God interacts with people everywhere.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nezahualcoyotl_(tlatoani)
Even in that kind of society.
Nezahualcoyotl described a mystical experience with the creator. He rejected the Mesoamerican gods and outlawed human sacrifice within his city because he was certain the creator found it repugnant. He built empty temples to this creator and wrote poetry about him. His primary religious duty to the creator was fasting. He was kind of like King David but in Mesoamerica a few generations before conquest.
He wrote a poem about how God creates the world as if he paints with flowers. It was very famous amongst all of the Mesoamericans, even after conquest. His poetry was known by all the Nahuatl speakers even after Spanish occupation.
If you read the accounts of what happened when St. Juan Diego was approached by the Blessed Mother, you will find an interesting detail that relates to Nezahualcoyotl. The Blessed Mother instructed St. Juan Diego to fill his garment with flowers from a particular field and take them to the bishop. When St. Juan Diego was brought to the bishop, the bishop didn't believe him. St. Juan Diego repeated the story and then unfurled the garment with flowers. As the flowers fell out of the garment, they painted the portrait of the Blessed Mother on the garment.
All the Mesoamericans had to have noted the connection. Here the Spanish bishops and priests were talking about a God not unlike the one described by Nezahualcoyotl. Then this miracle happened with the flowers.
Here is one of his poems about the creator and flowers:
With flowers You paint,
O Giver of Life!
With songs You give color,
with songs You shade
those who will live on the earth.
Later You will destroy eagles and tigers:
we live only in Your painting
here, on the earth.
With black ink You will blot out
all that was friendship,
brotherhood, nobility.
You give shading
to those who will live on the earth.
We live only in Your book of paintings,
here on the earth
Read this one in the context of what St. John of the Cross wrote:
I begin to sing, I elevate to the heights the song for He By Whom All Live. Yayahue ohuaya ohuaya.
The festive song has arrived: it comes to reach up to the Highest Arbiter. Oh lords, borrow precious flowers! Ahuayya ohuaya ohuaya.
Already they are being renewed: how will I do it? With your branches I adorn myself, I will fly: I am unfortunate, for that reason I cry. Ohuaya ohuaya.
A brief moment at Your side, Oh, You By Whom All Live. Truly You draw the destiny the man. Can You hold him who feels himself without good fortune in the earth? Ohuaya ohuaya.
With variegated flowers adorned Your drum is erected, Oh, You By Whom All Live. With flowers, with freshness - Ayahue! - You give pleasure to the princes. Huiya ohuaya! A brief instant in this form is the house of the flowers of song. Ohuaya ohuaya.
The beautiful yellow corn flowers open their corolas. Huiya! The warbling quetzal of He By Whom All Live makes a jingling clamor. Yeehuaya! Flowers of gold open their corolas. Aya! A brief moment in this form is the house of the flowers of the song. Ohuaya ohuaya.
With colors of the golden bird, with red-black and lucent red You decorate Your songs. With quetzal feathers You ennoble Your friends, Eagle and Jaguars, You make them valiant. Ohuaya ohuaya.
Who has the piety to reach above to where it ennobles one, to where it brings glory? Yehuaya! Your friends Eagles and Jaguars, You make them valiant. Ohuaya ohuaya.
This is what St. John of the Cross described about his experience with God:
On a dark night,
Kindled in love with yearnings
--oh, happy chance!--
I went forth without being observed,
My house being now at rest.
In darkness and secure,
By the secret ladder, disguised
--oh, happy chance!--
In darkness and in concealment,
My house being now at rest.
In the happy night,
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught,
Without light or guide,
save that which burned in my heart.
This light guided me
More surely than the light of noonday
To the place where he
(well I knew who!) was awaiting me
-- A place where none appeared.
Oh, night that guided me,
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined
Beloved with lover,
Lover transformed in the Beloved!
Upon my flowery breast,
Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he stayed sleeping,
and I caressed him,
And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.
The breeze blew from the turret
As I parted his locks;
With his gentle hand
He wounded my neck
And caused all my senses to be suspended.
I remained, lost in oblivion;
My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself,
Leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies.