Creation and food in Old Norse mythology

What we know about nordic mythology comes from the Eddas, two 13th-century texts which represent the written versions of very ancient oral traditions plausibly dating back to the era of migrations and invasions. One of them is a collection of anonymous poems (poetic Edda), while the other one is a prose work signed by the christian historian Snorri Sturluson. In the matter in question, the section entitled Gylfaginning (The deluding of Gylfi), featured in the prose Edda, includes a pretty detailed description of the creation of the world and of all living beings. Not surprisingly, as we can ascertain by reading the Bible and many other religious and mythological texts of the past, also in Norse beliefs food and fecundity were central elements in the origin of all things (not to mention the destruction of the universe).

But let's just go back to Gylfi and his story.

Gylfi was a king of Sweden whose first encounter with a member of the Æsir (the gods of the Norse pantheon) was not exactly memorable. At least, he had the chance to realize how powerful they really were. As Snorri recounts, king Gylfi offered a travelling woman a piece of ploughland in exchange for her company, as large as four oxen could till in one day and one night. Unfortunately, he did not know she was the goddess Gefjun. She'd had four sons from a giant, four mighty oxen, and she took them from Jotunheim (Giant Land) in the north and yoked them to the plough. So strong and potent they were, that they literally cut the land and dragged it westward: Gefjun called her new island Sjaelland.

It might not be a mere coincidence that here, just like we can learn from the Genesis, agriculture dresses the part of a negative rethorical tool. Abel, the first shepherd, got killed by his brother Cain, the first farmer. Maybe, we might interpret these hints as echoes of very old, indoeuropean cultural traditions according to which men should accept what nature spontaneously offered to them, rather than wound and abuse the earth. In human history, nature has long been worshipped as sacred, and in the days of yore agriculture may have perhaps been seen as a critical, fatal turning point.

Amazed by the power and the skills of the Æsir, king Gylfi decided to head to Asgard, the dwelling of the gods, disguised as an old man named Gangleri. But the Æsir foresaw his secret trip, and set up tricky visual illusions. He was let in Valhalla and then introduced to the presence of three men: king High, Just-as-High and Third. High offered him food and drink, but Gangleri replied that he had some important questions to ask them, immediately.

«How were things set up before the different families came into being», he started, «and mankind increased?». The three men told him that Ginnungagap, the primeval void preexisting the universe, was essentially composed of two parts: the northern regions, gelid and filled with ice, and the southern ones, warmer, mild. When temperate winds and frost met, the ice thawed and a human-like creature arose from the drops of water: his name was Ymir.

In fact, the whole world was created out of Ymir's body. Buri's grandsons (among them, Odin) moved him into the middle of Ginnungagap, and from his blood they made the sea and the lakes; from his flesh, the earth; from his bones, mountains and rocks; his teeth and broken bones became stones and gravel; his skull formed the sky, and his brain the clouds. This brand new world was lit up with sparks from the realm of fire, called Muspellsheim.

Eventually, the gods built a fortress wall, made from Ymir's eyelashes, in order to protect the world from the giants, and called it Midgard, or Middle Earth. They then built their own dwelling, the fortress of Asgard, abode of the Æsir. They also created men from two trees found on the seashore, and let them live behind Midgard's wall.

Anyway, if the creation of the world itself doesn't seem to concern food directly, its prosperity does.

Many ancient religious cults featured symbolic representations of the movements and the importance of the sun, and this peculiar aspect is fundamental if we aim to examine in depth the meaning of food in past cultures. On the other hand, our ancestors were well aware that all life depended on our bright star, and the fecundity of the earth was part of this vital chain.

High told Gangleri that Odin took Night and Day, descendants of the giant Norfi, gave them two chariots and two horses, and ordered them to ride around the earth every twenty-four hours. Then, the gods took Sun and Moon, the beautiful children of Mundilfari, and made them drive the horses that drew the chariot of the sun and that of the moon, respectively.

Now, if its true that one of our ancestors' more traditional utopias was that of a place of plenty, with an eternal summer and a never-ending harvest, it's worth noticing that Old Norse culture made no exception. Indeed, according to the Eddas, the end of times, or Ragnarok, would take shape in the form of Fimbulwetr, an "extreme winter". Three winters of ferocious battles would be followed by three other winters, with no summer in between. Cold, snow, gelid winds would prevail over the sun, which in turn would eventually be swallowed by the wolf Skoll (or, as some think, Fenrir) - same fate would occur to the moon.

No summer, no sun: no crops. This was the Old Norse idea of the end of the world, dramatically epitomized by a wolf eating the source of all living beings. It might sound banal, but it is actually evidence of an inveterate bond between men and the fruits of the earth, which by the way wouldn't be affected by the conversion to Christianity. On the other hand, the medieval saints were expert performers of food miracles (for example, multiplication of wheat), and the Bible itself is a manual of food language: the above-quoted fratricide of Cain is just one among many cases. Because food did not only concern the myths of creation, but the survival and prosperity of all human beings forever.

Well, forever until the end of everything.