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| Shade Flamewater |
The 1970s and 80s were the heyday of what was called "the clown ministry movement." People made use of a variety of performance arts as vehicles for sharing religious messages. It seemed to me to be most common for Protestants of one sort or another to be involved, although I know that this movement also had adherents among Catholics and Jews as well.
For several years there was an annual event known as The Clown, Mime, Puppet, and Dance Ministry Workshop. Imagine clowns, mimes, puppeteers, dancers, magicians, ventriloquists, and other folks, taking over a college campus for (as I remember it) a week of workshops, performances, worship services, and more.
It was at one of these workshops that I met Margie. She was an extremely well-known clown/storyteller, and was a much sought after workshop leader. She said that she had one condition for accepting an invitation. In addition to whatever it was she was being paid to do, she requested time each day to teach a fire eating class (which she would do for free). As a twenty-something at the time, how could I miss something like this? I signed up for her class right away, and met with her and a handful of other students every morning for a week.
As I've said, Margie was an ordained Methodist minister. She had learned to eat fire from a Catholic priest, Fr. Ken Feit. Margie told us that Ken had told her that every religion we humans have ever developed has used fire as one of its sacred symbols. Also, every religion has some kind of a shared meal as one of its rituals. It only make sense, then, to eat fire as a religious practice!
Margie taught us how to make our own torches; how to bring the flame into our mouths; how to put it out, or keep some of the vapors in our mouths so that we could breath some fire. She taught us to never breathe in while the torch was anywhere near our mouths. And she taught us a bit of wisdom that has stayed with me, and guided me, to this day -- "you always have time to put out your sister's prom dress."
In the context of these Lessons From -- and for -- the Circus of Life, there are two things I'd like to lift up. It took us a little while before Margie thought we were ready to actually bring the flames near our faces. (She really did teach us to be safe!) Several people asked her whether it was going to be hot. You might think this a rather odd question. The answer should seem so obvious. Yet it's one of the first questions people ask me about this art/craft. Margie's answer was simple, "It depends on what you're expecting." People who anticipate excruciating pain are usually incredibly surprised -- and relived -- that it's nowhere near as hot as they were afraid it would be. On the other hand, those who thought it'd be no big deal were generally the ones running for a glass of ice water. One thing fire eating can teach us, then, is that our expectations are often closely linked to our experiences.
More importantly, though, is what Margie said to us on the last day of our class. She noted that some of us would keep practicing and maybe go on to perform, while others would never pick up fire eating torches again. She wanted us all to know -- whatever we did with this new skill from there on out -- that she'd only been teaching us to eat fire to show us something much more important. I don't know if I remember her words exactly, but this is what has stayed with me.
Whether you eat fire ever again, you've done it now. And that means you've taken something frightening and dangerous, and instead of running from it you've brought it right up close to yourself. And by doing this, you've turned it into something beautiful.That's a lesson worth learning, no?
Pax tecum,
Rev. Wik
One more thing: about a year or so ago a friend of mine sent me this video. It blew my mind. The artist is doing things that I hadn't even known were possible. I've since reached out to him, and he's not only an amazing performer, but seems to be a really nice guy, too. And talk about turning fire into something beautiful:
