Jim Tresner, 33°, Grand Cross
PO Box 70, Guthrie, Oklahoma 73044–0070

Tradition can be a blessing or a curse, depending on how we understand and use it.

Family traditions, such as gathering for Christmas at Grandmother's house and the foods we eat there, not only mark the seasons of the year, but give us a comfortable sense that everything is all right. They tell us who we are as a family, and they provide a means of strengthening that family bond.

Patriotic traditions, such as the salute to the flag, give us a sense of identity as Americans. The traditions of our Houses of Worship aid in that worship and help us identify ourselves as members of a particular denomination.

Similarly, the traditions of Masonry define Masons and help us relate meaningfully to Masons from across the world. As one who loves to study the symbols and the rich story they tell, traditions are critical to my own personal intellectual life as well.

Tradition is one of our greatest blessings. But there is a strong human tendency to substitute tradition for thought. Rather than becoming an aid and enrichment to contemplation, tradition can become an intellectual "off switch" which throws us into a mental inactivity, or even obstinacy. Some people go through the ritual of worship, without the mind engaged. We can run through the words of the opening ritual of Lodge without thinking what those words mean. Even worse, tradition can result in an unthinking and uncritical preservation of forms without substance. When that happens, tradition is one of our greatest curses.

My favorite illustration, up to now, has been the well-known story of the woman who, when preparing to bake a holiday ham, always cut off the last three inches of the bone end before putting the ham in the roasting pan. One day when her husband asked her why, she explained she did not know, but that was the way her mother had always fixed a ham. She called her mother to inquire. Her mother told her that she did not know, but that her mother had done it that way. Intrigued, the woman called her grandmother, only to discover that she had cut off the bone because her roasting pan was too short to cook a ham otherwise!

But my new favorite is this passage by R.W. Robert Dixon, Grand Director of Ceremonies, New York, reprinted in the bulletin of the Southern California Research Lodge.

"Tradition: The American Standard Gauge for railroad tracks spaces them exactly four feet and 8.5 inches apart. Why? Steam trains on our east coast used the same tracks that were built for the horse-drawn streetcars of previous times. Why? The earliest rails were laid by workmen from England where that gauge was used. Why? They were laid to that dimension because that was the distance between carriage wheels in London and the first rail vehicles were built by carriage makers. Why? The carriage wheels were that distance because they had to fit in the ruts of the Roman War Chariots as the first roads in Britain were built by the Romans. Why? The chariots had that width because it was the necessary width needed to fit the tandem horses that pulled the chariots. So—modern American railroad trains travel on tracks whose gauge was established by two horses 2,000 years ago in Ancient Rome."


Jim Tresner
is Director of the Masonic Leadership Institute and Editor of The Oklahoma Mason. A frequent contributor to the
Scottish Rite Journal and its book review editor, Illustrious Brother Tresner is also a volunteer writer for The Oklahoma Scottish Rite Mason and a video script consultant for the National Masonic Renewal Committee. He is the Director of the Thirty-third Degree Conferral Team and Director of Work at the Guthrie Scottish Rite Temple in Guthrie, Oklahoma, as well as a life member of the Scottish Rite Research Society, author of the popular anecdotal biography Albert Pike, The Man Beyond the Monument, and a member of the steering committee of the Masonic Information Center. Ill. Tresner was awarded the Grand Cross, the Scottish Rite's highest honor, during the Supreme Council's October 1997 Biennial Session.