Spirituality of Santiago Atitlán

Of all the villages we visited along the shore of Lake Atitlán, one town jumped out to me as the most “authentic” of the bunch. Authenticity is a tricky (and controversial) concept in contemporary society. It is a word partially based on a static view of history and cultural imposition. Even so, it is impossible to forego the word, as it is deeply entrenched in our lexicon. We were mentally exhausted after spending a few hours in San Pedro and San Juan. Known as a backpacker paradise and an artsy, the two towns are beloved by foreigners. While locals still significantly outnumber foreigners, I felt it was difficult to escape the grind of the tourism economy.

The public boat dock at Santiago Atitlán.

Honestly, our first impression of Santiago Atitlán was not any better. Immediately after getting off the lancha, we were approached by a couple of guides offering their services. We declined their offer out of frustration, and we were soon followed by women selling Mayan textiles. I was disappointed that Santiago appeared even more touristy at first glance. It was just one street leading to the town from the ferry dock. Lining that street are countless stalls selling typical souvenirs and paintings. I was surprised by how many shops there were, considering how few tourists were around. I can’t help wondering whether we came on a quiet day.

Women in traditional Mayan dresses in the market.

Like the other towns on the lake, the architecture of Santiago Atitlán was not particularly charming. The weather was not particularly nice by now, and we decided to take refuge at a local coffee shop. We just needed a little time to recharge and refresh. The one thing Guatemala does very well is excellent coffee. We have had excellent coffee consistently in the country. Unlike chocolates in places like Côte d'Ivoire, most Guatemalans can enjoy one of the country’s best exports.

The Parish Church of Apostle James with twenty steps out front.

In Santiago Atitlán, the most significant structure is the Parish Church of Apostle James. Adjoining the main square, this church has an air of understated majesty that is difficult to describe. According to common legend, the Mayan populations were forewarned by the spirits of the impending incursion by the Spaniards. The locals evocated their sacred altar to safety and preserved as much of their indigenous culture as possible. As expected, the Spanish constructed their church at the old Mayan holy site.

Typical to many Mayan towns, the locals managed to sneak many Mayan symbols into the Catholic church. The most well-known feature of them all is the semi-circular steps up front. There are a total of twenty steps, and it represents twenty days of the Mayan calendar. The church interior is spacious and is illuminated with natural life due to unexpected skylights. For those who care to look, you could spot various indigenous symbols on the altar, such as ears of corn and quetzals.

The nave of the Parish Church of Apostle James.

All the saints are dressed in local Mayan outfits, which are chanaged annually.

On the side of the nave are rows of puppet-sized saints propped against the wall. From my understanding, local parishioners fashion new cloaks for all the saints each year. This year, they are all dressed in mustard-colored tunics and decorated with Mayan scarf or shaws. It is a unique showcase of local textile design. It is just another fusion of Mayan culture with Catholicism. The coexistence between the indigenous culture and national authority is a complicated subject. This is a particularly tricky issue In Santiago Atitlán.

For whatever reason, there are quite a few Spanish language tour groups here during our visit.

From 1960 to 1996, Guatemala was engulfed in a bloody civil war pitting the autocratic national government against the leftist groups supported by the Mayan citizens. Because this was the height of the Cold War, the United States government unwittingly aided the Guatemalan governmental effort to suppress the indigenous population. In the 1980s, the areas surrounding Santiago Atitlán became a battle zone. The residents became caught between the warring sides. Brutal tactics from assassination to abduction were regularly practiced on the people regardless of their political affiliation.

The violence culminated in December 1980 when a few thousand Tz'utujil Mayans gathered here in Santiago Atitlán to demand the cessation of violence. Sadly, the Guatemalan Army opened fire on the unarmed crowd, killing fourteen and wounding two dozen others. The massacre provoked public outcry both domestically and internationally. Bowing to the public pressure, the army withdrew from their bases here. The massacre of 1980 is still commemorated here, with many victims buried right on the main square.

The courtyard of the Parish Church of Apostle James.

One of the most famous victims of the Civil War around Lake Atitlán was an American, Stanley Rother. From Oklahoma City, Rother was a Roman Catholic priest who served in Santiago Atitlán starting in 1968. To better perform his missionary works, he learned Spanish and the Tz’utujil language, an unwritten Mayan language. He was the first person to translate the New Testament into Tz’utujil. Throughout his dozen years in Santiago Atitlán, he became part of the indigenous community and had a front-row seat in witnessing the violence of the Civil War. He saw his prisoner routinely disappear only had their corpse showed up with signs of torture.

Memorial plaque to Rother in Santiago Atitlán. It quotes John 15:13: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

In early 1981, he was notified that his name was on the death list of a right-wing death squad. While the immediate danger kept him away from Guatemala for a few months, he felt uneasy to leave his parishioners behind to face the violence alone. He returned to Santiago Atitlán in time for Easter, fully aware of the danger. In July of that year, a team of assassins broke into the rectory to hunt down Rother. He was killed with two shots in his head. His assassination shocked the Catholic world and the local community.

Unfortunately, his killers were never held responsible. While his body was later transferred back to Oklahoma, the family agreed to have his heart buried inside the Santiago Atitlán’s parish church. Immediately as we entered the church, I noticed a shrine on the right side of the nave dedicated to Stanley Rother. His light complexion stood out from the local population, and the brightly painted statue of him and his paintings were very striking. Lining the shrine are plaques with prayer in the name of Rother, written in English, Spanish, and Tz’utujil.

Ever since his death, there has been a drive to have him canonized. The Vatican opened the case in 2007, and the church officially recognized him as a martyr in 2015. Such determination was the first step toward beatification and sainthood. A year later, Pope Francis declared him a martyr for the faith, making him the first martyr from the United States. In addition, the first American-born priest to receive beatification and the second person to be beautified in the United States. Today, Rother’s memory is alive and well in this community for his love of the Tz’utujil people.

The prayer to Stanley Rother, officially a martyr in the Catholic church.

Honestly, the main reason I insisted on coming to Santiago Atitlán that day was to pay a visit to Maximón, an enigmatic and mischievous saint indigenous to the Mayan population in the Guatemalan highland. Also known as San Simón, he is a guardian protector of the Mayan Tz'utujil people. Everyone seemed to know several versions of who he was. Maximón’s origins are somewhat of a mystery. Some say he was a reincarnation of Rijlaj Mam, the great-grandfather since the beginning of time. Maximón was murdered by Spanish conquistadors. Another story claims that Maximón was a man recruited by local fishermen to protect their families while they were away. Maximón said to have disguised himself as their husband and had sex with all their wives.

Honestly, I can’t comprehend how these two origin stories could coexist, as they have nothing to do with each other and are completely incompatible. The more I read into it, the more confused I am. However, it seems like many agree that the ashes of Maximón were discovered by a local shaman near a tz'atel tree. More than four hundred years ago, a Nawal sculptor carved the trunk of that tree to make a funerary effigy of Maximón. Most scholars believe the cult of Maximón proliferated after the Spanish conquest, and he represents the resilience of the indigenous Mayans against colonial oppression.

Maximón’s status as a saint is a complicated matter. He is a product of folk Catholicism, a synthesis of Catholicism and indigenous mythology. The modern manifestation is thought to embody traits of various historical characters, ranging from Saint Peter, Judas, and Pedro de Alvarado, the first colonial governor of Guatemala. The prevailing persona of Maximón was his mischievous nature. Perhaps because of the legend of sleeping with women, he is known as a saint who embraces common vices, such as alcohol, tobacco, and money. Many attribute his popularity to his dark side because he is regarded as accepting of people of all backgrounds and social statuses. People come to him from far and wide to pray to him and have their wishes granted.

But what made Santiago’s Maximón unique was his “nomadic” lifestyle. You can’t find him in a temple. Instead, he “lives” in a different private home every year. When they say private home, it is somebody’s living room. It is a great honor to host Maximón, and a brotherhood (cofradías) voted each year to see which family would shelter him. For an entire year, the family would keep vigil and guard him 24/7. It also meant opening their home to pilgrims and visitors. During the Holy Week each year, there is a special ceremony to move him in with a new family. I honestly think this might be the coolest diety I have known.

Finding Maximón was an adventure in itself. Many visitors hire a professional guide to take them to Maximón for reassurance. Of course, there was no guide in sight now that we were looking for one. I debated whether it was worth going back down to the dock. According to a few travel bloggers, these guides charge between 150 to 200 GTQ for a quick tour and a visit to Maximón. Alternatively, you could also ask any taxi or tuk-tuk drivers. As I was looking at Google Maps, I noticed. There is a location marked Maximón 2023-24! It seems like we could save some quetzals. Even more amazingly, it was only a five-minute walk from where we were. We decided to give it a try.

According to Google, Maximón is housed deep inside a dense residential neighborhood. While Brian was quite apprehensive of just wandering in a narrow alley, I had no hesitation. I followed Google’s direction into somebody’s courtyard. The confused locals quickly recognized that I was looking for Maximón and pointed out the access was actually at the other side of the block. Well, the second try was the charm. We arrived at a teal-colored house with a decently sized courtyard in the front. Reassuringly, there was a group of western tourists with a local guide. We immediately knew we were at the right place. There were also half a dozen hanging around out front.

We were lucky to catch a ceremony during our visit.

As we were about to enter the house, a local tour guide reminded us that Maximón expects a donation of 5 GQT per person. Luckily, we had the small bill prepared and ready to go. Immediately upon entering, Maximón was standing there. My immediate reaction was just how tiny Maximón is. He is about half the size of an average Guatemalan and looks adorable. He wore traditional Mayan outfits, wide-brim fedora, and colorful bandanas. Best of all, he has a burning cigarette in his mouth. Maximón was flanked by two guardians, sitting quietly observing the coming and going of people. One of their responsibilities is monitoring Maximón’s cigarette consumption. While it may seem odd, it was not different from priests tending the incense burner.

Lucky for us, there was already a ceremony taking by the time we arrived. A Manya shaman accompanies the man seeking prayer. The shaman did most of the talking, and I believe it was all in the Mayan language, not Spanish. The “prayer” felt like a casual conversation with Maximón. All the men sat in chairs at the same eye level as the saint. There was something very personal and sincere about this ceremony. It felt like a youngster seeking favors from a grandfather with the help of an uncle. Of course, I am curious about what kind of request this man sought. From what I read, those who asked for favors from Maximón should provide offerings like cigarettes, alcohol, or cash.

Those who want to pay respect could bring candles or flowers. With so many people inside a relatively tight space, I can’t help feeling we were trespassing in a private home. But my unease quickly dissipated. It was obvious that Maximón’s guardians were used to visitors coming and going. They sat next to Maximón, observing the ceremony quietly. The guys did not proactively ask for our 5 GQT donations. Our presence may be out of place, but we did not feel unwelcome as I initially feared. Maximón’s presence was oddly calming to me. He reminded me of folk deities I grew up with in Taiwan. I could understand why his life-like personality is so intoxicating for his followers.

Our visit to Maximón was short but memorable. I could appreciate how Maximón could complement the often austerity of the Catholic church. It makes Santiago Atitlán a major spiritual center in the highland of Guatemala. Among the dozen towns along Lake Atitlán, Santiago stands out not only for its Mayan roots and spirituality. It may not have the international profile of San Pedro or San Marco among foreign visitors, but this is the one place on Lake Atitlán we found the true joy of purposeful travel.

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