Freemasonry A Journey Through Manner, Meaning, and Mystery

by Arbab Naseebullah Kasi, 32° Valley of Harrisburg

Before I ever stood at the altar, before the apron touched my waist, before I took that first step in the northeast corner, I believed I understood what it meant to be respectful, principled, and kind. I had been raised in discipline, shaped through service and leadership, and guided by a strong moral compass. But Freemasonry, and in particular, my journey through the Blue Lodge and Scottish Rite, reshaped that understanding entirely.

It was not a single ritual that transformed me. It was not just the degrees or the titles. It was the quiet, reflective power of The Exemplar, published by the Grand Lodge of Pennsylvania, that truly awakened something deeper in me. I expected to find a manual of etiquette. Instead, I found a mirror. A mentor. A guide to the inner life of a Mason.

The first chapter, “Masonic Manners,” was the spark. I had imagined this section would simply tell me how to behave, how to sit, how to speak, how to navigate the formalities of lodge life. Instead, I was invited into a new awareness: Masonic manners are not about acting; they’re about becoming.

“In Freemasonry, what is not permitted is prohibited.” At first, that sentence felt rigid. But over time, I came to see it not as a restriction, but as an invitation to sacred discipline. The lodge is not just a meeting space; it is a temple. Every silence is meaningful. Every movement carries spiritual intent. We don’t just show respect; we embody it. Masonic manners, then, is not about politeness. It’s about presence. It transforms the smallest gesture into a ritual. A glance becomes mindfulness. A bow becomes reverence. In that transformation, I saw myself anew, not as someone performing Masonic duties, but as someone being remade by Masonic ideals.

As a scholar and educator, words have always been part of my world. But chapter two of The Exemplar, “The Glossary,” revealed something I had never fully realized: in Freemasonry, words are not just explanations, they are illuminations. Take Cable Tow. Before, it was just a symbol. Now, it’s a reminder that I am bound, not by force, but by choice and conscience.

Bound to the Craft. Bound to my Brothers. Bound to something higher. Or Circumscribe. Once, a simple geometric concept. Now, a spiritual instruction: Keep your passions within due bounds. Let virtue be your circle. Every Masonic word has become a personal meditation, reshaping the way I think, speak, and live. Even the phrase “So mote it be,” a line we often speak almost unconsciously, has transformed for me. It’s no longer a closing phrase. It’s a personal vow. A sacred alignment. A way of saying: “Let my will be in harmony with the Divine Plan.”

Then came “Masonic Symbols.” One evening, I was reflecting while looking at the Square and Compasses on my ring. And for the first time, I felt something strange: it wasn’t just that I was looking at the symbol, it was as if the symbol was looking back at me. That’s when I realized: symbols in Freemasonry are not ornamental. They are alive. They are silent teachers that reveal truths when we are ready to see them. The Ashlar, both rough and perfect, has perhaps spoken the loudest. The rough Ashlar reminded me of my own unshaped edges: pride, impatience, ego. But the perfect Ashlar? That became my daily aspiration. Not a symbol of perfection achieved, but of transformation pursued, one chisel stroke at a time. And then there’s the All-Seeing Eye. What once seemed distant and mystical now feels intimate and merciful. It is not the eye of judgment. It is the eye of presence. The gentle reminder: You are seen. You are known. Keep becoming.

When I first entered the Blue Lodge and received the three symbolic degrees of Freemasonry, each step marked a profound transformation. As an Entered Apprentice, I stood at the threshold of Light, introduced to a sacred language of symbols and silence. As a Fellowcraft, I began to climb the winding stair, intellectually, morally, and spiritually, toward understanding and mastery. And when I was raised as a Master Mason, I felt the weight and beauty of responsibility settle into my being. These were not just ceremonies. They were awakenings. Later, when I witnessed the 4th degree, Builder, in the Scottish Rite, I was struck by its call to reflection, introspection, and integrity. And when I experienced the 31st degree, My Brother’s Keeper, I understood even more deeply the seriousness of our obligations, not just to the Craft, but to one another and the world. But what connected all of these degrees, what gave them living continuity, was the moral and symbolic language I first encountered in The Exemplar. That quiet little book helped me process every degree, every ritual, and every teaching through a personal lens. Freemasonry does not ask us merely to memorize, recite, or observe. It asks us to internalize, interpret, and become.

What binds Masonic manner, Masonic words, and Masonic symbols together is not performance, it is transformation.

Freemasonry has never been about appearing to be good. It is about the daily work of becoming good. And the deeper I go through the Blue Lodge, through the Scottish Rite, through contemplation of our teachings, the more I realize this is not something we do. It is someone we become. Every lodge I enter, every ritual I witness, every word I hear, it all echoes back to that same sacred invitation: Become. Transform. Live the Light. And so, I say to my Brethren, in every Valley and every Rite: Slow down. Reflect. Let the manner of the Craft refine your presence. Let the words shape your understanding. Let the symbols form your soul. Because Freemasonry isn’t just something we practice. It’s the language we live.