The Aztec myth of the unlikeliest sun god - Kay Almere Read
The Aztec myth of the unlikeliest sun god - Kay Almere Read
Aztec myth refers to the traditional stories and beliefs of the
Aztec civilization, which flourished in central Mexico from the 14th to the
16th centuries. These myths explain the creation of the world, the roles of
gods and humans, and the natural phenomena they observed. They were passed down
orally and were deeply intertwined with Aztec religion, rituals, and everyday
life.
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The Unlikeliest Sun God
The Aztec myth of the unlikeliest sun god, as
discussed by Kay Almere Read, revolves around a surprising and inspiring story
of sacrifice and transform ation. This myth is part of Aztec mythology about
the creation of the world and the sun.
In Aztec mythology, Nanahuatl, the weakest and sickliest of the gods, was
chosen for an important task: to create a new world. Four worlds had already
existed, each ruled by its own “Lord Sun,” but all had been destroyed—first by
jaguars, then by winds, then by rains of fire, and finally by floods.
To begin the fifth world, the god Quetzalcoatl, the “Feathered Serpent,”
traveled to the underworld to gather the bones of people from earlier worlds.
He gave his own blood to bring these bones to life and create new humans. But
for these humans to have a sun, one god needed to jump into a great bonfire and
transform into the new sun.
Two gods were chosen for the task: Nanahuatl, selected by the Lords of
Sustenance and Fire, and Tecciztecatl (Tek-SEEZ-tek-aught), chosen by the Lords
of Rain and the Four Quarters. Before the sacrifice, both gods fasted and
offered their blood for four days. Nanahuatl used simple cactus thorns to draw
his blood, while Tecciztecatl used luxurious jade spines and decorated his offerings
with quetzal feathers.
When the time came, the fire blazed high. Tecciztecatl tried to jump in four
times but backed away in fear each time. Then Nanahuatl, covered in chalk and
feathers, stepped forward without hesitation and leaped into the flames. A
fire-blackened eagle carried him into the sky, where other gods cleansed him,
seated him on a throne, and crowned him with a red band, transforming him into
the sun.
Inspired by Nanahuatl, Tecciztecatl finally jumped into the fire, but by
then, the flames had cooled to ashes. A jaguar tried to carry him to the sky
but failed. When Tecciztecatl finally reached the horizon, goddesses dressed
him in rags. Still, he shone as brightly as the sun. To dim his light and show
his lesser bravery, a god threw a rabbit at his face, leaving a mark that made
him the moon.
Even though Nanahuatl became the sun, the world wasn’t complete. For four
days, he stayed still in the sky instead of moving like the suns of earlier
ages. The gods were worried, so they sent Obsidian Hawk to ask what was wrong.
Nanahuatl explained that just as he sacrificed himself to become the sun, he
now needed the other gods to sacrifice their blood to help him move.
At first, the gods were angry and reluctant. Lord Dawn even attacked
Nanahuatl, but Nanahuatl defended himself, turning Lord Dawn into frost. The
gods realized they couldn’t refuse the sun's request since Nanahuatl had
fulfilled his role. Remembering his courage, five gods finally agreed to
sacrifice themselves. Lord Death used an obsidian knife to take their lives,
and Quetzalcoatl reignited the great fire.
With this ultimate sacrifice, the sun began to move across the sky, bringing
life to the fifth age. Nanahuatl, once the weakest god, became the sun,
inspiring the gods and humans alike. The moon, with its rabbit mark, followed
behind, completing the balance of day and night.
Transcript
Nanahuatl, weakest of the Aztec gods, sickly and
covered in pimples,
had been chosen to form a new world. There had
already been four worlds, each set in motion by its own “Lord Sun," and
each, in turn, destroyed:the first by jaguars, the next by winds, the next by
rains of fire, and the fourth by floods.
To establish the Fifth Sun, Lord Quetzalcoatl, the
“Feathered Serpent,” had gone to the underworld and returned with the bones of
earlier people, nourishing them with his own blood to create new life. But for
them to have a world to live in, another god had to leap into the great bonfire
and become the fifth sun.
The Lord of Sustenance and the Lord of Fire had
chosen Nanahuatl for this task, while the Lord of Rain and the Lord of the Four
Quarters had picked their own offering: the proud, rich Tecciztecatl. First,
the chosen ones had to complete a four-day fasting and bloodletting ritual. Nanahuatl
had nothing but cactus thorns with which to bleed himself, and fir branches to
paint with his red offering,but he resolved to try his best.
Meanwhile, Tecciztecatl flaunted his riches, using
magnificent jade spines and branches adorned with iridescent quetzal feathers for
his own blood offering. When four days had passed, the fire was roaring high. Four
times proud Tecciztecatl approached the flames, and four times he pulled back
in fear. Humble Nanahuatl stepped forward. The other gods painted him chalky
white and glued feathers to him. Without hesitation, he threw himself into the
flames. A fire-blackened eagle swooped over the fire, grabbed Nanahuatl and
carried him into the sky. There, Lord and Lady Sustenance bathed him, sat him
on a feathered throne, and wrapped a red band around his head. Inspired by
Nanahuatl,
Tecciztecatl threw himself into what was left of
the fire: cooled ashes.
A jaguar jumped over the fire pit, but couldn’t
carry Tecciztecatl into the sky.
When Tecciztecatl reached the horizon, a band of
goddesses dressed him in rags.
Still, he shined just as brightly as Nanahuatl. But
since he had shown far less bravery and much more pride, one of the gods picked
up a rabbit and tossed it in his face,
dimming his light. But the fifth world still wasn’t
truly established.
Nanahuatl, Lord Sun, shined for four days straight without
moving through the sky like all the previous suns had moved. Back in their
home, Teotihuacan, the gods began to worry. They sent Obsidian Hawk up to ask
what was wrong.
Nanahuatl replied that just as he had sacrificed
himself to become Lord Sun, he now needed the nourishing blood of the other
gods in order to move through the sky.
Enraged at this suggestion, Lord Dawn stepped up
and shot an arrow at Lord Sun.
Lord Sun shot back, and his quetzal-feathered
arrows struck Lord Dawn in the face,
turning him to frost. Before anyone else could act
rashly, the other gods turned to each other to discuss what to do. Of course,
no one wanted to sacrifice themselves,
but nor did anyone want to act like Lord Dawn. Besides,
Nanahuatl had held up his end of the bargain to nourish the earth— how could
they refuse to nourish him in return? They remembered how even the wimpy
Tecciztecatl had eventually managed to emulate Nanahuatl's bravery.
At long last, five other gods agreed to sacrifice
themselves. One by one, Lord Death stabbed them in the heart with an obsidian
knife, offering their bodies to their new Lord Sun. As the last god made the
sacrifice, Lord Quetzalcoatl blew the embers of the great fire back to life, and
the sun began to move through the sky at last,
ushering in the fifth age. Thanks to a pimply
weakling whose fortitude inspired all the other gods, the sun moves along its
daily path, the rabbit-faced moon following in its wake.
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