House of the Temple

Start at the bottom of the steps, and look up. Pale stone rises in tiers above you, broad and heavy. Traffic moves along Sixteenth Street behind your back, but the sound seems to drop away here. Two great stone sphinxes rest on either side of the stairs, calm and watchful. Above them, a row of tall columns holds up a stepped roof that climbs toward a flat peak. It does not look like an ordinary Washington building. It looks like something from the ancient world.

This is the House of the Temple. It is the headquarters of the Supreme Council of the Scottish Rite of Freemasonry, Southern Jurisdiction. The Scottish Rite is one branch of Freemasonry, the fraternal order whose members meet in lodges and use symbols drawn from stonemasons' tools. Despite its name, the Scottish Rite largely took shape in France and in the United States. This building is the administrative and ceremonial home of that tradition across much of the country.

The cornerstone was laid in 1911, and the building was finished in 1915. Its architect was John Russell Pope. That name may not ring a bell — but his work probably will. Pope later designed the Jefferson Memorial, the National Archives building, and the West Building of the National Gallery of Art. Many people consider this temple the work that made his reputation. Here, early in his career, he showed how classical forms could carry a sense of weight and permanence.

Pope took his main idea from one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. That was the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, a vast tomb built in the fourth century before Christ, in what is now southwestern Turkey. It was built for a ruler named Mausolus, and it gave us the word mausoleum. The original structure fell long ago, and scholars still debate its exact appearance. Pope worked from the reconstructions of his day. The stepped pyramid roof above you is his version of that lost wonder.

Now count the columns. There are thirty-three of them, and each one stands thirty-three feet tall. This is no accident. In the Scottish Rite, the thirty-third degree is the highest honour a member can receive. It is given for outstanding service, not simply earned through study. Once you know this, you start to notice the number in other places. The building uses numbers, steps, and proportions as a kind of language for those who know how to read it.

Look again at the sphinxes. They were carved by the sculptor Adolph Alexander Weinman, who also designed well-known American coins. The two figures represent Wisdom and Power. Compare their faces closely. One has a calm, inward expression, with eyes that seem almost closed. The other looks outward, more alert. Together they suggest a balance between thought and action. Many visitors walk straight past them to the door. It is worth stopping to look at them one at a time.

As you climb, notice that the stairs are broken into flights with landings between them. Visitors often hear that the flights follow symbolic numbers linked to Masonic teaching and to ancient mathematics. Whatever meaning you give them, the effect on your body is real. You slow down. You pause. By the time you reach the great bronze doors, you have been made to approach the building with some care, almost like a pilgrim.

Inside, the mood changes. The entrance hall is cool and dim, with dark stone, heavy furniture, and Egyptian-style details. It feels formal and quiet, closer to a museum or a tomb than an office. Beyond it lies the building's ceremonial heart, the Temple Room. This large chamber rises to a skylight high above. Daylight falls down through the space onto the floor below. On a bright day, the effect is one of the most memorable moments in the building.

There is another surprise here. Albert Pike, a nineteenth-century lawyer, writer, and Confederate general, led the Supreme Council for decades. He wrote a long and influential book on Scottish Rite teaching called Morals and Dogma. His remains were moved into this building in the 1940s, and he rests inside its walls. Pike is a controversial figure today because of his role in the Civil War. Standing near his resting place, you can think about how institutions remember complicated leaders.

The House of the Temple is also a place of books. Its library holds a large collection on Freemasonry and related subjects. It also holds a notable collection connected to Robert Burns, the Scottish poet, who was himself a Freemason. You may not expect a Burns collection on a Washington avenue, but there it is. The building also displays portraits, regalia, and objects that tell the story of American Masonry and some of its well-known members.

In more recent years, the temple found a new audience. Dan Brown's novel The Lost Symbol, published in 2009, opens with dramatic scenes set here. The book brought curious readers to these steps. It also fed old rumours about secret plots and hidden powers. The reality is quieter. Guided tours welcome the public, and guides usually answer questions openly. The mystery here is mostly in the symbols, not in conspiracy.

When you come back outside, step away to the far side of Sixteenth Street. From there you can see the full outline of the building against the sky. This avenue runs north in a straight line from the White House, and it was once lined with embassies, churches, and grand homes. The temple fits that ambition. It was built to stand among the most serious buildings in the capital — and to stay there for a very long time.

Before you go, take one more look at the sphinxes and the columns. Feel the warmth of the stone if the sun is on it, or its chill on a grey day. Listen to the city moving past, just a few steps away. As you walk on, you may start to see Pope's calm columns and solid stone again in other Washington monuments. Many of those buildings share their quiet confidence with this one.