Page 3. Wanderer

That took place long time ago and nobody knows whether it really was. There was vast Country far overseas. Residents of that Country were industrious, occupied themselves with agriculture, science, and art, built cities, and erected fine temples. Quite often they had to take up arms and defend their lands from raids of neighboring warlike tribes, and when celebrating the victory, stone mouths of numerous Gods’ statues were moistened with a lot of blood of sacrificed captives – in the name of Country’s mighty and prosperity strengthening.

Once poor and ragged Wanderer came to City - the biggest and the most beautiful city of Country. It was told that he had come from afar, from the East, where the radiant image of Sun God, when waking up, was swimming in the ocean waves. But nobody knew that for sure as Wanderer was dumb and answered all the questions with the deep glance and nodding of his head. Not much he had brought with him – some obscure instruments, sacks with herbs and roots – that was all his simple property. Wanderer made his home in the squalid uninhabited hovel not far from the main City square and residents accepted him for his gentle and harmless temper, compassionate soul and kind heart.

Soon it was rumored in City that Wanderer was a skilful healer. People started coming to him with their ailments and there was nobody he refused to help. Would listen carefully, nod his head, and pierce with his sharp glance deeply to the heart– and there he was, busy with grinding some herbs known to him alone, mixing powders and making solutions. However, had he sometimes to get out his strange instruments, and then he took a questioning look at the sick one and his relatives and would get down to business only if he saw trust and consent in their eyes. And people gratefully brought him clothes, fruit and maize cakes substitute for bread.

Years passed. Everybody got accustomed to Wanderer, and, when he went away to gather herbs and roots, it seemed that they missed his silent glance and radiant smile. But once an event happened, that turned the whole measured City life upside down.

That took place during the annual Holiday, component part of which was sporting competitions, where the best sportsmen of all Country gathered. Mere citizens as well as members of distinguished families – up to Sovereign and High Priest- participated in those games. At that ill-fated day Game, quite fierce as it used to be, turned out to be much fiercer than usual. Participants fell again and again, and some of them were brought out from the field because of injuries. Each falling was accompanied by spectaculars’ laughter and jokes concerning awkwardness of a participant, but, when one of participants fell and blood spurted from the dreadful wound, dead silence reigned at the stands. On the ground, lay bleeding the son of City High Priest.

Temple doctors after examining the wounded only lifted their hands in dismay. They were helpless at such wounds. High Priest, beside himself with grief, vainly tried to persuade them, threaten them – nobody wanted to end their life on the Sacrificing Stone in case of bad luck. With each minute life was leaving the dying man. And then, rather to ward off a blow, than with hope of lucky outcome, some of doctors remembered of Wanderer. Guards of High rushed for him faster than wind. Wanderer looked at the gaping wound, strictly glanced over those present and made them a sign to come out. What endless seemed to High hours of waiting! At last the door opened, and Wanderer swaying on his feet went out from the chamber, his face seemed even paler than the wounded. He gave his fathomless look at High, nodded and went away from the temple. High rushed to his son. The miracle took place. Paleness came out from the dying face, and now he slept soundly breathing steady and deeply.

The next morning people from the whole City were gathering at the main square affected by the news – the dumb started speaking. Wanderer stood there turning to the huge crowd, “For twenty years the seal of silence has been closing my mouth firmly. It was commanded to me to roam about the world, serve people and keep silent to make my Word more precious than Sun metal. Look around. Your cities-countries are the same alienate, as your gods are. Each god has his own temple, his own priests, and demands his own sacrifice. Such belief does not unite you, but disunites. As it is above, so it is below. In truth everything is different. God of Sun, God of Wind, God of Rain, God of War, God of Yield and many others – are just different faces of the Single, Great and Almighty God, who is not evil or kind, but wise and fair, as all your cities – are just parts of the single Country, facets of the single crystal.”

People were listening to the muffled voice of Wanderer with bated breath, and his speech was flowing like a smooth calm river as if he had not kept silent for all those years. “Look – even animals do not eat the like not to mention men. Why do you consider that Gods, in whose image and likeness a Man was created, favor your killings and sacrifices? Why do you endow Gods with the basest, the most abominable man features? Why are they deprived of Love – the only really Divine feeling that is the foundation of the whole Living Nature? How can you love your Gods if they fill you with horror and aversion?”

Crowd began to murmur. People marveled at the peculiar speech, but they could not disagree with Wanderer. Meanwhile the armed priests were going at full speed from the Temple to catch the troublemaker.

“Come to your senses, people!” Wanderer’s voice was thundering over the square. “Give up human sacrifices, be merciful to captives! Only the Great Love to each other and the Single God will help you to gain the victory over the time and find immortality! Love God, and He will respond your feelings! I will come back to you!” The last words Wanderer was shouting already captured by the priests who drew him to the Temple trying to stop his mouth.

“Have you invited me to thank for your son’s life-saving?” Wanderer asked looking in High Priest’s eyes.

High’s heart trembled, but his face remained still, - there was not his son’s savior before him, but the man undermining the foundation of the belief that coupled with the fear of bloodthirsty Gods made him even more powerful, than City Governor.

“How can your God of many faces manage everything?” High Priest asked. “Watch Sun and stars, rain and drought, barrenness and yield, war and peace, life and death, and many other things?”

“As it is above, so it is below,” Wanderer answered. “You too not only serve Gods, but also eat, sleep, read, grow children and do many other things.”

“You say that a man does not eat a man, but a man eats meat of animals. And animals for us – are the same as we are for Gods,” screwed up his eyes, High was looking at Wanderer, who sustained the look that would throw any citizen down to the ground.

“A man eats to maintain his body. The Single God does not need such maintaining. There is He in us, in animals, in trees, in stone – in the whole environment. A man stands near to the Single to the extent he realizes himself a part of Him and a part of Him in himself. God cannot eat Himself – He does not need blood sacrifices. He needs as many people as possible wake up a part of Him in them and unite with Him in Great Love and Joy of creative work for common good.”

“Enough,” High Priest stood up. “Anyone who dared say a little part of your speech would end his life on the Sacrifice Stone. But you have saved my son’s life, and I give you a chance: deny your God, accept our belief before all the people – and I will not only save your life, but also will make you the first healer in my Temple.”

Wanderer burst out laughing at these words.

"A God who is renounced ceases to be God. I will gladly accept death if it serves to unite people whose hearts yearn for the One."

“So, you’ve passed sentence on yourself,” High Priest said giving a deep sigh.

The sun had already set, but the square before the Sacrifice Stone, which was closed by the Great Pyramid of Feathered Serpent like a key, was filled with crowd. Many had been touched by Wanderer’s caring hand; many had been warmed by his tender look. “Listen, High Priest!” – Wanderer’s mighty voice was thundering over the square. – “I bless your people, who have been kind to me; I bless your son, who has taken some of my blood, and so – of my belief; I bless you, who have got in thoughts over my words. Sown – will sprout. Live in peace, love each other and remember about the part of the Single in yourself. You are – Gods yourself. So be Them!”

The crowd got excited, but that very moment the stone knife flew up and fell down, ripping Wanderer’s breast open and tearing out the hot, flickering heart in the obligingly offered palms of the stone image. And then a cry burst in the crowd, “Kukulkan!” Dead silence fell. According to the old legend, Kukulkan – Feathered Serpent – was the Great God, who had come from the East and given the grains of Divine Wisdom to citizens’ ancestors. The same legend said that some time Kukulkan would come back to lead his folks to Light and Joy. Many generations dreamt about Feathered Serpent’s returning, about coming of the peace and prosperity era. “Kukulkan, Kukulkan, - a rising tide rolled over the crowd, splashed and spilled over into the single exhalation - KUKULKAN!” However everything was finished and the bloody body was getting cold on the Sacrifice Stone.

“God, that is denied, is not God anymore,” High Priest thought. “Who are you, stranger and who is He – your Single, in front of which even our mighty Gods have to use hands of mere mortals to defend their sham power?”

The next morning people were announced that Wanderer’s healing failed, Gods averted their eyes from him, and High Priest’s son died without regaining his consciousness. Annual Holiday, already darkened by one death, ended up with the funeral ceremony.

In history “may be” does not mean “will be”. And up till now above the rainforest are rising ruined churches of some day Great City that was hurriedly left by its residents, that did not recognize, but denied and tore to pieces its age-old dream, and, when setting sun touches gloomy faces of stone images, it seems that up till now they are stained with blood of the strange man from the East, who has not denied his strange Single God.