Freemasonry's Black Hole

 

You have made your journey to the East. Planning for this milestone consumed you. It saturated your life. Thoughts of budgets and programs bloated your brain until there was room for nothing else; and, oh yes, there was that big part you had to memorize. Then you got there. You brought those programs to life. You managed the budget. You were gut-punched by the unexpected. You punched back. You won.

Now your year is coming to an end. Where, you wonder, did the time go? It all went by so quickly. Suddenly you realize you are traveling near lightspeed toward the event horizon… that point of no return… of the great black hole of Freemasonry: life after being Master of your Lodge.

Maybe it doesn't hit you right away. Oh, those first few weeks after your term is over… that sweet era when the responsibility void hits, when the burdens of leadership rest on someone else's shoulders, when you get to go to meetings, plan nothing, do nothing, and wear that sporty new Past Master's apron… is a nirvana reserved for a precious few… the newly minted junior Past Master.

But it's an illusion. You eventually realize you've been sucked into the great void. Oblivion awaits. You can't sit on the north heckling the ritual performance forever. You can only take so much listening to debates about the menu at the next dinner, reading of the minutes and grousing about the outrageous bill to fix the air conditioner. You realize they can do all of this without you. Weeks ago you were the most important guy in the Lodge. Now you are, by your standard, irrelevant. You're not even the top-dog of all the Past Masters. You're at the bottom of the barrel. And like anything that reaches singularity in a black hole, you disappear. Experience shows us it happens to many, possibly the majority of Past Masters. They gradually stop coming to meetings, fade away, and leave us wondering whatever happened to them.

As you try to fight this trend instead of "whence came you," a new question pops up: "whence go you," or more simply, "now what?" The fact is most of us don't want to sit around doing nothing. We need relevance, something to do, a goal, a project, a responsibility, a raison d'être.

Part of your planning as you approach the east should be to figure out what you will do when it's all over. Your Lodge has many needs you can fill: maybe it needs a new Lodge Education Officer, an appointed office filled, a mentor for new initiates, a Lodge historian, someone to take the helm of a civic project or, God forbid, a new Secretary. There are also appendant bodies to consider. The York and Scottish Rites especially offer more opportunities for the Masonic education, fellowship and community service we crave. Grand Lodge committees always need staffing. You might even put together an article for the Midnight Freemasons.

Whatever you do, vow to stay active; and the activities you choose should include those that keep you coming back the foundation of our Fraternity – your Lodge.

The Unfortunate William Dodd

 Born in Lincolnshire in 1729, William Dodd was a vicar's son who became an honor student at the University of Cambridge. He was a man of letters, authoring over 50 books and pamphlets. He subsequently became a doctor of divinity and served as chaplain to King George II as well as a Minister to Magdalene Hospital. Dodd was initiated into the mysteries of Freemasonry April 3, 1775 and a month later he became England's first Grand Chaplain.

As an accomplished author and eloquent orator, Brother Dodd became very popular with the people of England and was well connected with the most important people of his time. He enjoyed moving in the circles of the rich and famous and began to favor the trappings of wealth and society.

His immersion in the lifestyle of the gentry became a near obsession and earned him the title, "the Macaroni Minister." That obscure term relates to people of the day who became deeply involved in the extravagant lifestyle and ate Italian pasta, which was rare and expensive at the time. It is the origin of the first verse in the song Yankee Doodle, originally written to disparage American colonists:

Yankee Doodle came to London riding on a pony,

Stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni…

Well, the Macaroni Minister was no Yankee but he certainly became a dandy. Piling on the excesses and luxuries of the life of a member of the British nobility finally became too much for his finances. Dodd incurred heavy debt and exacerbated the situation by trying to gamble his way out of it. His gambling losses simply made things worse.

In 1774, he attempted to bribe his way into a high-paying position, but his scheme was discovered and he was fired from all of his existing positions. A few months later when he joined the Masons, it may just have been an attempt to once again become well connected and begin his journey back up the social ladder.

In need of funds, Dodd forged a bond from the Earl of Chesterfield, then borrowed against it to settle his finances. The plan might have worked, but the banker involved saw a blot on the bond document which obscured some of the text. He rewrote the document and when he took it to the Earl for signature, Dodd's plot was discovered.

Dodd confessed to the crime. Since the banker had acted so quickly, Dodd had spent very little of the money, which enabled him to make full restitution.

Brother Dodd went to trial and based his defense on the fact that this had been an act of indiscretion and that the crime was mitigated by the fact he returned all the money. The jury did not see it that way. Its members convicted him of forgery, which at the time was punishable by death. Even so, the jurors recommended clemency for the popular preacher. Notwithstanding, the judge sentenced Dodd to be hanged. Dodd was so popular, 23,000 people petitioned the King for a pardon, but to no avail.

On June 27, 1777, the day of his execution, the 48 year old Dodd rode in a black mourning coach with his father. On the way to the gallows the coach stopped, as dictated by tradition, at a pub, where Dodd was given a beer. This practice is said by some to be the origin of the term, "one for the road." The guards along with him also received a beer, but the driver of the coach could not partake because he was said to be, "on the wagon."

Another tradition of the time was that stewards at the gallows would take up a collection from the bloodthirsty crowd in attendance. If they collected enough money, the condemned man would be given a short drop in order that he would succumb more slowly and give the spectators a longer, more graphic performance. In spite of his popularity, the crowd anted up enough for the gruesome show.

As Dodd dropped from the scaffold, however, the Lord High Executioner ran down the steps, grabbed Dodd by the legs and pulled him downward to prevent flailing and to "speed things along."

In a bit of irony, Dodd had always been a death penalty opponent. Just earlier that year, he had given an inspiring sermon against it. In addition, he was a big supporter of the Humane Society which at the time was advocating the possibility of reviving those who had been hung, drowned or died under similar circumstances, speculating that even though appearing deceased, a bit of life might remain. Even today the Society's motto is lateat scintillula forsan, meaning “a small spark may perhaps lie hid.”

The fact is, some executions were sloppy enough at the time that this is known to have worked on rare occasions. So as soon as Dodd was cut down his friends rushed to claim his body knowing his neck had not been broken by the short drop. They carried him into the mourning coach and tried to go to the home of Dr. John Hunter to attempt a revival. The crowd reportedly rushed the coach and prevented its exit either to view the body or prevent its transfer, and it is unlikely any attempt at revival occurred. However for years rumors persisted that Dodd was revived and went off to live in France.

Dodd's Brother Richard was Rector of Cowley, which is where reports say Dodd's burial took place. Today, no marker exists for his grave, but a wall plaque says he rests within the cemetery. There is no record of his burial there, which has fueled speculation that he may have survived.

Shortly after his hanging, England changed its penalty for forgery and Dodd remains the last person executed for that crime; and while a minute measure of doubt may remain about him surviving the execution, one thing is for certain: upon hearing of his conviction, the Freemasons immediately expelled the unfortunate William Dodd.