Travel has always been an integral part of my Masonic life. I seem to spend as much time in airports as I do in Lodge rooms, because a real comprehension of our Craft still happens face to face, across borders and beyond accents. As Chairman of the Public Relations Committee of the Grand Lodge of New York, I have learned that one cannot speak credibly about the universality of Freemasonry while remaining permanently at home. The XXI World Conference of Supreme Councils in Bucharest was yet another affirmation of that simple truth.

Photo: MWB Steven Adam Rubin (2nd from left, 2nd row) poses with event attendees

None of what unfolded in Bucharest happened by accident. For years, Illustrious Brother Stelian has been the architect of a quiet, disciplined diplomacy within the Scottish Rite. At the previous World Conference in Asunción, Paraguay, his efforts helped secure what the Romanian press called a “triple world record” for Romanian Masonry: the vice presidency of the World Conference through 2025, the presidency from 2025 to 2030, and, for the first time in the long history of the Rite, the host of the World Conference itself in Bucharest. In his message to the Brethren after that unanimous vote in Paraguay, he summed up the spirit that has carried into our present Conference with a short statement that has since become somewhat of a mantra: “Mergem fix înainte? Răspunsul faptelor noastre este DA!” (“Are we moving forward? The answer to our actions is YES!”). That determination to move forward with dignity could be felt in the way the sessions in Bucharest were conducted.

Romania welcomed the delegations at the highest civic level. We were received by the interim President of Romania Ilie Bolojan, now the sitting Prime Minister of Romania, and by Mr. Mircea Abrudean, President of the Senate of Romania. The monumental welcome given at the World Conference was fitting for its Masonic significance. Delegations were formally received at the National Bank of Romania by His Excellency Mugur Isărescu, its long-serving Governor, and at the Romanian Academy by its President, Professor Ioan-Aurel Pop. It was clear that our work formed part of the country’s wider conversation about its values, institutions, and stability, and not something to be hidden from public view.

Under Illustrious Brother Stelian’s leadership, the visit to the National Bank became more than a protocol call. There, in the presence of these dignitaries, he presided over the unveiling of a portrait of General George Pomuț, the Romanian-American officer whose diplomacy helped make possible the purchase of Alaska by the United States in the nineteenth century, a work that will be donated to the United States Congress. It was a refined gesture but a clear one: the conference was not only about internal recognition among Supreme Councils, it was also about honoring the historic ties between Romania and the wider world.

Throughout the week, the international character of the gathering was never in doubt. Illustrious Brother Walt Wheeler, an important presence in the wider Scottish Rite family, brought his steady good humor and long view of our shared history. From the Southern Jurisdiction of the United States, Illustrious Brothers James D. Cole and Arturo de Hoyos added both gravitas and warmth, reminding everyone how deeply the Mother Council of the World remains invested in the success of each jurisdiction represented in Bucharest. Around them sat Grand Commanders and senior officers from Latin America, Europe, Africa, and Asia, all speaking different languages, all working within a common ritual vocabulary.

Behind the scenes, Illustrious Brothers Bogdan Murarescu and Dan Ciobanu carried a great deal of the duties with characteristic discretion: schedules, protocol, the delicate choreography of public events and closed sessions alike. Their work, and that of the broader Romanian team, allowed the rest of us to focus on the content of the Conference rather than its logistics. It is one thing to host a dignified session of a Supreme Council. It is quite another to host the world.

History, of course, was not only made in the plenary hall. This XXI World Conference was the first at which the Prince Hall Supreme Councils received full international recognition. In an overwhelming vote, the World Conference admitted both the United Supreme Council, 33°, Prince Hall Affiliation, Southern Jurisdiction, and its counterpart in the Northern Jurisdiction to full membership. For those of us who have worked for years to normalize cooperation between the “mainstream” and Prince Hall families of our Craft, this was more than a procedural matter. It was a visible affirmation that our symbolic language about universality can, in time, become institutional reality.

For me, attending the XXI World Conference of Supreme Councils was therefore not simply another item on a travel calendar. It was an opportunity to see how years of patient work by Illustrious Brother Stelian and his team have helped place Romania at the center of the Scottish Rite map, how our Grand Master’s emphasis on genuine brotherhood resonates far beyond New York, and how the recognition of Prince Hall Supreme Councils marks a concrete step toward a true universality in our Order. As a Mason who spends much of his time thinking about how we present ourselves to the world, I left Bucharest grateful: grateful for the hospitality shown to us, grateful for the quiet labor of so many Brothers, and convinced, once again, that the effort to cross borders in person is still worth every mile.

As I let go, the voice of my good Brother and Guide echoed in my head saying, “You have five senses—use them all!” So I began noticing more: the taste of fruit picked straight from the branch, the breeze atop a hill, the smell of water in the air. Churches bore the wear of millions of pilgrims who had gone this way before me. Walking Roman roads or sleeping in a home built in the 1200s reminded me I was part of a much older story. At many cathedrals I saw the carved marks of stonemasons on the walls—silent signatures from master builders whose names are lost to time, but whose strict adherence to their duty has survived the lapse of time.

At the two-week mark, I arrived in Vézelay on the eve of the summer solstice. I hadn’t planned to stay, but fellow pilgrims convinced me. Although it didn’t fit my timeline, I’m glad they did. Inside the Basilica of Sainte-Marie-Madeleine, I watched a line of sunlight stretch perfectly down the nave to the apse—an architectural alignment designed centuries ago to mark this sacred season. Later that evening, I sat in silence as monks and sisters sang Vespers. Their voices echoed off the stone walls, stirring something deep in me. That day became my only rest day until Santiago, and it changed everything.

After 82 days, I reached Santiago de Compostela—grateful, humbled, and, remarkably, without a single blister. My Guide’s advice on foot care had served me well from afar. I was exhausted and unshaven, but my heart was full. I arrived at the Plaza do Obradoiro—the grand square before the cathedral—side by side with an incredible group of pilgrims I had met along the way. Over the next two days, I returned to that square often, especially in the quiet early mornings, just to watch others arrive. That became my favorite part of Santiago: witnessing their tears, embraces, quiet prayers, and shouts of joy. Each arrival was a testament to transformation, a reminder that every pilgrim’s path is personal, but the destination speaks to all of us.

In the end, the Camino is not just a trail across a continent. It’s a path carved through the heart. It teaches you how to carry less, worry less, and love more. It teaches you how to divest yourself of everything that keeps you from becoming who you truly are.

The next day, I walked the 17 miles north to Muxía, another sacred coastal village. There, at a second 0.000 km marker—this one carved with an arrow pointing back down the road I’d just walked up—I felt something shift. If Fisterra marked the end, Muxía marked the beginning. The pilgrimage was not over. It had simply changed. A new path was opening: the rest of my life. I guess there’s only one way left to go—”ultreia et suseia“, onward and upward.