What is Sharing the Flame?
Sharing is caring, as they say. When it comes to sharing God’s love specifically, it would be as caring as can be. God IS love, after all, and when you love, you care, right? Growing up as a Lutheran who attended church and Sunday school nearly every week till adolescence (I have the perfect attendance pins to prove it), I considered myself to be a satisfactory conduit of God. I wasn’t sharing my faith with everyone I met or anything, but I believed in my heart that I was attuned with God’s word. Still, my inquisitive nature and perceived differences lead me to wonder…what is God really like? It started in the 4th grade when I asked my Sunday school teacher if dogs go to heaven (it was one of my favorite movies). Her response: “No, dogs don’t have souls so they don’t go to heaven.” I was crushed. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. A dead dog goes straight to hell. How could that be true?! They still have a heart! I continued to listen to the lessons shared in church and in class, but my suspicion of God’s word grew as my deep-seated belief became unsettled.
You know the story of the plane crash in 6th grade as well as the tragic death of my classmate in 8th, but I didn’t share the existential doubt that entered my head space in those moments with my church peers. God, as I was beginning to see it, couldn’t protect me or those around me; I was unclear how it was determined who would be granted life and who would die. I was entering into the mystery of the ages, but I didn’t voice my looming questions again till my freshman year of high school. Our Sunday school classes transitioned into a youth group where teens aged 14-18 gathered together after church to discuss pertinent topics. As a public school kid, my biology class opened the door to new ideas and timelines, but it didn’t cause me to throw the Bible out the window immediately. I wanted to discuss what I was learning and share my perspective on how these parallel theories intersect, but I was cut short. After bringing up the topic with the group, an older girl jumped in and told me I needed to have faith. What the Bible said was true, and anything else was a lie. Her words, along with her distress and anger, persuaded me to never bring up any other topics; soon enough, I stopped attending the youth group and disengaged from the church altogether.
Through adulthood, I remained weary of those who claimed to be out and proud Christians. Perhaps it was my past experiences and/or my overall identity crises that prompted the discomfort. Still, I remained fascinated by religion itself as a practice though I labeled myself agnostic when asked. I didn’t know what to believe, really, as most religions seemed to have the same underlying themes (love, compassion, community) yet regularly oppressed those who lived outside the “norm.” As I saw it, if religion (and God) didn’t want me, I didn’t want it, and those who proclaimed faith without taking into consideration the atrocities committed in the name of religion were lost rather than found.
I returned back to God’s word in my search for meaning after hitting rock bottom. Though faith was still a ways away, I was intrigued by the discussions of light and dark from varied perspectives, such as Taoism, Buddhism, Hinduism, and Kabbalah. Over time, I grew more comfortable with who I was in relation to who I believed God was, but still, I remained on the fence about which label to adopt. When I opened the pages of The 72 Names of God to Sharing the Flame, I felt a bit burned: “Darkness can exist only in the light’s absence. Sharing the wisdom of these 72 Names with another soul is akin to lighting a candle in our darkened world, for the knowledge and the letters themselves are the stuff and substance of spiritual Light. The more we share these tools, the more we diminish our own selfish nature and the darkness throughout the world” (95). Once again, I found myself at the precipice, urged to leap off in allegiance with something I didn’t fully understand in order to appease an external force and reclaim inner peace. It was like coming out as gay all over again. Is God really this demanding of creation?
As an only child, I wouldn’t say sharing is one of my strengths; for example, as I developed my belief statements, I hesitated discussing them with others, opting to hold it in. When I did share, I would let it out in a burst, only to get upset when others did not understand or take the initiative to create their own. Yehuda Berg gives me some kindling: “Concentrate on sharing Light with friends, family, and the entire family of humankind. Take this Name with you, out into the real world, and share these tools with others. Ask for the strength to walk the talk” (95). Ok, I’m beginning to see how to start this fire—it’s not about changing others’ perspectives, just sharing—but which Gods’ words are the right words? Do they align with my words? And if I don’t agree with someone else’s idea of which Gods’ words are the right words, won’t it just extinguish the spark? Carl R. Rogers throws me a match via A Way of Being: “In place of the term ‘realness’ I have sometimes used the word ‘congruence.’ By this I mean that when my experiencing of this moment is present in my awareness and when what is present in my awareness is present in my communication, then each of these three levels matches or is congruent. At such moments I am integrated or whole…I have learned, however, that realness, or genuineness, or congruence—whatever term you wish to give it—is a fundamental basis for the best of communication” (15). Perhaps Only Child Syndrome won’t keep me selfishly hovering over the flames afterall, but it seems like I’m still searching for the tinder—my integrity—to really get this fire blazing. The way to find it? You guessed it…write it out.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy sharing; it’s just different for only children. Of course, we get vilified for getting everything we want, and to a certain degree, it’s true: we do have some leveraging power over our parents. If/when we do get the object we desire, there is a need to protect it. Like, I didn’t mind sharing my Power Ranger action figures with others, but when I did, there was risk of an arm snapping off or a Zord to go missing a piece. Besides, my imagination always seemed to take me in a different direction than my friends, and though I enjoyed their input for the scene being set, I preferred to follow my ideas out to their uninterrupted conclusion. After talking to a lot of people about the relationships they had with their siblings growing up (which is my second favorite discussion topic following religion), I realized that Only Child Syndrome isn’t just about the objects we want and often get; it is about the attention we receive and the ways we adjust to it.
OK, I don’t mean to make a broad generalization here about those of you with siblings, but since you’ve probably shared your thoughts about only children at some point already, I will continue…when you have a brother or sister, you are made to compete with one another for your parents’ love. Rivalries are created, and parents and children alike are unable to maneuver around them because it is within our nature to want a close, intimate bond with our creator. In the case of flesh and blood: our parents. Perhaps some parents out there have figured out the precise way of giving multiple children the same amount of attention through child rearing, but that's beside the point. I say this because, as only children, we come to expect a level of attention bestowed upon us. We are, after all, the only creation made by our parents; there must be a surefire way to develop the strong bond we all crave. Well, that’s where it gets tricky…Let’s say you have siblings, and though your parents love you all, they happen to love traveling more. You see them often enough to know they care about you, but you recognize that traveling is their main priority, giving you and your siblings a common enemy. Maybe you band together, and it plays out in some Parent Trap-esque fashion…I don’t know. Regardless, you have your siblings to share the flame with, to find the light in the darkness. Sure, some siblings may not be as communicative or understanding, but at least there is a shared feeling to some degree.
Now, let’s change the script. In this example, the main priority for the parents is the only child, but the common enemy is the truth. Since the focus is on the child, there is inevitably a strong bond established, but over time, the truth begins to weigh on each of them. While silence works to steady the bond, the lack of authentic communication begins to compound, and the child begins to wonder if there is something wrong with their words. There is love, of course, but it doesn’t seem to come from a genuine place…integrity and trust are missing. So the child begins searching for a way to express their developing voice outside the bond; however, without guidance or a willingness to share, becomes lost in a sea of doubt, trapped in a rapid succession of misfires. Sure enough, it all blows up. When the parents’ long-standing silence is broken by rejection, anger, and grief in response to the child’s words, the bond is shattered, leading the child to believe that they must lack integrity because they were condemned by the creators. Without a sibling to lean on, the child shoulders all responsibility for the breach of silence and resumes a life where truth is the common enemy. Where love is conditional. Where sharing only leads to more heartbreak.
That was less of an example and more of a story, I realize, and I don’t do it to point fingers or shame my family. The truth is we all have our secrets, our deeply-held fears, our lingering doubts regardless of how many siblings we have or how much attention our parents gave us. The question is how do we express that truth to others so that we can pass the torch of our word while simultaneously reducing our selfish nature? For a long while, hurt and anger separated me from trying to formulate a response. My soul was in a state of disrepair, and I was too self-centered to see that my lack of communication was causing even more damage to those around me. I didn’t want to see how my submission to the silence caused the greatest heartbreak. Instead, I was intent on changing others to fit my needs; I wanted to control everyone around me like the Power Rangers in my youth so if/when I shared my flame, I wouldn’t experience that emptiness again. But as you’ve seen through this whole journaling process, that feeling followed me everywhere. It wasn’t until I was willing to be vulnerable that I discovered my integrity. Until I was willing to break my silence and share my words. I found the strength within, and it reconnected me to the faith/flame I lost as a child, independent of a particular belief system.
So here we are today. I’m embarrassed sometimes to admit that I’m living at home, to share that I’m not making some outrageous salary or leading some global effort. What I am accomplishing, though, is integrity, or congruence, or genuineness…what have you. I’m finding the words that bring meaning to my life and exploring how this aligns with all else, even God. The best part? I’m doing it among the people I love most: my creators. By sharing in our experiences and breaking the silence, we are establishing the bond I believe all of us always wanted but weren’t sure how to communicate. Are there growing pains? Unresolved tensions? Sure, but those are being shared more effectively as we gather the tinder together to make our eternal love roar. I can be brat at times still, especially when our bonding time doesn’t go as planned, but with my inner flame burning strong, I’m reminded of Carl’s brilliant words of advice: “Because of having less fear of giving or receiving positive feelings, I have become more able to appreciate individuals…One of the most satisfying feelings I know—and also one of the most growth-promoting experiences for the other person—comes from my appreciating this individual in the same way that I appreciate a sunset. People are just as wonderful as sunsets if I can let them be…I don’t try to control a sunset. I watch it with awe as it unfolds” (22). I believe this is what God is really like: an infinite source of love and wisdom that gains strength as we unfold and grow by passing the torch that is our whole self to others. I hope you’ll take this flicker of light with you on your journey!