The Uncommon God...(nietzsche)

After vacantly wandering through many ranges, through cold spaces and barren deserts, Zaratustra wants to descend from the heights of incredulity to see and explain how a God arises, son of man’s imagination. He passes a singular continent, concerning the creation of myths, he shall not waste time with the other continents, like the African or the Asian, for to his perspective, there the Gods are infantile creations. There needn’t be a discourse about the obvious, the recent lies of those crazy people to form a single belief, at the cost of an armed theology.

He takes ownership of his untiring (wing)spread, partly to explore the ‘’worlds navel’’. Now free from the madness of the agnostic savants, he believes he has the capability to comprehend one more human phenomenon. Descending to the speed of the mortals, walking at the same pace of the believing fools, disguised in amongst the crowd of blind, Zaratustra sees himself climbing a mountainous region, lined with bland vegetation and decorated with great works of art, sizable constructions, uncommon, being it the work of humans. Roaming, he carries on as if he were blind, listening to enthralling words of a dazzling God that lives in the apex and only appears once a year to receive sacrifices.

The people seem happy. Up till now nothing differs from their eyes, to the eyes of other adorers of autocratic Gods that will visit the surrounding East.

However, something catches his attention. Wherever he went, in all the religious worlds that he knew, the Gods accepted assorted sacrifices, like silver, gold, meat, and even virgins to serve them for some time. Others accepted male heirs as a burnt offering or sacrificed in atrocious martyrdom. Nevertheless, those people didn’t give anything away, with respect to the nature of their sacrifices. This was in fact a subject that deserved to be comprihended, before arriving at the sacred place. Hindmost, Zaratustra decided to inquire with an old man that followed his slow paces.

- Strenuous Sir, I am new to this sacred ritual, I have already noticed that this God that you adore, lives very far from the dwelling of common men, over on the plane, where we began this path. Many are already tired, other seem to perish under the mighty heat. I have observed your arcane strength. Can you, for my peace of mind, clarify one subject? What do these perseverant people take with them as an offering to their Gods that live in the mountains?

- We don’t take anything material, the supplements we carry are for our own consume. Our offering is our hearts, that is all we need to please them.

Zaratustra doesn’t understand the first time round, what that Christian proverb wanted to say.

-Yes, it seems that here the people have a more advanced form of devotion.

– He says from himself to himself. A somewhat, peculiar way to adore a God. This one seems unattached to material things. This looks new to me.

However, reaching the top of the mountain, Zaratustra sees with stupefied eyes, an unbelievable scene, he who never doubted the crazy limits of faith. Even for him, who never could be shocked with something so bizarre that should make him tremble. This time he is fearless, his body doesn’t react, his blood stops flowing, his hairs stand on end, his vision blurs. He feels a deadly cold; he looks for earth beneath his feet but finds none. Faced with a sun that shined so radiant and majestic, that sun that bothered his slumber on that cold mountain, on the other side of the world in which he now finds himself, there is one God adored by millions of natives from this region, to Zaratustra still unknown.

In a sacred environment prepared for a special occasion, where the nation reached religious ecstasy in an astonishing ritual, Zaratustra sees a ghastly scene, frightening even for a non-believer, an extreme scene even through his perception of a traveller of many worlds. Huge tanks of stone filled with blood, many poles with man hanging off them. Priests drained their victim’s blood, ripped out their hearts, and still pulsating, pointing towards the sun, they offered that uncommon sacrifice.

Zaratustra, pale faced, having a common attitude being a mortal, searches for strength, and asks his journey companion a question:

- What vision from hell is this, my dear Sir, are we late or have we arrived at the wrong place?

- Don’t be perturbed innocent stranger! This here what you see with your unbelieving eyes, is an antique custom, and by what I know, all people started adoring the sun, the moon, or different forms of nature. Why does our sacred ritual bother you so?

- You had told me before my beloved Sir that your people served with only the heart; not I, nor anyone could imagine it was the offering of a literal heart. And how are the victims chosen for such an insane theology?

- Don’t be afflicted, man curious of unknown subjects, there is no injustice in this particular. These men you see being dismembered for the offerings to the great spirits of the skies, are convicted of blood crimes, condemned for committing vile crimes. They are as a matter of fact, men with no possibility of social rehabilitation, men that have committed atrocious crimes, and don’t deserve to live in society. So, they’re used for a Nobel ‘’cause’’. There has already been great progress in this. Before, were used poor men’s children as an offering. So when the parents could not afford to educate more than one child, the next child born after the first-born was taken to the priest for scarification.

- So, this was the progress that valued the people and devalued your God?

- Looking at it from that perspective, yes. All the while I, as I’m the most ancient amongst the people, would say that this actually deals with an evolution, presuming the Gods only exist in the imagination of the inane souls, contrary to the physical world, to the preachers of death, to the Philistine of conscience. Although, the fact that they use adoration to morally cleanse the people, you must agree that I am correct in saying: with the death of the Gods, better shall live the Men.

Zaratustra doesn’t agree or disagree, just awakes from yet another

trip through the world of dreams of the mortals.