Praise the Lord and pass the rattlesnakes

The Washington Post has a story creating more than a few ripples of derision.

Mack Wolford, a flamboyant Pentecostal pastor from West Virginia whose serpent-handling talents were profiled last November in The Washington Post Magazine, hoped the outdoor service he had planned for Sunday at an isolated state park would be a “homecoming like the old days,” full of folks speaking in tongues, handling snakes and having a “great time.” But it was not the sort of homecoming he foresaw. Instead, Wolford, who turned 44 the previous day, was bitten by a rattlesnake he owned for years. He died late Sunday.

When I ran across the story, I expected to read it with a mixture of bemusement and curiosity. Instead, I was shocked to find how oddly affected I was by this man.

At least some of the impact comes from my Appalachian hillbilly roots. I have heard a few stories about snake handlers, enough to know that they are still around but their numbers are dwindling. I also know that state park where he was holding services when the snake bit him.

I have always been curious about what appealed to these people about handling snakes. I suppose if you are able to handle these critters without getting hurt, it would probably be a spiritual high. Not to mention a huge adrenalin rush. But there has be more to it.

I love to skydive. It is an adrenalin kick, particularly during the minute or so of free-fall. There is also a big spiritual rush from awe over the spectacular scenery and sensory overload. You also do not expect to die even though you know it can happen. In fact, I have seen it happen. Still, you jump to feel alive, not cheat death. The in-flight prayers are overwhelming gratitude for the experience.

While there are some parallels with skydiving, I still cannot quite fathom handling rattlesnakes. Not for the excitement. Not from any validation of your faith that comes from not being bitten. It feels too much like tempting fate, but that is just me.

Whatever Pastor Wolford got out of handling snakes, it must have been very powerful. He witnessed his own father die after being bitten by a snake he was handling. A tragedy like than would certainly have discouraged me from maintaining the tradition. Then again, maybe he did it partly as a homage to his father.

And Wolford was not just handler. He was an evangelist for the practice.

I promised the Lord I’d do everything in my power to keep the faith going,” he said in October. “I spend a lot of time going a lot of places that handle serpents to keep them motivated. I’m trying to get anybody I can get involved.”

The other interesting element was how Wolford interacted with members of the press. He was profiled by the Washington Post and developed a close relationship with the freelance photographer hired for that story.

One of the people present was Lauren Pond, 26, a freelance photographer from the District. She had been photographing serpent handlers in the area for more than a year, including for The Post, and stayed at Wolford’s home in November. 

“He helped me to understand the faith instead of just documenting it,” she said Tuesday. 

“He was one of the most open pastors I’ve ever met. He was a friend and a teacher.”
The family allowed her to stay near Wolford’s side Sunday night, and she’s still recovering from having witnessed the pastor’s agonizing death. “I didn’t see the bite,” she said. “I saw the aftermath.”

The ability to connect with an outsider, much less a big city photographer, is remarkable. Most of the Pentecostals in the Appalachian hills I have come across are suspicious of strangers. I could not imagine them being as warm and open as Wolford and his family. That connection no doubt accounts for the very sympathetic portrayal by the Post in their original story and the tragic follow-up.

By the way, I borrowed the title from Wolford's Facebook post announcing the snake handling service and inviting people to join them. It seems like a fitting tribute to the man. My heart goes out to his family in their time of grief.