Understanding the faith of others isn’t easy, especially when it differs from the familiar faith of those with whom you have associated, such as childhood caretakers, teenage peers, and those embedded in a similar culture. Yet, even if you have never clearly defined any faith, you still have some sense of its general meaning: No one exists without some kind of belief. (Your chair will hold you; your monitor will stay on; your sky won’t fall; your worldview is correct)
For someone outside Guatemala, for example, understanding faith in Maximón would most likely be difficult. Maximón is a combination saint-god-devil whose effigies are variously dressed, sometimes with sunglasses, moved from house to house, paraded during Holy Week, and given gifts that include money and cigars. Yes, cigars. Apparently, Maximón likes to smoke.
This sunglass-wearing, variously and somewhat colorfully dressed, cigar-smoking demigod seems to be a combination of Mayan deity, Christian saint, and mythological gigolo—story goes that he slept with all the women of the village while the men were away. Faith in Maximón outside the Mayan highlands probably lies only in expatriates. If you have never witnessed a procession through the streets of Antigua Guatemala during Holy Week, you are probably thinking local firemen’s parade, Macy’s Day Parade, Rose Bowl Parade, or Olympic Opening Parade. Like those traditions, the Guatemalan parade is also a significant cultural event. Dressed in colorful garb to represent their individual villages, Guatemalans carry glass-enclosed sedan chairs with statues of saints through the streets for hours. That’s their faith in practice.
Now, let’s say a Guatemalan from the highlands, not familiar with American customs, comes to observe Macy’s Day Parade. Big balloon-characters paraded by people in colorful garb slowly walking through the streets for hours. Balloon characters! Could the Guatemalan presume a faith is on display? Could a believer in Maximón understand the relationship New Yorkers have with a balloon Snoopy, a cartoon character? Could one unfamiliar with the opening ceremony of the Olympics understand thousands of people in colorful uniforms parading behind one carrying a torch to start an elevated flame? Are the Guatemalans, the Macy’s Day and Rose Bowl Parades’ participants and viewers, and the Olympian athletes and audience in the stadium somehow expressing something unknowable outside their inner social circles?
So, let’s say you are not Guatemalan, have only recently been introduced to Maximón, and now observe the customs. Would you recognize the “faith” in the practitioners? And what would you presume about their “faith”? If mocking or demeaning is your response, you might be guilty of presumption, definitely in thought, possibly in action, maybe in feeling. You might think that is a strange or inappropriate use of the word here because guilt implies faith of some kind or adherence to a code of ethics and morality. Presumption implies faith everyone can comprehend. Why?
Presumption derives from praesumere, Latin for “to take beforehand.” Presumption implies taking for granted something you already believe or taking for granted your ability to set a standard: Your standard. Isn’t it true that your presumption inhibits your connecting with someone else’s faith and prohibits you from understanding a parade or a procession of colorfully clothed people carrying an effigy through their streets?
Presumption is an extreme form of pride, a know-it-all, almost omniscient frame of reference. It might be what keeps you from understanding another’s faith. It might even be the reason you have the faith you have. No, don’t go there: Even an atheist has a faith. Seems we’re all counted among the “faithful.” Do any of us truly know the nature of others’ faiths? Maximón, Snoopy, Olympic torch, a Nothing, or a cross.
For someone outside Guatemala, for example, understanding faith in Maximón would most likely be difficult. Maximón is a combination saint-god-devil whose effigies are variously dressed, sometimes with sunglasses, moved from house to house, paraded during Holy Week, and given gifts that include money and cigars. Yes, cigars. Apparently, Maximón likes to smoke.
This sunglass-wearing, variously and somewhat colorfully dressed, cigar-smoking demigod seems to be a combination of Mayan deity, Christian saint, and mythological gigolo—story goes that he slept with all the women of the village while the men were away. Faith in Maximón outside the Mayan highlands probably lies only in expatriates. If you have never witnessed a procession through the streets of Antigua Guatemala during Holy Week, you are probably thinking local firemen’s parade, Macy’s Day Parade, Rose Bowl Parade, or Olympic Opening Parade. Like those traditions, the Guatemalan parade is also a significant cultural event. Dressed in colorful garb to represent their individual villages, Guatemalans carry glass-enclosed sedan chairs with statues of saints through the streets for hours. That’s their faith in practice.
Now, let’s say a Guatemalan from the highlands, not familiar with American customs, comes to observe Macy’s Day Parade. Big balloon-characters paraded by people in colorful garb slowly walking through the streets for hours. Balloon characters! Could the Guatemalan presume a faith is on display? Could a believer in Maximón understand the relationship New Yorkers have with a balloon Snoopy, a cartoon character? Could one unfamiliar with the opening ceremony of the Olympics understand thousands of people in colorful uniforms parading behind one carrying a torch to start an elevated flame? Are the Guatemalans, the Macy’s Day and Rose Bowl Parades’ participants and viewers, and the Olympian athletes and audience in the stadium somehow expressing something unknowable outside their inner social circles?
So, let’s say you are not Guatemalan, have only recently been introduced to Maximón, and now observe the customs. Would you recognize the “faith” in the practitioners? And what would you presume about their “faith”? If mocking or demeaning is your response, you might be guilty of presumption, definitely in thought, possibly in action, maybe in feeling. You might think that is a strange or inappropriate use of the word here because guilt implies faith of some kind or adherence to a code of ethics and morality. Presumption implies faith everyone can comprehend. Why?
Presumption derives from praesumere, Latin for “to take beforehand.” Presumption implies taking for granted something you already believe or taking for granted your ability to set a standard: Your standard. Isn’t it true that your presumption inhibits your connecting with someone else’s faith and prohibits you from understanding a parade or a procession of colorfully clothed people carrying an effigy through their streets?
Presumption is an extreme form of pride, a know-it-all, almost omniscient frame of reference. It might be what keeps you from understanding another’s faith. It might even be the reason you have the faith you have. No, don’t go there: Even an atheist has a faith. Seems we’re all counted among the “faithful.” Do any of us truly know the nature of others’ faiths? Maximón, Snoopy, Olympic torch, a Nothing, or a cross.
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