In the opening of Tim Keller’s new book, “Walking with God through Pain and Suffering,” he quotes a writer in The New York Times Magazine during the time of the Beltway Sniper, a fellow who was shooting people at random throughout the Washington, D. C. area.
Ann Patchett wrote:
“We are always looking to make some sort of sense out of murder in order to keep it safely at bay: I do not fit the description; I do not live in that town; I would never have gone to that place, known that person. But what happens when there is no description, no place, nobody? Where do we go to find our peace of mind?
“The fact is, staving off our own death is one of our favorite national pastimes. Whether it’s exercise, checking our cholesterol or having a mammogram, we are always hedging against mortality. Find out what the profile is, and identify the ways in which you do not fit it. But a sniper taking a single clean shot, not into a crowd but through the sight, reminds us horribly of death itself. Despite our best intentions, it is still for the most part, random.
And it is absolutely coming.”
In the early 1990s after we moved to New Orleans, I tried to assure my mother that she should not be concerned about our safety in this part of the metro area. “The murder rate in Jefferson Parish is about the same as in Jasper,” the nearest town of any size to our Alabama farmhouse.