THE LODGE - A poem for the ones who went looking for the devil in the basement and missed the banquet hall

THE LODGE

A poem for the ones who went looking for the devil in the basement and missed the banquet hall

I. THE MISDIRECTION

They told you the devil was in the basement.

They told you the devil had a goat head and a candle and a robe.

They told you the devil was in the back room with the chalk circle and the chant.

They told you to check the basement, check the back room, check the dark.

And while you were checking the basement,

the men in the banquet hall were passing the bread.

This is the oldest trick in the world.

Point at the thing that looks evil

so nobody looks at the thing that is evil.

The goat was never the problem.

The goat was the distraction.

The goat was the show.

II. THE SATANIC PANIC

And in the eighties they told you the daycares were the temples

and the preschools were the covens

and the quiet man with the van was the priest of the underworld.

And you believed it.

And you burned the records and you ruined the lives and you sent the innocent to prison

and you were sure, so sure, absolutely sure,

that the devil was in the basement of the daycare.

And the men in the lodge were watching the news

and passing the bread

and smiling.

Because a panic is not a mistake.

A panic is a cover.

A panic points the crowd at the wrong building.

And while the crowd is at the wrong building,

the right building holds its meeting.

III. THE LODGE

The lodge is not in the basement.

The lodge is on the main street.

The lodge has a sign and a parking lot and a meeting night.

The lodge has a kitchen and a dining room and a coffee urn that has been there since 1955.

The lodge has degrees.

The lodge has obligations.

The lodge has a handshake and a password and a grip.

The lodge has a charity fund and a scholarship and a golf tournament.

The lodge has a photograph on the wall of the men who came before

and the men in the photograph are wearing the same expression

and the expression is we take care of our own.

And the lodge is not a secret.

That is the point.

The lodge is so unsecret that nobody thinks to look at it.

IV. THE RECIPE

And in the center of the lodge, on the table, in the room where the meeting happens,

there is a book.

And it is not a grimoire.

There is no goat on the cover.

There is no pentagram on the spine.

It is a recipe book.

And the recipe is the rules.

The recipe is who gets promoted and who does not.

The recipe is who gets the contract and who gets the audit.

The recipe is who gets the benefit of the doubt and who gets the file.

The recipe is who is our kind of people and who is not from around here.

The recipe is who gets the job for the son and who gets the form for the neighbor.

And the recipe does not say cook the boy.

The recipe says we need a lamb for the dinner.

And everyone at the table knows what a lamb is.

And nobody at the table says it out loud.

V. THE LAMB

The lamb is the one who does not fit the recipe.

The lamb is the boy with the wrong love.

The lamb is the woman who asked the question.

The lamb is the man who kept the record.

The lamb is the one who said no to the bishop with the gentle voice.

The lamb is the neighbor who would not sign the petition.

The lamb is the one who was not our kind of people.

And the lamb does not know he is the lamb.

That is the cruelty of it.

The lamb is invited to the dinner.

The lamb is seated at the table.

The lamb is told how much he is valued.

And the lamb is the main course.

And the men at the table are not monsters.

They are the ones with the casserole.

They are the ones with the BLESS THIS HOME sign.

They are the ones who say bless your heart and mean I have judged you.

They are the ones who bring the meal to the grieving woman and report back to the group.

They are the ones who pass the bread and call it fellowship.

VI. THE BOYS

And two boys came to the lodge once.

They came because they had heard there was a fire.

They came because they had heard there was an altar.

They came because they had heard there were old ways—

the ways of the hearth and the animals and the living gods

and the covenant that did not need a county seal.

And they walked into the banquet hall with their Pagan eyes open,

and they looked for the love of people,

and they looked for the fire,

and they looked for the animals at the door.

And they saw the stew.

They saw the pot in the center of the table.

They saw the recipe book open beside it.

They saw the 1955 couples in their matching shirts

and the photographs on the wall of the men who take care of their own

and the handshake and the grip and the obligation

and the lamb on the platter with an apple in its mouth.

And the boys understood, in that moment,

that they had been invited as guests

and they were the guests of honor

and the guests of honor were the meal.

And they turned around and walked out.

And the men at the table said that's rude.

And the women at the table said we'll pray for them.

And the recipe book stayed open on the table

and the next lamb was already on its way.

VII. THE WONDER BREAD

And here is the food of the lodge:

Wonder Bread.

White and soft and uniform and shelf-stable.

No crust to speak of. No substance to speak of. No flavor to speak of.

The perfect food for the perfect picture.

And the Wonder Bread is the sermon.

The Wonder Bread is the we are so blessed.

The Wonder Bread is the we're not political, we just want what's best for the children.

The Wonder Bread is the matching shirts and the vinyl sign and the anniversary post

and the smile that has never once been tested by a thing that cost anything.

Wonder Bread for the Wonder Men.

Wonder Bread for the Wonder Women.

Wonder Bread for the Wonder Couples in the Wonder Houses on the Wonder Lawns

with the Wonder Dog and the Wonder God on the Wonder Coin.

And Wonder Bread does not spoil.

That is the point of Wonder Bread.

It outlives you.

It sits on the shelf while you rot.

VIII. THE ORDER OF THE POLICE

And there is one lodge that is not called a lodge.

It is called a fraternal order.

It has a membership card and a dues structure and a political action committee.

It has a handshake and a grip and an obligation

and the obligation is we take care of our own.

And the men in this lodge are the ones with the collar and the boot and the gavel.

And the men in this lodge are the ones who decide

whether the complaint gets investigated

whether the file gets opened

whether the man in the cell is a man or a number.

And they are not in the basement either.

They are in the banquet hall.

And they are passing the bread.

And the bread is the blue wall.

IX. THE OTHER ORDERS

And there are others.

The ones with the funny hats and the aprons and the trowels.

The ones with the charities and the scholarships and the golf tournaments.

The ones who say we are a philanthropic organization

and who are also, quietly, a network of mutual advancement

and mutual protection

and mutual silence.

And I am not saying they worship a goat.

I am saying the goat was never the point.

I am saying the point was the recipe book.

I am saying the point was who gets the job and who gets the file and who gets the dinner and who gets eaten.

X. THE FIRE

And the fire on the old stone altar

that never asked for a signature,

that the animals knew by,

that the boys knelt down at before the county ever had a form—

it is not in the lodge.

The lodge does not have a hearth.

The lodge has a kitchen with a coffee urn from 1955.

The lodge has an oven.

The lodge has a recipe book.

The lodge has a fire but the fire is for cooking

and the lodge has never once built an altar

and the lodge has never once asked the animals to come.

And the boys walked out of the banquet hall

with their Pagan eyes still open

and the animals were waiting in the parking lot

and the animals knew them

and the animals had never once been invited to the dinner.

And the fire is still burning.

Not in the lodge.

In the kitchen where two people are actually talking.

In the letter written by hand.

In the record kept by someone who was not required to keep it.

In the mouth of the one who says I was there, and this is what happened.

And the lodge cannot put it out.

Because the lodge does not even know it is there.

"Let the facts be submitted to a candid world."

And we mutually pledge—

to each other—

our lives, our fortunes,

and our sacred honor.

And to the ones who went looking for the devil in the basement:

The devil was never in the basement.

The devil was in the banquet hall.

The devil was passing the bread.

And the devil called it fellowship.

Hieros Rev. Dustin Irish-Webb