The Bible

I came across a short reel by Michael Poll this morning that set my mind turning—and as you might expect, it led me down the path of spirituality.

I’ll do my best to keep “religion” out of this, or at least set it to the side. To me, religion often carries the weight of dogma—ideas presented as unquestionable truth without room for personal exploration. Spirituality, on the other hand, feels alive. It’s personal. It’s how we reach toward the Divine in our own way, not how we’re told we must.

That distinction matters to me. It’s likely why I’ve stepped away from religion while still holding tightly to the spiritual. Now, I know there are thoughtful people—friends of mine included—who see no real difference between the two. I respect that view. I simply don’t share it. (And yes, I’m aware that pairing my name with the word “humble” might raise a few smiles—I had one myself writing that.)

For clarity’s sake, I’m not a Christian, and haven’t been for a long time. My struggle has never been with the teachings themselves, but with how those teachings have been used—and sometimes misused—over the years. If you are a Christian, then truly, be the best one you can be. Live the principles. That’s where the real power is. This isn’t judgment—it’s perspective.

The reel I watched raised a question that I’ve heard before: why is the Bible on the Masonic altar, especially when Masonry isn’t a strictly Christian organization? At least, not in the Lodges I’ve been part of.

We do hold to a couple of foundational ideas:

A belief in a Supreme Being

A belief in life beyond this one

But even those are broader than they might first appear. “God” is a word, but it’s not the only one. Across cultures and time, the Divine has been known by many names—each pointing toward something greater than ourselves. Likewise, the idea of life continuing beyond death isn’t limited to theology. From a different lens, we understand that life is energy, and energy doesn’t simply vanish—it transforms.

But I’m drifting a bit—so let me bring it back.

When I took my Masonic obligations, I did so on the Bible. Not because it was my personal book of faith—it wasn’t—but because at the time, I didn’t know there were other options. More importantly, I didn’t want to disrupt or disrespect the experience for my Brothers. Looking back, I understand something I didn’t fully grasp then: that day wasn’t about anyone else. It was my obligation, my word, my journey. The Lodge was there to witness and support—but the experience itself belonged entirely to me.

And that brings me back to the Bible.

If you strip away the layers of doctrine—much like Thomas Jefferson famously attempted—you’re left with something undeniably powerful: a collection of moral teachings that speak to the best parts of human nature.

Mercy. Charity. Justice. Compassion. Truth. Integrity.

These are not just religious ideals; they are Masonic ones. They are human ones.

The Bible, in that sense, serves as a guide—not just for those who follow it religiously, but for anyone seeking a moral compass. It reminds us of the standard we strive toward, even if we fall short at times.

Lines like:

“Better the poor whose walk is blameless than the rich whose ways are perverse.”

“Speak the truth to each other, and render true and sound judgment.”

“Blessed are the merciful…”

“Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed.”

These aren’t just verses—they’re reflections of the kind of life we’re encouraged to live.

Do we always live up to them? No. We’re human. But the striving—that’s where the work is.

So whether one sees the Bible as sacred scripture or simply as a moral text, its place on the altar makes sense. It represents a rule and guide—not imposed, but offered.

A reminder of what we can be, if we choose.

I’ll leave you with this:

May we each seek truth in our own way, walk with integrity, and extend compassion where it’s needed most.

I love you all—and may we govern ourselves accordingly