A Map for Life
The heavy wooden door gave entry to a blinding ray of sunlight as it opened into the quiet masonic hall. The flames in the kerosene lamps flickered for a moment in the breeze, and then steadied, throwing a soft light on the wrinkled face of the elderly man who stood in the grand foyer, studying a colorful painting. Arthur Miller adjusted his weight on his cane but didn’t turn to greet his son James, keeping his eyes on the figures framed in fine cherry wood. The artwork loomed tall over the two men, its richly-colored brush strokes depicting allegorical figures in the throes of a journey.
Arthur’s eyes traveled slowly up the painting from bottom to top, taking the artist’s intended route through the piece. He sighed; the last few months had weighed heavily on him. Nancy’s stroke had been a stark reminder to the family of the fragility of their lives. She was now confined to their home, and Arthur had become ever more dependent on his children to carry the weight of the family’s burdens. Tonight, the mantle of Nobel Grand would pass to James, and he knew the moment would hold significance for everyone in attendance.
Arthur placed a weathered hand on his son’s shoulder, skimming his fingertips over the satin stole James had worn for the ceremony. “You have always been curious about this painting, I think,” he said slowly. “The order acquired it in remarkable circumstances. What do you make of the title?” James fixed his eyes on the placard and, not for the first time, spoke the painting’s title.
“From Jerusalem to Jericho,” he uttered, not without reverence.
Arthur took a single step towards the painting and lifted a finger to the glass, tracing the intricate details of the artwork from bottom to top. “It’s a map, James. Not just for the Odd Fellows, but for your whole life.” He paused, his hand hovering over two figures on the bottom left of the painting – an old man with a can and a younger man setting out on a journey. “This here – it’s where we start. It is where I started as a young man, breaking the chains of an unenlightened life and following a pathway of righteousness. On this journey, we help the weak, we stand by our brothers, we do what’s right. That’s the oath I took, and I have spent my life keeping it.”
From Jerusalem to Jericho; Print has no attributed artist. Link
Seeking Love
As Arthur’s hand traced over the bottom third of the painting, his face became still with reflection. “Friendship, Love, and Truth are our core values, James, but Love is where it all begins. A young man sets out on his journey, and must live his life in pursuit of love.” James watched as Arthur’s finger stopped over the figure of a man with his donkey, its pack loaded for a long journey.
“That was me once,” Arthur chuckled, his lips curving in a contemplative smile. “When I was very young, Kansas was a frontier yet to be settled. I came here with only my dreams and your mother by my side, looking to forge a new path.” Arthur shifted on his cane, his hip bone creaking. “It wasn’t an easy road, but I didn’t go alone. Your Aunt Mary—well, she was always close to me, ever since we were children. We were all each other had after your grandfather passed. She had married, but she wasn’t happy with Elijah. She followed us to Kansas soon after we settled, leaving her husband behind in Indiana for a new life on this frontier. That’s family, James. That’s love. It’s not just blood—it’s sacrifice, it’s loyalty.”
James nodded. He had spent a lot of time with his Aunt Mary as a child. He lifted his own hand and pointed at a part of the painting a little higher up – figures gathering in front of a temple. “What’s happening here?” he asked. Of course, he knew what all the imagery meant, but he wanted to listen to his father’s take on it.
Staying True
Arthur’s hand moved upward on the painting, pausing over the figures gathering before a grand temple, their hands raised in unison. The temple was labelled with neat gold lettering: “Temple of TRUTH” and the word truth was again underscored beneath the temple for emphasis.
“This,” Arthur said, his voice steady, “is where Truth begins. It’s not just about honesty in words, but integrity in how we live our lives—our duty to others, our families, and our community.” James looked perplexed. Arthur smiled patiently. “It’s about being honest, yes, but it’s more about being true to others, devoted like.” James nodded, understanding dawning.
Arthur let his hand fall to his side, his eyes distant with memory. “Your mother and I worked hard to live by that truth. We had eight children together—a house filled with life, laughter, and, at times, sorrow. When Jake came along, your mom told me it was one of the happiest moments of her life, and she wanted to do it over and over again. Then came Willy, and you…”
Arthur paused then, his eyes brightening with sudden tearfulness. His voice caught a bit as he continued. “Your little sister Amanda – she was such a bright little soul, always laughing. When we lost her…” Arthur trailed off, taking a deep breath. “Well, that’s the kind of grief you never forget. But the lodge – our brothers – they stood by us. Helped us bury her. Kept us steady when we needed it most.”
James nodded, his gaze shifting between the painting and his father. He smiled faintly. “That truth doesn’t just stay inside the lodge, does it?” James offered. “You lived it every day, plowing our fields, planting crops, selling vegetables to the neighbors. Sometimes, a neighbor couldn’t pay right away—but you still filled their baskets, because it was the right thing to do. That’s how you build a community, by staying true to it, right?” Arthur beamed.
Summit of Friendship
Arthur’s hand moved, wobbling with a slight tremor, to the top third of the painting, where a rainbow arched over a serene landscape, the moon and stars shining above, and the all-seeing eye gazing watchfully from the heavens. “Here,” he said, “is where the journey leads us. Friendship is what carries you to the end. It’s the foundation of everything—your lodge brothers, your neighbors, your family. Without friendship, James, none of this,” he gestured at the painting, “means much of anything.”
Arthur leaned on his cane, frowning at the creaking of his joints. “I have done my best to live that truth. I got to be a lecturer for Good Will Lodge and share what I learned with younger men like you. And at the Methodist church, we have friends there too. But the strongest friendships are the ones that come from your own family.”
He sighed, his voice tinged with sadness, his eyes wet again with tears. “Your mom’s stroke changed everything this year. When she didn’t bounce back…” He paused to collect himself. “It’s times like that when you see how much the people around you matter. The lodge brothers, your family, they came together to help us through. And for Nancy and me, that friendship, that loyalty, meant more than I could ever repay.”
Arthur turned back to the painting, pointing to the all-seeing eye. “The Odd Fellows teach us that we’re always being watched – not just by God, but by history, by the people who come after us. Every action we take, every kindness we offer—it matters. It leaves a mark. And we watch over each other too.”
Passing the Mantle
Arthur let his hand drop from the painting, glancing around the room for a chair and then changing his mind, instead preparing to lead James into the grand hall, where the ceremony was set to begin. “It’s your turn now, James. Tonight, you take the oath, and with it, the responsibility to carry on what the Odd Fellows stand for. Friendship, Love, and Truth—it’s not just a motto. It’s how you live. It’s how you make the world better.”
James straightened, his own anticipation mixed with a newfound understanding of the weight of what lay ahead. He placed a steadying hand on his father’s arm. The soft chime of the clock in the hallway broke the quiet between them. Arthur glanced toward the door. “We’d better not keep them waiting. A lodge ceremony isn’t something you’re late for.” James adjusted the satin stole that marked him as the new Noble Grand and looked back at his father. “I’ll make you proud.”
Arthur smiled faintly, his voice low but firm. “You already have.” As they approached the entrance to the grand hall, the murmur of voices grew louder. Arthur paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the painting one last time. Then, with a final nod to his son, he pushed the heavy wooden door open, ushering them into a new chapter for their family.
Odd Fellows Oath: https://odd-fellows.org/
Coda: This story is embellished but based on actual stories passed down in the family and documents left behind in genealogical and historical archives. You can read more about this website here: About the Site
My Kindred Chronicles 
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