textfiles/magazines/STB/stb-1928-05.txt

SHORT TALK BULLETIN - Vol.VI   May, 1928   No.5

THE LEGEND OF THE LOST WORD

by:  Unknown

Ancient Craft Masonry attains its climax in the symbolism of the Lost 
Word, and a quest for its recovery; but in our ritualistic work there 
is little attempt at explanation.

The observation has been made that language is a growth; every word 
had to be created by man.  Back of every word is some want or 
necessity of mind or body and the genius to make expression in some 
sign or sound that we call a word.  "Some words are rough and rugged 
like the skins of wild beasts, other glitter and glisten like satin 
and gold.  Words have been born of hatred and revenge, of love and 
sacrifice, of hope and fear, of agony and joy.  In them mingle the 
darkness and the dawn.  They are the garments of thought , the robes 
of reason, the shadows of the past, the reflection of the present and 
the crystallization of human history."

It has been said that the egocentric instinct in man has made "self-
preservation the first law of nature," that growing out of or 
alongside of it is the gregarious instinct which has produced social 
governments and philanthropic enterprises.   Deeper than these 
instincts there is in man a consciousness, however dim, in explicable 
forces and agencies, and an urge to realize their potency.  In the 
childhood of the race this occasioned the thought of supernatural 
power in a word.

The word that causes the heavens on high to tremble, The word that 
makes the world below to quake.

Constitute the first two lines of a Babylonian hymn inscribed upon a 
clay tablet five thousand years ago, in which the wise preisthood of 
a great religion sang praises to the might and power of a word.
Some Masonic writers have held that A U M, pronounced "oom," is the 
oldest omnific name of God in the world; that it came out of India, 
and that it has also been spelled A O M, but pronounced the same way.  
Frank C. Higgins has written a book on his name as the "Lost Word," 
and claims it is concealed in the terminal letters of the names of 
the three ruffians.  To the best of my knowledge this concealment has 
not been satisfactorily explained.

In my opinion, Freemasonry is largely indebted to the Hebrews for the 
legend of The Lost Word.  Shakespeare says, "What's in a name?"  The 
Jews saw in a name "a sign standing for the personality, the 
achievements, the reputation, the character, the power and the glory 
of the one who wore it." Joseph meant "increaser," Moses meant "drawn 
out of water," Israel meant "Prince of God."  At the burning bush the 
ineffable name of God Almighty was communicated to Moses; so 
overwhelming was its glory that the people pronounced it in whispers. 

The third commandment of the Decalogue, delivered from Mount Sinai, 
declared, "Thou Shalt not take the name of the Lord, thy God in 
vain."  The priestly rule contained in Leviticus reads, "He that 
pronounceth the name of the Lord distinctly shall be put to death." 
At last only the high priest was permitted to utter the name, and 
that but once a year.  On the day of atonement, and in the holy of 
holies, its utterance was accompanied by the beating of cymbals and 
the blowing of trumpets, so as to completely extinguish the sound of 
the human voice.  Such were "the wrappings of secrecy and sanctity 
which the Jews threw about the name of God."

As they used no vowels in writing, all that was ever seen were four 
consonants, J H V H, the Tetragrammation or four lettered name of God 
which we call Jehovah.  From the letters there was no clue to the 
pronunciation.  No one could  understand them any more than we could 
know that Mr.  stands for Mister and Dr. stands for Doctor unless 
someone told us so.

According to tradition, the great catastrophe of the Babylonian 
captivity was that, through the death of the high pries without a 
successor, the name was lost.  "At the end of that captivity priests 
and scribes began a search for the lost name which has continued 
without avail for two and one-half millenniums." The four consonants 
they had, but it is doubtful if anyone has been able to supply the 
sound of the vowels.  It is believed that this four-lettered name of 
God is the Lost Word of Masonry today.

Like everything else in our science, it is a symbol.  

It is the consummation of all Masonic symbolism because it stands for 
the Divine truth.  Brotherly love and relief are but the means to an 
end; the final design of our Institution is its third principle 
tenet, the imperial truth.  In some aspects truth seems relative, 
because it is not complete, but only partial.  Now we see through a 
glass darkly, but the ultimates of truth are immutable and eternal, 
the Fatherhood of God and the immortality of the soul, "Down to this 
deep foundation Masonry digs for a basis of its Temple and finds an 
everlasting rock."

Dr. Joseph Fort Newton says:

"Freemasonry makes no argument, but presents a picture, the oldest, 
if not the greatest, drama in the world, the better to make men feel 
those truths which no mortal words can utter.  It shows us the 
tragedy of life in its blackest hour, the forces of evil, cunning, 
yet stupid, which come up against the soul, tempting it to treachery, 
a tragedy which, in its simplicity and power, makes the heart ache 
and stand still. Then out of the thick darkness there rises, like a 
beautiful white star, that in man which is most akin to God, his love 
of truth, his devotion to duty, his willingness to go down into the 
night of death, if only virtue may survive and throb like a pulse of 
fire in the evening sky."

"Here is the ultimate and final witness of our Divinity and 
immortality, the sublime, death-defying moral heroism of the human 
soul."  Translated into personal terms it is the Apostle Peter at his 
execution asking to be crucified head downward.  It is the Spartan 
Leonidas at the Pass of Thermopylae, with a handful of men holding 
back the hordes of Persia and spelling out the salvation of the Greek 
Republic.  It is the Swiss, Arnold von Winkelried, receiving the 
points of Austrian spears into his own breast and making his dead 
body a bridge of victory for his countrymen.  It is the American, 
Nathan Hale, grieving that he had but one life to give, but one 
supreme sacrifice to make at the altar of our National Liberty.  It 
is our operative Grand Master, the Tyrian Builder before the brute 
forces of death and destruction, surrendering his life but preserving 
his integrity.

Brother H.L. Haywood says: "The search for a lost word is not a 
search for a mere vocable of a few letters which one might write down 
on a piece of paper, it is the search for a truth."  It is a quest 
for the highest possible life in the spiritual unfoldment of 
humanity; it is the seeking after the name, the power and the glory 
of God.

The purpose is the same whether this age-old legend of the quest be 
woven into a tragic tale like Eugene Sue's "Wandering Jew," or thrown 
about a mystic drama like Maurice Maeterlinck's "Blue Bird," or 
crystallized in an epic poem like James Russell Lowell's "Vision of 
Sir Launfal," whether it be a missing chord of music, the vacancy of 
a sanctuary, a design left unfinished by the death of the Master 
Builder, or the Lost Word in Masonry to be recovered through 
patience, perseverance and time.  It always symbolizes a search for 
something good and beautiful and true.

At times of meditation and introspection there is something vaguely 
haunting in the Legend of The Lost Word; like the fleeting fragrance 
of a forest flower experienced in the past, the murmured music of a 
rippling brook heard in childhood, the purple sheen of twilight on a 
distant hilltop, or some exquisite dream of infinite love in the long 
ago; forgotten, but trembling at the doorway of memory.

This quest is the central thought of Henry van Dyke's "The Other Wise 
Man," an inspirational story of beauty and charm, which tells of the 
days when Augustus Caesar was the master of many Kings and Herod 
reigned in Jerusalem.

Artaban, the Median, the fourth wise man; studied the constellations 
and certain prophecies of Zoroaster, Balaam and Daniel.  Inspired by 
the appearance of a star in the sky, he sold his possessions and 
bought three gems; a sapphire, a ruby and a pearl; to bear as tribute 
to a new-born King.  The other three wise men were to wait for him at 
the ancient temple of the seven Spheres.  Because he tarried in a 
palm grove outside the walls of Babylon to minister to a Parthian Jew 
in the ravages of a fever, he did not reach the appointed place in 
time, and found a note which said, "We have waited past the midnight 
hour and can delay no longer.  We go to find the King.  Follow us 
across the desert."  This meant that Artaban must sell his sapphire 
to buy camels and provisions for the journey .  A ministry of mercy 
cost him the first jewel.

The third day after the wise men had laid at the feet of a child in a 
manger their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, Artaban entered 
Bethlehem, weary but full of hope, bearing his Ruby and his Pearl.  
The streets were deserted, but from an open door of a low stone 
cottage he heard a woman's voice singing softly.  He entered and 
found a young mother hushing her baby to sleep.  She told him of the 
strangers from the east who had appeared and gone, that the man from 
Nazareth had taken the babe and its mother and fled away to Egypt.  
She placed food before him, the plain fare of humble peasants.  The 
baby slumbered, as great peace filled the quiet room; but suddenly 
there came the noise of wild confusion in the street, the shrieking 
and wailing of women's voices crying: "The Soldiers of Herod!  They 
are killing our children."

The mother's face grew white with terror, she huddled with her child 
in a dark corner of the room.  Artaban's form filled all the doorway, 
and looking straight at the Captain he said:  "I am alone in this 
place and am waiting to give this jewel to the prudent Captain who 
will leave me in peace."  He showed the Ruby glistening like a great 
drop of blood in the palm of his hand.

The lines of greed tightened hard around the Captain's lips.  He took 
the Ruby in his fingers and gave the order:  

"March on, there is no child here, this house is still."  Artaban 
turned his face to the East and prayed, "God of Truth, forgive my 
sin, I have said that which is not to save the life of a child."  The 
voice of the woman said, very gently, "Because thou hast saved the 
life of my little one, may the Lord Bless thee and keep thee, lift up 
the light of His Countenance upon thee and give thee peace."  Thus he 
parted with his second jewel.

Down in Egypt Artaban found faint traces here and there of the holy 
family.  Though he found none to worship, he found many to help.  He 
fed the hungry, clothed the naked, healed the sick and comforted the 
captive.  His years moved swiftly by; after thirty-three had gone, in 
his old age an irresistible impulse came upon him to go up again to 
Jerusalem.  He had his Pearl and was looking for the King.

It was the season of the Passover when he reached the city.  There 
was great excitement; multitudes were being swept as by a secret tide 
toward the Damascus Gate.  He joined the throng and inquired the 
cause of the tumult and where they were going.  "We are going," they 
answered, "Outside the city walls to a place called Golgotha where 
Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews, is to be crucified."

How strangely the words fell on the tired heart of Artaban.  At last 
he was to see the King and he still had his Pearl, in time, perhaps 
to offer it as ransom.  A troop of Macedonian soldiers came down the 
street dragging a young girl into bondage and slavery for debts of 
her father who had died.  Being of Artaban's country, she recognized 
the sign of the Priesthood, the Winged circle of Gold which he wore.  
Tearing away from the soldiers and throwing herself at his feet, she 
prayed, "Have pity upon me, save me from a fate that is worse than 
death."

Artaban trembled as a conflict entered his soul.  It was the old 
conflict which had come to him in the Palm grove and again in the 
Stone cottage; the conflict between expectations of faith and the 
impulses of love.  In the darkness of his mind it seemed clear that 
the inevitable comes from God.  He took the Pearl from his bosom and 
placed it in the slave girl's hand, saying, "This is thy ransom.  It 
is the last of my jewels which I kept for the King."

As he spoke the sky darkened, the earth quaked, the houses rocked, a 
heavy tile shaken from a roof fell and struck the old man on the 
temple.  He lay breathless and pale.

As she bent over him there came a voice through the twilight, small 
and still, like music sounding from a distance.  The old man's lips 
began to move; she heard him say, "Not so my Lord, for when I saw I 
Thee an hungered and fed Thee, or thirsty and gave Thee to drink?  
Thirty and three years have I sought Thee, but I have never seen Thy 
face nor ministered to Thee, my King."  Again the maid heard the 
sweet voice, faintly, as from afar, but now it seemed as though she 
understood the words.  "Verily I say unto thee, inasmuch as thou hast 
done unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it 
unto me."

At the end of the journey, in the presence of human need, in the 
expression of human sympathy, in the rendering of human service, he 
came face to face with his King and discovered his Lost Word.  He 
heard a Divine voice saying, "Inasmuch" and "Well done, good and 
faithful servant."

The Lost Word symbolizes the kind of truth that cannot be acquired 
from reading books, that cannot be obtained by paying so much money 
and listening to so many college lectures.  It symbolizes a truth 
that must be wrought out through the vicissitudes of life in personal 
experience.

If the Word stands for the personality, the attributes, the power and 
the glory of God, we must be satisfied with a substitute, because 
human life and ages of time are too short for a complete revelation 
of that high and holy name.

The whole design of Masonic science is a quest for the truth.  
"Divine truth is symbolized by the Logos, the Word, the Name."  
Through this symbol all the other symbols of Masonry guide a man 
onward and upward to God.

Over the hills to a valley of endless years,
Over roads of woe to a land without a tear,
Up from the haunts of men to the place where angels are,
This is the march of morality, to a wonderful goal afar.

SO MOTE IT BE