The Building That Protects Our Treasures

 This is the story of the marble building in Cedar Rapids that was carefully designed to protect the treasures of our Masonic past.

A Treasure Box for Our History

The Iowa Masonic Library and Museum in Cedar Rapids has always felt to me like a treasure box built to protect the story of our Craft. From the outside, the marble and solid lines give the building a sense of strength and purpose. Inside, that feeling only grows. Every hallway, every reading room, and every carefully protected shelf reflects the Grand Lodge of Iowa’s commitment to preserving what matters. When it was built in the 1950s, the goal was simple: create a safe and lasting home for the books, records, and artifacts that carry our history. Not jewels or gold, but the treasures of knowledge and memory. More than seventy years later, the building still does exactly that. It stands as a place where our past is kept safe, where visitors from around the world come to learn, and where the light of our history continues to shine.

Origins of the Library and Museum

The story of the Iowa Masonic Library and Museum begins long before the marble building that stands in Cedar Rapids today. Its roots reach back to the 1840s, when Theodore Sutton Parvin, the first Grand Secretary of the Grand Lodge of Iowa, was asked to begin collecting books on Freemasonry. Parvin started modestly, purchasing roughly one hundred volumes for five dollars, but he had a clear vision for what the collection could become. Masons across Iowa soon began donating books, manuscripts, and artifacts, and the small collection grew quickly.

By 1884, the Grand Lodge recognized that the materials had outgrown borrowed rooms and temporary shelves. They made a bold decision: to construct the first purpose built Masonic library building in the world, right in Cedar Rapids. It was a remarkable statement for its time, reflecting both confidence in the future and a deep respect for the past. But even that pioneering building could not keep pace with the rapid expansion of the library and museum. Within a few decades, the shelves were full, the rooms were crowded, and the structure could no longer provide the level of protection the growing collection required.

By the early 1950s, it was clear that a new home was needed. The original building was demolished in 1952, and in its place rose the modern structure completed in 1955. What began with Parvin’s handful of books has grown into one of the largest and most respected Masonic collections in the world, all because generations of Iowa Masons believed that our history deserved a safe and lasting home.

Designing a Home for the Treasures

When the Grand Lodge of Iowa set out to build a new home for the Library and Museum in the early 1950s, they approached the project with the same seriousness they brought to preserving the collection itself. Architects William L. Perkins, working with the firm Hansen and Waggoner, designed a structure that balanced classical inspiration with the practical needs of a modern archival facility. The result is a building rooted in the late Beaux Arts tradition, simplified for the postwar era but still carrying a sense of dignity and permanence.

From the outside, the Vermont white marble gives the building a quiet strength. Inside, the halls are lined with grey marble from Carthage, Missouri, creating a cool, calm atmosphere that feels intentionally protective. Almost no wood was used in the construction. Instead, the architects relied on marble, concrete, glass, and bronze. Even the basement walls are nearly twenty inches thick. Every choice reflects the same idea: this building was meant to last, and it was meant to keep its contents safe.

The structure stretches long and low across its site, with the main building running roughly 245 feet in length and the library wing extending more than 100 feet deep on the west end. Inside, the space opens into multiple floors of library stacks, museum galleries, workrooms, and offices. It is a building designed not just to store a collection, but to serve the people who come to study it.

In every way, the design reinforces the purpose. This is a place built to protect the treasures of our past, a strong and steady home for the books, artifacts, and records that tell the story of Iowa Masonry.

Symbolism Carved in Stone

Freemasonry has always used architecture to teach lessons, so it is no surprise that the building itself carries symbolic meaning. Above the main entrance, engraved directly into the white marble, is a line from the Book of Amos: “Behold the Lord stood upon a wall made by a plumbline, with a plumbline in his hand.”

It is a simple inscription, but it says a great deal about the purpose of the place. The plumb line is one of Masonry’s most familiar symbols, reminding us to live uprightly and measure our actions with honesty and integrity. Seeing those words carved into the stone makes it clear that this building was meant to reflect more than architectural strength. It was meant to reflect moral strength as well.

The classical design reinforces that message. The symmetry, the heavy walls, and the quiet order of the exterior all speak to stability and balance. Nothing about the building feels accidental. Every line and proportion seems chosen to convey the same values that Freemasonry teaches: steadiness, structure, and the ongoing work of building character. Even before you step inside, the building tells you what it stands for.

Inside the Treasure Box

The interior of the Iowa Masonic Library and Museum was designed to work in layers, each one serving a different part of its mission. Visitors enter through a wide marble lobby that immediately sets the tone: solid, quiet, and intentional. From there, the space opens into the museum galleries, where displays of Masonic regalia, Civil War pieces, international ceremonial objects, and historical documents tell the story of the Craft and the people who shaped it.

Beyond the galleries are the reading rooms, calm and orderly spaces where researchers can work with the materials they need. The library stack wing stretches out behind them, the largest part of the building, with reinforced floors built to carry the enormous weight of thousands of books. Administrative offices and archival workrooms support the daily work of caring for the collection, while the basement holds mechanical systems and secure storage for rare and fragile items.

The layout makes the building function as a museum, a research center, and an archival vault all at once. Each layer supports the next, creating a place where the public can learn, scholars can study, and the most delicate pieces of our history can be kept safe. It is a thoughtful design, and it reflects exactly what the building was meant to be: a strong, steady home for the treasures of our past.

Artistic Treasures Within

Among the treasures inside the Iowa Masonic Library and Museum, the artwork stands out as one of the building’s most memorable features. The stained glass windows, designed by Francis Robert White during the 1950s construction, bring both color and meaning into the space. White had briefly studied under Grant Wood at the Stone City Art Colony, and his windows reflect that Midwestern artistic lineage. Many of the panels include familiar Masonic symbols such as the Square and Compasses, the All Seeing Eye, the level, and the plumb line, set in rich colors that filter natural light into the corridors and reading rooms. The effect is quiet and contemplative, giving the building a sense of ceremony that fits its purpose.

The stained glass is complemented by Grant Wood’s own contribution to the collection: The First Three Degrees of Freemasonry. Wood, best known for American Gothic, was himself a Mason, having joined Mount Hermon Lodge No. 263 in Cedar Rapids in 1921. His three panel mural depicts the symbolic journey through the Entered Apprentice, Fellowcraft, and Master Mason degrees. Each panel reflects the moral lessons and allegorical imagery tied to the building of King Solomon’s Temple and the personal growth emphasized in Masonic teaching.

Together, White’s stained glass and Wood’s mural create a visual narrative that runs through the building. They remind visitors that this place is not only a library or a museum, but a space where art, symbolism, and history come together. These pieces are part of the treasure the building protects, gems of color, story, and meaning that enrich the experience of everyone who walks through its halls.

The Treasures It Protects

The true measure of the Iowa Masonic Library and Museum is found in the depth of its collection. Today the library holds more than 400,000 volumes, making it one of the largest and most significant Masonic collections in the world. That growth began early. By the start of the 20th century, the library already contained rare books, documents, and artifacts that drew researchers from across the country.

The focus of the collection has always reflected the purpose of the institution. Since its founding in 1845, the library has gathered materials on Freemasonry and its many branches, including York Rite, Scottish Rite, Shrine, Eastern Star, Prince Hall, and even anti Masonic movements. Because belief in a higher power is a requirement for membership, the library also collects works on world religions and philosophies. And because our first Grand Secretary arrived in Iowa Territory as the personal secretary to the territorial governor, the library naturally became a home for Iowa history as well. Long before Cedar Rapids had a public library, this institution was already collecting literature in the humanities, and it has remained open to the public ever since.

Some of the items preserved here are remarkable in their rarity. The oldest book in the collection is a 1470 edition of The Pharsalia by Lucan. The library also holds a first edition of the Book of Mormon from 1830 and a daybook used by Joseph Smith. Among the many autographs and historical documents is a letter written by Abraham Lincoln. There is even a small lock of George Washington’s hair. And of course, the building protects an original Grant Wood painting, tying Iowa’s artistic heritage directly to its Masonic history.

These pieces, books, manuscripts, artifacts, and works of art, are the treasures the building was designed to protect. They are the reason the walls are thick, the floors reinforced, and the spaces carefully controlled. Each item adds another layer to the story of Freemasonry, of Iowa, and of the people who shaped both.

A Home Built for Memory

When you step back and look at it all, the marble walls, the layered interior, the stained glass, the rare books and artifacts, you begin to understand what this building truly represents. It is more than a library, more than a museum, and more than an archive. It is a place built with intention, shaped by generations of Masons who believed that knowledge, history, and tradition deserved a safe and lasting home. Every part of it, from the thick concrete floors to the quiet reading rooms, was designed to protect the treasures entrusted to it.

But even the strongest treasure box needs a keeper.

The building can safeguard the past, but it takes people to bring that past to life, to guide visitors, to care for the collection, and to make sure the light inside never dims. That is where the story turns next, to the person who knows this place better than anyone, and who carries its history with both expertise and heart.

Part Two is about her.

 

 

Announcement: Letters from a Freemason Has Launched on Substack

After years of writing and reflection here on the blog, I’ve opened a new space for my work, a Substack publication called Letters from a Freemason.

It’s a continuation of what I’ve always tried to do: explore the lessons of Freemasonry as tools for living. The Craft teaches us patience, humility, and service — qualities that shape not only our lodge life but our daily lives. I’ve studied these lessons, applied them, and come to believe that Freemasonry is truly a Way of Life. The search for light helps us understand ourselves, guide our actions, and find our place in the world.

On Substack, I’ll share essays, reflections, and stories that connect Masonic philosophy with everyday experience; written in the same spirit of quiet strength and curiosity that has guided this blog.

You can subscribe for free, and each post will come directly to your email. I’d be honored to have you join me there.

👉 Visit Letters from a Freemason https://lettersfromafreemason.substack.com/

Tolerance Tuesday-The Compass Within: Self-Tolerance and Growth

 

“The Ashlar and the Ego: We shape ourselves not to erase what’s rough, but to reveal what’s true.”

In our pursuit of moral and spiritual growth, we often extend compassion outward, toward our Brothers, our communities, the world. But there is a quieter, more challenging tolerance we must cultivate first: the tolerance we show ourselves.

Freemasonry teaches restraint, reflection, and refinement. Yet beneath the compasses we wear lies an inner compass—one that guides not our judgment of others, but our understanding of ourselves.

Self-tolerance does not mean complacency. It means recognizing our humanity. Our flaws. Our moments of contradiction. Our slow evolution.

We are taught to circumscribe our passions, but do we also learn to forgive our missteps? To accept where we are in the journey, even as we strive for the next degree of wisdom?

The compass within marks a sacred space: not one of perfection, but of progress. A place where we acknowledge the rough ashlar and work patiently, humbly, toward the polished stone.

Growth is not linear. It comes in starts and stalls, in light and shadow. To grow, we must first allow ourselves to be unfinished.

This week, reflect on your own compass:

• What habits or thoughts could use a gentler view?

• What past choices deserve grace rather than judgment?

• What new working tools might help you build from within?

The Craft calls us to transformation, not through shame, but through light. Let us hold that light inward today. Let us extend to ourselves the same tolerance we so proudly offer others.

Not weakness. Not avoidance. But the quiet strength of self-respect.

Hold the compass gently. And begin again.

See You Next Tuesday.

May: The Trowel, Building with Brotherly Love

 

The Trowel, Building with Brotherly Love

A Lesson in Brick and Mortar

One summer, my father asked me to help him on a job he was working. He told me I would be his tender for the day, which meant carrying bricks from the truck to the spot where he was building a wall. It was hot, heavy work, and by midday my arms and shoulders were feeling every step of it. The sun was high, the air was thick, and the pile of bricks never seemed to get any smaller.

Later in the afternoon, he looked over at me and asked if I wanted to try my hand at laying a brick. Before I could think too much about it, he placed the Trowel in my hand. That was the first time I ever held one with any real purpose.

He showed me how each brick mattered in the wall, how every single one had to be set level so the whole structure would stand straight and strong. The cement was what held it all together, binding loose bricks into a unified whole. My job, he said, was to spread a generous, even layer, not too much and not too little, so the brick would settle firmly into place.

Sometimes the Trowel moved smoothly, almost effortlessly. Other times it took a little work to get the right amount of cement, the right angle, the right touch. But every brick, every motion of the Trowel, contributed to something larger than itself. A wall is never built all at once. It is built one careful, intentional brick at a time.

I did not know it then, but that afternoon taught me more than how to lay a brick. It taught me what it means to build, to bind, and to bring things together. It taught me that strength comes from unity, and unity comes from the care we put into each connection. Years later, when I learned the Masonic meaning of the Trowel, I realized my father had already given me the beginning of that instruction, not in words, but in work.

The Trowel Inside the Lodge

In Freemasonry, the Trowel is one of the working tools of the Master Mason Degree. Operative masons use it to spread mortar and bind stones together, turning individual bricks into a unified, enduring structure. Speculative Masons take that same practical image and apply it to human behavior and character.

Just as mortar holds a wall together, the Trowel symbolizes the forces that bind people into a community. It reminds us that unity does not happen by accident. It is built intentionally through the way we treat one another.

Symbolically, the Trowel teaches several core lessons:

• Brotherly Love, It spreads the cement that unites members into a supportive, caring fellowship.

• Unity, It binds individuals together despite differences in background, opinion, or experience.

• Peace and Harmony, It encourages kindness, cooperation, and mutual respect, smoothing the rough edges that can cause friction.

• Service to Others, It calls us to use our actions to strengthen society, not divide it.

A familiar Masonic explanation puts it plainly, the Trowel spreads the cement of brotherly love and affection, joining people into a moral and ethical whole.

Inside the Lodge, this is more than a poetic phrase. It is a charge. The Trowel reminds Master Masons that their work is not only to build themselves, but to help build harmony among others. It is the tool that prevents separation, heals division, and strengthens the bonds that make a Lodge more than a room full of individuals.

In many ways, the lesson my father taught me with brick and mortar is the same lesson the Trowel teaches in the Lodge, every connection matters, and the strength of the whole depends on the care we put into each bond.

The Work of Building Unity

If the Trowel teaches us anything, it is that unity does not happen on its own. A wall does not rise because the bricks wish to be together. It rises because someone takes the time to place each brick with care, spread the mortar evenly, and make sure the bond is strong. The same is true of human relationships.

Today’s world makes this work harder than ever. People are quick to divide themselves into groups, to defend their opinions, to assume the worst of others before they have heard the best. Social media rewards outrage more than understanding. News cycles thrive on conflict. Even small disagreements can turn into wide cracks if no one steps forward to mend them.

This is where the Trowel becomes more than a symbol. It becomes a discipline.

Just as I learned with my father’s Trowel, some days the work goes smoothly. Conversations flow, people cooperate, and harmony seems easy. Other days, the Trowel drags. Misunderstandings pile up. Tempers flare. The mortar feels too thick or too thin, and nothing seems to set right.

But the lesson is the same, unity is built one careful act at a time.

A kind word. A patient response. A willingness to listen. A choice to mend rather than widen a crack.

These are the small motions of the Trowel in daily life. They may not seem like much in the moment, but they bind people together in ways that last. They strengthen families, friendships, Lodges, and communities. They turn loose stones into a wall that can stand against the storms of the world.

The world gives us plenty of reasons to pull apart, but the Trowel reminds us to build bridges between people, not walls.

The Trowel Beyond the Lodge

The lessons of the Trowel are not meant to stay inside the Lodge. Just as a wall is built brick by brick, the world around us is shaped moment by moment through the way we treat one another. Every interaction becomes an opportunity to spread the cement of Brotherly Love and affection.

Outside the Lodge, we meet people who do not share our background, our beliefs, or our experiences. We encounter disagreements, misunderstandings, and the rough edges of daily life. These are the places where the Trowel matters most. It reminds us that our task is not to judge the stones, but to bind them. Not to widen the cracks, but to mend them.

The Trowel calls us to be builders in a world that often prefers to tear down. It asks us to look for ways to strengthen relationships rather than strain them, to offer patience where others offer impatience, and to extend kindness where it is least expected. These small acts of care are the mortar that holds families together, supports friendships, and builds communities that can withstand hardship.

Just as my father taught me that a wall depends on the care given to each brick, the Trowel teaches that society depends on the care we give to each person. A generous word, a thoughtful gesture, a willingness to listen, these are the motions of the Trowel in everyday life. They bind us together in ways that are stronger than we often realize.

The world will always have its fractures. But the Trowel reminds us that we are not powerless in the face of them. Freemasons are builders, not destroyers, men who strengthen what is weak, mend what is broken, and bind together what might otherwise fall apart.

The Call of the Trowel

The Trowel is not a tool of force or dominance. It does not cut, strike, or shape. Its purpose is gentler, but no less powerful. It binds. It heals. It brings together what might otherwise remain separate. In the hands of an operative mason, it unites bricks into a wall. In the hands of a Master Mason, it unites people into a community.

The world gives us many opportunities to divide ourselves, to harden our opinions, or to let small cracks widen into lasting fractures. The Trowel calls us to a different kind of work, the work of connection. It reminds us that the strength of any structure, whether a wall or a Lodge or a friendship, depends on the care we give to each bond.

Every day offers us a chance to spread a little more of that cement, a moment of patience, a gesture of kindness, a willingness to listen, a choice to mend rather than break. These small acts may seem insignificant, but they are the quiet motions that hold our world together.

In the end, the Trowel teaches a simple but profound truth. Freemasons are builders, not destroyers. We are called to strengthen what is weak, to repair what is damaged, and to bind together what might otherwise fall apart. The wall we build is made of relationships, and the bridge we build is made of Brotherly Love. The work is never finished.

The Trowel reminds us that every bond matters, every connection counts, and every act of Brotherly Love helps build a world that is a little more stable, a little more compassionate, and a little more whole.

For another symbol that shapes our inner work, you might enjoy my reflection on the Compass and Square.

This reflection is part of my twelve-part series Unlocking the Symbols of Freemasonry. You can explore the full journey here.

Tolerance Tuesday-Raising the Next Generation of Tolerant Leaders

 

“Tools of the craft. Seeds of the future.”

The Compass and the Child

In Freemasonry, we speak often of building, a temple not made with hands, a society shaped by virtue. But what of the builders who come after us? What tools do we place in their hands? What values do we whisper into their hearts?

Tolerance is not inherited. It is taught, modeled, and cultivated. And in a world increasingly divided by noise and haste, the next generation needs more than slogans. They need mentors.

The compass, one of our most sacred symbols, teaches us to draw boundaries—not to exclude, but to guide. When we raise children with tolerance, we teach them to widen their circles, to listen before judging, and to seek understanding over victory.

But tolerance is not passive. It requires courage. It means standing up when others are put down. It means asking hard questions and sitting with uncomfortable truths. It means learning to disagree without disrespect.

 Building with Intention

So how do we raise tolerant leaders?

• Model it: Children learn more from what we do than what we say. Let them see us engage with difference, not just endure it, but honor it.

• Tell stories: Share tales of peacemakers, bridge-builders, and those who stood firm in kindness. Let them know that tolerance is strength, not softness.

• Invite questions: Create space for curiosity. Let them wrestle with ideas, challenge assumptions, and explore perspectives.

• Celebrate diversity: Not as a checkbox, but as a source of wisdom. Help them see that every person carries a piece of the puzzle.

 A Legacy Worth Leaving

Freemasonry is a tradition of transmission. We pass down symbols, rituals, and truths. But the most powerful legacy we can leave is a generation equipped to lead with empathy, humility, and resolve.

Let us be the mentors who plant seeds of tolerance, not just in lodges, but in living rooms, classrooms, and communities. Let us raise leaders who build not walls, but bridges.

Because the future is not written in stone. It is shaped by the hands we guide today.

This reflection is part of my 12-part Tolerance Tuesday series. where I explore how Masonic virtues guide us through conflict, truth and daily life-you can read the full series here

See You Next Tuesday. 

Was Superman a Freemason? A Light‑Hearted Investigation

This Illustration is Reprinted from Superman Adventures 34. Fighting Fate, August 1999, DC Comics New York City, NY 

Mark Millar, Writer, Mike Mcavennie, Editor Frandk Berris, found on Page 21I

• I was flipping through an old comic the other day when a single caption made me stop and smile. It was from Superman Adventures #34, published back in August of 1999. The panel showed Superman flying thru the air, cape flowing behind him, as someone told him, “Go now, and may the Great Architect of the Universe protect you on your journey.”

  That phrase is familiar to any Mason. Seeing it in a Superman comic caught me off guard. For a moment, I just stared at it. Then the thought hit me, half serious and half in good fun: Was Superman a Freemason?

  Once that question landed, I could not let it go. So I decided to look into it, using the same investigative instincts I have used in plenty of real‑world situations.

  Superman and Clark Kent both lived in Metropolis. Some fans say Metropolis is based on New York City. Others argue for Delaware. So I did what any curious Mason might do. I checked both. I scoured the websites of the Grand Lodge of New York and the Grand Lodge of Delaware, hoping to find even the faintest hint of a connection. Nothing. Not a whisper of Kryptonian membership.

  Then I went old school. I pulled out my four‑volume set of 10,000 Famous Freemasons, published in 1957. By then, Superman was already a cultural icon. He had comic books, radio shows, and the hit TV series The Adventures of Superman. If he or his mild‑mannered alter ego had ever been portrayed as a Mason, surely he would be listed somewhere.

  But there were no entries for Superman. No entries for Clark Kent. Not even a footnote.

  So that settled the factual side of things. But it did not settle the question in my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Superman, fictional or not, embodies a surprising number of Masonic traits.

  He lives a life of service without expecting anything in return. He helps because it is right, not because it benefits him. That is a lesson we hear in lodge all the time.

  He carries a secret identity, a private inner life that guides his public actions. Masonry teaches us something similar. The real work happens inside, in the quiet places where character is shaped.

  His moral code, built on truth, justice, restraint, and compassion, reads like a list of the cardinal virtues. He has mentors who guide him, just as we do. And the symbol on his chest, while Kryptonian, functions a lot like our own symbols. It reminds him of who he strives to be.

  Of course, there is a case against it too. Superman is fictional. He has never been shown joining a lodge. His values come from Jonathan and Martha Kent while growing up in Smallville Kansas, not from ritual. And let us be honest. Between saving the world and dealing with Lex Luthor, he probably would not have much time to attend stated meetings.

  But in the end, that is not really the point.

  The question “Was Superman a Freemason?” is not about membership records or historical evidence. It is about the values he represents. These values feel right at home with the Square and Compasses. Superman reminds us that heroism is not about powers. It is about character. It is about choosing to do good quietly, consistently, and without expecting applause.

  So on April 18th, as fans celebrate Superman’s Birthday, I will raise a symbolic toast to the Man of Steel. Not as a Brother, but as a reminder of the virtues we all strive to live by.

• If this playful detour into symbolism resonated with you, you may enjoy two other reflections where I explore the Craft through ordinary life; one through biking, and another through the humble gym membership. Sometimes the best Masonic lessons show up where we least expect them.

• Or if this playful look at Superman’s virtues pairs well with my ongoing series Unlocking the Symbols of Freemasonry, where I explore the real emblems that guide a Mason’s inner work.

Happy Birthday Superman

Me goofing around

Minnesota Masons Kick Off a New Wellness Initiative at Goldy’s Run

Many were already at the starting line at time of photo. 

On April 12, 2026, Minnesota Masonic Charities launched a new effort to encourage healthier lifestyles among Minnesota Masons, and they began by hitting the pavement together.

Sixty Masons from nineteen Lodges gathered at the University of Minnesota to take part in Goldy’s Run, the annual fundraiser supporting the M Health Fairview Masonic Children’s Hospital. Brothers ran, walked, and encouraged one another, turning the event into a visible expression of unity, wellness, and service.

And the setting couldn’t have been more fitting. Goldy’s Run has long been a beloved fundraiser supporting the Masonic Children’s Hospital, A place where Minnesota Masons have invested decades of care, philanthropy, and hope. To launch a wellness initiative at an event that already embodies Masonic generosity created a powerful symmetry: strengthening ourselves while strengthening the community.

It was a simple start with a meaningful message: taking care of ourselves helps us take better care of others.

Three Past Grand Masters laced up and took part