Bless Me, Ultima

by Rudolfo Anaya

“Ah, but boys grow to be men,” Ultima said as she sipped the black, scalding coffee. “Ay, how true,” my mother said and clutched me tightly, “and what a sin it is for a boy to grow into a man—” It was a sin to grow up and be a man. “It is no sin,” my father spoke up, “only a fact of life.” “Ay, but life destroys the pureness God gives—” “It does not destroy,” my father was becoming irritated at having to go to church and listen to a sermon too, “it builds up. Everything he sees and does makes him a man—”

She understood that as I grew I would have to choose to be my mother’s priest or my father’s son.

“Antonio Márez,” I replied. I told her my mother said I should see her, and that my mother sent her regards. She smiled. “Anthony Márez,”

All their lives they had lived with the dreams of their father and mother haunting them, like they haunted me.

He wanted the mercy and faith of the church to be the villagers’ only guiding light.

“It is because good is always stronger than evil. Always remember that, Antonio. The smallest bit of good can stand against all the powers of evil in the world and it will emerge triumphant.

It seemed that the more I knew about people the more I knew about the strange magic hidden in their hearts.

The waters are one, Antonio. I looked into her bright, clear eyes and understood her truth. You have been seeing only parts, she finished, and not looking beyond into the great cycle that binds us all.

He would drown them in clear, blue water. Then we passed the church and I thought about God’s punishment for sinners. He casts them in the burning pit of hell where they burn for eternity.

The soul was lost, unsafe, unsure, suffering—why couldn’t there be a god who would never punish his people, a god who would be forgiving all of the time?

“My father says that the blood of a man thickens with the desire for revenge, and if a man is to be complete again then he must let some of that thick blood flow—”

They were the dumbest kids in school, but they never missed a single day. Hell could freeze over but they would still come marching across the tracks, wrestling, kicking at each other, stomping into the classrooms where they fidgeted nervously all day and made things miserable for their teachers.

“I think if there is a hell it’s just a place where you’re left all alone, with nobody around you. Man, when you’re alone you don’t have to burn, just being by yourself for all of time would be the worst punishment the Old Man could give you—”

was concerned with myself. I knew that eternity lasted forever, and a soul because of one mistake could spend that eternity in hell. The knowledge of this was frightful. I had many dreams in which I saw myself or different people burning in the fires of hell.

Psychological terror of belief in a punishing God

“Understanding comes with life,” he answered, “as a man grows he sees life and death, he is happy and sad, he works, plays, meets people—sometimes it takes a lifetime to acquire understanding, because in the end understanding simply means having a sympathy for people,” he said. “Ultima has sympathy for people, and it is so complete that with it she can touch their souls and cure them—” “That is her magic—” “Ay, and no greater magic can exist,” my father nodded.