Human sacrifices: What does it say about ancient cultures?
I’ve long lost count of how often visitors have asked me about human sacrifice while standing in the sweltering sun at ancient Mesoamerican sites. They want to know why ancient peoples would engage in such practices. After years of fielding these questions, I’ve dedicated myself to understanding the complex reality behind the sensationalized accounts.
Let me be clear: If we start from the premise that these weren’t simply bloodthirsty, irrational people, we must understand they had compelling reasons for their actions. Through my decades of reading, teaching, and visiting Mesoamerican and the Near East, I have come to understand that human sacrifice was almost always conducted under specific circumstances and needs — far from the random acts of violence often depicted in popular media.
A Tale of Two Worlds
In my studies, parallels between the reasoning behind human sacrifice in civilizations separated by vast oceans have taken shape. Take the biblical account of Jephthah in the Book of Judges—a military leader who promises to sacrifice to God the first person he sees upon returning home victorious, only to be met by his daughter (Judges 12:7).
Let us consider the quote from the book of the prophet Micah. The question is posed by Jephthah, ‘Shall I give my firstborn for my sin, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?’, and responded to in the phrase, ‘He has shown all you people what is good. And what does Yahweh require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.
There is also the fact that in some of the oldest versions of the story of the binding of Isaac, Abraham descends the mountain alone. If these sources have any truth to them, it’s hard to avoid the conclusion that the narrative was sanitized to emphasize Abraham’s obedience to God — but also avoid the sacrifice of Isaac. This is understandable given the unsavoriness of having the founder of three of the world’s most important religions taking part in filicide, regardless of the reason.
These biblical stories mirror practices encountered in Mesoamerican records (especially the Mexica), where noble youths would undergo apotheosis—becoming divine—before their sacrifice, transformed into literal incarnations of deities.
Standing at Chichén Itzá’s famous ball court, I often point out the relief, which depicts a decapitation. Visitors frequently ask whether it was the victors or losers who faced sacrifice. I have to tell them, with scholarly humility, that we simply don’t know. What we do know is that the ball game itself varied significantly across time and geography, spanning thousands of years from the southern United States to Costa Rica.
But what we do know is that it was not a bloodthirsty free-for-all and that, in general, sacrifices undertaken in the ball court were limited to the captain of one of the teams, with the remaining players (likely often prisoners of war) were spared this grisly fate.
On the other hand, the kings of Judah, like Ahaz and Manasseh, who sacrificed their sons by burning them alive as an offering to God (or possibly gods, as it’s contested if Judah was truly monotheistic by this time), are rarely acknowledged or even known by the vast majority of people who profess Abrahamic religious affiliation (From Kings 21:1-18, Chronicles 32:22-33:20 and others).
Truth in the Details
One of my greatest challenges as a guide and scholar is addressing the popular image of the Aztecs and other Mesoamerican cultures as uniquely bloodthirsty. For one, archaeological evidence suggests that even their practice of heart extraction was less frequent than commonly believed. When I explain how the Triple Alliance handled conquered peoples, visitors are often surprised. Take the conquest of Cholula (now in Puebla), where rather than mass execution or slaughter, they (the Aztecs, or Triple Alliance) employed a practice with similarities to Roman decimation, sacrificing only one in ten adult males, with most allowed to return home to continue working their fields and paying taxes.
Among the Aztecs, there was also a practice of engaging in symbolic battles, where capturing an opponent was the goal, not outright killing. In some circumstances, the outcomes of these non-lethal ballets were considered binding and avoided the need for bloodshed altogether. This said, in these cases, we are talking about an exception rather than the rule.
Though distasteful to modern sensibilities, it’s important to understand human sacrifice as a rational response to existential fears within specific belief systems. When ancient peoples—whether in Mesoamerica or the Near East—faced uncertain harvests, military threats, or divine wrath, they turned to sacrifice as a way to maintain cosmic order. They believed that to receive something of supreme importance from the divine, they needed to offer something of proportional value. Simply put, a big favor from God (or gods) requires a big sacrifice.
Double standards
It is also true that accounts of human sacrifice, especially in the bible are often glazed over or outright ignored when the same practices among people like the Maya are taken to be a sign of their barbarism. After all, priests, pastors, and rabbis do not often linger on the Semitic practice of child sacrifice to the deity Moloch, the dog-headed devour of the innocent.
Regardless of the culture, it’s imperative to look beyond the sensationalized accounts and consider the deeper meaning behind these ancient practices. Only then can we truly understand our ancestors and, perhaps, ourselves.
Based on a MEL Talk presentation at the Mérida English Library on Feb. 19, 2025.
Senior Editor Carlos Rosado van der Gracht is a Mexican expedition/Canadian photographer, adventure leader, and PhD candidate. Born in Mérida, Carlos holds multimedia, philosophy, and translation degrees from universities in Mexico, Canada and Norway.
