Forbidden Fruit

The apple of Eden didn’t used to be an apple. The language of Genesis leaves the matter suspended, dangling forever at the tip of a branch. The tree itself is never specified, except to say that it confers the knowledge of good and evil. The fruit is simply referred to as a peri. That’s standard Hebrew, then and now, for what we would call a generic fruit. A child asking for a snack in Tel Aviv might say to her parent, “tayn li peri.” The parent could reach for any fruit in the fridge.

For centuries afterward opinions differed. Some Jewish commentators spoke about figs or grapes. Most colorfully, they identified the peri as a pomegranate, my personal favorite piece of speculation. But sometime around the 12th century in Europe, a consensus formed among artists, translators, and scholars that Mother Eve handed Adam an apple.

Whatever the nature of the fruit that changed hands, it was downhill for humanity across the centuries. The scene in Genesis became essential and formative, ground zero for early Christians and the problematics of faith. It was a primal act of unthinkable disobedience for which individual atonement became impossible. It required the intervention of God Himself, who styled the sacrifice of a divine/human Son whose blood alone was sufficient for the purpose. You might say that the apple brings together in its flesh the central anxiety of an entire civilization and gave rise to the Christian straegy of redemption.

What’s interesting to me is that the Jews thought differently. With the exception of a stray thought here or there in the literature, they did not propose a theory of corruption, the idea that Adam’s fall represented a sin for all. It was an event that led to serious consequences, but atonement does not require intervention. It is within the reach of every worshipper and “merely” requires sincerity and will. As long as we are willing to ask forgiveness—both of the Creator and one another—cleansing and redemption are equally possible. That is the central claim of the period of the High Holidays. On the level of practice and the folk religion of the Jews, the apple can be baked into the delicacies of the season and become a source of celebration and delight. My first slice of the Charney Family’s legendary apple cake is one of the great pleasures of my liturgical year.

I say this not as some instance of triumphalist ethnocentrism, some unseemly statement about better and worse. The God I worship delights in the diversity of creation and speaks to every human community differently. He has a language for Christians, a language for Jews, for Moslems, Hindus, Zoroastrians and pagans. It’s a great privilege for me to belong to my community, but I am curious about what others think and do. At the same time, I acknowledge our substantial differences and revel in the way God accommodates all of us.

And to all of us, I send the blessings of the season. We are co-equally loved by the God of Genesis, who holds our hands through all of human history. His love is abundantly offered to each of us, and the communities to which we belong are bulwarks against sorrow. Long life, good health, joy, and delight!