33° Mason ceremony. They end it with leaving Jesus ded.
THE WORDS HAD MEANING NOW
On Thursday evening we gathered at our home Temple and dressed for the ceremony. It was always a most solemn occasion and seemed a little awesome, even to those of us who had done it many times.
Dressed in long, black, hooded robes, we marched in, single file, with only our faces partly showing, and took our seats. There was something very tomb-like about the setting. The silence was broken only by the organ, playing mournfully
in the background, and there was no light except for the little that came through the windows. After the opening prayer (from which the name of Jesus Christ was conspicuously excluded), I stood and opened the service.
As I had done so many times before, I said, "We meet this day to commemorate the death of our 'Most Wise and Perfect Master,' not as inspired or divine, for this is not for us to decide, but as at least the greatest of the apostles of mankind."
As I spoke these words that I had spoken so many times before, I had a strange and powerful experience. It was as if I were standing apart, listening to myself as I spoke, and the words echoed deep within me, shouting their
significance. They were the same words I had spoken so many times before, but had meaning for me now. They made me sick, literally ill, and I stopped.
The realization of what I had just said grew within me like the rising of a crescendo. I had just called Jesus an "apostle of mankind" who was neither inspired nor divine! There was a silent pause that seemed to last a very long
time as I struggled with a sick smothering within.
When I was finally able, I continued with the service and we gathered around a large table across the room in marching order. The table was long, shaped like a cross, and covered with a red cloth which was decorated down the
center with roses.
A BLACK COMMUNION
Once we were assembled at the table, I elevated (lifted high) the plate of bread, took a piece, put my hand on the shoulder of the man in front of me, gave him the plate and said, "Take, eat, and give to the hungry." This continued until all had partaken of the bread. Then I lifted up the goblet of wine, took a sip, and said, "Take, drink, and give to the thirsty." Again, this continued until all had partaken of the wine. Then I took the bread, walked over to the first row of spectators and served it to the man previously chosen for the honor of representing the rest of the Lodge. As I handed it to him I again said, "Take, eat, and give to the hungry." In like manner I served the wine to him saying, "Take, drink, and give to the thirsty," and he sat down.
After this we took our places at the table shaped like a cross and sat down. The setting was dark, our long, sweeping robes were solid black, our faces nearly concealed in the hoods, and the mood was one of heavy gloom. The Christless prayers and the hymns we sang fit right in. The one word that would describe the entire event would be "black." It was, indeed, a Black Communion - a strange Black Mass.
EXTINGUISHING THE CANDLE
(They leave Jesus dead without the Ressurection.)
There was a large Menorah (candlestick with seven candle holders) in the center of the room, with seven candles now burning. Standing again, I said, "This is indeed a sad day, for we have lost our Master. We may never see him again. He is dead! Mourn, weep and cry, for he is gone." Then I asked the officers to extinguish the candles in the large Menorah. One by one they rose, walked to the center of the room, extinguished a selected candle and left the room.
Finally, with only the center candle still burning, I arose, walked sadly to the Menorah and extinguished the last candle - the candle representing the life of Jesus, our "Most Wise and Perfect Master." We had dramatized and
commemorated the snuffing out of the life of Jesus, without once mentioning his name, and the scene ended with the room in deep silent darkness. I walked out of the room, leaving only the darkness and the stillness of death.
Once again, the single word best to describe it would be "black."
All through the service I was shaking and sick. I have never felt so sad. I had stumbled over the words but, somehow, I made it to the completion of the ceremony and went back to the dressing room. I still didn't know much about
praying but felt that I had been sustained by the Lord through it all.
http://www.themasonictrowel.com/ebooks/fm_anti_masonry/shaw_-_a_freemason_33rd_degree_initiation.pdf