The Nahua Story of Judas Indigenous Agency and Loci of Meaning

6 The Nahua Story of Judas Indigenous Agency and Loci of Meaning C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n Justyna Olko Any eye wandering through the dense lines of Nahuatl text found among the rich contents of the so-called Codex Indianorum 7, presently held at the John Carter Brown Library in Province, Rhode Island (henceforth JCB-Ind. 7), will be caught by the elegant heading “Ju Das” (figure 6.1). It will lead the reader into an appealing and colorful legend that apparently attracted the attention of an indigenous writer, so much so that he included this exotic story in the book’s diverse materials. This manuscript, which probably dates from the late sixteenth century and was presumably made in Mexico-Tenochtitlan, is a compilation of devotional materials of various kinds, assembled and written by literate native authors (Burkhart 2001, 32–33).1 The Judas story in Nahuatl reveals the challenges and results of a translation process that brought an important component of the Old World’s medieval tradition to an indigenous audience: a medieval and early modern hagiographic bestseller and a pan-European folktale. THE STORY REVEALED TO THE NAHUA AUDIENCE According to the Nahuatl manuscript, Judas was born in Jerusalem, the son of Simon and Cyborea. One night Cyborea dreamed that she was about to conceive an evil son who would bring destruction to the Jewish lineage. Moved by great anxiety, she revealed her dream to Simon, who did not believe it and accused his wife of speaking through the Devil’s mouth. In due time, however, a son was born; in fear DOI: 10.5876/9781607326847.c006 C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n T H E NA H UA S T O R Y O F J U DA S : I N D I G E N O U S AG E N C Y A N D L O C I O F M E A N I N G Figure 6.1. Codex Indianorum 7, 50r. Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library, Brown University, Providence, RI. that the dream might come true, the infant, named Judas, was set adrift at sea inside a wooden chest: Auh yn iquac. Ce yohual cochiya. Inĭ çihuatl Ç̑ tlei quitemiquiya. ynic omotetzanhui Oquilhuin ioquichhui In axcan yohuac. Onictetemic. I nictlacatillia yn oquichpiltontli Cenca tlavelliloc ytech pehua ytech tzinti. Inic pollihuia ȳ totlacamecanyo 151 J U S T Y NA O L KO yn JuDȋyotl Auh yni yoquichhui Oquilhui Tla ximocahua niman hahuel neltocoz In tlein tictemiqui. Ninomati yuhqui yn ynicanmac. Diablo. Inic titlatohua. Oquito yni çivatl Ca nelli yntla oquichtli. nictlacatlilliz Çan nelli. huell nicneltocaz. Ca hamo nechiztlacahuiya yn DiaBlo. ca nelli. huell iuhquiEz. Auh çantepan. amo huecauh. Oquitlacatilli. yn oquichpiltontli Cenca yc omomauhtique. yn imomextin. yhȗ Omononotzaque. In queni mochihuaz yn ipiltzin. yn c̑nĭ contlaçazque Auh nim̑ quapē.tlacalco. Ocontlallique. vell ocontzaque Inic huei hatlan. Ocontlazque. ( JCB-Ind. 7, 50 r-v) One night when this woman was sleeping, she dreamed about something that frightened her; she told her husband: last night I had a dream that I would give birth to a very evil little boy; with him begins the destruction of our lineage, the Jewish entity. Her husband said to her: Please stop, what you have dreamed about cannot be believed at all. It seems to me that you are speaking through [the] Devil’s mouth. The woman said: If I really give birth to a male, truly I will really believe that the Devil was not lying to me, that it truly will be that way. Not long afterward she gave birth to a male child. Both of them were very frightened and took counsel with each other what should be done with their child, where they should cast him. Then they put him in a wooden chest, they closed it well and threw it into the sea. (All translations of the Nahuatl texts cited in this chapter were authored by Justyna Olko.) C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n 152 Wind and waves brought him to the island of Scariot (Escalrioth, from the Spanish Escariote or Iscariote), whence his name. Here the queen of the island, who had no children, discovered the chest with the baby on the seashore. She blessed God for sending her a child and, having sent word throughout the land that she was expecting a baby, she had Judas raised secretly until she could present him as her own. Thus, Judas was brought up in royal fashion as the heir to the kingdom. But not long afterward the queen indeed became pregnant and delivered a son. The two children grew up together, but the wickedness that was part of Judas’s nature began to come to the surface, and he frequently beat and mistreated his brother. In spite of being frequently punished by the queen, he continued to mistreat the true prince until finally it became known that he was not a royal child. Feeling great shame, Judas secretly killed the ruler’s child and fled to Jerusalem, where his nature secured him a place in Pilate’s retinue. One day Pilate, as he looked through a window in his palace, felt an irresistible desire for a piece of fruit growing in a garden nearby, and Judas agreed to procure it for him. Judas was ignorant of the fact that the garden and its fruit were the property of his own father, Simon. He got into fight with his father and killed him. Pilate gave Judas all of Simon’s property and married him to Simon’s wife: T H E NA H UA S T O R Y O F J U DA S : I N D I G E N O U S AG E N C Y A N D L O C I O F M E A N I N G Auh yn iquac. honcan tlachiaya. In pillato. oquinotz yn JuDas. Oquilhui. Cenca niquellehuia yn xocotl y niquitta. nimiquiz ȳtlacanmõ niquaz Auh yn JuDas. ypan tepanitl. niman ypan otlecoc. niman ocallaquito. yn quilla ynic huel quicuiz yn xocotl. quin iquac ypan ohaçîto in ita yn itocan Simon. Cenca yc omavaque yhȗ omomictique Auh yn JuDas. yca tetl. hoquimontlac. yn ita. Inic hŭell oncă hoquimicdi. yhuăn oquicuic. yn xocotl. Oquimacato yn pillato. yhuan hoquilhui. yn queni otemicti Auh yhehuatl. In pillato Oquimacac yn JuDas. yn ixquich yn itlatqui yn Simon. yhuă oquimonamictilli. In içihuauh. yn huel inătzin. y JuDas. ( JCB-Ind. 7, 51v) C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n When Pilate was looking over there [to the garden], he called Judas and said to him: I greatly desire the fruit that I see. I will die if I do not eat it. Judas immediately climbed the wall and entered the garden so that he could pick the fruit. Then his father, named Simon, appeared. They greatly quarreled about it and exchanged blows. Judas threw stones at his father, killing him right there, and he took the fruit. He went to give it to Pilate and told him how he had killed someone. And Pilate himself gave Judas all of Simon’s property and married him to Simon’s wife, who was really the mother of Judas. They lived that way for a long time. But one night when they were lying in their bedchamber, Cyborea, afflicted with great remorse, revealed her story to Judas. She admitted having thrown her baby into the sea and having married Judas at Pilate’s request and against her will, thus acknowledging Judas’s crimes of parricide and incest. Judas resolved to go to Jesus to seek pardon and forgiveness and was accepted as his disciple. He rose high, becoming a steward to Jesus Christ, but he stole repeatedly for his wife and children a tenth of everything his master received. Thus, he became enraged when Mary Magdalene sprinkled precious ointment on Jesus’s head because its value was 300 dinars (here reales). He betrayed Christ to the Jews for 30 pieces of silver. Thereafter, Judas again suffered remorse and, having returned the money, hanged himself from an elder tree: Auh Çatepă. Oquichocti yn itlatlacol Oc ceppa hoquimacato. y Judiome. yn Dineros Imixpan. quicahuato. nim̑ omotelchiuh. Amo ytechtzinco. mochixc̑nĕ yn ttoo ̣ In aço tlaocolliloz. huell ic omotelchiuh. Omopilloto. quahuitl ytech. yn itocan Sauco. yhuan In inepantla. hotzantzayan Oquiz In icuetlaxcol. Ieica. hamo honpa quiçaznequi yn iyollia yn icamac. yheican Ca yc oquimotennamiquilliCa. In icam̑ In too ̣ Jexo ̣ Auh yheica Cenca huei yn itlatlacol ynic oquintlaocolti yn agellotin yhȗ yn tlalticpactlaca. huell ic otemoc yn ichan Diablome yn opa mictlan. ( JCB-Ind. 7, 53r) But later his sin made him weep, and he went to give the money once again to the Jews, he went to lay it before them, and then he cursed himself. He did not have 153 J U S T Y NA O L KO confidence in our Lord that he [ Judas] would be shown mercy; he really detested himself for that. He went to hang himself on a tree called an elder tree, and his middle ripped and his intestines came out because his spirit did not want to leave through his mouth. It was because with it he [had] kissed the mouth of our Lord Jesus Christ. And because his sin was so great, he made angels and people of the earth sad; because of that, he descended to the home of devils, into Hell (Mictlan). REMOTE ORIGINS AND SEARCH FOR THE PROTOT YPE This legendary account of Judas the Betrayer, based on the Greek myth of Oedipus, is found in almost every language and country of medieval Europe. Given that the Gospels offer no insights into the life of Judas before the moment in which he became a disciple of Christ, this part of the life of a controversial character was supplemented by the popular and ancient myth of Oedipus. Therefore, the literary rendering of Judas came to share a large number of features with the Oedipus story: his destiny was revealed before he was born, his parents attempted to change the course of events by throwing the baby into the sea, he was miraculously saved and taken in by a royal family, he murdered his father and took his mother as his wife without being aware of who either of them were, and there was no happy end to the story (Hahn 1980, 227). This narrative might have also been modeled on, or at least influenced by, the Old Testament story of Moses, whose mother, to save her child’s life, set him adrift on the Nile River in a bulrush cradle. Although in the canonical version of the legend Oedipus was abandoned in the mountains, the version according to which he was thrown into the water in a basket or chest appeared in later folktales (Edmunds 2006, 74). In general, tales of incest enjoyed great popularity during the Middle Ages. The story of Oedipus became an inspiration also for medieval accounts of the life of Gregory the Great, recounted in popular legends, poetry, and sermons (Edmunds 2006, 66). The common motifs in these medieval re-adaptations of the life of Oedipus include despair (desperatio) and repentance (poenitentia) as key Christian concepts (Edmunds 2006, 77–78). At the same time, however, the stories emphasize the destructive role of inexorable fate, in the case of Judas set in motion by his wretchedness. The legend of Judas, modeled on the Oedipus story, is known to have circulated in manuscripts as early as the twelfth century, if not earlier, attaining its full development by the early thirteenth century, by the end of which it had begun to be translated into vernacular languages throughout Europe (Baum 1916, 629–30). It has been proposed that medieval versions are popular outgrowths adopted by learned writers because of their presence in popular narratives of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, but the question C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n 154 T H E NA H UA S T O R Y O F J U DA S : I N D I G E N O U S AG E N C Y A N D L O C I O F M E A N I N G C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n remains debatable (Hahn 1980, 226). Regardless of this legend’s exact origin, the two channels of circulation must have been deeply interconnected because the apocryphal story of Judas spread both by means of codified ecclesiastical writings and as a popular legend in the oral tradition. It became part of the literary canon in Jacobus de Voragine’s famous Legenda aurea (Golden Legend), probably completed in 1260, which attained the status of a medieval bestseller (Fleith 1997, 232). Quoting the Historia apocrypha (184, 2) as the source reference, Voragine incorporated the story of Judas in the chapter devoted to Saint Mathias, who replaced Judas as an apostle, and this structure remained a fixed component of the lives of saints up to the second half of the sixteenth century. The popularity of the Golden Legend—and along with it the story of Judas—survived well beyond the Middle Ages, as did the popularity of Judas as the supreme traitor embodying maliciousness, greed, and betrayal (Hahn 1980, 27). The original Golden Legend—the most influential and popular source for the medieval flores sanctorum, the impact of which is often compared to that of a “popular institution” (Aragüés Aldaz 2005, 103)—became an indirect source for the Nahua story of Judas through Spanish translations. Castilian manuscripts from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries based on the Golden Legend represent two distinct traditions: Compilation A (Flos sanctorum) and Compilation B (Aragüés Aldaz 2005, 98). Each initiates an editorial trajectory: the Renaissance flos sanctorum related to Compilation A and the Leyenda de los santos from Compilation B. These editions maintain close genetic and content relationships with the Legenda aurea, in contrast to the post-Tridentine flores sanctorum, such as those by Alonso de Villegas and Pedro de Ribadeneyra, which were purposefully cleansed of the hagiographic influence of Voragine (Aragüés Aldaz 2005, 102). A comparison of the Nahuatl text with editions based on both compilations leaves no doubt that its source was a printed version of the Leyenda de los santos derived from Compilation B. In fact, that tradition reveals many lexical dependencies on the Latin original, and these are also reflected in the Nahuatl manuscript, situating it in the context of a close relationship with the textual content of the original Legenda aurea. The Spanish Leyenda was constantly rewritten and remodeled during successive editions, beginning with the first by Juan de Burgos around 1499 through the last, published in Seville by Alberto de la Barrera in 1579. Unfortunately, there are only six extant copies of the numerous editions of the Leyenda de los santos, corresponding to Burgos 1499/1500, Seville 1520–21, Toledo 1554, Alcalá de Henares 1567, Seville 1568, and Seville 1579 (Aragüés Aldaz 2009). The Nahua story follows very closely the editions between 1554, attested by the copy from the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek in Munich, and 1579, evidenced by the work at the Balliol College Library in Oxford.2 In fact, the evolution of the Leyenda de los santos was not 155 J U S T Y NA O L KO complete when it attained the status of a printed work: on the contrary, the work underwent changes with each new edition. The faithfulness of the Nahuatl text to the Spanish prototype also made it possible to understand fragments when writing errors made the reading uncertain. For example, in the fragment ynic quinamiquia yn inamilliz. ypillato (he shared the way of life of Pilate), the word inemiliz was mistakenly written inamilliz. The close proximity to the Spanish text (concordaba a sus costumbres, “he coincided with his customs/way of living”) makes it possible to eliminate such potential doubts. In fact, the Nahuatl text differs from the 1554–79 editions in only a few minor details. The major difference is the mention of Magdalena’s (Mary Magdalene) pouring of precious oil on the head of Jesus, which is missing in the supposed Spanish prototype. The Leyenda briefly mentions only that Judas was sad because he could not sell the ointment and take his 10 percent cut. It does not mention Mary Magdalene; her role would only be understood by readers who had access to the Gospel of Saint John. The Nahuatl text is more detailed in this respect. One phrase, incomplete in Nahuatl, probably refers to Judas’s practice of always taking 10 percent of everything Jesus received: C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n 156 In iquac, hohaçic yn oncan. momiquilliz yn too ̣ Jexo ̣Cenca hotlaocox. in JuDas tlavelliloc. yehica. In heuatl. ỹ magdallenă ycpactzinco yn too ̣hoquitzetzello. yn cenca tlaçotli pahatl. Cenca hahuiac. Ca miyec ipatiuh. Çann ic Oquitzetzello. Inic MoCehuiz. yn inacayontzin yn too ̣ Auh yhehuatl y tlaçopahatl. aço ypatiuh caxtolpohualli. ŷ tominnes. Omcan quichtequiznequia yn JuDas Cenpohualli. vmmatlactli. quimaxcatiznequi. yc otlaocox. y JuDas. yheica yn tla momaca [ . . . ] ixquich. Quichtequizquia. ( JCB-Ind. 7, 53r) When the time arrived that our Lord Jesus Christ was to die, the wicked Judas became sad because Magdalena sprinkled a very precious and fragrant ointment on the head of our Lord. It was very expensive. The reason she sprinkled it was so the body of our Lord would be refreshed. And the price of the ointment was perhaps 300 reales. From it Judas wanted to steal 30 and keep it for himself. Judas was sad because he would steal everything that he was given. Since the mention in the Leyenda was not quite clear, it is possible that the Nahua author chose to complement it with additional information based on other sources, such as the Gospel of Saint John. The detail regarding Mary Magdalene is present in the editions of the Flos sanctorum con sus etimologías from the late fifteenth century, as well as in the late example of the evolution of Compilation A from 1580, which is otherwise quite different from the Nahuatl text. In fact, a detailed description of the episode of Mary Magdalene anointing the feet of Jesus with a precious T H E NA H UA S T O R Y O F J U DA S : I N D I G E N O U S AG E N C Y A N D L O C I O F M E A N I N G C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n ointment and Judas’s critical reaction is found in two other Nahuatl manuscripts containing the translation of the doctrine and the gospels’ narrative: the Biblioteca Nacional de México, Ms. 1487 (fol. 243), and the Manuscript on Christian Doctrine from the L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University (25v).3 Another difference between the Nahuatl text and the editions of the Leyenda de los santos is the former’s mention of the elder tree (saúco) as the tree on which Judas hanged himself, a detail missing in the Spanish prototype. There are no references to the elder tree in the original Legenda and its Spanish editions; however, according to medieval legends and apocrypha, it was both the Judas tree of destiny and the tree from which the cross of Christ was made. It appears in connection with Judas in such popular works as the famous Travels of Sir John Mandeville (ca. 1357), so the idea must have been widely disseminated across Europe. Interestingly, the elder tree appears in the aforementioned Manuscript on Christian Doctrine, otherwise following and elaborating on the content of the Gospels: xomequauhtitech mopillo, “he hanged himself by the elder tree” (29v). Such details suggest the possibility that at least some Nahuatl devotional texts that appear to have been direct translations of a specific Spanish source were in fact compiled from, or inspired by, more than one specific source, while their indigenous authors did not hesitate to rely on other sources of knowledge, including perhaps their own familiarity with different Spanish texts and textual traditions. EXPLORING THE INTRICACIES OF THE TRANSLATION PROCESS A comparison of the Nahuatl text with the 1554–79 editions of the Leyenda suggests that the native author had an excellent understanding of the Spanish prototype and followed the original very closely, except for some additional details. The strong relationship to the Toledo edition is also confirmed by the presence of Spanish loanwords (traitor, reina, diablo/diablome, adelantăto, presitente, dineros, disçipollo, agellotin), which are the same in the corresponding sections of the two texts. An apparent exception involves the words describing Pilate’s office as aDelantăto. anoçō presitente instead of adelantado mayor in the Spanish prototype. But in fact, the Nahuatl expression appears to be an attempt by the native author to explain the meaning of the term adelantado mayor, “chief governor and justice,” to an indigenous audience, employing the Spanish term presidente, “main executive,” with which that audience could have been more familiar. Another case is that of the term procurador mayor, “attorney general,” figuring in the Spanish Leyenda as the description of an important function Jesus assigned to Judas among the apostles.4 In accordance with the scarce information present in the Gospels and in the 157 J U S T Y NA O L KO apocryphal tradition, this term did not imply legal functions. It referred rather to the duty of procuring resources and food for the apostles, since one of the meanings of the word procurador alluded to economic management and procurement of goods for a specific group. The Spanish word does not appear, however, in the Nahuatl text; the term itlapixcantzin (in lieu of itlapixcatzin, a possessed reverential form of tlapixqui, meaning “caretaker, one who keeps watch, guardian”; el que guarda algo, Molina 2001 [1571], Part 2, 132r) is used instead, implying that the apparently foreign function became identified with a native concept. Another example is that of an apple, manzana, missing in the Nahua terminology, which was simply rendered by the generic term xocotl, “fruit.” Overall, loanwords are not numerous in the Nahuatl narrative. They seem to be used only for words considered untranslatable or that lacked exact counterparts, at least in the context of the story. Some of the foreign terms were apparently not quite clear to the translator. The word isla (island) in the expression Isla de Escarioth was transcribed as Is cante escalrioth. Right after that follows the information that the Judas’s name came from this place, hence he was called escaliotl. Here, the indigenous author took the liberty of reinterpreting a difficult foreign word as a Nahuatl term appropriate for a name, replacing the ending –th with the absolutive –tl. In contrast, he added an explanation of the word reina, the Spanish title of the adoptive mother of Judas, using for this purpose cihuapilli, or “noblewoman”: Auh yn ̑pa Cihuăpilli yn itocan Reina (And a noblewoman there, called queen). Perhaps the most interesting example illustrating efforts toward precise cross-cultural translation is that of ventanas, referring to a window in Pilate’s palace through which he looked, craving the fruit in Simon’s garden. The Nahuatl text says Auh yn iquac Cenmilhuitl Coyonticatca[n]. yn itocan Ventanas. honpa tlachiaya In pillato Auh ychătzinco hotlachix yn simon. Inic oquitac ynquilla (During the day, from the place that is perforated, called a window [literally, windows], Pilate was gazing out; then he looked at the house of Simon so that he saw his garden). To express the concept of window, the author uses the verb coyoni, meaning “to perforate, to make a hole,” adding the ligature ti and the combining form, catca, of the preteriteas-present auxiliary verb cah, followed by the locative n. Only after this description does he quote the Spanish name as if it were not completely understandable for the native audience. Interestingly, Spanish editions of the Leyenda differ in this fragment of the story. In the editions from 1554 (Toledo) and 1567 (Alcalá de Henares) we find the archaic term finiestra, replaced in later editions by ventana. It would perhaps be more logical to assume that the Nahua translator followed the version in which ventana is used, but, if so, why did he resort to the plural form ventanas, not justified by the context? Indeed, it was common among Nahua speakers in the first phase of contact in the sixteenth century to identify plural nouns as their singular C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n 158 T H E NA H UA S T O R Y O F J U DA S : I N D I G E N O U S AG E N C Y A N D L O C I O F M E A N I N G C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n forms (e.g., zapatox for one zapato, “shoe”). Thus, it is likely that the translator “corrected” the word ventana with the more familiar form ventanas, which he knew in its plural form, although his intention was to name a single object. However, it is also possible that facing the unfamiliar word finiestra from the Toledo edition, he tried to explain it with a descriptive term in Nahuatl and the term ventanas. All these nuances of the translation process and its results leave no room for doubt about the authorship of the Nahuatl version: the story of Judas deriving from the Golden Legend was retold and written by an indigenous scribe. Additional confirmation comes from the orthography of the text, which clearly betrays a native author unfamiliar with standardized writing conventions. The same terms are often written in different ways, including loanwords (pillato - villãto); often n is added in a syllable-final position, probably in accordance with the actual characteristics of pronunciation (tocanyontilloc [tocayotiloc], tlatovanni [tlatoani], quiCanhuãya [quicahuaya]); “h,” usually reserved for a glottal stop or glottal fricative, is often added before an incipient “o,” while the replacement of alveolar consonants “t” for “d” and “d” for “t” is not limited to Spanish loanwords but is also applied to some native words (presitente for “presidente”; hoquimicdi for “oquimicti”). In general, the Spanish impact is relatively light, especially considering that the Nahuatl text was intended to be a faithful translation of the Castilian prototype. There is no obvious impact in terms of grammatical or lexical or lexico-structural calques, including modifications of native grammatical constructions or meanings of native verbs to more closely follow the Spanish original, as was often the case in official translations of ecclesiastical texts coauthored and supervised by friars. For example, although one of the common calques entering Nahuatl toward the end of the sixteenth century was the use of the verb piya as an equivalent of the Spanish tener, “to have,” the author of the story of Judas employs entirely traditional constructions in places where tener is used in the original: ayac iconetzin (literally no one [was] her child) for no tenía hijo ni hija ([she] did not have a son or daughter) or yheica Ie onCatqui. In ipiltzin (literally because already existed his son) for porque tenía hijo (because [he] he had a son). Thus, the genetic affiliation of the story, its language, and its orthography fit well within the second half of the sixteenth century. Furthermore, the fact that the manuscript containing the Judas story also includes a 1572 copy of indulgences granted to members of a confraternity (Burkhart 2001, 32–33) suggests that it was written sometime between the 1570s and the 1580s. LOCI OF MEANING Since the Nahua narrative of Judas faithfully followed the European model(s), it could be assumed that the resulting translation left little space for native 159 J U S T Y NA O L KO (re)interpretation; however, specific elements of the original colorful story provided the native audience with special spaces for meaning, places where apparently neutral elements could potentially open culturally and religiously significant and even semantically ambiguous spaces of understanding. This happens when certain constituents or features of a text in the translation process make it not only culturally relevant but also relevant across cultures. Perhaps the most interesting thing from this point of view is the final episode of the death of the traitor. As we have seen, in this version Judas hanged himself on an elder tree, and his soul did not want to leave through his mouth because with it he had kissed Jesus Christ. However, it did leave through his intestines because his body broke in half and his bowels gushed out. The text goes on to say that because of the magnitude of Judas’s sin, both angels and people became very sad, and for this reason his soul descended into Hell, the house of devils. Several elements could have been potentially of special interest for indigenous readers: the hanging, the bursting of the stomach, the departure of the soul, and a possible discrepancy with regard to the European prototype concerning the destination of the traitor’s soul. According to the 1554 edition of the Leyenda, the soul of Judas caused sorrow among angels and humans, so he had to be isolated from them and remain in the company of devils in the air. According to Nahua beliefs, staying in the air was not an option for an afterlife destiny; taking into account the detail that Judas’s soul was accompanied by devils, the indigenous writer might have concluded that his soul must have ended up in Hell, understood as the formerly preconquest and now Christianized term Mictlan, the underworld location of the dead. A similar destiny for the traitor’s soul—complementing the information missing in the Gospels—was foreseen in the Nahuatl: Auh çatenpa in ipanpa in ichtequiliztli Omopillo Omomecani niman otlamelauh in cemicac tlatlalloyan in onpa mictlã, “And then because of the theft he hanged himself, he hanged himself with a rope, he went straight to the place of eternal fire, there to Hell [Mictlan]” (Manuscript on Christian Doctrine, 28r–v). However, it is also possible that this difference is simply a result of the fact that the prototype was a later version published between the 1568 and 1579 Seville editions, in which the text states only that the soul “stayed with the devils.” The reference to the soul, which was expected to leave the body through the mouth, fully follows the medieval Christian tradition in which the soul, good or bad, always abandoned the body in this way to face its destiny. According to the Golden Legend, the evil soul of Judas was unable to leave through the mouth, which had kissed Jesus, while his intestines had to come out through an opening in his body and spill out because his betrayal came from within. As I will argue, on certain levels this belief corresponds closely with preconquest Nahua concepts, creating a C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n 160 T H E NA H UA S T O R Y O F J U DA S : I N D I G E N O U S AG E N C Y A N D L O C I O F M E A N I N G C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n locus for meaning and (re)interpretation for indigenous readers. First, when referring to Judas’s soul, the native author did not use the Spanish term ánima or the common doublet in -yoliya in -anima but the Nahuatl noun -yoliya (an inalienable instrumentive noun) alone. The loanword anima or the doublet in -yoliya in -anima clearly prevails in mundane Nahuatl sources such as wills; however, in religious texts, including both ecclesiastical texts created or supervised by friars and possible texts of native authorship, all combinations are common, including -yoliya alone (e.g., Ms. 1487, fols. 28, 81, 87–88; Dominican Order Doctrina 1548 [1944], fols. 26r, 29v, 48r, 51r, 63v, 102r), usually in reference to Christian contexts and the afterlife destiny according to Christian belief. However, the doublet was sometimes used in reference to preconquest times (though already from a Christian perspective), as in the Crónica mexicayotl (1975, 12) referring to the cult of the patron god Huitzilopochtli: “and for this reason numerous souls [teyolia, teanimas] were being lost; he was taking them to Mictlan/Hell” (ynic yehica in yxpolihuia in izquitzonxiquipilli in teyolia in teanimazhuan in quinhuicaya ompa Mictlan). According to a widely accepted reconstruction of pre-Hispanic beliefs, -yoliya was a spiritual entity located in the heart and identified after the conquest with the Christian ánima; after death it left the body and traveled to Mictlan (López Austin 1980, 252–54). However, whereas it is certain that the watery underworld, or Mictlan, was one of the destinies after death in the preconquest worldview, there are serious doubts regarding the existence of -yoliya as a preconquest concept. As I have argued elsewhere (Olko and Madajczak 2015), the source evidence for -yoliya as a pre-Hispanic notion is more than problematic, whereas the term itself turns out to be an example of a very common colonial neologism coined to express new concepts. It is an inalienable instrumentive noun, “one’s instrument/means for living,” coming from the verb yoli (Molina 2001, Part 2, 39v: vivir, resucitar, avivar, o empollarse el huevo, “to live; to resurrect; to come to life; for an egg to hatch”), whose unpossessed form would be yoliloni, an “instrument for living.” The root -yol is closely linked to internal life, emotions, and thinking; but its forms –yol/-yollo are incorporated into numerous verbs, and other words should not be identified or confused with the meaning of -yoliya. In fact, such instrumentive nouns are not uncommon, both for apparently preconquest terms (e.g., itecuaiya, “its mouth, its means of devouring people; its organ for eating people”) and colonial creations (e.g., cuacuahueh ielimiquiya, “an instrument to till the land of the horned ones, i.e., oxen,” “plough”; Molina 2001, Part 2, 85v). Moreover, instrumentive nouns, both unpossessed and possessed with -ya, were a common resource for the creation of neologisms, along with active action nouns (-liztli) and agentives; sometimes they form part of common doublets referring to new concepts, composed of a loanword and a neologism. An example 161 J U S T Y NA O L KO is ymecanelpiayatzin ycordontzin (lit. “his instrument for binding oneself with a rope”; Chimalpahin 2006, 240), referring to a rope belt worn by Franciscans, in which the coined term -mecanelpiaya(tzin) is the same kind of possessed instrumentive noun as -yoliya. Does this mean that the part of the story referring to the soul and its leaving through the mouth was incomprehensible or meaningless to the Nahua audience? Just the opposite. In a well-confirmed native tradition across Mesoamerica, including Aztec-Nahua culture, breath was believed to contain and transmit fragments of one’s vital essences; hence the mouth was identified as its natural, but not its only, passageway. Greenstone beads were placed in the mouth of the deceased to replace the spirit. Thus, spiritual components could have been encapsulated in a precious greenstone placed in the mouth, preserving it or its fragments after bodily incineration (López Austin 1980, 374; Furst 1995, 42–47, 54–55). Similar concepts linking breath, soul, and jade jewels are attested among the Classic Maya. Both they and the Nahuas perceived speech as an emanation of vital essences (Houston, Stuart, and Taube 2006, 142–54). However, I do not believe -yoliya was the fundamental term for “soul”; rather, it was –tonal,5 the most widely attested Nahua concept for spirit and life force associated with solar heat and destiny, which continues to be used among modern Nahuas—as documented, for example, by Alfredo López Austin (1980, 223–51). Probably the earliest Nahua-Spanish dictionary is the Vocabulario trilingüe, a manuscript copy of Nebrija’s Dictionarium ex Hispaniensi in Latinum sermonem in the Newberry Library in Chicago, Illinois, in all likelihood prepared by an indigenous author for use by speakers of Nahuatl (Clayton 2003). Significantly, the term -yoliya does not appear a single time in this important work; “soul” (alma por la qual biuimos. anima, 10v) is rendered as tonalli. The contemporary Nahuas believe -tonal is especially present in the blood, as also attested in preconquest beliefs. As a vulnerable life force, it may suffer damage as a result of fright and excessive cooling. According to the modern Nahuas of Xolotla and Tlacotepec, one of the symptoms of this condition is paleness, as if the blood had abandoned the body (Echeverría García 2014, 196). Its disappearance indicates death; modern Nahuas from Tlaxcalan communities believe it can be strengthened and re-accumulated by the offering of substances known since pre-Hispanic times to have the power to attract tonalli, such as fragrant flowers and tobacco; also, as in preconquest times, -tonal is a carrier of personal identity and can be addressed with the name of its owner. Having said that, let us examine another interesting term present in the narrative about the death of Judas. As we have seen, the Nahua text says In inepantla. hotzantzayan Oquiz In icuetlaxcol (his middle ripped and his intestines came out). In the description of the death of Judas in the above-mentioned Manuscript C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n 162 T H E NA H UA S T O R Y O F J U DA S : I N D I G E N O U S AG E N C Y A N D L O C I O F M E A N I N G C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n on Christian Doctrine, we also find a similar reference to his death—significantly exceeding the scarce information provided by the Gospels in this respect—that niman xomecuauhtitech mopillo niman õpa miqui onpa valhvez mocuitlatzayantivez, “then he hanged himself on the elder tree; then as he dies there, he falls headlong and his gut splits open” (29v). The key term employed in this context is cuitlatzayani, meaning “for [one’s] gut to split” (reventar por las entrañas, Molina 2001, Part 1, 102r). Whereas the source of this detail of Judas’s death in the JCB manuscript is no doubt the apocryphal Leyenda, a possible origin of the description in the second Nahuatl text could have been the Bible itself. The death of Judas is described in the Bible in two places: Matthew 27:3–8, where the reference is limited to suicide by hanging, and Acts 1:16–19, which states that “falling headlong, he burst open in the middle and all his bowels gushed out.” However, the choice of this term in both accounts about Judas could have carried much more meaning for the Nahua authors because it can be argued that cuitlatzayani is a native concept linked to fright and spirit (tonalli) loss. Molina reports an expression iuhquin cuitlatzayani noyollo, “to have a great fright or to wet oneself from fear” (tener gran temor o mearse de miedo, Molina 2001, Part 2, 43v), literally meaning “my heart splits like my intestines.” As mentioned, in the Nahua tradition the concept of fright is inherently linked to the loss of tonalli and, subsequently, to disease or death. In fact, fright is conceptualized as a blow of coldness provoking thermal/spiritual disequilibrium in an individual whose tonalli is weakened and abandons the body, though probably never entirely if a person remains alive (Echeverría García 2014, 185). Tonalli left the body after its death, so the splitting of Judas’s body leading to the expulsion of his bowels was a natural way for his spirit to leave. In fact, the word for constipation is cuitlatexcalhuatzaliztli, which literally means “drying of the excremental oven” (Molina 2001, Part 2, 27v). One’s bowels were considered a place of heat accumulation, which makes it justified to suspect that their severing led to the loss of heat. The loss of heat, in turn, is identified with tonalli loss, usually because of fright or trauma (tonalmauhtiliztli; Spanish, susto). This is normally associated, in accordance with common physiological reactions, with different symptoms affecting the head, on the one hand, and, on the other, with loss of appetite, acute intestinal problems, and diarrhea (Hernández 1959, Part 2, 283; Echeverría García 2014, 204; Gonzales 2012, 203), the latter probably linked to the accumulation of water and coldness. Many of the medicinal plants used to cure the effects of susto were specifically known to be applied to cure intestinal problems and stop diarrhea (Echeverría García 2014, 197). Interestingly, the same verb, cuitlatzayani, along with its synonym, cuitlaxini, from xini (caerse o desbaratarse la pared, o sierra, “for a wall, or a mountain range, to fall or crumble,” Molina 2001, Part 2, 159r), appears in one of the sermons by 163 J U S T Y NA O L KO Juan Bautista Viseo as a clear reference to a sinner who, refusing to go to confession beforehand, attempted to receive communion, although a priest warned him of the consequences.6 God punished him: his throat and esophagus burst, he died, and his soul was taken to Mictlan: Yece in ayamo contolohua in sactissimo Sacramento ocuitlatzayan, ocuitlaxitin in icocouh, in itlatolhuaz in tlatlahcouani yuan çan hualtzicuhno inic onmic auh oquihuicaque in Tlatlacatecolo in ia niman in vmpa Mictlan. (Bautista Viseo 1606, 700) But before he could receive the Holy Sacrament, the sinner’s throat and esophagus ripped open, as if they were bursting bowels; expelling his last breath, he died, and the devils took him immediately there to Hell. Why does the bursting of part of the body appear as a Christian punishment for sin? In this case, the focus of the text is apparently on the ripping of the throat and the esophagus because these parts of the sinner’s body would have profaned the Host. The tortures of Hell represented in the sixteenth-century open chapels in the convent of Actopan and Santa Maria Xoxoteco indeed include disembowelment; severed heads and other body parts appear hanging from a rack made of wooden poles (Klein 1990, 90). However, it can be argued that the idea of disembowelment or opening the stomach goes back to preconquest times, where it was associated with certain forms of ritual sacrifice and possible punishment of transgression. On the one hand, as explicitly confirmed by pre-Hispanic iconographic sources from both the Maya area and Central Mexico, in the preconquest world disembowelment was a form of sacrifice, alluding to the hunting of animals. Human sacrificial victims were treated as if they had been captured in ritual hunting, both activities symbolically related (e.g., Taube 1988). On the other hand, it could be applied as a form of punishment: iconographic sources suggest that, like hunting, it was closely associated with ropes, conveying the symbolism of enforcing the social order (Klein 1990, 81–84). In Late Postclassic Mesoamerica, disembowelment and strangulation appear to have been commonly reserved for those who committed sexual transgressions (e.g., Olivier 1992, 56; Klein 1990, 85; Sahagún 2012, Book 4, 93). If this is indeed the case, Judas’s punishment for committing adultery with his mother, which consisted of death by hanging with a rope followed by disembowelment, is also completely in line with Nahua tradition. As amply documented by Louise Burkhart, in Nahua culture, impurity and transgression were conceptualized as tlazolli, “filth,” that not only attached itself to the corrupt (tlazolmiquiztli, “filth death” affected in the first instance those who transgressed) but was also an active force in its own right, constituting a serious danger to everyone (Burkhart 1989, 87–129). An enlightening example is that of C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n 164 T H E NA H UA S T O R Y O F J U DA S : I N D I G E N O U S AG E N C Y A N D L O C I O F M E A N I N G C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n the sorcerer Tlacahuepan, a manifestation of the god Tezcatlipoca and the protagonist of the dramatic tale of the fall of the preconquest city-state Tollan, later known as Tula. His dead body contained such a huge concentration of tlazolli that its stench caused people to die (Burkhart 1989, 95). According to the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 2012, Book 3, 27–28), people stoned him to death, but when they tried to drag his body with ropes, it was so heavy that the ropes broke and people fell on each other and many of them died. Interestingly, this scene is represented in the Codex Vaticanus Ríos (8v, figure 6.2), where the dead sorcerer, tied and dragged by ropes, is partly covered by intestines gushing out from his naked body (see also Klein 1990, 84). Whereas the image of bowels might seem reminiscent of the traditional sign for stone in the Aztec writing tradition7 and could indeed be a copyist’s mistaken interpretation, additional hints confirm the identification of this pictorial detail as intestines. According to the Nahuatl Leyenda de los Soles (fol. 82), after killing the malevolent personage, the inhabitants of Tollan opened his stomach and looked into it, only to find that the corpse “contained no heart, no bowels, no blood” (ye ontlachia in itic atle iyollo atle icuitlaxcol atle iyezo). This detail seems to allude to ritual disembowelment applied to a polluted person who posed a public threat. It is meaningful that the gloss referring to the dead body of the sorcerer in the Codex Vaticanus Ríos reads macaxoquemiqui, “he, a frightening person, dies.” This telling detail provides yet another argument for the symbolic connection among corruption or filth, disembowelment, fright (and spirit loss), and punishment. Interestingly, both Nahuatl texts—the Florentine Codex and the Leyenda de los Soles—mention that the Toltec people who were dealing with the polluted corpse had died because of falling down, a common cause of suffering fright and tonalli loss, as attested in colonial and modern sources (e.g., Echeverría García 2014, 189). Judas, no doubt a popular figure in Nahua writings, is succinctly and abundantly characterized by their indigenous authors as tlahuelliloc (evil; Cod. Ind. 7, 49r), tlaelehuiani (greedy), ichtequini (thief ), tecocoliani (detester), hoquitlacavi in tlacatecollol (corrupted by the devil), ichtecapol (miserable big thief ), or xicoani (deceiver) (Manuscript on Christian Doctrine, 25r–v, 26r). The embodiment of corruption, evil, betrayal, and greed, Judas also committed adultery and parricide. It would be no surprise to indigenous readers of the story that he suffered death by strangulation, his body was split open, and his bowels gushed out. It was, in fact, a very appropriate fate and punishment for a person whose corrupt conduct led him to a “dirty death.” No wonder that his wicked soul, leaving through his open bowels, constituted a serious danger for humans and inhabitants of the sky alike and that as a source of pollution and fright it needed to be removed from their presence and sent straight to Hell. 165 J U S T Y NA O L KO C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n 166 Figure 6.2. Dead sorcerer in Toltec Tula. Codex Vaticanus Ríos, 8v, redrawn by Joanna Maryniak. CONCLUSION: TRACING INDIGENOUS AGENCY Why did a Nahua author choose the story of Judas from an extensive Leyenda de los santos and incorporate it into a heterogeneous manuscript created entirely for indigenous use? I believe it was not just because Judas stood out among numerous exemplary lives of European saints as an evil character in Christianity or only because this was a particularly colorful account of a popular apocryphal story. As I have shown, crucial details in this narrative provided significant loci of meaning for the native audience, giving it a much more profound cultural rationale and legitimacy. Further, it was a story whose performativity cannot be overestimated: it has been periodically reenacted during Holy Week, both in Spain and in Mexico, where this custom continues to the present day. As part of this ancient tradition, a figure of Judas is burned after it is paraded in a procession and mocked by adults and children, who may also perform songs alluding to the old myth of Judas-Oedipus who killed his father (e.g., Calle Calle 2002). Research on the translation, interpretation, and transformation of the Christian tradition in Nahuatl writings has revealed many ways in which Christian concepts and discourse became indigenous, as they are transformed, enhanced, and even corrected to increase their appeal and understandability for a Nahua audience. These prolific writings have turned out to be not only culturally specific but also culturally engaged transpositions of diverse features and dimensions of the Catholic tradition T H E NA H UA S T O R Y O F J U DA S : I N D I G E N O U S AG E N C Y A N D L O C I O F M E A N I N G C N ont ot ri fo bu r d to is r co tri p bu y tio n (e.g., Burkhart 1989, 1995, 2001; Christensen 2010). Yet looking at this enormous enterprise of cross-cultural transfer, we are not merely faced with a dilemma regarding which Christian concepts became “lost in translation.” Rather, the question is, what was “gained in translation”? There are different possible approaches for studying indigenous agency in colonial reality and in different aspects of cultural, social, religious, and economic life. I propose that a specific form of agency is manifest in the processes of cross-cultural translation and the creation of proper devotional resources for an indigenous audience. While there has been much discussion on the overt and covert aspects of agency present in different socially constituted languages, linked to its performative and encoding functions (e.g., Duranti 2001, 266–75), more subtle forms of agency are indeed perceptible in the creation of indigenous texts that engage in specific forms of dialogue with Christianity. They reveal a degree of critical attitude toward available resources and an awareness both of culture-specific messages and of the potential for engaging with their target audience. As I have argued, the indigenous author of the Nahuatl story of Judas took the liberty to explain terms that might not have been entirely clear to his audience. Whenever he considered the information provided by a European source insufficient, he included material from other texts, as in the case of the episode involving Mary Magdalene spilling precious ointment. He also carefully conveyed meaningful details that constituted loci of meaning in the context of his own tradition. The same strategies are found in other Nahua texts featuring Judas as an important protagonist, which provide additional explanations that go beyond canonical sources. For example, as to the aforementioned episode with Mary Magdalene, an author clarifies that Judas was a greedy and hateful thief, and “because of it he sold our Lord, because he loved gold very much” (Ms. 1487, 26r). In contrast, in the Manuscript on Christian Doctrine (fol. 297), while relating the famous kiss of Judas, the native author specified that he “kissed the hands and feet of our Lord Jesus Christ” (conmotenamiquili yn imatzin ynicxitzin yn tto. in Jesuxpo), in accordance with the colonial reverential formula commonly employed in elegantly written Nahuatl or courtly Spanish, upon which this expression was modeled. This culturally specific interpretation of the kiss of Judas has no basis in the canonical sources, which do not elaborate on how the kiss took place, whereas the iconographic tradition commonly renders it as a kiss on Jesus’s cheek. The story of this intriguing personage does not cease to fascinate modern readers. Recently, public attention was tantalized by the rediscovery, made known originally in 2004, of a papyrus document in the Coptic language that was found in Egypt in the 1970s. It is a gnostic “gospel” of Judas, who figures as the only one of Jesus’s disciples who accurately understood his words, challenging the canonical texts of 167 J U S T Y NA O L KO Christianity (Ehrman 2006). In a similar way, different and often mutually competing and contradictory versions of the story of Judas were available to early colonial Nahuas, who, while confronting the multiple narratives that originated on the other side of the Atlantic, faced a difficult question: which version was a rewriting of history? As it turns out, their own tradition offered more than adequate means to address this challenge. NOTES The research leading to these results received funding from the European Research Council under the European Union’s Seventh Framework Programme (FP7/2007-13)/ERC grant agreement no. 312795. 1. Codex Indianorum 7, dated to the late sixteenth century, is a compilation of devotional materials, including prayers, expositions of rites and doctrines, hagiography, biblical texts, miracle narratives, and a copy of a 1572 Nahuatl text listing the indulgences granted to members of a confraternity. The document is written in several native hands, so it is probably a largely or entirely indigenous product, assembled by literate Nahuas from a variety of sources available to them (Burkhart 2001, 32–33). 2. Intermediate versions include the 1567 Alcalá de Henares and 1568 Seville editions. I thank Anna Tkáčová for kindly providing me with a digital copy of the 1567 edition, preserved in the National Library of the Czech Republic (Prague), and Isabel Bueno Bravo for her help with the 1568 edition, now in the National Library of Spain. 3. I thank Ben Leeming for bringing this manuscript to my attention. 4. The 1567 Alcalá edition has the term dispensador, also present in much earlier versions of the Leyenda, but its meaning is very close to that of procurador mayor, so we cannot conclude which was the intended referent of the Nahuatl translation tlapixqui. 5. López Austin identifies ihiyotl as the spiritual component present in the liver and emanating as a gas (López Austin 1980, 260–61); in colonial and modern times it is commonly identified as breath. I believe the concept of ihiyotl requires critical reappraisal and extensive research combining both older and modern sources. 6. See also a comment in Klaus (1999, 128–29, 336) based on a somewhat different understanding of the text. 7. I thank Agnieszka Brylak for pointing this association out to me. 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