THE TRACING BOARD OF THE THIRD DEGREE

by

W. Bro. R.A.L. Harland, P.M., Lodge No. 1679,

President of the Circle


"But the Third Degree is the cement of the whole, it is calculated to bind
men together by mystic points of fellowship, as in a bond of fraternal
affection and brotherly love; it points to the darkness of death and the
obscurity of the grave as the forerunner of a more brilliant light, which shall
follow at the resurrection of the just, when these mortal bodies which have
long been slumbering in the dust shall be awakened, re-united to their
kindred spirit, and clothed with immortality."

(Third Lecture: First Section.)

"The third degree, which is the highest and most seldom attained, opens
the whole inner man.  It breaks the crust which darkens our spiritual eyes
and ears; it reveals the kingdom of spirit, and enables us to see,
objectively, metaphysical and transcendental sights; hence all visions are
explained fundamentally."

(Eckarthausen: "The Cloud upon the Sanctuary.")


FOREWORD

The present Paper completes the trilogy compiled for the purpose of
interpreting the meaning of the Tracing Boards of the three Degrees of the
Craft system.  By way of introduction to this study of the Board which is
exhibited when the Lodge is opened in the Third Degree, we must first
impress upon students the fact that by our opening of the Lodge to the
Third Degree we are presumed to have left entirely the outer world.  We
have ascended, figuratively speaking, into the solitude and rarefied
atmosphere of the mountain summit, where the aspirant is liable to be, and
generally finds himself both mentally and emotionally, enveloped in cloud
and darkness. It is this psychological condition, described in Masonic
terminology as "darkness visible," which is symbolised in the Third Degree
by the initial darkening of the Lodge; it is otherwise alluded to in the
Volume of the Sacred Law by the cloud that rested on Sinai when Moses
went up into the mountain: "And the Lord said unto Moses, Lo, I come unto
thee in a thick cloud" (Exodus, chapter 19, verse 9).  Accordingly, at a
dramatic moment during the Ceremony of Raising, the attention of the
candidate is directed to the "gloom which rests upon the prospects of
futurity," and he is informed that this is the "mysterious veil which the eye
of human reason cannot penetrate, unless assisted by that Light which is
from above." Those who are not conversant with the records of mystical
experience will need to know that the "gloom" of the Third Degree is often
referred to as "the Divine Dark," and represents a state higher than that of
reasoning thought.  It is, indeed, the "state of darkness" which the mind
must enter and pass through before reaching the ultimate Light and glory
beyond.  Moreover, the supreme Light to which the Third Degree, is
designed to lead must always appear to us as darkness because our
perceptive faculty is not yet attuned to it, the Light is, however, as the
mystics say, only "dark from excess of bright."

We shall be discussing in this Paper a subject which is incapable of simple
explanation, but nevertheless every effort will be made to render the
interpretation lucid.  Let us, then, remind ourselves that the Third Degree
is an "emblematical representation" of the awakening of the spirit of man,
and the Tracing Board can therefore only be translated intelligibly from the
plane and by the enlightenment of the spirit.  The word "spirit," however,
possesses such a wide range of application that it requires considerable
ingenuity to make clear all the properties which are implied.  Spirit, it is
said, is the principle that stands in opposition to matter, and by this we
understand a mode of being which on the highest and most universal level
is God.  Spirit, in keeping with the original wind definition, is always an
active, winged, swift moving being, as well as that which vivifies, stimulates,
fires, and inspires.  Spirit, to express it in modern terms, is the dynamic
principle, constituting for that very reason the classical antithesis of matter,
the antithesis, that is, of stasis and inertia; basically, it is the contrast
between life and death. It is the mission of Freemasonry to serve the spirit
by engendering a "general desire for knowledge," and where this mission
is successful, Freemasonry does not engender and transmit spirit itself, but
spiritual benefits and values, which may be looked upon as emanations of
the spirit.  Knowledge is not kindled where our desire and preference would
have it, but where it is given to us, and those who are concerned merely
to interpret the spirit in terms of the strictest formulation, should be
reminded that spiritual knowledge is primarily an immediate experience, not
of this world: "Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the
Spirit which is of God; that we might know the things that are freely given
to us of God" (1st Corinthians, chapter 2, verse 12)

PRELIMINARY  OBSERVATIONS

There are three Tracing Boards used in the Craft, one appropriate to each
Degree of Masonic progress, and to a casual glance the Board allocated
to the Third Degree seems the simplest.  Actually, it is the most cryptic, and
is heavily charged with meaning.  Before, therefore, we proceed to analyse
the Board some preliminary matters of great significance must be
mentioned, which will assist us in a brief review of the philosophic basis
upon which the Craft system rests.  In this Paper it will not be possible to
expand the consideration of the impressive Third Degree ceremony, which
can be studied more fully from other Transactions of the Circle and
elsewhere.  We can only indicate here the trend and implications of the
doctrine enshrined within what represents the summit of the work of the
Craft, and point out that our Masonic process of Initiation was designed to
train suitable candidates for admission into the "mysteries and privileges"
of a kingdom which is not of this world. It proclaims the fact of racial loss
and spiritual impoverishment; it declares that the supreme principle of the
spirit in man is "smitten" and obscured from him; but it also asserts that
there is a way back by stages to the transcendent life from which he "fell";
that there is a means of recovering "that which is lost" which can be found
and resurrected in him when "time and circumstances" combine in the
restoration.  Mastership signifies the attainment of that recovery in the case
of a given individual, and the Craft graphically portrays the nature of the
disciplines involved, and that "last and greatest trial," by which it is
achievable.  Upon this recondite subject we may anticipate that students
will find statements that will confuse them and raise their doubt.  We would
advise them to accept provisionally in the first instance, and let the mind
brood upon the Craft doctrine and symbolism.  They may then come to find
that what they began by doubting becomes, as it has done with many
earnest seekers, the realised fact of personal experience.  Like every true
method of wisdom teaching, modern Freemasonry does not offer proofs or
authorities for what is inculcated; it promulgates Truth and leaves the
testimony to ferment in the minds of those who strive to profit by the
instruction.  Knowledge of this kind can never be imposed from without; it
requires "a perfect freedom of inclination on the part of every candidate";
and it must well up into consciousness from within the soul of the aspirant
himself: "Where Truth abides in fulness" (Browning: "Paracelsus").  We
ultimately find what we seek because it is already present in us awaiting
liberation.

The design of the Tracing Board of the Third Degree is a cypher
embodying the Traditional History narrated during the ceremony, and in
order to decipher the Board it is also necessary that we decode the Craft
doctrine.  We must likewise recognise that the Craft legend is pure "myth,"
although by classifying it as a myth does not imply that it is in any sense
an irresponsible fiction.  The legend is a specialised form of the ancient
cosmogonical doctrine which has been transmitted to us, "veiled in
allegory, and illustrated by symbols," by every human race since the
beginning of time.  It is a doctrine explaining the genesis, the fall, and the
destiny of man, and accounting for the mystery of evil, sin, and death with
which our world is afflicted, by a catastrophe which occurred out of time
and space before we and our planet assumed physicalised conditions. This
primal tragedy, of which the myth of the murder and burial of the Master
Builder is the Masonic historical tradition, was taught in appropriate imagery
among all the nations of antiquity.  We can trace it from one of the oldest
systems of the Mysteries, the Samothracian, where the "untimely death"
appears in the legend of a god slain by his fellow gods.  The equivalent in
Egypt was the murder of Osiris by Typhon; in Greece the dismemberment
of Dionysos by the Titans; and in Phoenicia the fatal wounding of Adonis.
It is repeated in the Norse sagas by the death of Baldur the Beautiful; our
native British tradition echoes it in the story of the great King Arthur sorely
smitten; while the old Teutonic legend of the murder of Siegfried is another
variant of the same root doctrine.  In each of these, and in many others
besides, the central figure is always that of an eminent or blameless being,
divine or semi-divine Master, who is opposed and done away with by
rebellious "ruffians" or "villains," and whose loss checks the spiritual
advancement of humanity.  Connected with each murdered or smitten
Master there is a cavern, tomb, or sarcophagus, which is stated to be the
place of burial or concealment, and usually there is reference to some
object, often a plant, which is placed upon it to mark the site.  Homer
relates that it was a branch of olive planted at the head of the cavern
(Homer: "Odyssey"; Bk. XIII), according to the Egyptian version a tamarisk
plant located the grave of Osiris; Ovid informs us that a red anemone
showed the place where the blood of Adonis was spilt (Ovid:
"Metamorphoses"; X); Virgil describes the discovery of the body of
Polydorus by Aeneas accidentally pulling up a loosely planted shrub (Virgil:
"Aeneid" , Bk. III).  The legend of the Craft includes both the location of the
grave by the Craftsman who, "to assist his rising, caught hold of a shrub,"
and the "sprig of acacia" to mark the site, In the Craft central legend, then,
under the allegory of a temporal murder and the loss of building plans, we
have the repetition of a doctrine of the Cosmic Tragedy by reason of which
"the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now"
(Romans, chapter 8, verse 22), and human society exists in a state of
continuous disorder and confusion.  We are concerned in the Third Degree,
however, with the recovery of "that which is lost," and for this purpose the
Cosmic Mystery of the legend is reduced to a personal mystery.

When we are discussing the ceremony of the Third Degree it is generally
overlooked that it is the Master who is slain, but it is the candidate who is
raised.  This is explained by the fact that the craft conforms to the uniform
procedure of Initiation systems, whether ancient or modern, in identifying
the candidate with the prototype who is in himself the Exemplar of the
means of redemption.  Had we been initiated in Egypt we would "have
been made to represent" Osiris: if in Greece, the identification would have
been with Dionysos or Iacchos; and if in Persia, with Mithra.  Our system
in the Craft having issued from Kabbalistic sources is expressed in the
terms of Hebrew mysticism, and the prototype is the reputed Chief Architect
and Master Builder who is appointed to erect a Temple for which King
Solomon gives the inspiring idea and Hiram King of Tyre the building
materials.  For the purpose of the Craft legend these three quasi-historical
characters are combined to typify the threefold creative method of the
Deity; whose WISDOM (Solomon) contrives creation subjectively and
ideally; whose STRENGTH (Hiram King of Tyre), or resources, projects the
world of Nature as the material out of which the idea is to take shape in the
creature; and whose BEAUTY (Hiram Abiff), or architectonic and
geometrical power, finally moulds the idea into objective form and
perfection.  The prototype of the Craft is therefore the personification of the
third aspect of the Divine creative energy.  He represents the Great
Architect, the "Tekton" or "Son of the Carpenter," to use an expression
common to both the Hindu Puranas and the Christian Gospels.  The name
Hiram Abiff, sometimes given as Adoniram, means the representative or
messenger from the Lord (Adonai) or Father (Abba); it is the Hebrew
equivalent of the Greek name Hermes, who was likewise the son of the
All-Father (Zeus), and the messenger; and in the Graeco-Alexandrian
scriptures the names Hermes and Thoth (Divine Thought or Creative Mind)
are both used, and the prototype appears as the great Initiator and Teacher
of hidden knowledge.  Hiram Abiff, then, is not a person, but a type; a type
of the great pivotal exemplars and revealers, like Orpbeus, Osiris, and the
long line which culminates in the Great Master of our occidental faith, in
whom all earlier and foreshadowing types are summed up.  Of them all it
is taught that, at different epochs, they were manifested to reveal Truth to
a fallen world and help on a benighted humanity.  They all encountered
opposition from envious "ruffians"; were wounded in the house of their
compatriots; and slain by the villainy of those they sought to serve.  The
tragedy of all their lives is accounted for by the fact that in each case they
echo the primal spiritual tragedy which ruptured the cosmic harmony; and
this remains so notwithstanding that their loss is deeply regretted and
commemorated by the human race.  Our own Ritual speaks of "sounds of
deep lamentation and regret" from the guilty emanating from a certain
"cavern" afar the death of the Master.  By that "cavern" is meant our present
world; and those "sounds of deep lamentation and regret" signify the cries
of pain and misery of humanity which once enjoyed the Golden Age and
the felicity of Eden, but now lives "in a state of darkness," exiled in a
strange land, and unable to hear the "songs of Zion" of which the
subconscious memory still lingers in us.  Thus by deploring the loss of a
blameless Grand Master we are perpetuating in the Craft legend the
tradition of the "time immemorial" distress of mankind; Demeter mourning
the loss of her child; the grief of the widowed Isis; Niobe, "all tears"; women
wailing for Tammuz; Rachel weeping for her children; and the whole noble
army of known and unknown martyrs who, in all ages and every race, have
demonstrated that they "would rather suffer death than betray the sacred
trust reposed in" them.

So, following the method of antiquity, in our modem Third Degree the
Cosmic Mystery of the Fall and the Lost Word is brought home to us
individually, and thereby becomes the personal mystery of our own
salvation.  Having shown us in the Craft legend that we are "fallen" beings,
the ceremony proceeds to disclose how the mischief of the "fall" may be
repaired, and how "that which is lost" may be found.  In other words, it
reveals the Path of Return, the discipline of the secret of the life eternal, and
the "last and greatest trial" involving the total abnegation and dying down
of the personal life.  The vital lesson of the Third Degree is that whoso is
content to lose the illusory self shall find his immortal self coming to birth
in him.  It is axiomatic that "Nature abhors a vacuum"; hence the earthly
mind, the "old Adam" to quote St. Paul, must first be evacuated; then the
quickening spirit, the "new Adam," fills the vacuum; and when this grace is
bestowed upon the natural man, it transforms him into a spiritual man. 
There are many "roads," or techniques, which lead to the "Centre"; every
man is free to choose for himself, but one of them he is bound to accept;
and even if he elects to be driven by life effortlessly be has chosen, for
then, without knowing it, he follows the insidious and artificial, although
spontaneous, easy technique of unconsidered enjoyment.  Every man,
however, is highly pliable; by knowledge and experience, he can discover
that life is not a simple biological process, and that the problem of life is
not solely related to the means of satisfying elementary physical needs.  He
will then learn that life is the realisation of the process of salvation or
redemption, and that the real problem is to find the appointed way of
liberation from the natural mode of existence.  The solution to this problem
of the authenticity of the spiritual life is suggested by the old adage,
"whoever is full of himself has no room for God." The normal life is kept
within the limits determined by our sensory perceptions and emotions, and
as long as it is full of these, it finds it extremely difficult to perceive spiritual
forms and things divine.  Accordingly, all that which occupies the natural
self of man must either be made to disappear, or must be transformed in
such a manner as to render it transparent for the inner spiritual reality,
whose contours will then become perceptible through the customary shell
of natural things.  There must finally be a voluntary sacrifice of the personal
self; the seals "which are impressed upon the soul must be opened" by
means of spiritual contemplation; and the natural self, "by the help of God,"
be raised "into organic conscious union with the Divine Self.

DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF THE TRACING BOARD

The diagram illustrated on the Tracing Board is a compendium of the work
of the Third Degree ceremony, and comprises the following three main
features :-

(1) A tomb, which is also a Temple, bearing certain inscriptions.  This is in
the form of a conventional coffin over which is laid a scroll.  Various
emblems are shown on the coffin and scroll.

(2) A sprig of acacia at the head of the grave, but planted out of true
alignment.

(3) Three working tools, or "implements of destruction," placed at the foot
of the coffin.

The principal feature of the diagram is the Coffin or Grave, and this depicts
not only the traditional sarcophagus used ceremonially for the Third Degree
ceremony, but is also intended to represent the body or human personality
of the candidate himself.  During the ceremony it is prescribed that the
candidate shall advance "as though stepping over an open grave,"
signifying thereby that his life is the pilgrimage towards this goal, and with
"four bold or marching steps," indicating that "the Lord of Life will enable us
to trample the King of Terrors beneath our feet" when we are "finally raised
from the tomb of transgression." The progress of the aspirant in many
systems cognate to the Craft is often delineated by three definite stages,
corresponding with our three Craft Degrees, which are called the Path of
Knowledge, the Path of Love, and the Path of Death; yet, ultimately, like our
Masonic series, they are shown to be one and the same Path, for Love and
Death lead to Knowledge, while Knowledge, in turn, is nothing without Love
and Death, which must of necessity complete the sequence. Moreover, the
most general aspect characteristic of spiritual experience is that it is seen
through the simile of a Path or Road, and our modern word method, which
is derived from the Greek "meta" and "hodos" meaning "a way," still faintly
reveals its origin in the context of this imagery.  The spiritual Path is also
envisaged as taking a certain direction; it leads not only onwards, but
upwards in the direction of "that Light which is from above," which will
perhaps explain why in the Third Degree ceremony we are exhorted to "lift
our eyes to that bright Morning Star, whose rising brings peace and
salvation to the faithful and obedient of the human race"; even although we
know that the eye of the mind is not literally oriented to the starry sky
above any more than downwards.  It is therefore written for our guidance
and edification: "And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the
firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever
and ever" (Daniel, chapter 12, verse 3).

(1) THE RELATION OF TOMB AND TEMPLE 

The body of mortality is regarded by the Masters of the spiritual life as a
living death, and in the dialogues of Plato we find Socrates declaring: "We
are walking graves, carrying our tomb about with us" ("Gorgias").  Into that
body, however, we are instructed, there has been infused a soul, the
psychic principle, which has had the effect of elevating the animal nature
to the status of rational man.  The soul is represented on the Tracing Board
by the "three fives," or by the fifth letter of the Hebrew alphabet thrice
repeated, arranged in the form of an inverted triangle.  This symbolic
arrangement alludes to the downward "fall" of the soul into mortal
embodiment, and is in direct contrast to the three rosettes displayed on the
M.M.'s apron, which are also figured in the form of a triangle, but with the
apex upwards.  Investiture with the apron in the Third Degree ceremony is
intended to "mark the progress" that the soul has made by becoming
"raised" from the "fallen" condition, while the rosettes are an apt illustration
of the ancient doctrine which teaches that the former "wilderness," the body
of mortality, is now blossoming as the rose: "I am the rose of Sharon, and
the lily of the valleys" (Song of Solomon, chapter 2, verse 1). The rosettes
on the apron, however, represent not only the soul, but certain
physiological centres or focal points of whirling energy called "chakras" in
the East, which manifest at different parts of the nervous system as spiritual
vitality increases.  Thus the triangle of rosettes on the white apron is the
converse of the triangle, the three "fives," on the black coffin.  The
four-square white apron typifies the body purified and redeemed from
"deadness"; the three rosettes budding from the apron denote the evidence
of the soul unfolding powers from within; and the four and the three are in
combination arithmetically to make seven, the number of perfection.

The relation of the Tomb with the Temple is delineated in the Tracing Board
on the scroll which is shown laid over the coffin.  This pictorial design is an
overt reminder that the human personality, although mortal, is nevertheless
a temple of the Eternal, in which each of us must serve as high priest:
"Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God
dwelleth in you?" (1st Corinthians, chapter 3, verse 16).  The chequered
floor-work prominent in the picture signifies the perpetual dualism which
characterises natural existence, and the opposites and contrasts inevitable
to experience in the flesh, all of which the "high priest" is to "walk upon" in
the sense of keeping them under strict control, treating them as of equal
value, and finally transcending them.  Here is an allusion to the traditional
"Middle Path" which mediates between extremes; there is a central neutral
point, "a point within the Circle"; and when the aspirant stands balances
upon that Point, "from which a Master Mason cannot err", he is free from
opposites "with the centre." This "Middle Path" is otherwise known as the
"line of union," and is symbolised in Freemasonry by the "infallible
Plumb-Rule, which, like Jacob's ladder, connects heaven and earth"; it is
the unique central "path" in the very midst of our being.  "the strict path of
virtue," all other paths, "to the right or to the left," consisting of mere
side-tracks leading in various directions to particular aims, each of which
has an "opposite" or compensating "shadow"; the "Middle Path" alone is the
"shadowless Path" that leads "through the valley of the shadow of death,"
and by means of which the aspirant "may finally rise from the tomb of
transgression." Every man's self is a figurative tomb, a living sarcophagus,
retarding the full expression of his perfect human nature, and it is to
indicate how he can avoid for ever remaining in the darkness of that tomb
that the work of the Third Degree is to be directed.  To achieve this object
it becomes necessary, figuratively, to pass through the tomb, a process of
transformation, and thereby to change his present form: "Ye must be born
again" (St. John, chapter 3, verse 7), that is, a spiritual rebirth after the
mystical death of the material self has been truly effected.
 
At first sight the dormer window of the Temple is an apparently
inconspicuous feature in the picture.  The pictograph on the Tracing Board
shows this unobtrusive window placed high in the roof of the Temple, also
that there are no other windows in the building; it is, therefore, the sole
means of ingress for light, "the window which gave light" to the interior. 
But, as we are presumed to know, that Temple is symbolic of the human
body, and accordingly the overhead and centrally situated position of the
"window" typifies a corresponding interception point of illumination in our
physical organism.  There is, indeed, a central point at the top of the head
at which "that light which is from above" can enter the human brain; the
point in question is one to which three major bones composing the cranium
converge and come to unity; in an infant these bones are disunited, but
soon after birth they close together and ossify into the skull.  We lose
something vital by being born into this world, for as the poet Wordsworth
declares, with our birth, spiritual consciousness "fades into the light of
common day" ("Ode to Immortality"), and is battened down beneath the
"hatches" of physical form.  The brain is thereby afforded the necessary
protection, but only at the cost of the "dormer" window becoming closed. 
It therefore follows that in order to recover "that which is lost," spiritual
awareness, the closed "window" must be re-opened, and for this purpose
we need the guidance and instruction of "a more zealous and expert
Brother"; for every real Master, like the Hebrew adept of old, learns to "pay
his adoration to the Most High" with "His windows open in his chamber
toward Jerusalem (Daniel, chapter 6, verse 10).  It is also interesting to
know that an alternative symbol to the dormer window is the tonsure or
shaven patch on the head of members of certain monastic orders, which
signifies dedication to the special service of God, and the removal of any
obstruction that might intercept the inflow of the supernal Light.  Yet there
is still something further to be discovered and gained from the "dormer"
symbol, something which, when realised, can be both felt and sensed
inwardly, later to reflect itself outwardly.  This inward power of the: "True
Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world" (St. John,
chapter 1. verse 9), can be seen in others by those who see and feel the
refulgence of that essence surrounding the body of a soul which is lighted
up inwardly; such an one appears to those who can sense it, as a
presence which glows like an electric lamp set in alabaster.  The attainment
or condition here spoken of is otherwise known as the possessing of the
"Third Eye." and it is written in this connection: "The light of the body is the
eye; if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light"
(St. Matthew, chapter 6, verse 22)

(2) THE SPRIG OF ACACIA 

Prominently depicted on the Board we may observe that evergreen sprig
of Acacia symbolising that beyond the body and soul abides the spirit
which affiliates man to the Universal and Holy Spirit.  In the ritual of the
Third Degree this sprig is said appropriately to be placed "at the head of
the Grave," since it is our supreme life principle, the centre from which all
our subordinate faculties issue.  It is, indeed, "the Centre," the proton
around which our personal characteristics move as electrons; it is our
Master-light which never goes out.  This emblem in antiquity was known
under many names, but it is more often referred to as the Golden Bough,
or Golden Branch.  In the Hebrew Temple it was represented by the
Seven-branched Golden Candlestick, which again is a Kabbalistic symbol
of the Tree of Life, of which each of us is a branch, sharing a common sap,
or life essence.  Compare: "I am the vine, ye are the branches" (St. John,
chapter 15, verse 5).  It will be observed that on the Board the sprig is not
centrally aligned, but is on one side out of exact alignment and this
signifies that in our present imperfect state our personality is not in true
alignment with our spiritual principle.  In precisely the same way, owing to
what is called popularly "the Fall," our planet Earth does not swing to its
true pole; its axis has declined from its true centre to a false centre, the
magnetic pole.  Truly, as Shakespeare says, "the world is out of joint"
("Hamlet," William Shakespeare); in other words there is a "displacement
factor" which characterises the whole world, and in sympathy with that axial
fault every living creature suffers from the like distortion.  Thus mentally,
morally and physically, we are all out of alignment "with the Centre"; indeed,
every cell in our bodies is similarly out of plumb with our spiritual pole, and
is therefore subject to disease and death.  We have a dramatic allusion to
the "displacement factor" in the Third Degree ceremony by the prescribed
method communicating the words of the Degree, in uttering which we
acknowledge beneath the breath that some "heavy calamity" has befallen
us in consequence of which our Master-principle is "smitten," and thereby
cut off.  The descriptive word used in the Lecture on the Board is a blind. 
The term used by the Greeks was "Akakia," which is translated "not evil,"
while the Septuagint uses the word "Aseptos," meaning "nonseptic." These
are derived from the Sanskrit word "Akasa," the term for pure immortal
substance, as distinct from the corruptible matter of this world.

(3) THE IMPLEMENTS OF DESTRUCTION 

The means by which the "displacement factor" has been caused, and by
means of which it can likewise be rectified, are indicated on the Board by
the Working Tools, and great irony lies in the fact that the very Tools that
slew the Master and served to bring about calamity and destruction should
nevertheless be appointed to reconstruct and retrieve our misfortune.  The
difficult lesson is thus communicated to us that evil is but misapplied good,
while good is transmuted evil, that it is only by our own deviations and
errors we eventually learn wisdom; and that our return to grace is achieved
by the right use of what involved us in disgrace.  The implements depicted
on the Board as those "with which our Master was slain" are therefore also
the Tools which must be used in order to get ourselves back into alignment
with our spiritual "head" they consist of:-

1. THE PLUMB-RULE: Emblem of that "uprightness" which must be applied
to all parts of our being, namely the senses, the emotions, and the mind.

2. THE LEVEL: Symbol of the "equality," by means of which those parts
must be brought into a condition of harmony and concord.

3. THE HEAVY MAUL: The hieroglyph of a strong and resolute will which
nothing can deflect from the end in view.

One of our foremost Masonic interpreters has declared in cryptic terms:
"The tools which slew the Master were the three dimensions of space"
("Steps to the Crown." by A.E. Waite).  By this he is alluding to the fact that
our physical body constitutes the tomb of the spiritual consciousness; each
of us is, as it were, a grave wherein the Master is buried, awaiting
resurrection in our personal consciousness; and that entombment is
sacramentally registered in our physical body by the closing up of the three
cranial bones and the inhibition of spiritual awareness.  It follows, therefore,
that those bones themselves are, mystically, the implements of destruction,
since their closing reduces us to the external knowledge of temporal things;
and this will explain why, in the Third Degree, it is upon these three bones
that every "representative of the Master" is ceremonially smitten.  Great,
indeed, is the mysterium of our central emblem of mortality, the skull, which
has been transmitted to us from antiquity, and is now perpetuated in the
modern Craft under veils of allegory.

The implements of destruction depicted on the Board, which are likewise
tools of reconstruction, significantly lie on the "squared pavement" which
implies that the "black and white squares," denoting the opposites and
dualities of our mortal existence, must be converted from "stumbling blocks"
into "stepping stones" if we are to gain the summit of the Masonic quest.
Why we can aspire to do so is demonstrated to the candidate in the later
explanation of the Working Tools of the Third Degree, when he is told that
the Skirret marks out "that straight and undeviating line of conduct" which
he is expected to pursue in his Way of life. This line drawn by the Skirret
is a right angle line from the symbolical Plumbline envisaged as hanging
from the Eternal Centre, and just as it is written for our guidance: "Thus he
shewed me; and, behold, the Lord stood upon a wall made by a plumbline,
with a plumbline in His hand" (Amos, chapter 7, verse 7); so must we, living
on that line at a right angle to the vertical line of Truth, react by maintaining
a straight and level course.  Moreover, in the Compasses and Pencil we
have sign posts, the former defining the "limits of both good and evil" which
are associated with outer world experience, the latter serving as a reminder
that nothing we have done is forgotten: "Be not deceived; God is not
mocked, for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap" (Galatians,
chapter 6, verse 7).  But the Craft is not only insistent upon moral
"uprightness," there is likewise the technique of physical rectitude.  We
instruct the candidate at the very outset of his Masonic career: "You are
expected to stand perfectly erect," while the posture to be assumed by all
present in the Lodge when standing "to order" is intended to be body erect,
every limb taut and angular, every muscle and nerve tense.  The reason for
this exercise in "squares, levels, and perpendiculars" is because physical
tension, emotional control, and mental concentration are valuable aids to
the effective "labour" of the Lodge, and slackness in this important matter
may render the "work" invalid.

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION

We have endeavoured in this and the two previous Papers to interpret the
Craft doctrine and disclose the method of teaching by means of
"hieroglyphical figures" as illustrated on the Tracing Boards of the Three
Degrees of our system.  Nevertheless, this disclosure or "unveiling" is only
partial.  Every real initiate, ancient or modern, has himself personally to
experience the supreme ordeal of passage through "the valley of the
shadow," the "darkness visible" of the unstable psychic region, before he
can hope ultimately to find the Light of light.  And so, with us in the Craft,
every candidate for the Third Degree enters the darkened Lodge and
moves thereafter through a symbolic nebulous underworld, guided only by
the "glimmering ray" of his own intuitive spirit.  He is ceremonially "raised
from a figurative death" and entrusted with "the secrets of the Degree" only
to discover, perhaps to his chagrin, that these are but "substituted secrets"
which, he is informed, must suffice "until time or circumstances shall restore
the genuine ones." How true this cryptic teaching is will be realised by
those who have examined the Tracing Boards in an attempt to decipher
them; they will recognise, as the result of their "patience and industry," that
although the "veil covering the altar" has been partially drawn aside in the
Craft ceremonies, yet the compilers of the Ritual have treated the Masonic
subject with that profound respect to which it is unquestionably entitled and
judiciously left the deepest mysteries still shrouded in a certain obscurity. 
This has been the wise policy of the seers from "time immemorial"; as St.
Paul sagely observes regarding the Sepher of Moses: "But their minds were
blinded; for until this day remaineth the same veil untaken away in the
reading of the Old Testament" (2nd Corinthians, chapter 3, verse 14).  The
reason for this concealment, this veiling, is the intimate and sacred
character of divine wisdom.  The majority of us are children in the wider
sense, and it is unwise, even impossible, to explain many things to young
children.  We must wait until we have arrived at the years of discretion.  So
in regard to the greater mysteries the spiritual parents of our race, the seers
and prophets, veil these sacred matters in metaphor, parable and enigma,
in order that only those who have faith enough to make the necessary effort
needed for the development of the higher faculties of intuition and
perception, can penetrate to their intrinsic or essential meaning.  It is
therefore written: "I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot
bear them now" (St. John, chapter 16, verse 12).  Thus veils are drawn to
guard against the risk of "profanation of our mysteries," until by our sincere
and earnest application we are "properly prepared" to express their
teaching wisely in the activities of life.  Life itself is a vast Initiation process
slowly, with infinite patience, and by law and order, leading an intractable
world from "darkness" to Light.

The progress of humanity "from West to East" is marked by a series of
catastrophic events, and of these the familiar Biblical story of the "Flood"
offers a wide field for commentary.  Those races which have preserved the
tradition of the deluge, and nearly all have done so, have not neglected to
record the name of the legendary mountain upon which the mysterious
Thebah came to rest, that Ark which carried the hope of man's ultimate
salvation and the germs of a new existence.  Nicholas of Damascus, cited
by Josephus, calls it Mount Barris, a name which is not far removed from
that of Syparis, which Berosus gives to this town of the Sun, in which an
Assyrian monarch, preparing to suffer the catastrophe of the deluge, had
placed the world's archives.  We know also that the Greeks named it
Luxoreos, the mountain of Light, the place of Parnassus where Deucalion
was stayed.  The name, however, which calls for special notice in the
elucidation of the context of our Masonic ritual, is Ararat.  This word derived
from the Hebrew is composed of two roots; the first "AUR" is the word
translated "Light" in the first chapter of Genesis; the second is "RTH," which
is formed of the Hebrew signs signifying "proper movement" and
"resistance." The complete word Ararat, therefore, signifies the "orb or
mountain of the reflected course of Light." It is not difficult to perceive what
is implied; the orb of luminous effluence, where the supernal Light becomes
deflected, is none other than "that Grand Luminary the Sun" of the Craft
ritual, the transmuter of intelligible or spiritual Light into physical light and
energy.  We have only to turn to the host of analogous or derivative words
for abundant confirmation.  The term Arhat in Sanscrit denotes a highly
advanced intelligence, a Master.  Likewise the prefix "AR" is found in Arjuna,
Arthur, Artemis, Armageddon, Arcana, not to mention many others, in every
case signifying spiritual royalty or elevation.  The Greek form of Ararat is
Armenia.  We pass on to another important glyph, Ereb, the raven.  The
same word occurs in Genesis, chapter 1, verse 5, and in subsequent
verses, where it is translated "evening," and in Greek mythology as Erebus,
said to be the son of Chaos and Nox.  Ereb is freely translated western
darkness," the opposite pole, as it were, of "Eastern Light"; but this
"darkness" is identical with  that of the Lodge in the Third Degree, interior
and concealed.  The to-and-fro flight of the Raven signifies the prescribing
of an expanse, a sphere or circle, and we are reminded of the instruction
to the candidate regarding the Compasses: "you are now at liberty to work
with both those points in order to render the circle of your Masonic duties
complete." It may he noted here that the word Ereb is otherwise rendered
"Oreb" and corresponds with Mount Horeb, the mountain of fire, cloud and
darkness.  The next and complementary glyph is Ionah, the dove.  The
Hebrew root "ION" denotes infinite being passing from potentiality into
activity.  Thus the Raven, symbolically expressed, stands for the circle with
the point in the centre, and the Dove for the circle bisected.  Observe how
the root "ION" forms the basis of a number of cryptic names, for example,
Jonah, John, Ioannes, Pelion, and many others, all of them "types" and
bearers of the creative Word.  In our Masonic system the wands borne by
the Deacons are appropriately "surmounted by a dove," and with a similar
import.

Again and again in this study of the Tracing Board of the Third Degree we
return to the basic symbol, Light, which is central to the Craft method of
teaching.  This supernal Light, the universal symbol of consciousness and
illumination, is also the prime object of the cosmogonies of all peoples. 
Only in the light of consciousness can man know, and this act of cognition,
of conscious discrimination, sunders the world into opposites, for
experience of the world is not possible except through opposites.  The
primal opposition between light and darkness has informed the spiritual
world of all peoples and moulded it into shape, while the world order and
the sacred space, precinct or sanctuary, were first "oriented" by this
opposition. World building, city building, the layout of temples, the Roman
military encampment, and the spatial symbolism of the Churches are all
reflections of the original mythology of space, which, beginning with the
opposition between light darkness, classifies and arranges the world in a
continuous series of opposites.  Through the heroic act of world creation
and consequent division of opposites, man steps forth from the magic
circle of the blissful paradisal state of existence, in which life was regulated
by an "open" spiritual vision, and finds himself in the tragic circumstances
of loneliness and discord.  We may think of this paradisal condition in the
terms of religion, and affirm that everything was controlled by God; or we
may formulate it ethically, and say that everything was still good and that
evil had not yet come into the world.  Traditionally, this was the Golden
Age, when nature was bountiful, and toil, suffering and pain did not exist. 
With the emergence of self-consciousness, the paradisal situation of man
is ended. and the tradition is universal of a "fall" in which expulsion from the
"Garden of Paradise" was experienced as guilt, and, moreover, as original
guilt.  Thus the age-old symbolism of the "evergreen shrubs," with which
the "Sprig of Acacia" is associated, also embodies a deep psychological
verity. It is in fact demonstrable that humanity retains in the "archetypal"
race memories the knowledge of a primitive peaceful life spent among the
fruit bearing trees of some terrestrial paradise.  This is the reason for the
quiet bliss felt by so many when walking through, and resting in, woods
and forests; why we love nothing so much as picking nuts and berries, and
the ripe fruits of the trees.

In recent years the phenomena of mystical experience have been classified,
and the path of the aspirant bas been described, to the profit of many
seekers.  But of all the guide books at our disposal, there is surely none
that maps the way with greater accuracy than that ancient mass of
hierography we call the Volume of the Sacred Law.  The language of this
Book is that of hierography and not that of the popular press; the
terminology used needs a special method of interpretation; and it therefore
comes about that its purport is habitually and woefully misconstrued.  To
it, although, other writings may indeed help to prepare our minds, we turn
at last, and there we find, not ancient history which can profit little, but the
story of ourselves as we today pursue the path of the great quest.  The
understanding of these things will be assisted by realising physical things
to be in faithful correspondence with metaphysical, and that, as we
advance from the one to the other, we employ in turn the self-blinded eye
of sense, the closed eye of faith, and the opened eye of the soul.  It is in
this manner that at the outset of the quest for "that which is lost," the
aspirant is in a "state of darkness," being conscious only of things in the
physical order.  He is accordingly required to commit himself, with
bandaged eyes, signifying the self-blinded eye of sense, to his instinct in
the possibility of a great change to be wrought in him, no less than
self-transfiguration.  But during his "progress in the science" of
self-knowledge he comes to know that his salvation is hidden from him only
by a passing blindness; at the end of the quest the "hoodwink" is removed;
and faith passes into sight.  The question remains, however, as to whether,
in the process of recovering "that which is lost," it is best to search in the
deepest recesses of the mind to discover those elements of lost knowledge
which are suggested to us in the Sacred Writings, and which, therefore,
form their revelation; or whether they may not be found lying hidden behind
the knowledge proper to this world.  We must always remember that when
we speak of "that which is lost," we do not mean absolutely lost; we know
only the surface of things, while that which we are in quest of is certain to
lie beneath the surface.  The best of intellective knowledge of this world is
superficial in regard to that deeper knowledge which is related to our
spiritual nature; and no increase therein is likely to bring us to the discovery
of the knowledge of divine things: "But the natural man receiveth not the
things of the Spirit of God; for they are foolishness unto him; neither can
he know them, because they are spiritually discerned" (1st Corinthians,
chapter 2, verse 14).

We gradually learn by experience that more than half the troubles of life
arise from the fact that those we are in contact with fail to make distinction
between what does matter and what does not matter; by emphasising small
personal considerations, and letting little petty things worry and perturb
them, to the distress of all about them.  This is the surface cause of
disharmony, but the basal cause is the absence of the inner Light which
would show everything as it is; for when we see truly, we are in no doubt
or conflict as to the comparative value of things.  In the darkness we can
imagine what we will; in the Light, nothing but what is there can be
accepted.  Here we are drawn in contrary directions by this, that and the
other whims and preferences.  Love of pleasures draws in one direction,
fear of consequences drams in the opposite, and when conscience is
active, it act as a contrary impulse to many of the things we are strongly
inclined to desire.  Now what causes this is the division of the whole man
into "parts," namely his true self and his false self; while the latter is itself
again split up into what are practically separated properties; the delights of
the body and the delights of the mind, the artistic lures of music, poetry,
and natural beauty; the love of ease, the love of the results of labour, the
love of influence, of money and of comfort.  The mark of the true man is
centralisation, or in our Masonic terminology, "with the centre"; and the
mark of the temporal, or "false" self, division into "parts." We are to be
"perfect" in all our "parts"; alas, it is one thing to know, but quite another to
be able to do; nevertheless, knowing, it is essential to keep on striving to
do. The temporal world with joys and sorrows are real enough to us, and
it takes an act of faith to treat them as unreal, although we know there is
no other way of passing from "darkness" to Light.  Let us, then, remember
that the reality of the things of this world is not inherent in them, but is
given to them by our false imagination; and what we give we can also take
away.  Every man in this life is "wrong" only because some side of him
suffers through his practical identification of his whole self with one
particular property of himself. When the whole man, body, soul and spirit,
is in functional alignment "with the centre," this never occurs.  He
recognises the fact that he belongs to two worlds, the visible and the
invisible, and recalls that heaven is his true home and not earth.

The laws of the Universe do not and cannot collide with each other; they
interlace and interpenetrate the cosmos, law within law and law above law. 
The material and the spiritual planes of existence intersect, but even at the
point of intersection, they never differ except to agree for their mutual
elucidation.  In every petition, therefore, what we distinguish as prayer
implies a recognition of the inextricable interdependency of God and man
and Nature, as an infinite totality.  It appeals to the tribunal, and the God
to whom every heart speaks, and in petitioning man merely obeys the law
of his nature, a habit which he finds formed and inherited.  Anterior to
speech even, it does not require the vehicle of language, although the most
ancient records of language are prayers.  Man starts with this craving, the
seeking for something or someone else; indeed, if he stood silent and
solitary, he would still be a social unit and own the obligation that tends for
ever to entice him out of himself to find himself. "Laborare est orare," to
work is to pray; all honest, conscientious, industrious work, all sincere
service, appeals to something higher, better and other than self.  God,
however, does not work and bestow His blessings in the ordinary finite
acceptance, and in the superficial view of things.  Yet spiritual verities
essential to our welfare assuredly assume some form of outward and
phenomenal expression, otherwise they would fail altogether to enter the
province of human and temporal knowledge.  By the gradual method of
"here a little and there a little" are the Mysteries learned by humanity in the
mass; first in the outer courts of the temple, and by means of the letter, the
symbolic "simulacrum," and the official doctrine; afterwards in the "adyta,"
by the spiritual sense and the inward vision, the aspirant becomes aware
that the acceleration of his progress consists not in evading obstacles to
the spiritual life, but in their conquest and transvaluation; not in avoiding
contact with the social life of the world, but in an inward freedom from
subjection to illusory ideals, and in a blithe detachment from external
things. "Sic itur ad astra"; After this manner is the laborious ascent of the
soul to the heights; step by step upwards beneath the unsympathetic
criticism and contradicting impulses of the lower nature, and amid
demands from without to take the broader, easier path.  In a general sense
terrestrial life is in itself an initiation, and the trials and tribulations which are
inevitably incident to our mortal existence, are reminders and premonitions
of the deeper mystery into which, sooner or later, we are all called upon to
be initiated in full consciousness.

There are many pitfalls which beset the aspirant in his journey towards the
East, the Promised Land: "And ye shall dispossess the inhabitants of the
land, and dwell therein; for I have given you the land to possess it"
(Numbers, chapter 33, verse 53).  God thus presents us with the title.  He
pronounces the promise, and He endues with the power; we must obey
and perform our allotted task.  The mind of the aspirant keyed up to this
attitude, however, will speedily experience the consequences of
antagonising against the "prince of the air," the magnetic aura which is
generated by the illusions of this world.  Beyond the confines of our normal
conceptions of this material world there exists another world, elusive,
intangible as the scent of a flower, an enchanted country, the very
evasiveness of which but renders it the more alluring to the mind of man. 
This is the world of "maya" or "glamour," of which poets and story tellers
write.  Although in one sense we may speak of the world of glamour as
distinct from the material world, and to this extent lying beyond us, in
another and doubtless far more accurate sense, we should regard it as the
material world itself, seen in a different aspect.  We may then describe
glamour as a species of spell, under which the world is viewed from a
changed standpoint.  In any consideration of glamour we must be on our
guard against making a judgment of fact or origin alone to test value, as we
are often conscious of the effects of glamour apparently altogether
incommensurate with their causes.  We see, as we come to know in our
quest, in part; yet the whole is in us, and it depends upon how we have
disposed our minds and formed our capacities, what part of the whole we
see.  Agonies of apprehension will no doubt seize the follower of the inward
way as former ideals, and enchantments, crumble into futility, but equally
assuredly will he discern these to be replaced by others for which the
former have served as but temporary substitutes.  Some veil of obscurity
seems lifted which had hitherto baffled him, and the withdrawal of which
alone enables him to see familiar things in their true relations and
significance.  Something not to be fully grasped or understood, but which
he nevertheless knows to be at the back of all the beauty his senses
discern; which gives them their force and meaning, and is related to them
as soul to body, thought to the language in which it finds utterance.

One final word upon this profound subject.  Whoso labour at the work of
the Third Degree is called a "son of the widow" in allusion to that:
"Jerusalem which is above, which is the mother of us all" (Galatians,
chapter 4, verse 26).  An ancient Hermetic oracle declares that to lift the veil
of the Widow spells death; that nothing mortal can look upon her face and
live.  The death, however, which is meant is the death implied in the Third
Degree, the death of all that is vain, unworthy, and unreal.  In this study of
the Tracing Board of the Third Degree we have been drawing veils aside,
the veils of allegory that shroud the teachings of the Craft, but as true Sons
of the Widow we must go further than lifting the veil of the allegory, and
learn to draw aside all veils of darkness clothing ourselves.  Only personal
labour can verify what is imparted in lectures and books; persistent desire
and determination of will are essential in the quest; the Ritual affirms of the
prototype that "the perspiration stood in large drops upon his forehead"
when he "staggered faint and bleeding"; and we all come to know that
realisation may cost blood and sweat.  We are therefore provided with a
sign and a cry with which in dire need to invoke the aid of other "sons of
the widow" from behind the veil.  Both they and we have one common
Mother; she is called a Widow because of the world calamity which has left
her in dereliction.  At the very least each of us might labour to open his
personal "dormer" window towards that "Jerusalem which is above", within
those walls are peace and plenteousness of all we now so sorely lack.

She is more precious than rubies; and 
all the things thou canst desire are 
not to be compared unto her."
(Proverbs, chapter 3, verse 15.)