Thoughts in a Haystack

Jerry Coyne follows up about the death of Randy "Mack" Wolford, a snake-handing Pentecostal preacher, who was done in by one of his rattlesnakes.

Specifically, he refers to an article in the "Lifestyle" section of The Washington Post: "Why I watched a snake-handling pastor die for his faith" by Lauren Pond, who was on the scene of the fatal bite because she's doing a documentary on snake handling.

Jerry endorses a comment on the article by Grania Spingies of Atheist Ireland:

The nauseating aspect is how much the reporter tries to find something good and positive in this tragedy, because you know, faith is good, and unwavering faith must be even better. Even though she is clearly troubled by the stupid and primitive practices of this church, she feels she has to write positively about deep convictions and how this has helped her "understand" - although she never elaborates what "understanding" she has gleaned from watching a man die an agonizing death while his family stood around sadly.

People respect the mere word "religion" so much that they fall over themselves trying to praise a nonsensical belief that not only led a man cause his own senseless and needless death, but paralyzed his evidently loving family to stand around mutely when they should have been trying to save him.

He didn't die for his faith, he died for his stupidity. There isn't anything praiseworthy about it.

First of all, that's not at all what Pond said:

The practices of the Signs Following faith remain an enigma to many. How can people be foolish enough to interpret Mark 16: 17-18 so literally: to ingest poison, such as strychnine, which Mack also allegedly did at Sunday's ceremony; to handle venomous snakes; and, most incomprehensible of all, not to seek medical treatment if bitten? Because of this reaction, many members of this religious community are hesitant to speak to the media, let alone be photographed.

But Mack was different. He allowed me to see what life was like for a serpent-handler outside church, which helped me better understand the controversial religious practice, and, I think, helped me add nuance to my photographs. His passing, my first vivid encounter with death, was both a personal and professional loss for me.

I decided to attend the worship service Mack was holding at Panther Wildlife Management Area, in the southwestern part of the state, on a whim, thinking that it would be good to see him again, and that I'd make the seven-hour drive back to Washington the following morning. But I haven't returned. I have been staying at a friend's house close to Bluefield, speaking with Mack's family members, and gradually allowing myself to feel some of the raw emotion that has been percolating for days. (Emphasis added)

Clearly, Pond was not saying she found something "good and positive" in Wolford's faith; she is saying she better understood Wolford's humanity, which she hopes was caught in her photographs, and about her own emotions.

Take, on the other hand, the stunt man who jumped from 2399 feet without deploying a parachute into a pile of cardboard boxes. It was every bit or more dangerous as handling a rattlesnake.

And what should we make of the attempts of Pliny the Elder, and generations of volcanologists after him, to get as close to volcanic eruptions as possible?

Don't get me wrong. By my own lights, risking your life for knowledge is far more "understandable" than risking it for fame and glory or for some ... to be kind ... obscure religious belief.

But I know of no way to objectively differentiate between them. People do dangerous things for many reasons. The most we can hope to do is understand them, and those around them, as people.