We love blaming the outside world. Anti-Masons. Conspiracy theorists. Netflix. Declining civic engagement. The list of external threats is endless, and we recite it every time membership numbers come up.
It’s comforting. Blaming outsiders means we don’t have to look in the mirror.
But Freemasonry’s greatest enemy has been sitting in our lodges for decades. It’s not outside pressure killing us. It’s internal mediocrity. And worse, our own comfort with decline.
The Mediocrity We’ve Normalized
Walk into most lodges and you’ll find ritual delivered with all the passion of a DMV clerk. Officers who see their position as a title, not a responsibility. Brothers who show up, sit down, and leave without a single meaningful interaction.
We’ve turned Freemasonry into a routine. And routines don’t transform anyone.
The lodges that are thriving aren’t doing anything revolutionary. They’re just refusing to accept mediocrity. They’re demanding that ritual mean something. That officers actually lead…
Those brothers actually know each other. They’ve maintained standards while everyone else lowered theirs.
The enemy isn’t that young men don’t want to join. It’s that when they do, we give them nothing worth staying for. We promise transformation and deliver bureaucracy.
We promise brotherhood and deliver acquaintanceship.
The Comfort of Decline
Here’s the really insidious part: some lodges are comfortable dying.
Fewer brothers means less work. Lower numbers means lower expectations. They can keep doing what they’ve always done, with less effort, until the last guy turns off the lights.
It’s not apathy, it’s worse. It’s the active choice to preserve comfort over purpose. Brothers who’d rather let Freemasonry die than do the hard work of making it live.
And before you think I’m talking about other brothers, ask yourself: When’s the last time you did something genuinely difficult for your lodge?
Not just showing up. Something that cost you pride, time, or comfort?
Most of us can’t answer that.
The enemy isn’t outside. It never was. It’s us. Our comfort. Our fear of conflict. Our willingness to accept less.
And until we name that enemy and decide we’re done being complicit in our own decline, nothing changes.
The question isn’t whether Freemasonry can survive. It’s whether we’re brave enough to be the Masons it needs us to be.