Monday, May 4, 2026

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.

Tuesday, April 21, 2026

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. 

Saturday, April 18, 2026

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








Sunday, April 12, 2026

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




Monday, April 6, 2026

April: Living on the Level: From Lodge to Life

 


SECTION I — The Meaning of the Level

Among the working tools of Freemasonry, the Level stands as a quiet reminder of one of our oldest truths: that all people share the same human worth. It teaches that no matter our background, our successes, or our struggles, we stand on equal ground in the eyes of the Great Architect. The Level is not a tool of measurement alone; it is a symbol of fairness, humility, and the dignity owed to every person.

SECTION II — The Level Inside the Lodge

When we enter the Lodge, the usual markers of status, what we do for a living, how educated we are, how much we earn, or how we appear online, no longer matter. This is where the Level first speaks to us, reminding us that harmony begins with humility and that every Brother stands on equal ground. All Brothers meet on the same level.

In the Lodge, the Level is more than a symbol; it is the jewel of the Senior Warden’s office. He wears it because his duty is to ensure that all Masons meet as equals, without pride, prejudice, or pretense. The Senior Warden stands as the guardian of fairness, the officer who reminds us that no Brother is above another and none is beneath. By carrying the Level, he embodies the principle that harmony is preserved only when every man is treated with dignity. His office teaches that equality is not an idea to admire, but a practice to uphold.

Here, on the Level, we learn to listen without judgment, to speak with respect, and to treat each Brother with the dignity he deserves. This is the foundation of our fellowship, the place where equality is not just declared, but lived.

SECTION III — The Level Beyond the Lodge

When we leave the Lodge, the world quickly reminds us that not everyone stands on equal ground. People are judged by appearances, assumptions, and the labels society places on them. Too often, we meet others through the lens of stereotype instead of humanity.

The Level gives a shared moral rule, not a policy program: treat people justly, regardless of who they are. It reminds us that the equality we practice among Brothers is meant to extend far beyond the tiled floor. The world may divide people by status, background, or belief, but the Level calls us to see the human being first. As the old Masonic saying goes, the world is our Lodge, and we are expected to act the same way outside of it as we do within it.

Before we move forward, here is a simple reflection on what the Level means in daily life, a reminder of the fairness, humility, and humanity it calls us to practice.

The Level

(Poem)

When we walk in, the world falls away.

Titles, money, fame, none of it matters here.

We stand side by side on the same ground. 

Measured only by how we treat one another.

 

The Level teaches us to be fair. 

To speak with honesty and act with respect.

It reminds us that no one stands above, 

And no one stands below, only human.


What counts is not what we own or claim to be. 

But the kindness, justice, and care we show.

Every movement is a chance to stay true, 

To Live upright, balanced and aware.


The Level is more than a tool: it is a guide, 

A call to keep our hearts and minds straight. 

To meet each person as an equal. 

And to remember our shared humanity.


Be fair, stay humble, act with integrity


SECTION IV — The Challenge of Today’s World

Living on the Level is simple to understand but difficult to practice. The world around us rewards division, competition, and comparison. People are encouraged to sort themselves into groups, defend their side, and distrust anyone who looks, thinks, or lives differently.

In such an environment, the Level becomes more than a symbol; it becomes a discipline. It asks us to resist the easy pull of judgment and to meet others with the same fairness we expect for ourselves. It calls us to slow down, to listen, and to recognize the dignity in every person, even when we disagree. The Level does not promise that the world will be easy, but it does show us how to walk through it with integrity.

SECTION V — The Call of the Level

The Level asks something simple of us, yet something profound: to carry ourselves with fairness wherever we go. It reminds us that equality is not a moment in Lodge but a way of moving through the world. Every interaction becomes an opportunity to practice what we have promised, to listen before judging, to speak with respect, and to treat others with the dignity we expect for ourselves.

The Level does not demand perfection; it asks for sincerity. It calls us to be steady, patient, and just, even when the world is not. When we live by the Level, we become quiet builders of harmony, shaping our communities with the same care we bring to our Lodge. In this way, the Level is more than a symbol; it becomes a way of life, for Freemasonry itself is a way of life.

This idea continues in my piece on the Trowel, where I explore how we bind ourselves together in brotherly love. 

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

Tuesday, March 17, 2026

March: Tolerance Tuesday-Tolerance in Times of Conflict

“The level does not erase difference—it balances it.”
 

Tolerance is easy in peace. It is tested in conflict.

Freemasonry teaches us to meet on the level and part upon the square, but what happens when disagreement threatens that harmony? When passions rise, and perspectives clash, tolerance becomes not just a virtue, but a discipline.

Conflict is not failure. It is friction between truths. And in that friction, growth is possible, if we choose to stay present, stay respectful, and stay open.

The working tools of the Mason offer guidance. The plumb reminds us to remain upright in our intentions. The level urges us to meet others with equality, even when we disagree. The compasses teach restraint—not silence but
measured speech.

Tolerance in conflict does not mean surrendering our convictions. It means holding them with humility. It means listening, even when we feel unheard. It means seeking understanding, not victory.

In the Lodge, we are taught to subdue our passions, not to erase them, but to govern them. This is the heart of Masonic tolerance: the ability to disagree without division, to speak truth without cruelty, and to remain brothers even in tension.

This week, reflect on a moment of conflict—past or present:

  • Did you listen with the intent to understand, or to respond?

  • Did you protect your dignity without harming another’s?

  • Did you leave space for reconciliation, even if resolution felt distant?

Let us be builders of bridges, not battlements. Let us remember that tolerance is strongest when tested. And let us carry the Craft into our conflicts-not as armor, but as architecture for peace.

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.

Monday, March 2, 2026

March: The Plumb Line-Standing Upright When No One Is Watching

Some tests of character arrive quietly, without warning, without witnesses.

The Plumb Line is one of the simplest tools in the builder’s kit. A weight, a string, and gravity. Yet in Freemasonry, it carries a meaning far greater than its physical form. It reminds us to walk uprightly, to be honest in our dealings, and to remain steady in moments when our integrity is tested.

Uprightness is not measured in comfort. It is measured in pressure.

A Quiet Test in a Dark Parking Lot

One night, I was walking through a dim corner of a K‑Mart parking lot when a man stepped out of the shadows and asked if I would do him a favor. I told him I didn’t know him, and that I didn’t usually do favors for strangers. In his hand he held a shoebox. He said he had a present for me if I would do something for his friend.

The situation didn’t feel right. The part of town wasn’t safe, and another man stood about a hundred feet behind him, watching. I asked what the favor was and who his friend might be. He lifted the lid of the shoebox and said, “All you have to do is forget you ever knew my friend.” Inside the box were bundles of cash.

He told me it was filled with my “favorite dead presidents,” and pulled out a bundle of hundred‑dollar bills. I told him politely that Benjamin Franklin wasn’t a president, and that carrying that much cash in this neighborhood wasn’t safe. He put the bundle back, closed the lid, and extended the box toward me.

I declined.

As I walked back to my office, I kept thinking about how much money had been in that box. It was more than a year’s salary for me at the time. The temptation was real. But the danger was real too, and so was the cost of compromising myself. When I reached the office, I went straight to my boss and told him everything that had happened.

Walking away from that shoebox made me think about what uprightness really costs, because even though I knew I’d done the right thing, I also knew I wasn’t out of danger yet.

Doing the Right Thing

Doing the right thing is not always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it costs us something, and sometimes we watch people in our own communities benefit from doing the wrong things. But when you choose the upright path, your conscience is clear. You sleep well at night. And when you look in the mirror, you can respect the person looking back at you. By doing the right thing, even when it is difficult, you keep your white Masonic lambskin unsoiled.

The Plumb Line as a Moral Reminder

The Plumb Line teaches us to remain upright in our actions, even when no one is watching. It asks us to measure ourselves not by convenience, but by character. It reminds us that integrity is not something we display only in public. It is something we practice in private, in quiet corners, in unexpected encounters, and in decisions that no one else may ever know about.

The Plumb Line keeps us upright, and the lambskin reminds us why it matters.

Uprightness is not about perfection. It is about consistency.

Closing Reflection

The world may never know the choices we make in the dark, but those choices shape the person we become in the light.

The Plumb Line is a simple tool, but its lesson is profound. It calls us to stand straight in a world that often leans. It asks us to be honest when dishonesty is easier. It challenges us to remain true to ourselves, even when no one else is there to see it.


If this article spoke to you, you may appreciate my reflection on the Level and the quiet work of meeting each other on common ground. 

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