The Gods of Olintepeque

Swashbuckling into Guatemala more than 400 years ago with soldiers, priests and instructions to Christianize the heathen, Conquistador Pedro de Alvarado took thoughtful note of the fact that much of the rites of the Mayas' animistic religion resembled Roman Catholicism. The Mayas burned candles and incense, venerated relics, held processions. Alvarado's priests seized on the common ground; they gave the local gods the names of saints, the Virgin and Christ, and pushed on to convert other pagans.

The Indians accepted the new gods enthusiastically, but kept the old, and melded the two into a strange religion of their own. Villages had special local deities. Chichicastenango Indians lit candles in the church, then offered candles, liquor and even crosses on a three-foot-high stone figure of the pagan god Pascual-Abaj on a hill behind the church. Santiago Atitlan's favorite was Maximon, a raffish deity with four hats and an uninhibited libido.

The special idol of the village of Olintepeque was "San Pascual," Lord of Crops and Protector of Flocks. To Catholics, San Pascual is a Spanish-born 16th century saint, but the Indians embody him in an image and a bundle of bones kept in Olintepeque. One day last week in the main plaza of that village, the 1,500 inhabitants gathered apprehensively. The influx of foreign Catholic priests that started in 1954 (following repeal of a 19th century ban) was finally bringing Olintepeque its own parish priest. Luis Manresa Formosa, Bishop of nearby Quezaltenango and a no-nonsense defender of the faith, was coming with the departmental Governor to install James Flaherty of New York's Maryknoll order, as the fulltime village priest.

The villagers stirred in the square, worried about their idol; soon the shouts arose: "Down with the catechists! Long Live King San Pascual." Maryknoller Flaherty, who had been a missionary at nearby Sija, drove up, heard the shouts, nervously turned back. Minutes later Bishop Manresa and his party rolled in with six policemen, and the Governor told San Pascual's devotees to make way for the clergy. Emboldened, the mayor said his town did not want Flaherty, the foreign priest; the angry Governor summoned soldiers, who cleared the plaza. Bishop Manresa elevated the Olintepeque church to parish status; then, as villagers threw stones and police fired into the air, he retired, uninjured, leaving the field to worshipers of San Pascual.

But it might well be San Pascual's last victory. Buttressed by Spanish priests who insist on orthodox Catholicism, Guatemala's hierarchy is finally determined to root out paganism and do away with the God of the Hills, the God of the Plains, and even that leering old devil who posed as a saint, Maximon.

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