a story of violent faith

1 down, 24 more to go

I started Under the Banner of Heaven a while ago, but I just finished it.

I LOVE Jon Krakauer. I couldn't put down either Into Thin Air, or Into the Wild (although I always wondered why the titles were so similar -- as a word-person, that kind of annoyed me. Is that weird?). I read those books and part of me wanted to chuck my worldly belongings and hike into nature. Luckily I can appease that part of me by going for a nice walk through my neighborhood instead.

For some reason, I couldn't quite get into Under the Banner of Heaven. The main story, which looks at the murder of a young woman, Brenda Lafferty, and her infant daughter at the hands of her two brothers-in-law, Mormon fundamentalists, is interesting enough, but the history of the Mormon faith gets a little long and convoluted (kind of like this sentence).

One note of interest. It's clear throughout the book that Krakauer doesn't think a lot of organized religion, but he says something really beautiful at the end, in reference to his own agnosticism To quote,

And if I remain in the dark about our purpose here, and the meaning of eternity, I have nevertheless arrived at an understanding of a few more modest truths: Most of us fear death. Most of us yearn to comprehend how we got here, and why -- which is to say most of us ache to know the love of our creator. And we will no doubt feel that ache, most of us, for as long as we happen to be alive.

I'm not an agnostic, I'm a Christian pastor, but I agree with him here. Where we might differ is whether or not that ache will ever be satisfied in a meaningful way. I long to feel the love of my creator. Do I feel it all day, every day? No. Have I felt it before, powerfully? Most definitely. See the post below on the Sunday after Besher's death. My heart felt like it was torn but I also have never felt so strongly like I was being held, not just by the people around me, but by the love of my creator.

At the end of the book, I wondered what inspired Krakauer to write it. Was it these modest truths? What it the ache to know the love of the creator? Was it curiosity? Krakauer says he grew up with Saints and was simultaneously envious and baffled by their certainty of faith -- the book feels like a response to that envy and bafflement.

Bottom line: The history got dull, but I enjoyed the rare moments when Krakauer's heart came through. C.