NEW IMPORTANT “GOD” DISCOVERED!

                                        Ric Polansky ©

You are right. The World needs another “god” just like it needs another “war”. Ever present religious fervors reverberate throughout the world, “my god is full of love, understanding and truth and if you don’t believe me I will kill you if you too don´t relish his importance!” If you wear a turban this whole process is legitimized by your own holy books and teachers so all the above can be performed with a clear conscious.

 Technologically we are approaching the stars while our psychic cowers and lingers in the caves fearful of the shadows and demons created by the flickering campfire against the rugged walls. 

 No, the world needs not another GOD unless he is different from the rest. And I have found just such an erudite, sympathetic, philanthropic compassionate ONE on the shores of Lake Atilan in distant Guatemala. 

Rumors of this most benevolent being reached my ears even while searching the distant Peten jungle some seven hundred miles away. His miraculous fame and ever growing following makes him a man to be reckoned with and appreciated. You see, he lets you call the shots, make the claims, ask for anything you wish, put curses on your enemies and drink enough booze until you have the courage to beat your wife. HE is none other than the most righteous, pontiff, wizard, high buffalo: Maximon (my proceeding adjectives). The natives (and there are some 35,000 of them in the town of Santiago de Atilan) swear by him. In fact they swear at him, with him or just plain cuss about him or anyone else whenever the mood or drink strikes them. And that’s just what makes him such a special celestial personage. 

So popular has HE become that HE has spawned cousin Gods on some of the nearby islands and villages deep in the valleys. Foreigners that meet “the faith” are instantaneously swept up in adulation (or inebriation) depending on their own penchant for facing the world.

 The basic tenants of his beliefs are simple, those thoughts that you harbor deep in your innermost soul, whether they be bad or good are allowed! The catch is that you must tell Maximon (MA-shee-Mon). Not only him but the entire town’s religious caretakers and elders while prostrating yourself on your knees. Naturally, from such an open meeting your wishes secrets, pledges or grievances will be known. You can bribe HIM, the town brotherhood too, but all that you do is ALWAYS known by the whole village.

  Now one would presume that such a mystifying personage would be at least hidden from public view, sort of a Wizard of Oz blurting out grand commands and pronouncements, but in fact Maximon is a statue (with a beard) who smokes, drinks and is rumored to be a womanizer in the late evenings. Since most of his devotees are pint sized Indians from locals tribes and HE “has a beard” something should be deemed weird to begin with. True Indians do not have facial hair so it would appear that God was modeled after an early conqueror and in fact he was.

 To view him you must either make a twelve hour ride over rutted and impassable roads or take the forty minute launch from Panajal and cross the lake to the Village of Santiago. Once there everyone will wish to take you to HIS house. That being a normal apartment or quarters in the village, (which changes each year to another member of the brotherhood so he can reap the profit from the forty Quetzal (4 Euros) entrance charge. Additional fees are extracted for using photography or sitting too long in his presence.  

Maximon reposes on a chair well dressed, with two or possible three neckties to prove he is a cut above the best and well suited also. A constant cigarette or cigar is usually in his mouth (the ashes being flicked away at just the right moment by a daily attendant of the religious society). You desires must always be paid for in offerings of food, spirits (the drinking kind) and money which too the brotherhood profit from. If you have questions you state them then return the next day for a reply that will be dictated from one of the fraternity that looks after Maximon.

 For the government supported Catholic church even the mention of Maximon sends instant shutters and heart palpitating DT’s through each priest. The phenomenon has been counter reacted by the village church redoing their own ancient Biblical personages into well groomed characters adorned in new threads, a few scarves and darken hair. What in most porrocaries would be known as Saint Nicholas now resembles the king himself, as long as you don’t have “suspicious minds”. 

Maximon is still the “king” to his supporters. Even long after leaving the enchanted town I ponder whether the joke is on me or them?