“The Sun has come, has risen, the Shining One. How will He fare today? What will He do? Maybe disaster will strike us, His people. O Lord, go and do your noble duty! Bring light to Earth’s Surface!”
Above is my version of one of the traditional Aztec prayers to greet the sun, modeled upon the one recited each morning. (To read the original that inspired this, go HERE and type Tonametl in the “Search in this Book” field. A professional translation of the source prayer is the only hit on page 50, so you can’t miss it.)
Traditionally, a prayer like this was offered right at sunrise, as the Sun, Tonatiuh (literally, “He Goes Forth Shining”), climbed into the sky. It was a daily duty of the priests, and they accompanied their prayer with the beheading of quail, burning copal incense, and possibly autosacrifical bloodletting as well. While the daily offering of quail was generally reserved for the priests and not the general populace, prayer, incense, and autosacrifice were things accessible to all.
The basic structure is simple, and some of its features appear in the longer, more elaborate festival prayers. It has an invocation and a recitation of the god’s name(s), and parallel repetition of phrases. The repetition is a common feature of what was called “lordly speech” in Imperial times, and was a formal style of rhetoric used by nobles and by people addressing the aristocracy. As the Teteo are depicted as the nobility over humans, the same type of formal language is used in prayers addressing them, as all humans would be commoners or macehuales to Them. These techniques combine to show the respect the worshipper has for the gods.
The second half of the prayer consists of contemplation of the future, including the realization that our world is an uncertain, unstable place, and our fortunes could reverse at any time. I wouldn’t be surprised in this context if it is not only a statement of the fragility of mankind, but a subtle plea to Tonatiuh to not be slack in His duties of warming and lighting Tlalticpac (Earth’s Surface). Finally, the prayer closes with a double exhortation to the Teotl to shine with vigor upon the world, the petitioner literally cheering the god on.
If you wish to become more familiar with how the Aztecs composed their prayers and hymns, I recommend visiting my Hymns & Prayers section on the Sacred Texts section of this blog.
“Heed in what manner there is life on earth, in what manner compassion is secured of the Lord of the Near, of the Nigh. It is only the weeper, the sorrower, who is required: he who sighs, he who is anguished. And the devout one who shows preference for, who welcomes, who gives himself wholeheartedly, and who holds vigil for the sweeping, the cleaning, the ordering of things, is the pleasure of our Lord; and he takes care of, he takes charge of the incense ladle, the offering of incense.
In this manner there is entry near, nigh unto the Lord of the Near, of the Nigh, where there is removing of secrets from His lap, from His bosom, and where He recognizes one, shows mercy to one, takes pity upon one, causes one to merit things, gives one things… There He takes, there He recognizes as His friend the one who addresses Him well, the one who prays well to Him…”
(Florentine Codex, Book VI, cap. 17)
Today I will brush on some preliminary thoughts on how the Aztecs may have viewed piety and interaction with the divine. The passage above is a modernized English version of a selection from a huehuetlatolli speech about how to live nobly that was recorded by Sahagun in the sixth volume of the Florentine Codex. This passage is from a noble father to his sons and he’s telling them to cultivate a pious, devout heart, and giving them guidance on how to do so.
“The weeper, the sorrower” is another way of saying “the devout one.” (The Aztecs were very fond of such poetic parallellism in their formal speeches and prayers.) In the context of the next line, where the devout worshipper wholeheartedly attends to the gods, I take this to mean that he “sighs” out of longing for the presence of the deity (here, it’s Tezcatlipoca, “Lord of the Near and the Nigh” is one of His many titles). He’s like a friend or a lover who’s been separated from his dearest companion, and wishes with all his heart for her return. Out of reverence and that longing for the divine, he diligently goes about his sacred duties, such as sweeping the shrine, praying, and burning incense for the gods.
The text goes on to make it clear that this deep reverence and devotion is something that pleases the gods. By expressing genuine reverence, awe, and dare I say, love, for the gods, the gods in turn are moved to respond with mercy, blessings, and wisdom. Thus, humans are brought close to the gods. A bond is formed, and we are united as friends despite our different natures.
This friendship, however, is structured by those same differences in nature and status. The Aztec gods aren’t a bunch of “Buddy Jesus” clones who are doormats for mortals to disrespect or who exist just to hand out gifts. Looking through this speech and others like it, as well as the ancient prayers that have managed to survive to the present day, we can see that the Aztecs would take care to speak to their gods with great respect, just like they would to an important dignitary. In a way, the Teteo were a type of super-nobility who were situated above even the ruler of the Empire. This view of the high status of the gods is further hinted at when we realize that a lot of the types of things that were offered to the gods, like rare feathers and jewels, were the exact same things that vassal states were required to provide to the rulers as tribute. This sensitivity to status can be kind of a hard viewpoint to adjust to for some, since very few of us live in truly aristocratic societies these days. It’s not impossible, however, and being careful to keep it in mind allows for a clearer understanding of what the sources tell us.
That’s all for the moment, and I hope these tentative interpretations help in studying this subject.
The Florentine Codex, Book VI, cap. 17, J.O. Anderson & Charles E. Dibble, ed. & trans., Santa Fe, N. Mexico: School of American Research and the University of Utah, 1950-1969. Modernized paraphrasing mine.