with precision, and could cooperate on projects that lasted for generations. These craftsmen organised themselves into lodges, which were at first simply the workshops and shelters built beside a construction site. Over time the word came to mean the group of workers itself.

Like other trades, the masons developed rules for their conduct, methods of training young workers, and ways of recognising a qualified craftsman who arrived from another town. Some of their early documents survive. The oldest, known as the Regius Manuscript, is a poem written in England around the year 1390. It mixes a legendary history of geometry with practical rules about honesty, fair wages, and respect between master and apprentice. Later documents of the same family are known collectively as the Old Charges.

During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the great age of cathedral building came to an end, and the operative lodges declined. At the same time, some lodges, particularly in Scotland and England, began to admit members who were not working masons at all. These “accepted” or “speculative” members were gentlemen, scholars and merchants who were attracted by the fellowship, the traditions and the moral lessons attached to the trade. Gradually the speculative members became the majority.

In 1717 four lodges in London joined together to form a Grand Lodge, an event usually taken as the beginning of organised modern Freemasonry. From there the Craft spread rapidly across Europe, the Americas and the rest of the world. The tools and customs of the old builders were kept, but they now served a new purpose. Instead of building cathedrals of stone, the speculative Mason is invited to build a temple of character within.

An allegory is a story in which persons, places and events stand for ideas. A symbol is an object or image that points beyond itself to a meaning that would be difficult to express directly. Both are among the oldest teaching methods known to humanity. Ancient fables, the parables of many religious traditions, and the great myths of the classical world all teach by indirect means.

Why should Freemasonry teach in this way rather than by plain statement? One reason is that a symbol can hold more than a sentence. A simple instrument like the square can suggest honesty, fairness, right angles in architecture, the relationship between people, and much else. A written rule says one thing. A symbol keeps speaking as the person who studies it grows in experience.

A second reason is that a lesson discovered is remembered far longer than a lesson told. When the Apprentice is given a symbol and left to think about it, the meaning he or she eventually finds becomes a personal possession. Nobody can take it away, because nobody gave it. This is why Masonic instruction often seems to stop just short of a full explanation. The silence is deliberate and is an invitation to reflect.

The word “lodge” has two meanings in Freemasonry. It refers to the room or building in which Masons meet, and it also refers to the group of members who meet there. In the Masonic sense, a lodge exists wherever a properly constituted body of Masons is assembled, whether in a fine temple or in a borrowed hall.

A lodge does not simply appear because a few Masons wish to meet. It must be authorised by a Grand Lodge, which grants it a warrant or charter. This document is the lodge's licence to work. Without it, no meeting can be regular. The warrant connects each local lodge to a wider body and, through that body, to the long chain of lodges reaching back to the early eighteenth century.

Each lodge is governed by a Master, assisted by two Wardens, together with other officers who have particular duties. The Master presides from the east, the Senior Warden sits in the west and the Junior Warden in the south.

For the new Apprentice, the lodge is first of all a home. It is the place where you will meet your brethren regularly, where you will witness and later take part in the ceremonies, and where friendships are formed that may last a lifetime. The lodge asks relatively little of its newest members. It expects them to keep their promises, to attend when they can, to learn what is required of them, and to conduct themselves with courtesy and good will.

The title “Entered Apprentice” comes directly from the operative craft. In the old days, a young person who wished to learn the trade of stonemason was bound to a master for a period of years. When the apprentice's name was written into the records of the lodge, he was said to be “entered”. From that moment he belonged to the craft, though he still had a great deal to learn.

The speculative Apprentice stands in a similar position. You are a Mason, and you are recognised as such by your brethren. Yet you are at the beginning of the journey. The first degree is a foundation, and like the foundation of any building it is largely hidden from view once the walls are raised. That does not make it less important. Every later lesson in Freemasonry rests upon what is laid down here.

In most jurisdictions an Apprentice may attend lodge meetings held in the first degree and take part in their fellowship. The Apprentice does not usually hold office or vote on the affairs of the lodge. These limits are not a mark of inferiority. They simply reflect the stage of learning. Just as an apprentice carpenter is not asked to design a cathedral, the new Mason is given time to absorb the basics before taking on further responsibility.

Before an Apprentice may advance to the next degree, he or she must show what is often called “suitable proficiency”. In practice this usually means learning certain parts of the ceremony and answering questions about them in the lodge. The exact requirements differ from one jurisdiction to another. Some lodges ask for a great deal of memorisation, while others are content with a short examination or a written reflection.

To some new members this requirement seems like a school exercise. Why should an adult be asked to memorise words? The answer lies partly in tradition and partly in the nature of learning. Words that we have committed to memory become part of us. We carry them into ordinary life, and they return to our minds at unexpected moments. A passage learned for an examination may, years later, offer comfort or guidance when it is most needed.

Most importantly, proficiency is not only a matter of memory. A lodge hopes to see in its Apprentices a real understanding of what the degree means and a sincere wish to live by it. A candidate who recites every word perfectly but has not been changed by the experience has missed the point. One who stumbles over the words but has clearly taken the lessons to heart has understood something essential.

Ritual is the set of words and actions through which a lodge opens, conducts its business, confers degrees and closes. To the outsider it may seem strange that grown men and women should value formal ceremony so highly. Yet ritual is everywhere in human life. Weddings, graduations, the swearing in of public officials and the funeral of a loved one are all rituals, and their formality is precisely what gives them dignity and power.

Masonic ritual does several things at once. It teaches, by placing lessons before the candidate in a memorable sequence. It unites, because every member present takes part in the same words and actions. It connects, because the ceremony performed today is substantially the same as the one performed by earlier generations. When you witness an initiation in your lodge, you are seeing something your predecessors also saw, and something your successors will see after you.

Ritual differs in detail from one country and one Grand Lodge to another. The words used in a Dutch lodge are not identical to those used in Scotland, the United States or Brazil. Yet the main structure, the principal symbols and the central lessons are recognisably the same. These variations are not errors. They are like the different dialects of a single language, each shaped by local history.

One of the oldest principles of Freemasonry is that nobody is ever invited to join. A person who wishes to become a Mason must ask, of his or her own free will and accord. In many jurisdictions this rule has been relaxed in recent years, so that members may at least make known that the lodge is open to new applicants. But the decision to petition must still come from the candidate alone.

This principle is not mere formality. It expresses a conviction that the moral work of Freemasonry cannot be imposed from outside. A person who has been pressured into joining, or who has come for some selfish reason, will not benefit from what the lodge offers. The lessons of the Craft only take root in a mind that has chosen to receive them.

Freedom is also a theme of the name itself. The medieval “free mason” was probably a worker in freestone, a fine stone that could be carved in any direction. But the word “free” also suggested a person who was not a serf, who was able to travel and to make his own agreements. Throughout its history Freemasonry has required its members to be free in this sense, and today it understands that freedom also in a moral way. The candidate must be free from compulsion, free to think, and free to choose.

The word “initiation” comes from a Latin root meaning a beginning. In a broad sense, everyone experiences initiations throughout life. The first day at school, the first job, marriage and parenthood all introduce us to new worlds that we did not know before. Each of them involves leaving something behind and entering into something new.

Many ancient cultures gave such beginnings a formal shape. The mystery schools of the classical world, such as those at Eleusis in Greece, admitted candidates through ceremonies that represented a passage from ignorance to knowledge, or from death to new life. Freemasonry is not a direct descendant of those ancient mysteries, and claims to the contrary should be treated with caution. Yet it shares with them a basic human insight, that important changes in a person's life deserve to be marked in a solemn and memorable way.

Masonic initiation follows a pattern that can be seen in many traditions. The candidate is separated from ordinary life, is led through a series of experiences that may be unfamiliar or even unsettling, and finally is received into a new community with new knowledge and new responsibilities. The ceremony is dignified and serious. It contains nothing humiliating or harmful, and any suggestion to the contrary is a misunderstanding.

The room in which a lodge meets is itself a symbol. Its traditional shape is an oblong, longer from east to west than from north to south. Older Masonic writers described the lodge as extending from east to west, from north to south, from the earth to the heavens and from the surface to the centre of the earth. In other words, the lodge represents the whole world.

This idea has a practical moral meaning. If the lodge is a picture of the world, then the conduct expected inside the lodge is also the conduct expected outside it. The Mason does not become a different person on leaving the building. Courtesy, honesty and brotherly feeling are meant to be carried into the street, the workplace and the home.

The orientation of the lodge is also significant. The Master sits in the east, where the sun rises, because the Master's task is to give light and instruction to the members. The west, where the sun sets, marks the close of the day, and the south, where the sun stands at noon, marks its height. The movement of the sun across the sky thus becomes a pattern for the work of the lodge, and also for the course of a human life from birth to maturity to its close.

Before entering the lodge, the candidate is prepared in a particular way. The details are not secret in the sense that they cannot be discussed at all, but they are best experienced rather than described in advance. What matters here is that every element of the preparation is symbolic. Nothing is done for convenience or for amusement.

The general lesson of the preparation can be stated simply. The candidate comes to the lodge as a seeker, without the outward signs of rank, wealth or status that might distinguish one person from another in ordinary life. Within the lodge, a wealthy merchant and a humble labourer are equal. Both arrive in the same condition, and both are received in the same way.

There is a second lesson as well. Masonic writers have long said that a person is first prepared in the heart. The outward preparation is only a picture of the inward one. The candidate who comes with humility, sincerity and a genuine wish to learn has already done the most important part of the work before the ceremony begins.

During the ceremony the candidate is led around the lodge. This act of walking in a circle around a central point is called circumambulation, and it is one of the oldest forms of ritual movement known. People in many cultures have walked around sacred stones, altars, temples and fires as a sign of reverence. In some traditions the movement imitates the apparent path of the sun across the sky.

In the Masonic lodge, the candidate moves in the same direction as the sun, from east to south to west and back again. This expresses a desire to live in harmony with the natural order of creation, which Freemasonry regards as the work of the Great Architect. The candidate symbolically follows the light.

Finally, the journey around the lodge may be seen as a picture of life itself. We do not reach wisdom in a straight line. We travel, often without being able to see clearly where we are going, trusting in guides whom we cannot always see. Each stage of the journey brings us before someone who tests us, helps us or teaches us. The circle returns to its starting point, but the traveller who completes it is not the same person who began.

A lodge cannot do its work if its members are divided. This is true in a practical sense, because a lodge depends on cooperation for everything it does. It is also true in a deeper sense, because the central message of Freemasonry is that people of different views and backgrounds can live together in harmony.

The Apprentice will notice that much of the ceremony is performed together. Members rise at the same moment, respond with the same words, and act as one body. This shared action is not an empty form. It trains the members to think of themselves as part of something larger than any individual. A verse often read in connection with the first degree expresses the ideal:

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!

These words, from the one hundred and thirty-third Psalm, describe what every lodge hopes to be. Unity does not mean that everyone must agree about everything. It means that differences are held with respect, so that what unites the members remains stronger than what divides them.

Freemasonry is often called a secret society, but that description is misleading. The existence of lodges is public, many of them meet in buildings with their names on the door, and their constitutions and general principles are widely available. A better description is a society with a few secrets. Those secrets are limited to certain modes of recognition and to the particular details of the ceremonies.

Why keep anything private at all? One reason is historical. The operative masons needed a way to recognise a qualified craftsman who arrived from elsewhere, and private signs and words served that purpose. Speculative Masonry kept these customs as part of its heritage. Another reason is that the impact of the ceremonies depends partly on their being unexpected. A candidate who knows every detail in advance loses much of the experience.

The most important reason, however, is moral. Keeping a promise of confidentiality is an exercise of character. The secrets of Freemasonry are not dangerous, and an outsider who learned them would gain very little. But the Mason who guards them faithfully is practising the virtue of fidelity. A person who can be trusted with small things can also be trusted with large ones.

In older forms of the ritual, the promises made by the candidate were accompanied by references to severe physical penalties. These words have caused much misunderstanding, and they deserve a calm explanation. They have never been carried out, they were never intended to be carried out, and in many jurisdictions they have been removed from the ceremony altogether or explained as purely symbolic.

The language of the penalties belongs to an earlier age. In past centuries, solemn oaths in courts of law and in civil life often included dramatic expressions of the punishment that a person deserved if he broke his word. Such language was a way of showing how seriously the promise was meant. It was not a threat made by others, but a statement by the person making the promise about the gravity of his own commitment.

Today the meaning is understood in moral terms. The real penalty for breaking a solemn promise is the loss of one's own integrity and the loss of the trust of others. A Mason who betrays his or her obligation would not suffer any physical harm. He or she would simply be regarded as a person whose word cannot be relied upon, and might be excluded from the fellowship of the lodge. For a person of honour, that is penalty enough.

At the centre of the lodge, on the altar, rest what Freemasons call the three Great Lights. These are the Volume of the Sacred Law, the square and the compasses. No lodge may be opened unless all three are present, and they are displayed throughout every meeting.

The Volume of the Sacred Law is the book that a particular community regards as sacred. In many lodges this is the Bible, but in lodges whose members belong to other faiths it may be the Torah, the Qur'an, the Bhagavad Gita or another scripture. Some lodges place several sacred books on the altar at once. The principle is that each member takes his or her obligation on the book that he or she holds sacred. The Volume of the Sacred Law represents the will of the Great Architect, as each believer understands it, and serves as the rule and guide of faith.

The square is an instrument used by builders to test right angles. It is a symbol of morality, of honest dealing and of conduct that is true and fair. The compasses are used to draw circles and to measure distances. They symbolise self-restraint, the drawing of a boundary around our desires and passions so that we keep them within due limits.

The three are often explained together. The sacred book is given to guide our faith, the square to regulate our actions, and the compasses to keep us within proper bounds toward all people. Many writers have also seen in the square a symbol of the earth and of practical life, and in the compasses a symbol of the heavens and of spiritual life. Their relative position on the altar changes as the Mason advances through the degrees, suggesting a gradual growth of the spiritual over the material.

The term “cable tow” is unusual and invites curiosity. A cable tow was originally a rope or line used for towing or for leading. In the ceremony it plays a symbolic role, and its meaning has been understood in several ways over the years.

In its simplest sense, the cable tow represents the candidate's dependence on others. During the first part of the ceremony the candidate cannot find his or her own way and must be guided. The cable tow is a sign of that condition, which is the condition of every person who enters a new field of knowledge. We all depend at first on teachers and guides.

In a wider sense, the cable tow has come to stand for the bond between one Mason and another. Older Masonic language speaks of a Mason's duty to help a brother "within the length of his cable tow". This phrase means within the reach of one's ability. Each person's ability is different. Some can give a great deal of time or money, and others can give only a little. The Craft does not ask anyone to do more than he or she reasonably can, but it does ask each member to do that much.

Alongside the Great Lights, the lodge also has three Lesser Lights. In most lodges these are represented by three candles or lamps placed near the altar or near the principal officers. They are said to stand for the sun, the moon and the Master of the lodge.

The symbolism is easy to grasp. The sun rules the day and the moon governs the night. In the same way, the Master is expected to rule and govern the lodge with regularity and fairness. Just as the sun and moon follow their courses without fail, the Master should conduct the work of the lodge in an orderly and dependable manner.

Why three lights, rather than two or four? The number three appears again and again in Freemasonry. There are three degrees, three principal officers, three Great Lights and three principal tenets. In many ancient traditions three was regarded as a number of completeness, since it has a beginning, a middle and an end. The repetition of the number helps to bind the various symbols of the Craft together into a single pattern.

The phrase “due guard” refers to one of the customary gestures of the first degree. The gesture itself is part of what Masons keep private, and it will not be described here. Its meaning, however, can be discussed openly, and it carries a simple but important lesson.

The word “guard” suggests watchfulness and protection. The due guard reminds the Mason of the promises made at initiation and of the need to guard both speech and conduct. It is, in effect, a small signal that the person giving it remembers his or her obligation and intends to keep it.

The lesson can be carried beyond the lodge room. A wise person keeps a constant guard over the tongue, speaking with care and avoiding words that wound or mislead. He or she also keeps a guard over the passions, not allowing anger, envy or greed to take control. This inner watchfulness is the true due guard, of which the outward gesture is only a sign.

Of all the gifts the new Mason receives, the apron is perhaps the most meaningful. In the first degree it is traditionally a plain white apron of lambskin or a similar material. It is the badge of a Mason and is worn at every meeting of the lodge.

The apron has an obvious origin in the working clothes of the operative masons, who wore heavy leather aprons to protect themselves while cutting and carrying stone. In speculative Masonry the apron has become a symbol rather than a tool. Its whiteness stands for purity of life and conduct, and the lamb has long been regarded in many cultures as an emblem of innocence.

Masonic tradition holds the apron in very high regard. It is often said to be more ancient and more honourable than the decorations of knightly orders or the emblems of royalty. This is not meant as a claim of superiority over others. It means that the moral qualities the apron represents are worth more than any rank or title that the world can give. A person of humble station who lives a pure and upright life is more truly honoured than a powerful person who does not.

In some forms of the first degree, the candidate is asked for a contribution at a moment when he or she has nothing to give, having been deprived of all valuables during the preparation. The experience can be uncomfortable, and it is meant to be. It places the candidate, for a brief moment, in the position of someone who is poor and unable to help.

The lesson is about charity in its fullest sense. The Craft hopes that the Apprentice will remember this moment whenever he or she meets someone in need. Having once felt what it is like to have nothing, the Mason should be ready to help others according to his or her ability, and to do so without pride and without expecting thanks.

The source of the title of this chapter is a famous passage from the first letter of Paul to the Corinthians, which many Masons know well:

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

The word “charity” in this older English translation means love in its widest form, not only the giving of money. It includes patience, kindness, forgiveness and a generous judgement of others. In Masonic thought faith and hope are often pictured as rungs on a ladder that leads upward, but charity is the virtue that remains when the others have done their work. It is the crowning quality of the Mason, and indeed of any good person.

At a certain point in the ceremony the new Apprentice is placed in the northeast corner of the lodge. This position carries a clear and beautiful meaning, drawn from the practice of builders.

In the construction of an important building, the first stone, or cornerstone, was traditionally laid in the northeast corner. It was carefully cut, tested with the square, level and plumb, and set in place with ceremony. Every other stone in the building was then aligned with it. If the cornerstone was true, the walls would rise straight and strong.

The Apprentice standing in the northeast corner is, symbolically, the cornerstone of a new spiritual building. From this foundation he or she is to raise a structure of character that will be upright, balanced and lasting. The position also reflects the Apprentice's place between darkness and light. The north, as we shall see, is the place of darkness, and the east is the place of light. The northeast stands between them, as the new Mason stands between the ignorance of the past and the knowledge yet to come.

Every degree in Freemasonry presents certain working tools of the operative mason and explains their symbolic use. The tools of the first degree are the twenty-four-inch gauge and the common gavel. Some jurisdictions add the chisel. They are the simplest tools in the builder's kit, which is fitting for those who are just beginning.

The Twenty-Four-Inch Gauge

The twenty-four-inch gauge is a measuring rule divided into twenty-four equal parts. The operative mason used it to measure and lay out work. To the speculative Mason it represents the twenty-four hours of the day, and teaches the wise use of time.

The traditional explanation divides the day into three parts. One part is given to the service of the Great Architect and to helping others in need. One part is given to our usual work. One part is given to rest and refreshment. The exact proportions matter less than the principle. A balanced life gives each of its duties a fair share, and does not allow any one of them to crowd out the others.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.

These words from the book of Ecclesiastes express the same thought. Time is the one resource that every person receives in equal measure each day, and it can never be recovered once it is spent. The gauge asks the Apprentice to measure it carefully.

The Common Gavel

The common gavel is a small hammer with one flat face and one sharp edge. The operative mason used it to break off the rough corners of a stone, so that it could be fitted into the building. To the speculative Mason it represents the effort required to remove the rough corners of one's own character.

Each of us comes into the world with faults, habits and impulses that need shaping. Pride, impatience, laziness and harshness are among the rough edges that the gavel is meant to remove. The work is gradual and often uncomfortable. It is also the work of a lifetime, since new rough places seem to appear as the old ones are smoothed away.

Freemasonry speaks of certain “jewels” of the lodge. In this context a jewel is not a precious stone, but an emblem of special importance. Some of these jewels are called movable and others immovable, and the lists differ between jurisdictions.

In many American lodges, the immovable jewels are the square, the level and the plumb, which are worn by the Master and the two Wardens. They are called immovable because they always remain in the same place in the lodge, in the east, west and south, where their wearers sit. In many European and British lodges, the immovable jewels are instead the tracing board, the rough ashlar and the perfect ashlar, while the square, level and plumb are called movable because they pass from one officer to the next each year. These differences need not trouble the Apprentice. Both systems teach complementary lessons.

The square, worn by the Master, teaches morality and fair dealing. The level, worn by the Senior Warden, teaches equality, reminding Masons that all people are born and die in the same condition and that distinctions of rank are temporary. The plumb, worn by the Junior Warden, is a weighted line that hangs straight downward. It teaches uprightness of conduct, the quality of a life that stands true and does not lean toward wrongdoing.

The rough ashlar is a stone taken from the quarry in its natural state. It represents the person who has not yet been shaped by education and moral effort. The perfect ashlar is a stone that has been carefully squared and smoothed by the skilled craftsman, and represents the person who has, through long work, brought his or her character close to its ideal. The tracing board is the surface on which the master builder draws plans. It reminds us that our lives also need a plan, and that a wise person looks to a higher design than his or her own.

The Apprentice will notice that the principal officers of the lodge sit in the east, the west and the south, but that no principal officer sits in the north. Masonic tradition explains this through the image of the sun.

In the northern hemisphere, where Freemasonry first developed, the sun rises in the east, stands in the south at noon and sets in the west. It never shines from the north. The ancient builders of temples knew this well, and the north side of a building was often the darkest and coldest. In Masonic symbolism, the north therefore represents darkness, which in turn stands for ignorance and the absence of instruction.

This symbolism should not be understood as a judgement on any person or place. It is simply a picture of the human condition before learning. Every candidate comes from darkness in this sense, because every candidate comes to the lodge to learn what he or she does not yet know. The movement of the ceremony is always from darkness toward light.

Among the symbols of the first degree is a figure that is simple to draw and rich in meaning: a point within a circle. In the common Masonic form, the circle is bordered by two parallel lines, one on each side, and a sacred book rests upon its upper edge.

Circles with central points are among the most ancient of human symbols. They appear in the art of many early cultures, often as a sign of the sun or of the centre of the universe. Freemasonry has given this old figure a moral explanation that suits its purpose.

In the usual interpretation, the point represents the individual Mason, and the circle represents the boundary beyond which his or her desires and actions should not go. As long as the Mason keeps within the circle, he or she cannot go far wrong. The image thus teaches the same lesson as the compasses, the lesson of self-control and the wise limitation of one's passions.

The two parallel lines are said to represent two great patrons of the Craft, Saint John the Baptist and Saint John the Evangelist, about whom more will be said shortly. The sacred book above them represents the higher law to which all human conduct should conform. The figure as a whole teaches that a person who lives within proper bounds, guided by worthy examples and by the will of the Great Architect, will find that his or her life has a centre and a balance.

In many traditions, Masonic lodges are said to be dedicated to the Holy Saints John. One is John the Baptist, whose feast falls near the summer solstice in June. The other is John the Evangelist, whose feast falls near the winter solstice in December. The operative lodges of earlier times often celebrated these feast days, and the custom passed into speculative Masonry.

The two Saints are often seen as representing two complementary qualities. John the Baptist is remembered for his zeal and his uncompromising honesty. John the Evangelist is remembered for his learning and his emphasis on love. A balanced Mason needs both, the energy to act and the wisdom and kindness to act well.

This dedication should not be understood as making Freemasonry a Christian society. Lodges that include members of many faiths often interpret the Saints John as historical figures and moral examples rather than as objects of religious devotion. Some Grand Lodges have replaced the dedication with a dedication to King Solomon or to the Great Architect alone. The underlying meaning, the balance of zeal and wisdom, is open to all.

The Apprentice learns that Freemasonry rests upon three principal tenets: brotherly love, relief and truth. A tenet is a principle that is held to be true and is meant to guide conduct. These three are the practical heart of the Craft.

Brotherly Love

Brotherly love means that every Mason regards every other as a member of one family. Freemasonry teaches that all people, as creatures of the same Great Architect, are related to one another. Within the lodge this conviction takes the form of mutual respect, patience and friendship among members who might otherwise never have met. It unites people of different nations, faiths, occupations and opinions, and it asks them to look past those differences to the common humanity beneath.

Relief

Relief means helping those in need. It begins within the lodge, where members look after one another in illness, misfortune and grief, and it extends to widows, orphans and the wider community. Masonic charity has supported hospitals, schools, homes for the elderly and countless private acts of help. Relief is not only material. A visit, a letter, a word of encouragement or a listening ear may relieve distress as much as a gift of money.

Truth

Truth is described in old Masonic language as a divine attribute and the foundation of every virtue. To be true means to be honest in word and deed, sincere in one's intentions, and faithful in one's promises. It also means a love of truth in the wider sense, a willingness to seek knowledge, to question one's own assumptions and to follow the evidence wherever it leads. Without truth, neither brotherly love nor relief can be genuine, for both depend on honesty between people.

The first degree of Freemasonry introduces the new member to a world of symbols that is both ancient and remarkably practical. It begins with the candidate in darkness, prepared in humility and led by others, and it ends with the candidate standing in the northeast corner as the foundation stone of a new spiritual building. Between those two moments lies a whole course of moral instruction, presented through objects and actions rather than through lectures.

The main lessons can be stated briefly, though their depths cannot. The Apprentice is taught that the pursuit of moral and spiritual light must be freely chosen. He or she is shown the Great Lights that guide faith and conduct, the working tools that measure time and shape character, and the apron that stands for a pure and honest life. He or she is reminded of the duty of charity, the value of unity, the importance of keeping one's word, and the need for discretion. Above all, the Apprentice is pointed toward the three principal tenets of brotherly love, relief and truth.

The old operative apprentice served for years before he was trusted to work on the walls of a cathedral. The speculative Apprentice is engaged in a similar labour, building a life rather than a church. The materials are one's thoughts, words and actions, and the plan is laid down by the Great Architect. The work is never finished in this world. But every honest effort brings the rough stone a little closer to the perfect one, and that effort, made faithfully and in good fellowship, is the true meaning of being an Entered Apprentice.