Heaven and Earth Will Pass Away

 "Geometry, the first and noblest of sciences is the basis on which the superstructure of Freemasonry is erected. By Geometry, we may curiously trace nature through her various windings to her most concealed recesses. By it, we discover the wisdom, power and goodness of the Grand Architect of the Universe and view with delight the proportions which connect this vast machine. By it we discover how the planets move in their respective orbits and demonstrate their various revolutions."

We, as Freemasons, see a close and direct relationship between the functioning of the physical universe and God. After all, we do, in fact, refer to Him as "the Grand Architect of the Universe." He created it, constructed it, runs it, and that's all there is to it. In fact, you don't have to be a Freemason to hold that belief. We are so in awe of this creation that we ask, "When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have ordained, what is man that You are mindful of him?"

This belief doesn't just come out of thin air. We see so many things around us that tend to confirm there is something intelligent – perhaps divine – that is in control. In the classic "double slit" experiment, for example, we find electrons that behave one way if someone is watching and differently without an observer. Or, any scientist will tell you we know there is a "force" holding galaxies together. We have no idea about its nature and call it "dark matter."

If we draw a line in the sand, as some do, and say those paranoid electrons behaving that way indicate a form of divine intelligence, or buy into the common claim "dark matter" is in fact God holding the universe together, we set ourselves up.

There are plenty of examples where those lines have been drawn only to be erased by scientific discoveries. In the 17^th century people saw the heavenly bodies moving around the earth and said they do that because God put the earth and mankind at the center of everything. Then a couple of guys named Galileo and Copernicus came along and burst that bubble. If we think those electrons and "dark matter" prove God exists, what will we do when a modern-day Copernicus finds a scientific causation? It's easy to fall into that trap.

If we keep doing that, and then back off on our definition and understanding of God with every scientific discovery, we seemingly wind up with what astrophysicist Neil DeGrasse Tyson calls "an ever-receding God."

Maybe it should be the other way around.

In other words, if we discover some phenomenon is not caused by a mysterious action of God, does that not also teach us a little more about what God is? The Second Degree lecture teaches us we should embrace the sciences. As those discoveries come to light the fact is God isn't receding. With each new discovery we learn more, not less, about the true nature of God: the spiritual, not the physical is what's important. Read our ritual carefully. It says By Geometry... science... we discover God's wisdom, power and goodness, not that we use it to discover God Himself.

Scientists have proven the universe is expanding at an ever-increasing rate. This has led to a theory about its end which says it will just keep expanding until the stars all burn out and the universe will die a dark and cold death. If you're looking for an area where science and religion… or spirituality… are in agreement, look to Matthew 24:35: "Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away." Don't get hung up about the physical universe. Both God and the scientists say it won't be around forever; but God's words – those spiritual lessons – will be.

Let's not worry over the fact that God didn't put the Earth at the center of the universe, or he may or may not be manifest in a bunch of shy electrons. Let's use His spiritual teachings to learn how to live our lives, improve them, and the lives of others.

Wild Bill Hickok

 

For eight seasons back in the 1950s kids were captivated by The Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok, a shoot-'em-up western starring the dashing Guy Madison. The show brought Hickok, already a wild-west legend, to life as a buckskin-and-white-hat-clad US Marshall, fighting for law and order in the dusty untamed Midwest. The opening of every episode showed his 300-pound comic-relief sidekick Jingles, played by Andy Devine, riding his galloping horse far behind Bill screaming, "Hey, Wild Bill, wait for me." Ahead of him Hickok rode his trusty snow-white steed full-tilt as he fired his six-shooter repeatedly at an unknown target ahead of him. What kid could turn the TV off after seeing action like that?

The production almost certainly did more to shape our perceptions of Hickok than any history book. Like so many of the westerns back then – Wyatt Earp, Kit Carson, Bat Masterson and others – the show didn't exactly portray an accurate depiction of its real-life legendary hero.

James Butler Hickok was born May 27, 1837, in Homer, Illinois, to William Alonzo Hickok, and his wife, Polly Butler. "Wild Bill" was one of his many nicknames and most likely has its derivation from his father's name. The TV series was accurate in that he did, in fact, serve as deputy US Marshall in Hayes, Kansas and eventually city Marshall there and in Abilene. He also served as Sheriff of Ellis County, Kansas for a few months in 1869.

In addition to his career as a lawman, Hickok at various times was a soldier, a scout, a wagon master, and a professional gambler. He put together his own wild west show and later teamed up with Buffalo Bill Cody. He even tried his hand at acting but… well… the reviews were not good.

His exploits as a lawman contrasted with his TV persona and were not exactly squeaky clean. While in office he reportedly killed Bill Mulvey, Samuel Strawhun, John Kyle, Phil Coe and others, all under suspicious circumstances hardly construed as self-defense. When, in 1871, he accidentally killed Abilene Special Deputy Marshal Mike Williams the town summarily fired him.

His reputation as a gunfighter was part of the reason he became a frontier legend and folk hero. The details of his gun fighting exploits are sketchy but Hickok claimed dozens of victories. In contrast, one of his biographers pointed out, "Wild Bill may have only killed six or seven men in gunfights." Even that number would be enough to convince anyone he was a legitimate gunfighter.

On August 1, 1876 he played in a poker game in Deadwood, South Dakota, where a drunken Jack McCall suffered heavy losses. Hickok encouraged him to leave the game and gave him money for breakfast. McCall took the money, but considered Hickok's offer an insult.

The following day Hickok joined another game. As a gunfighter it was his custom to sit with his back to a wall where he could see the room, but only a chair facing away from the room was available. During the game McCall walked in, shouted, "take that," and shot him in the head, killing him instantly. When onlookers checked his cards they reportedly found him to be holding two aces and two eights, now infamously known as "the dead man's hand." McCall was hanged for the crime and, when his body was moved in 1881, the noose was found to be still around his neck.

Hickok's murder and McCall's capture are reenacted annually at the Deadwood Masonic Temple. So was Wild Bill Hickok a Freemason? It would not be out of the question to think the wild west legend, folk hero and lawman would have been a member of the fraternity. A check of Denslow's 10,000 Famous Freemasons, however, comes up empty. With the amount of time Hickok spent in Eastern Kansas and Western Missouri, it would be unlikely Denslow would overlook his membership. Also, no other records exist to indicate he ever joined or even petitioned for membership. So, perhaps even regrettably, we would have to conclude James Butler "Wild Bill" Hickok was not a Freemason.

For the Whence Came You podcast, this is… uh… uh oh… wait a minute. I forgot to tell you something.

There is a simple chair encased in plexiglass in the Masonic Museum in Columbia, Missouri. It has a tan wicker seat, a basic wooden frame and three slats running across its back. Except for the seat, the chair is painted black. Presented by the Brothers of Savannah Lodge 71, it is said to be one of the chairs Wild Bill Hickok may have sat in during one of the frequent times he attended Lodge meetings there.

Imagine that.

Mordecai Brown

 

You may never have heard of this Brother but he is ranked among the greats. He stands beside the likes of Sandy Kofax, Cy Young, Christy Mathewson, Lefty Grove, Roger Clemens and a handful of others whose skill at throwing a baseball seemed to be supernatural. He was so good, the annual Cy Young Award for the best pitcher in baseball might well have been named the Mordecai Brown Award.

Born in 1876 in Nyesville, Indiana, a small town about 40 miles west of Indianapolis, Brown was a member of Edward Dobbins Lodge No. 164, in Lawrenceville, Illinois. He was a standout Chicago Cubs pitcher who won 20 or more games for six straight seasons. In 1908 as a fielding pitcher he did not commit a single error and pitched a record four shutout games in a row. Against the great Christy Matthewson, considered by some to be the best pitcher in baseball, he won 13 games out of the 24 times they met. Overall he won 239 games against 130 losses and struck out 1,375 batters. His spectacular 2.06 earned run average today remains the best of any pitcher who won over 200 games.

There is more to his story as a Freemason. There was a time in the Craft in some jurisdictions when a physical deformity disqualified a man from becoming a member. As a young man, Brown lost the index finger on his right hand in a farming accident. While still healing from that injury he fell and broke several bones in his remaining fingers. Doctors reset his middle finger improperly further mangling his hand. When he petitioned to become a Freemason, he was rejected due to his mutilated hand. Only the intervention of a District Deputy Grand Master won him dispensation and allowed him to join.

Brown's disfigured pitching hand forced him to grip a baseball in an unorthodox way. There has never been any doubt that his grip made the ball travel in a way that made his pitches extremely difficult to hit, and contributed to his success as a pitcher, earning him the name by which he became famous, Mordecai "Three-Finger" Brown.

He won games on two World-Series winning teams in 1907 and 1908 – the last time the Cubs won the Series for over a century. He retired from the majors in 1916 and moved to Terre Haute, Indiana, where he continued to play and coach in minor league games. In 1928, a friend asked him to play in an exhibition game as a favor. It was the last time he played and in that game the 51-year-old Brown pitched three innings, striking out all nine batters he faced.

I personally share something in common with Brother Mordecai: just before becoming a Freemason, I suffered a similar injury. I didn't lose any fingers, but the little finger on my right hand was permanently disfigured. Most people don't notice but, let's put it this way… I'll never be a hand model.

Brown passed away in 1948 at the age of 71. A year later he was posthumously elected to the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame. If it were not for the fact that Freemasonry gave up on its barbaric, backward, Neanderthal practice of rejecting men with deformities as members, the great Mordecai "Three-Finger" Brown would never have become a Freemason, along with others like him, including myself.