Table Lodge is a yearly gathering of Masons for dinner that Lodges put on. Last night, Thomas Talbot put on its Table Lodge, and I was part of the help.
I arrived somewhat after 2:00. March has been an unusually rainy month, and we received more hard rain. The words sump pump have been occurring with frequency in conversation lately.
Terry, who was in charge of the dinner, and John the Worshipful Master, were already at the Lodge. John was setting up the tables. Terry put me to peeling potatoes. Fred, Junior Steward, arrived soon after and peeled carrots.
Others arrived as time went on, and the kitchen was full of bustle as well as the usual sort of wiseass conversation that men produce. I spent more than two hours peeling and cutting 40 pounds of potatoes. Some 80 people were expected.
After the potatoes, I changed into my serving clothes: white shirt, dark pants, and red bowtie. Been so long since I wore a bowtie that I needed assistance getting it on. I then helped ready the dining room.
There were two columns of tables plus a head table, forming a U. At the far end from the head table was the servers table. The tables had three coloured strips, to identify for servers what people wanted to drink for the toasts. I will explain in a bit.
The Masons would not have a meal like this without a lot of ritual. Each course had its own toast, and there were required speeches throughout. This kept us servers busy.
A commemorative shot glass was set at each place. People placed their glass on the appropriately coloured strip on the table: red for red wine, white for white wine, and purple for grape juice. Servers refilled after each toast.
At the far end away from the head table of each column sat TTL’s two Wardens, Joe (Senior) to the left or North, and Ken, Junior, to the right or South. They and the Master gave the greater part of the ritual speeches. These were not memorized, everyone read their parts.
The toasts had a specific ceremony, which the Master explained at the beginning. Alas, I cannot remember the exact wording, but glasses were called to be charged, then, for the toast, we were told to ready, aim and fire.
After the glass was drained, we each performed a ritual motion with the glass, then the glass was slammed smartly on the table, then we clapped in three groups of three: right into left, left into right, right into left, then we yelled VIVAT (long live) three times. THEN we were ordered to take our dinner knife and use similar martial terminology to raise and salute with it then slam it on the table.
I am sure this ceremony derives from tavern fun in Britain. Seven ounces of wine, if one even chose to drink wine, through the course of a large meal, is not going to inebriate.
The ceremony was fun. It was not a drinking game, although it certainly could have been. I mean if stronger spirits were poured, or greater quantity, things could have devolved quite efficiently. But that was not the point of the dinner.
Still, the mock heroic nature of the toasts offered something to think about. Despite the playfulness, a sense of comradeship remains. We gather as a group, to be together as a group.
Ritual and ceremony continue to have import in our lives. At times, ritual and ceremony can become empty, and one goes through them unthinkingly. “The Star-Spangled Banner” performed at American sporting events tends to be an unthinking ritual, judging by how cheers and clapping begin well before the song is over. Anticipation for the event itself sometimes overwhelms the ceremony of the anthem.
The speeches and toasts of the dinner, despite their playfulness, fit the ceremony. Perhaps if there were more alcohol per toast, there would be more anticipation for the effects of the drink rather than the dinner itself. I guess I am overthinking this but I am trying to explain to myself why I enjoyed the dinner. I can be impatient with form lacking substance (or my suspicion of such), but here I felt there was substance to the form that the ritual took.
I did not mention who the servers were. William, the Exemplar for the First Degree, Jeff, and I were recently raised. We joined the veterans Andy (Junior Deacon), Jim (Senior Steward), and Keith (Associate Steward). I do not recall all who were in the bustle of the kitchen while the dinner went on. I know Chris (Senior Deacon) was there.
I was impressed by the efficiency with which the tables were cleared. We have all been in situations where a few people do a great deal and others do a little. I think I left a little after 9:00, with wine and food spatters on my white shirt.
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