Pope Clement XII, 78 and already blind, came to the throne in 1730. An able lawyer and administrator, still full of energy, he found the treasury empty, the Papal States rank with corruption, and the Church in low esteem. In his ten-year reign, he restored the finances, raised the papacy’s political standing at home and abroad—even in the Middle East—and engaged in huge benevolent projects such as the draining of malaria-infested swamps and the building of important public monuments, including the fountain of the Trevi, which, being blind, he was unable to enjoy himself. All of this was achieved through a major assault on corruption.
For political reasons, both Jacobites and Hanoverians (via their allies in the French government) had been pressing the pope to excommunicate each other’s lodges. But it is not difficult to imagine why a large, unfamiliar secret society was anyway identified as a breeding ground for illegal activity. In 1737, he fired the first shot with his short Bull In Eminenti. This document reveals Clement’s difficulty: since Freemasonry was even more secretive then than it is now, he was not entirely sure what he was banning. It was difficult to say if there was anything heretical going on, though the fact that it was open to all faiths seemed suspicious. In the absence of actual evidence of heresy, he concentrated on civil and moral rather than doctrinal precepts. Honest men have no need for secrecy, so the Bull argues: “If they were not doing evil, they would not have so great a hatred of the light.” This focus on Masonic behaviour rather than Masonic ideas has set the Church’s tone on the subject ever since.
This does not mean that the theologians were not also looking for heresy. The next anti-Masonic injunction, Providas Romanorum, issued by Clement’s successor Benedict XIV in 1751, raised philosophical objections to Freemasonry, implicitly charging it with religious indifferentism. Benedict was trying to find a reason why a great many atheists, inspired by the man-centred liberal philosophy of Rousseau, were starting to gather in Masonic lodges. His presumption was that Freemasonry was spreading anti-religious ideas. Events proved him to be farsighted, but so far, no real examination of the theological implications of Masonic ritual had been carried out. Part of the Church’s problem was that Freemasonry barely makes any actual assertions about what it believes. It accurately describes itself as “a peculiar system of morality, veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols.” The implications of Masonic allegory and symbolism are left to the individual to work out for himself. This is, however, not difficult to do, and considering that the Church has always understood that ritual conveys ideas, it is surprising that she has never analysed Masonic ritual in detail.
So, it continued. None of the 19th-century papal condemnations of Freemasonry made any allusion to the actual details of Masonic ritual. Pius IX, who himself seems to have joined a lodge in South America in his youth before repudiating Freemasonry, condemned “sects, whether called Mason or some other name,” and added, “from these the synagogue of Satan is formed.” But even he made no concrete reference to any detail of Masonic ritual.
This is very surprising. The most obvious implication of Masonic ritual is that man is responsible for his own salvation, a position which inevitably denies the Incarnation and therefore the Trinity. This view is plainly illustrated by the presence in every lodge of two stone ashlars, one rough-hewn, the other a perfect cube, representing respectively the unenlightened soul and the soul after Freemasonry has enlightened it. It is also dramatically portrayed in the Third Degree re-enactment of the murder of Hiram Abiff, the fictional architect of King Solomon’s Temple, who is used to represent the enlightened soul, done away with by unenlightened villains desiring to gain the Masonic secret. Attempts to revive Hiram by the Masonic application of fraternal love, knowledge, and reason fail; but the soul is then revived by the light which is found within the well-formed Mason’s breast.
The fact is that the popes of the period were distracted from theology by politics. The Vatican was indifferent to the mechanics of Freemasonry and sought merely to ban it. Perhaps the Church feared that by being too explicit, Freemasons would simply adapt their rituals without changing their revolutionary character. In Italy, the revolutionaries of the Risorgimento were nearly all Masons, and many of them were also members of mafia-like groups such as the Camorra and the Carbonari, which had little or no philosophical pretensions. The Church thus used the word “Mason” in a loose sense to cover any secretive philosophical body, paying no attention to the varying self-definitions and internal wranglings within the Masonic world.
An important Masonic development was thus beyond the horizon and outside the popes’ purview. From its early 18th century beginnings, there had been two brands of Freemasonry, the original kind, known as “Modern,” which recognised only three degrees, much as ordinary guilds of stonemasons do, and the later kind, confusingly called “Antient,” which recognised an additional 30. The Moderns insisted on a belief in God. The Antients tended towards atheism. In the English-speaking world, these two systems reached a compromise, and the two rival grand lodges were united in 1813 (hence the “United” Grand Lodge of England), with the three degrees of Modern, so-called Craft Freemasonry being regarded as all that was necessary for a Mason to complete his Masonic career, and the further 30 degrees of the Antient and Accepted Rite being optional extras. The Antients’ drift towards atheism was, formally speaking, blocked by the Grand Lodge of England, by a demand that members be both Christian and Trinitarian in order to enter the higher degrees, a stipulation which has only recently been lifted. However, the original accusation of indifferentism levied by Benedict XIV still stood. But in Europe it was Antient Freemasonry which was in the ascendant, governed by the Grand Orients of France and Italy and repudiating religion altogether. Leo XIII, in Humanum Genus, now identified naturalism as the chief Masonic heresy:
The fundamental doctrine of the naturalists is that human nature and human reason ought in all things to be mistress and guide. Laying this down, they care little for duties to God, or pervert them by erroneous and vague opinions. For they deny that anything has been taught by God.
Naturalism is tantamount to atheism, an altogether different thing from the indifferentism prevalent in the Freemasonry of Benedict XIV’s day. Leo XIII shows his awareness of this inconsistency in the Masonic system later in the same encyclical:
The sect allows great liberty to its votaries, so that to each side is given the right to defend its own opinion, either that there is a God, or that there is none; and those who obstinately contend that there is no God are as easily initiated as those who contend that God exists, though, like the pantheists, they have false notions concerning Him: all which is nothing else than taking away the reality, while retaining some absurd representation of the divine nature.
Whereas Craft Freemasonry insists on a Bible “or other sacred text” always being open in the lodge, the Grand Orient removed the “Volume of the Sacred Law” from all its lodges. The United Grand Lodge of England responded by withdrawing recognition, and to this day its members are prohibited from attending Grand Orient lodges.
Craft Freemasonry gives access to various degrees and side-degrees, some of which demand that the initiate tramples an effigy of the pope with the cry “Down with imposture!” Few Craft Freemasons are likely to get anywhere near these esoteric degrees and never give the matter a thought. But despite the anodyne appearance of the first three degrees of Craft Freemasonry, and the apparent trinitarianism of the upper thirty degrees of the Ancient and Accepted Rite, it is difficult to see how a Catholic could comfortably associate himself with such a system. We have already seen the hotchpotch of naturalism and indifferentism which is exuded by Mason ritual, and there are other specific heresies to be considered.
The most obvious of these is Pelagianism. Pelagius was a typical nit-picking British barrister of the old school, a philosophical son of Pharisaism, who lived in the 5th century. In Britain, this was the age of King Arthur, in whatever form, now shrouded in historical fog, that era took. He was a contemporary and opponent of St. Augustine and witnessed the sack of Rome by the Visigoths. He was appalled by the low moral standards of his time. He argued that man should be held fully responsible for his actions, not only the bad, for which he should be punished, but the good, for which he should expect to be rewarded. It followed that a man could get to heaven by his own efforts, meaning that his nature was not fallen. He would be judged solely according to the good and evil he did to his fellow man. The unfallen goodness of man is an idea which is a key component of Marxist theory, so Pelagius should be ranked among the early heroes of the Left.
It was the General Synod of the Church of England which, in 1987, first issued a document specifically accusing Freemasonry of Pelagianism after examining the details of Masonic ritual. I have already mentioned the rough and smooth ashlars, but perhaps the most glaring expression of Pelagianism occurs in the ritual of raising a candidate to the Third Degree, when it is explained that Masons working on the Temple received their wages in a manner which corresponded precisely to the quality of their work, neither more nor less. The dialogue between the Master and the Candidate is endearing, and so all the more spiritually dangerous.
Master: As it is the hope of reward that sweetens labour, where did our ancient brethren go to receive their wages?
Candidate: Into the middle chamber of King Solomon’s Temple.
Master: How did they receive them?
Candidate: Without scruple or diffidence.
Master: Why in this peculiar manner?
Candidate: Without scruple, well knowing they were justly entitled to them, and without diffidence, from the great reliance they placed on the integrity of their employers in those days.
The Master’s opening ten words could be the title of a Pelagian manifesto. Contrast this with the Catholic Act of Contrition, which names two motives for regretting sin: fear of punishment and sorrow at offending God. The Freemason is instead taught here that his good works make him “justly entitled” to his heavenly reward. If he asks why this is not what the Church teaches, he is now told that in the pre-Christian age the religious authorities were more trustworthy than they are today. This short catechetical exchange alone is enough to condemn Freemasonry out of hand as irreconcilable with the doctrines of original sin, grace, and sacrificial redemption.
A similar idea could be discerned in the initiation ceremony, when the blindfolded candidate is, unbeknown to himself, placed between the twin dangers of stabbing and strangulation. Figuratively, he has placed himself by his own free will in a situation where his safety, that is, his salvation, depends upon his own willingness to abide by the Masonic virtues of courage and caution.
At the end of the ceremony, the candidate is led to the corner of the lodge next to the Worshipful Master, who addresses him:
It is customary at the erection of all stately and superb edifices to lay the first or foundation stone at the North East corner of the building; you, being newly admitted into Masonry, are placed at the North East part of the Lodge, figuratively to represent that stone; and from the foundation laid this evening may you raise a superstructure perfect in its parts and honourable to the builder. You now stand to all external appearance a just and upright Mason, and I give it to you in strong terms of recommendation ever to continue and act as such.
The meaning is clear: by joining the Lodge, personal perfection and spiritual salvation are at hand.
We now come to the heresy of Manichaeism. Once again, there is an inconsistency in Masonic ideas, this time with the heresy of Pelagianism just discussed. For in the course of their great dispute, Pelagius accused Augustine of Manichaeism, and Freemasonry thus finds itself potentially in both camps. The original Manichees practised a Persian dualistic religion, whose legacy has cropped up ever since. It is easy to sympathise with because it arises from love of the good God and horror at the state of creation. It offers, as an explanation for the cruelty and suffering of this world, the idea that the world is not of God’s making, but something opposed to His will. The well-intended paving stones, designed as they are to protect God’s reputation, literally make a path to hell, for the conclusion of this logic is that the world is the province of Satan, and there is nothing good in Creation.
What has this got to do with Freemasonry? We are brought back to Gnosticism, which regarded the world as a dirty thing, to be scrubbed off with secret knowledge. By signs, tokens, and passwords, Freemasons separate themselves from the uninitiated, who remain unenlightened worldlings, in the belief that they themselves walk in the sunlight, which, as the ritual goes on to say, is always at its meridian with respect to Freemasonry.
Indeed, this dualism is surely the meaning of the very chequered floor across which Masonic ritual is conducted.
This is quite different from sanctity, which, etymologically speaking, also contains the idea of separation. You find (or at least, until the Second Vatican Council you found) this concept graphically illustrated at Mass by the sanctuary cordoned off by an altar rail, by the vestments of the priest, by his separate confession from that of the laity, by the use of sacred language. But all these expressions of separation reflect the holiness of the Creator compared to the Created, not the supposedly superior enlightenment of the initiate compared to ordinary people who, in Masonic parlance, are referred to as “the profane.” In Catholic thinking, sanctification is available to all by faith and grace through the sacraments; in Freemasonry, the restricted few may obtain it through their own private efforts—provided, of course, they have paid their annual dues.
That Masonic ritual sets forth a spiritual and theological programme which flatly contradicts the basics of Christianity is all too clear. How much more disturbing, then, that in this Pontificate the Vatican inclines to accept Freemasonry without demanding any recantation of its belief in the self-perfectibility of man. Indeed, it would seem that the present pope desires the Church to move towards the Masonic Weltanschauung. In the 2020 encyclical Fratelli Tutti, Pope Francis calls for:
a universal aspiration to fraternity. Fraternity between all men and women. Here we have a splendid secret that shows us how to dream and to turn our life into a wonderful adventure. The different religions … contribute significantly to building fraternity … Dialogue between the followers of different religions does not take place simply for the sake of diplomacy, consideration or tolerance … The goal of dialogue is to establish friendship, peace and harmony … One fundamental human right must not be forgotten in the journey towards fraternity and peace. It is religious freedom for believers of all religions. That freedom proclaims that we can build harmony and understanding between different cultures and religions.
Paragraphs of Fratelli Tutti are labelled “Liberty, equality and fraternity,” “A universal love that promotes persons,” and “Religions at the service of fraternity in our world.”
Then, in February 2024, Cardinal Coccopalmieri called for a permanent dialogue with the Grand Orient, Grand Lodge, and Grand Regular Lodge of Italy. Just three months later, on April 8th, the encyclical Dignitas Infinita was released, which asserted that human dignity was without limits, implicitly placing all men on a par with Jesus Christ and His Blessed Mother. The document further stated:
For Jesus, the good done to every human being, regardless of the ties of blood or religion, is the single criterion of judgment.
In the end, there are only two possible views of the universe: either you believe, like the People of Babel, that you can build your way to God, or you believe that God, in His grace and mercy, comes down to you. Put differently, you either believe in relative or absolute values. These are the two cities described by St. Augustine. All worldviews, even among atheists, fall on one side or the other of this distinction.
The great accusation always levied by the Catholic Church against Freemasonry still stands: the superstructure which all Freemasons are charged to erect, perfect in all its parts, is nothing more than a Babylonian Ziggurat.
