The Significance of Apples in My Religion

The Significance of Apples in My Religion

Apple season is upon us, and this morning I picked up about twelve dozen apples—a dozen dozen aptly named a “gross.” This was in addition to the many dozen I picked up last evening, and the gross I collected yesterday morning, the evening, the afternoon, and the morning before that, and the day before that, and the day before that.

We’ve had several apple-peeling sessions: one person peels and another person chops, dousing the tart chunks with lemon juice to keep them fresh. When the compost bucket is full we dump it in the back garden—picking up apples as we pass under the tree—and start over again.

So far we’ve enjoyed one large apple crisp and one deep-dish apple pie as well as two apple flans and some apple cakes made by our houseguest who we’ve indentured into the assembly line of peeling and chopping. We’ve given away apples to my church members and our neighbors, and we’ve set aside bags of apples for my husband’s church members and for our mail carrier. Anybody who rings the doorbell must take a bag of apples.

After putting up all the apple slices that our freezer can hold, we decided to dry apple pieces that can be stored in the pantry. My husband express-ordered two mesh screens which go in the oven at a low temperature and dehydrate raw food in about eight hours. Given that there are, still, only twenty-four hours in a day, he works three shifts daily, making the house smell, continuously, like a just-baked apple pie.

When I studied Latin American Church History in seminary, I wrote a paper on “The Significance of Corn in the Mayan Religion.” Originally inhabiting the Yucatan area of Mexico and parts of present Guatemala, the Mayas lived on corn to the extent that their whole civilization—including their religious beliefs—centered on corn. Adept at math and astronomy, and with a highly developed system of carved glyphs for recording past events, the Mayas created a remarkable calendar to chart the best times for seeding, irrigating, tasseling, and harvesting corn.

Unlike us westerners who try to separate the spiritual world from the temporal world, Mayas understood the interconnectedness of the earthly and the divine. Their primary foodstuff, corn, was the chief provider of life and the Chief Provider of meaning and order to life. Daily existence revolved around cultivating corn, and corn surpluses led to trading for other goods and specializing in different corn-related activities, like making crafts or guarding the corn. Thus an organized religious structure arose within Mayan society to maintain—and protect—the whole cycle of life.

Like Western Christianity, Mayas believed that humans were made in the divine image, and given that 75% of their diet was composed of corn they saw themselves as creatures of the God of Corn. They used corn to mark various rites of passage, from dedicating their children, to coming-of-age rituals, to marriage ceremonies and fertility practices, to the final harvest of death and the afterlife.

And like Christians the Mayas had more than one god, but all their gods—indeed, all their relationships—were linked to the Corn God, “Kavil,” which means “surplus sustenance.”

Kind of like my current worship of the God of Apples:

Dear Generous Sustaining God,

You created fruit—fruit of all kinds and colors and textures and smells and tastes—

   and it drops from the trees for me and all.

But I grow weary of having to pick up this free food.

I admit I do not look forward to receiving your many gifts, preparing them,

   even sharing them—because it takes up my time, my energy for a whole season.

Forgive me, O God,

   Creator of the apple tree in my garden and all it produces,

   Maker of the seasons, each hour of the day and every day of creation.

In the beginning, O God, you said, “Let the earth put forth vegetation:  

   plants yielding seed and fruit trees of every kind on earth 

   that bear fruit with seed in it,”

   and it was so, and you saw that it was good.

Energize me, energize each one of us, to lift up your free gifts.

Give us courage to claim your gifts,

   patience to prepare them,

   enthusiasm to share them,

   any time, all the time.

Amen.