Salvation on Sand Mountain

Finding Faith in Salvation on Sand Mountain
The Big Issue
Salvation on Sand Mountain by Dennis Covington is a work of non-fiction that sets out initially to objectively describe a time and place—the rural South in the early 1990s, specifically the part of the rural South in which snake-handling is practiced by Christian sects. What begins as an objective exercise in describing this peculiar region and its religions practices quickly becomes a personal exercise in reflection and faith. The author becomes so immersed in the world of snake-handling that he himself becomes one. The book thus follows in the genre of the documentary filmmaker Ross McElwee, who pioneered the aesthetic/experiential form of non-fiction filmmaking by setting out to document a time and place but ultimately turning the camera on himself and his own experience of it. Covington does the same in his book, and the end result is that the entire work becomes like a phenomenological study—a journalistic exercise into a fringe religion that takes an unexpectedly personal turn and tone as the author begins to connect more and more with his subject and identify his heritage with its. Covington’s narrative thus does not really have one objective point or purpose: it starts off intending to do one thing—to write in a journalistic fashion on the Church of Jesus with Signs Following, where its preacher had been sentenced to 99 years in prison for forcing his wife to place her arm in a box of rattlesnakes, which promptly bit her. He was convicted of attempted murder. Covington went done to cover the tale. He ended up becoming part of the tale. Instead of staying a disinterested observer, he became interested—and then he became a participant. Ultimately, the point of the book is faith, and Covington’s narrative acts as slow-burn meditation on faith—and doubt—for the two grow simultaneously in Covington, side by side one another, as he voyages into his own background, his own heart, and his own mind.
How Covington Addresses the Main Issue
One could easily chalk the book up as a more staid version of Gonzo journalism—but it isn’t so: Covington’s immersion was authentic because it was prayerful and in earnest—not wacky just for the sake of being wacky—not outlandish just for the sake of being outlandish—not fringe just for the sake of being on the fringe. Covington prayed that he “would be anointed to handle serpents” himself (Covington, 2010, p. 131) because he was, in his own words, “taken in by the handlers…as if I were homeless and they had given me sanctuary from the World. They fed me with the Word and clothed me in the Spirit, and I began to think of them as genuine Christian mystics out of a heritage so revolutionary, deep, and otherworldly that the established church had no alternative but to deny it” (Covington, 2010, pp. 130-131). Covington saw in them a reflection of his own family, his own inner soul seeking some form of expression, some form of truth, some outlet. He saw in the snake-handlers a devout and pious people who truly believed in Christ and felt animated by the Holy Spirit to handle snakes as a kind of testimony of their faith. Indeed, the more he got to know them, the more Covington forgot he was supposed to be reporting on them—not joining them—which is why his editor finally told him, “Step back. You’re too close to your subject” (Covington, 2010, p. 131). Covington basically addresses the issue of snake handling and, ultimately, faith by immersing himself in the world of his subject and participating in their rituals, his faith mirroring theirs in fervency and degree at times.
Assumptions Underlying the Covington’s Thinking
The author definitely succeeded in giving an accurate account of the subject, even though his own background did enter into how he perceived the subject. He also got so close to the subject that his editor asked him to step back from his subject because the problem was that he was not getting any actual writing accomplished. However, because his narrative was experiential, it was necessary for Covington to immerse himself in the subject in this manner: he had to experience it all and write about it in personalized manner. After all, Covington himself became part of the subject. The background of the hill people who came out the hills to testify to their faith in Christ was also his background. Their story was his in a way. His family had descended from those same hill people in the Appalachians. His family had come out of the hills earlier and had moved to the city to take part in the middle class experience—but Covington was interested in seeing what his family had left behind. Raised a Methodist, he had seen first-hand how certain ministers had experienced the Holy Spirit. Brother Jack Dillard, for instance, was described by Covington as his “favorite” preacher in his parents’ Methodist church where he attended services as a boy: “Brother Dillard believed in obeying the Spirit, and he encouraged those grocers and tradesmen to do the same” (Covington, 2010, p. 15). It was the seed planted in him by Brother Dillard and similar preachers that allowed Covington to respond to the snake handlers at the Church of Jesus with Signs Following and become a participant in the services.
How the Book Changed My Perspective
Before reading this book, I had not been familiar with the Church of Jesus with Signs Following and had not known anything about the practice of snake handling. However, I was familiar with the stories and writings of Flannery O’Connor, who is mentioned by the author in the opening of the work. Indeed, a quote from her book Mystery and Manners, which I have read, begins Salvation on Sand Mountain: “This descent into himself will, at the same time, be a descent into his region. It will be a descent through the darkness of the familiar into a world where, like the blind man cured in the gospels, he sees men as if they were trees, but walking” (p. 9). O’Connor represents the peculiar aspect of the Southern Protestant experience—except she was a Roman Catholic writer, who used the Southern Protestant experience to convey some of the truths that she believed as a Catholic—truths about faith, sin, grace, redemption and so on. I always enjoyed O’Connor’s perspective—and coming from that background I found Covington’s approach and experience at the Church of Jesus with Signs Following absolutely fascinating.
Prior to reading the book, I would have dismissed the subject as ridiculous. I have never thought about snake handlers as even being remotely rational—and yet Covington reminded me of how faith can actually be a strong motivator, and through his book I was reminded of the many works of O’Connor—of Wise Blood in particular—in which a young man bent on being an atheist battles the other half of himself that knows sin is real and he is in need of saving. In the end, the boy blinds himself in an act of faith. It is a stunning and convincing act and when I thought of it I suddenly understood the snake handlers and their purpose much better. Their activities are about making an act of faith and justifying themselves in a public way before God. That is the element of the story that I did not expect to realize—but with the perfect context that Covington provided I was able to approach this subject not from my own religious experience but rather from theirs—and I understood it.
References
Covington, D. (2010). Salvation on Sand Mountain. NY: Da Capo Press.