Freemasonry clearly traced back to before any forays into space. Maybe that's why the ritual seemed so odd. It wasn't just the archaic language--difficult to comprehend at times. Both "moon" and "sun" were used in the singular, while he lived his whole life on a world with two of one and three of the other. And why divide the 24-inch gauge into three parts instead of six when there are two full sleep periods between sunsets? His brain caught up with his thoughts and recalled days on Grandmother Earth are roughly half as short. Or... were his twice as long? And what if he lived on the innermost planet of his system, which is tidally locked? There is no sunrise or sunset there at all.
By the time he had been a Mason a full year, or what his world considered a year, he realized nothing in the ritual was arbitrary. The roles of a lonely Sun and lonely Moon filled some special place in Humankind's psyche. He could either resign himself to unrelatability, or let it take him back to an earlier time, one where such things were much more physical realities than vague symbols.
Here was a chance to hold the sort of tools that were used centuries ago, by countless hands over an eon or more. He could recreate their use in his mind as if he were working with actual stones, building a grand edifice by sheer will and skill rather than artificial calculation and the strength of machines. If not for ritual, he would never have contemplated the rawness – or rather a purity – of such Geometric knowledge. He couldn't express it in spiritual terms, but it felt like an immortal marrow to the bones of all mortal technological advancements.
Most Lodge meetings were "Personal Observance", meaning that except for Labor to Refreshment and collation, there was no presence at a distance of any kind, be it audio, video, or holographic. It was like the days of yore when people, out of necessity, gathered together face to face or not at all. There was something so... human about it, something he didn't even know he had been missing. And he discovered the custom of the physical handshake was perpetuated or even revived on some worlds simply because it was preserved by Masonic tradition. Taken for granted by the masses, it tied Humanity together across space and time.
There were a lot of other meanings to all this, or so he started to understand. But to experience a tradition so rooted in early human existence took him to a place where he sat among ancient brethren who freely breathed natural air at all times, bare feet touching Terra Firma. The stories and objects in the degree lessons were not so far removed from everyday existence but were visible, accessible in a palpable way.
He couldn't expect them to look forward to a distant future and see all that has happened since. They might have doubted their Craft would survive after building with stone was replaced with other materials and processes. They may have wondered if Humankind would destroy itself, if not suffer a geologic or cosmic disaster before escaping the solitary tenancy bounded by Earth's gravity.
But perhaps they did look up at the firmament and wondered if some descendant among the stars would someday return the gesture with a shared contemplative spirit.
And he wondered how much Masons back on Grandmother Earth take for granted the configurations of their Masonic Work. Surely they must realize its perpetual testament to Humankind's nature and place within creation at his original home. Or perhaps they don't.
As a masonic speaker throughout New York State, he has also given presentations at town hall meetings regarding the use of technology in the Craft. His numerous Empire State Mason articles have been republished in Arizona and New Jersey. To aid in his outreach on these topics, he authored "Webmastering the Craft: Fraternity in a Digital World", available worldwide in softcover and eBook.