“I’ve been reading blog postings again. I’ve decided that I’m going to give a piece of my mind to that guy who’s always berating everything.” The rehearsal that evening had gone exceptionally well and the officers and the two substitutes were all duly and truly prepared to present an excellent Fellowcraft Degree the following Tuesday night. Now they were gathered around a table at the local truck stop for a cup of coffee and, in some cases, a sandwich, before heading home.
“I know what you mean, Bill. I’ve been reading that blog too ever since you told me about it. If you gave that guy gold bars, he’d complain that they were too heavy. Who does he think he is, anyway?”
“He ought to be tossed out of Masonry, in my opinion. Just the other day he was blathering about how a certain Grand Lodge was doing their advertising. Of course, he didn’t have a clue as to their membership figures or how successful that advertising had been. I guess their way of doing things just didn’t appeal to him so he decided that it wouldn’t appeal to anyone. In fact, I’ve got a friend in that state who tells me that their campaigns are going ‘great guns’! And, like a lot of people, that blogger-guy will disparage their efforts but he doesn’t have any positive suggestions for doing it better. Just a bunch of negativism.” said a third member at the table.
“I think he just loves to write provocative things so that people will come to his website and he’ll get a few cents from the traffic going there. He’s making money on our prurient interests. Sad. He’s probably hoping to sell some useless herbal medicine too. I’ll bet there’s a great profit on that stuff.”
“So what does The Old Webmaster think about it?” said the Lodge’s Master, facing him with a grin from ear to ear. It wasn’t just the roast beef sandwich swathed in Russian dressing that he’d paused before devouring: he had actually used the sobriquet that so many in the lodge employed, but never to the Brother’s face. It was a term of true endearment and the Master was confident it would never be misinterpreted.
“I’m astonished that I can sit at a table with this many Masons and most of you know about blogs!” The Old Webmaster smiled broadly – and stopped to see if anyone had anything to add. They waited for his response.
“Well, here’s my take on it. Loneliness breeds all sorts of problems. Based on what he’s written to date, he sounds like a guy who joined Masonry thinking how much we’d all benefit by having him as a member. Needless to say, those who become members and immediately want to tell everyone how things ought to be run become unwelcome quite quickly – and they’re not at all understanding of the reasons for that. There have been others: Eliphas Levy, Gabriel Jogand-Pagès, better known as Léo Taxil, and more. I’ve never understood how someone who’s never been a member can, within the space of weeks or months become such an expert, particularly on one of the world’s oldest organizations. ” Heads nodded in agreement.
“His divorce not long afterwards played out online with his bizarre actions. He now apparently wants to prove his worth and perhaps even validate his manhood by regularly showcasing Masons as a bunch of jackasses at best. If only Freemasonry had listened to him, he could have straightened things out. The supreme irony, to me at least, is that he doesn’t have the courage of his convictions to quit the organization. He just seems to want to prove that he was right and that those who wouldn’t listen – and all the other Masons who haven’t paid him due deference – were wrong. Although most of those who are very active in online Freemasonry know perfectly well who he is, he likes to hide behind a pseudonym. Frankly, I see him as a pitifully lonely soul, spiritually empty – grasping for attention in the only way he has managed to find.” The Old Webmaster shook his head: slowly, sadly.
Every man stopped. Sipping stopped. Chewing stopped. Drumming fingers stopped. Every man simply stopped what he was doing to turn and listen. The Old Webmaster was speaking deliberately but without any malice whatsoever. No one at the table, however, had ever heard him speak so forcefully about an individual’s deficiencies before. Clearly, he’d thought this all through more than once. Even those who were not following the blog under discussion realized the weight of this indictment.
But the Old Webmaster said nothing more. The silence at the table became palpable. Finally the Master broke the uneasy calm. “So you think we should just ignore the guy and not respond at all? Haven’t you been the one who always preached never letting a lie stand?”
“There are exceptions to every rule.” the Old Webmaster replied in a voice that was almost inaudible in the cavernous restaurant. “Beyond that, though, the argument is what he dearly wants. I’m sure that you’ve heard the old expression about never getting into a urination contest with a skunk, right?”
Nervous smiles broke out all around. There were nods of agreement. It was clear: arguing with an individual like that would be a waste of time and energy AND it would give him exactly what he so desperately craved: attention.
“Can you get me a sandwich like his – to go?” asked The Old Webmaster as their waitress passed by, now in a seemingly different mood entirely. The doom and gloom had been lifted in the blink of an eye. Every man there enjoyed Freemasonry to the fullest. They also knew the good they were doing in both their own lives and in that of the community. It was time to cut out cursing the darkness and get back to lighting candles!
The Master broke into a broad grin. “And I was just about to make a comment to the rest of the Brethren about you being a good example for not acting impulsively….” Some smiles turned to outright laughter.
“As you know, Worshipful, I try to concentrate on the important things in life.” The Old Webmaster paused and then gazed at each of the men in turn, letting the impact of his words sink in. Then he turned back towards the Master. “Those fries smell REALLY good – and you owe me some for that crack you made about “Old”…..” He deftly reached across the table to the Master’s plate and snatched several fries, quickly moving them into his mouth. Smiles, knowing nods, and laughter continued. The Master moved his plate so that more could be ’stolen’ if desired.
A waitress standing at the other end of the room leaned against the wall to watch these men who were clearly enjoying each other’s company, far more than other customers. She too found herself smiling. Were they all related somehow? They seemed to talk and share just like brothers. It was so nice…. If only all of her male customers were such gentlemen, she mused.
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