Reason and Faith and Elizabeth Goodweather and Me

In my first novel, Signs in the Blood, Elizabeth visits a church that practices snake-handling.

"Elizabth watched, spellbound, as the snakes were passed from one to another of those who felt the call to handle. She had read that believers were sometimes bitten and that, of these, some died, though many lived to handle again. The library book had quoted a handler from Kentucky: 'Some folks say the snakes is doped up or their fangs is pulled out but I'm here to tell you, buy, this thing is real.'

"This thing is real, she thought, seeing the snakes being handled casually, even roughly. These ordinary people, these farmers, factory hands, mothers and fathers were in a mystical state as genuine as that of any whirling Sudi, any meditating Zen monk awaiting satori, as any person of any faith seeking to attain oneness with God by abandoning reason and trusting to spirit. The danger was real, the snakes were real, and the faith was real. The handlers all seemed to be in a deep ecstasy, beyond disbelief, beyond, doubt, beyond fear."

Elizabeth finds herself being tempted by this show of faith, finds herself wishing she had such certainty. The sexy preacher, it must be said, is a part of the fascination. But in the end, Elizabeth "hesitated, balanced there on the razor's edge between reason and faith. Then, with a feeling of an indefinable loss, she slid back in her seat and looked down. "No," she thought, no, not for me."

                                            

It must have been this scene that the author of a recent email I received had in mind when she said that Elizabeth's struggle with her faith was so raw that she had to wonder if it mirrored my own. And if it did, she hoped that I wouldn't write off God because of the way some people behave in his name.

I love it when I've touched a reader so deeply that she responds. I wrote back, telling her that, yes, like Elizabeth I have chosen reason over faith--any faith--all the while realizing the immense comfort religious folk derive from their sincere belief. And the snake handling is far less off-putting than the unkindness, the cruelty, the hypocrisy that I see in far too many "religious" folks.

We are each on our own journey.

 

Back by Popular Demand ?

No, not Elvis -- but Harice (whom I imagine as looking something like Elvis, but better.)

Harice, the bedroom eyed, snake handling preacher from my first book, Signs in the Blood.

"He was broad shouldered and slim hipped, with a wide, unexpectedly sensual smile that flashed white against the rich tan of his face."

He also had dark hooded eyes and he and Elizabeth were more than a little attracted to one another during the course of that book. And more than a few of my readers have asked me what happened to him. The other night in my writing class, during the break, Sallie presented me with a whole bunch of good reasons why I ought to bring him back.

And I thought, Why not? He does make an appearance in Birdie's forthcoming book, The Day of Small Things, but this Elizabeth book I'm working on now affords a very nice opportunity . . . oh, yes, a very nice opportunity for an interesting complication.

So I'm going to go with this idea. My editor, Herself, may disagree, of course, (some of you remember how she made me get rid of Myrna Lou in the Birdie book.) But I think this will work. And I'm kind of excited about it.

Another thing lots of folks have asked is if I've ever been to a snake handling church. The answer is no. But now, thanks to Mr. Google and You Tube, we can take a quick peek at a service in progress.