At a Masonic Funeral, Belonging to the Beyond

The Masonic Funeral Rite Unites Masons and Their Loved Ones in a Shared Community

By Drea Roemer

The room is quiet, and the master speaks: “Our brother has reached the end of his earthly toils. The brittle thread which bound him to Earth has been severed and the liberated spirit has winged its flight to the unknown world.”

These are some of the first words of a Masonic funeral service, a rite that for centuries has brought Masons together to honor the life of their fellow brothers. George Washington, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Thurgood Marshall: Each of them heard those words and, when their own time came, had them spoken on their behalf. To those who’ve witnessed it, the funeral rite is among the most moving experiences a Mason can have—reinforcing a bond that transcends time and space, in this life and whatever comes next.

But it’s also so much more than that. As everyone who’s ever been to a funeral of any kind knows, the service is for the living. And in the case of a Masonic funeral, it’s as much for those outside the fraternity as for those within it. “We use words [in the service] that really help others understand our larger view of spirituality and connection with the beyond,” says Dan Moran, a longtime Mason with Santa Barbara № 192 who has performed the funeral rite several times. “The service does a beautiful job of encapsulating that.”

Indeed, for as much as a Masonic funeral is a reminder of the deceased’s connection to his brothers, it’s also a rare glimpse into a part of their life that, for many family members, remained hidden from them. As such, a Masonic funeral service can pack an emotional wallop. It’s not uncommon, Moran says, for family members to be overcome at the sight of so many strangers who nonetheless felt compelled to pay their respects to a fellow brother.

That was certainly true for Moran. When his father, who was also a Mason, passed away, Moran gained a better appreciation for the significant role the lodge played in his life. “It was moving, and it strengthened my own connection to Freemasonry,” he says. “It also helped me reknit together an understanding of my dad.”

For all its emotional heft, the Masonic funeral ceremony is relatively brief—about seven minutes long—and typically incorporated into a larger religious or secular service. Yet its symbolism is universal. The Masons file in two by two, wearing dark suits and white aprons. A white lambskin apron, an evergreen plant, and the sacred roll are placed on the casket or lectern. The funeral master—an official Masonic position requiring a certificate from a district inspector—begins the oratory.

Above: A Masonic funeral service circa 1916 in Taunton, Mass. Very little has changed about the funeral rite in the century-plus since. Image courtesy of the Scottish Rite Masonic Museum and Library.

The service invokes several Masonic symbols and motifs, including the sprig of acacia, representing the immortality of the soul and the infinite bond between members. For many people, particularly family members and friends of the departed who are not Masons, it represents their first exposure to the symbolic teachings of the fraternity. Matt Vander Horck, the Grand Lecturer and a member of Long Beach № 327, who has led several such services, explains it this way: “Maybe they’ve seen a picture of their relative in an apron and it’s kind of strange to them. But then we explain what it means, and they see that the apron is placed on his casket or that he’s buried with it.” His face lights up. “Now there’s a deeper understanding of the significance of that strange piece of clothing that Grandpa wore.” Suddenly, their understanding of the lodge as the source of a deep-felt connection to others, is awakened.

“I’ve actually had people come up to me after I’ve delivered the service to say, ‘I want to join Freemasonry because of what I’ve heard today,’” Moran says.

More than that, the Masonic funeral can provide loved ones with a profound sense of solace. “This shows that there’s hope—that this is not the end—which resonates for anyone who believes in some kind of afterlife,” Vander Horck says. Even to the secular, the words acknowledge universal truths: Life is fleeting, we all pass on, and we must live our lives in alignment with our deepest principles.

At its core, the Masonic funeral is a symbol of belonging, of brotherly love, and of service to others. Masons support one another through thick and thin, and that includes taking care of each other’s loved ones during life’s most difficult times. It is the right of every member to have a Masonic funeral service when he passes, and it is the responsibility of his lodge’s master to help arrange it. The master assists the family in helping deliver the service they envision at a time when grief can be overwhelming. As a result, the family knows that they, too, belong to the larger Masonic family.

“Most of the Masons in my dad’s service didn’t know him,” Moran says, “but it didn’t matter. They were there to be supportive, and they understand that he belonged to a community of Masons in Long Beach whether he attended lodge often or not.”

That’s a powerful sight, for those in the fraternity and those outside it. It’s also something Moran says he hopes more Masons make a point of participating in. “We have all these younger, new members, which is awesome,” he says. “Do they realize how beautiful the service is, and that they’re likely going to get this service themselves one day?”

Moran says that thought takes him back to when he first joined a lodge, at age 23. Now, three decades later, he has experienced the Masonic funeral service as a member, as a son, and as an officiant. What a shame it would be to only experience the rite from the other side of the veil. Knowing how much those experiences have meant to him, Moran says he’s heartened by the thought that someday “those words will be said for my survivors, for my family, as they have been for generations of brothers before me.”

As the funeral master speaks, without hat, gloves, or the jewels of his station, he reassures all present that their loved one remains a brother of “that blissful lodge which no time can close.… There, my brethren, may Almighty God in His infinite mercy, grant that we may meet again, to part no more.”