 Before our time, there were four suns, but every one vanished. They disappeared with the coming of the jaguars, with fierce and raging winds, with ferocious fires and floods. In their wake were left all the creatures of the world, but everything was in darkness.
The gods gathered together at Tectihuacan, there home, to talk about what they might do to save the world. They talked of dawns lighting the early sky. They imagined jeweled dusk's gleaming at day's end. They talked of fresh waters and blossoming plants.
"We need a sun to bring light," the gods said.
"We need a sun to draw water from the earth."
"We need a sun to warm the soil."
"We need a sun to brighten the creatures' spirits."
Yes, they all agreed, a sun was needed. "But who will have the task of lighting the world? And who will offer to serve as the moon, to light the sky when the sun takes its rest?"
All stood quietly, for the gods understood that whomever made this sacrifice would never see the sun. Both would have to change their shape forever. Both would have to step into the flames and be transformed.
One god stood up. Teccucizetcatl, god of the seashells, offered himself. "I am rich and strong. I can survive anything. I want immortal glory, and so it is natural that I should be the one to give myself to the world. I will make a perfect sun, don't you agree?"
"We will need someone else to serve as the moon," said the gods. Once more silence fell until at last a tiny little god stepped forward. His name was Nanahuatzin, although the other gods called him Nana. The gods murmured in surprise when he walked forward. He was disagreeable looking, tiny and pale, dressed in reeds and thorns, his skin rough and scabbed.
"I have little to give," Nana said softly, "but I will sacrifice myself. I do not wish to die, but when I think of the earth and the plants and animals, I am pleased to give my life so that others may live in the light. I want to help those who are not yet born." And so Nanahuatzin was appointed to become the moon.
The two gods began to prepare themselves for the grand sacrifice. They prayed for four days, while the other gods built two tall stone altars, one for the sun and one for the moon.
Teccucizetcatl and Nanahuatzin stepped forward to make their sacrifices. Teccucizetcatl carried with him precious feathers from the quetzalli bird, and brought fine stone flints and needles of red coral. Nanahuatzin had little to offer. He brought along green reeds in bundles of three, and thorns stained with the blood drawn from his sores.
The gods built a roaring fire, a sacred fire.
Just before midnight the gods, ready for sacrifice, appeared before the fire.
The god of the seashells was dressed in fine robes, and wore earrings of turquoise and necklaces of jade. Around his head he wore a crown of shimmering gold.
Next, little Nana stepped forward. He had dressed simply in thin garments made from the bark of trees. He looked tiny and sad standing before the great fire.
The gods heaped more logs up on their fire, and it grew so hot and high it lighted the earth like dawn and roared like thunder. The god of the seashells trembled with fear as he looked at the flames.
"Go on," the gods called to him. "Step into the fire and give yourself to the earth."
Teccucizetcatl stepped forward. His jewels glimmered in the light. Closer he walked, but when he reached the edge of the fire, he cried out "No," and stepped back.
"Go on," the gods chided.
Again he stepped forward. "No, I cannot," he cried again, and once more he stepped backward. "We must have a sun," the gods cried. A third time, Teccucizetcatl stepped forward, but a third time he lost his nerve.
At last the gods turned to Nana. "Jump into the fire," they cried.
Without a moment's hesitation Nana smiled, closed his eyes and leaped into the flames.
At the sight of this sacrifice, Teccucizetcatl felt ashamed. He too closed his eyes and jumped, but he did not leap into the center of the blaze. Instead he jumped into the weakest spot where ash lay thick and the fire simmered.
At that moment an eagle swept down from the skies. He flew into the flames and out again so quickly only the tips of his wings were burned black. When he emerged, he carried in his beak a great ball of burning flame that once had been Nana. Up he flew toward the eastern gates of Tectihuacan. And there he set little Nana who, transformed, took his seat upon the throne of clouds.
At once the world was bathed in Nana's light. The gods cheered and the earth trembled with joy.
Now, as Nana shone down, a jaguar appeared and stepped into the fire, grasping another burning ball of fire between his teeth. When he emerged he was scorched orange and black, and he has been marked like that ever since. The jaguar carried the second flaming globe to sit beside the sun.
This was the god of the seashells, and now he was the moon. But the gods were angry at the cowardice of the moon, and wished him to shine less brightly than the sun.
As the gods stood looking up at the two bright globes, a rabbit, inspired by the light, jumped past, full of spirit. The gods looked at the rabbit, and then at each other and smiled, for they knew what to do. They picked up the rabbit and threw him at the moon to dim its light. When you look, up at the moon even now, you can see the shape of that rabbit on the moon's surface. To this day, Nana shines brightly, once poor and powerless, now glowing magnificently.This site managed by Rudy Pristow.
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