Christianity Today
 
 
The Bible Wine Tour
Two highly imaginative experts explore viticulture, the Bible,  and Jesus’ 
taste in wines.
David Neff
posted 9/11/2013

 
In January of 2011, archaeologists announced the discovery of the oldest  
known facility for producing grape wine. Working in a network of caves in  
Armenia, they found fermentation jars, a 15-gallon basin for treading grapes,  
and the remains of crushed grapes, leaves, and vines. They dated the site's 
age  at about 6,100 years. This is not the oldest evidence of grape wine—
that would  be the 7,400-year-old chemical residues recovered in the Zargos 
Mountains in  Iran. The Armenian site, however, is the oldest known wine 
production facility.  
Why mention this in Christianity Today? Because the  "winery" was just 
about 60 miles from Mount Ararat, where, the Bible says,  Noah's ark landed and 
thus near where he planted the first vineyard. "After the  flood, Noah began 
to cultivate the ground, and he planted a vineyard. One day he  drank some 
wine he had made, and he became drunk and lay naked inside his tent"  (Gen. 
9:20-21, NLT). 
In Divine Vintage, Hebrew Bible scholar (and former wine  importer) Randall 
Heskett joins with oenologist (and president of the Institute  of Masters 
of Wine) Joel Butler to trace the Bible's "wine trail" from Mount  Ararat in 
the north to Egypt in the south. They devote the first half of their  book 
to the wine trail documented in the Bible and other ancient texts,  awakening 
the reader to the significance that wine plays in the economy of the  
ancient world and in the religious and economic life of Israel. The wine trail  
in the book's second half is literal rather than literary: the authors visit  
contemporary wineries in the lands of the Bible, providing a helpful guide 
for  wine tourists in the Middle East. 
The authors argue that wine is "a key protagonist for the  evolution of 
society from rootless and nomadic to settled, spiritual, and  cultured." Wine, 
they say, "is the heart, soul, and body of Western  civilization." While 
they don't quite prove that exalted status, they do link  developments in 
ancient civilization to the evolution of viticulture. Wine also  played a very 
important role, both theologically and culturally, in Israelite  history. The 
authors have no time for the conservative Christian belief that in  the 
Bible, wine is always a bane and never a blessing. (On the second page of  the 
preface, they announce that they simply will not treat "all of the pointless  
claims that promote abstinence from alcohol or assertions that wine in the 
Bible  was not fermented.") Their ultimate, light-hearted goal is to answer 
the  question WWWJD: What Wine Would Jesus Drink? The authors saved their 
answer for  the end of the book—so I'll save it for the end of this review. 
In the Bible, wine appears far more frequently as a vehicle of  God's 
blessing than an occasion of human folly. When Noah planted a vineyard, it  was 
an act of faith in God's promises. So argues biblical scholar Peter Green  
(currently pursuing a PhD at Wheaton College). After the flood, the God who 
had  just destroyed (or "de-created") the earth promised to permanently 
establish  regular agricultural seasons. "As long as the earth remains, there 
will 
be  planting and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night" 
(Gen.  8:22, NLT). A vineyard requires at least three years to produce its 
first usable  crop of wine grapes. Planting one means betting on a long run 
of the right kind  of weather and climate conditions. So when Noah took up 
his role as a second  Adam to cultivate the garden and populate the earth, he 
was demonstrating faith  in God's blessing. 
Unfortunately, wine's first appearance in Scripture is tainted by  human 
failure. But its second act is an unmitigated story of blessing (Gen.  
14:17-24). After Abram pursued enemy kings who had taken his nephew Lot 
captive,  
he paid a visit to Melchizedek, the priest-king of Salem (later known as  
Jerusalem), in order to thank God for his victory. Melchizedek brought Abram  
bread and wine, an act which Christian interpreters have seen as 
foreshadowing  the Eucharist. 
Abraham came from a beer culture, say Heskett and Butler. Because  of 
Mesopotamia's climate, wine had to be imported and was therefore a luxury  item 
for the rich. But Canaan's Mediterranean climate made wine an integral part  
of both Israelite and Canaanite culture. When the Mesopotamian migrant 
Abraham  received wine from Melchizedek, he would have perceived it as a highly 
valued  commodity. It thus served as a fitting precursor to the blessing 
Mechizedek was  about to give. 
An offering of wine (and food) similarly precedes Isaac's blessing  of 
Jacob in Genesis 27. Isaac, thinking he was blessing Esau, said: "From the  dew 
of heaven and the richness of the earth, may God always give you abundant  
harvests of grain and bountiful new wine." 
Centuries later, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob  moved back to
 Canaan, a "land flowing with milk and honey" that also a yielded  
plenteous grapes and abundant wine. In Numbers 13, the Promised Land is  
described 
as a well-watered place full of grape clusters so enormous that it  took two 
Israelite spies to carry just one of them back to camp. This image came  to 
epitomize Canaan's agricultural richness. 
Because abundance of wine signifies God's blessing, it becomes a  key 
element in the Bible's vision of the good life. It is a divine gift that the  
Psalmist famously declares "maketh glad the heart of man" (Ps. 104:15, KJV).  
When Proverbs personifies Wisdom (Prov. 8–9), it uses mixed wine (probably 
with  spices) as an important part of the banquet that Wisdom has prepared for 
those  who respond to her invitation. The "brash" woman Folly, by contrast, 
offers her  guests "stolen water" to drink. 
Isaiah 55 echoes Wisdom's invitation in Proverbs. God offers  covenant 
blessing with an invitation to the thirsty: "Is anyone thirsty? … Come,  take 
your choice of wine or milk—it's all free" (Isa. 55:1, NLT). 
The prophets continue to use wine as a key symbol of God's  promised 
blessing for his people: "Look! I am sending you grain and new wine and  olive 
oil, enough to satisfy your needs. You will no longer be an object of  mockery 
among the surrounding nations" (Joel 2:19, NLT). "The threshing floors  will 
again be piled high with grain, and the presses will overflow with new wine 
 and olive oil" (Joel 2:24, NLT). "'The time will come,' says the Lord, 
'when the  … grapes will grow faster than they can be harvested. Then the 
terraced  vineyards on the hills of Israel will drip with sweet wine! I will 
bring my  exiled people of Israel back from distant lands, and they will 
rebuild 
their  ruined cities and live in them again. They will plant vineyards and 
gardens;  they will eat their crops and drink their wine.'" (Amos 9:13-14, 
NLT). 
The prevalence of winemaking is assumed in the Law of Moses: it is  
prescribed as an offering and commanded as an element of celebrations. In  
Deuteronomy 12, 14, and 26, God commands people to set aside a second tithe of  
their grain, wine, and oil in the first, second, fourth, and fifth years of 
each 
 seven-year cycle. They are to use this for a holy feast. If a person lives 
too  far from Jerusalem to carry their produce to the party, they are 
instructed to  convert it into money and then go to the Holy City and "buy any 
kind of food you  want—cattle, sheep, goats, wine, or other alcoholic drink. 
Then feast there in  the presence of the Lord your God and celebrate with 
your household" (14:26,  NLT). 
Of course, though the Bible's fundamental image of wine is one of  
blessing, it also includes cautions about its use. 
Since wine is at times a luxury, it features in the prophets'  condemnation 
of those who oppress the poor while enjoying dainty food and fine  vintages 
(Amos 5-6). Proverbs warns judges and rulers to avoid habitual  drinking, 
since the lives of others are in their hands (31:4-9). And wine is  also a 
metaphor for God's wrath, which stuns people and nations and makes them  
stagger as though they were drunk (see, for example, Ps. 60:3; Isa. 51:17; Jer. 
 
25:16). 
Heskett provides an easy-to-read survey of all these biblical  materials—
though he doesn't actually deliver a theology of wine or of the  vineyard. 
Unfortunately, he sometimes resorts to frivolous speculation. This is  
occasionally harmless, such as when he wonders aloud whether at the wedding  
feast 
in Cana Jesus might have turned water into white, rather than red,  wine. 
But in other contexts, his speculation panders to popular notions  of the 
evolution of religions. For example, just after the Melchizedek blessing,  
Abram names Eshkol as one of the warrior chieftains who deserves a portion of  
the spoils of war for helping him rescue his nephew. The name Eshkol means  
"cluster" [of grapes]. Curiously, Heskett asserts that Eshkol is really the 
name  of a wine god—as is ʾĒl 'elyôn, the name of Melchizedek's God. For 
these  conjectures, he relies on Morton Smith, a biblical scholar who long 
ago  established a reputation for imaginative reading between the lines. In 
this  case, Smith argues from evidence that the Greek and Roman cults of  
Dionysus/Bacchus have their roots in Tyre, next door to Sidon (which Jesus  
visited) in what is now Lebanon. He then speculates that other wine gods must  
have preceded Dionysus in Palestine. Why not identify them with Eshkol and ʾĒ
l  'elyôn? Why not? Those who have a biblical faith must certainly deal 
with the  explicit record of Israelite syncretism, criticized openly by the 
prophets. But  we don't need to conflate YHWH with the assorted gods of ancient 
Canaan.  Unfortunately, the degree of Smith's speculation is not 
transparent to Heskett's  readers, and the paucity of the evidence is hidden 
from 
view. 
The same evolutionary view of religion is evident when Heskett  indulges in 
pop phenomenology to equate Christ and Dionysus. When Jesus claims  to be 
the true vine of which his followers are the branches, he says, "Christ  here 
evokes the portrayal of Dionysus as a living vine, his shoots flowing out,  
becoming Maenads (female worshipers … who were incited to religious frenzy) 
…."  Sigh. 
In the book's final section, Butler appears to take the lead from  Heskett. 
(Butler: what a great name for a wine expert! The Anglo-Norman word  
originally meant the person in charge of the bottles.) The authors deliver a  
rare 
wine tour of contemporary Greece and the Middle East. Since the earliest  
winemaking facility was located in what is now Turkey, Butler and Heskett 
begin  there and follow the stops on Paul's third missionary journey. Many of 
these  places were noted for their wine in the ancient world, but later 
Muslim  prohibitions on alcohol largely restricted wine production to the 
non-Muslim  population. Then the Armenian genocide (1915–18) and the 
Greco-Turkish 
War  (1919–22) resulted in the near disappearance of the groups that knew 
how to make  wine. 
But Turkish winemaking has experienced a revival in the latter  part of the 
20th century thanks to secularist policies initiated by Kemal  Ataturk, and 
Butler and Heskett assure us that vintners are now producing wines  that 
are, variously, "well-structured [but] not too oaky," "rich, fruity, and  
distinctive," and with "fine texture and promise, with deep fruit and balanced  
oak." There is plenty of that kind of writing because this is, after all, a 
wine  book co-authored by a wine expert. 
The listing of wines and wineries in Turkey, French-influenced  Lebanon, 
Jordan, Israel, and Greece will help any thirsty traveler in the region  
connect with the best wine producers. 
Worried that Israeli wines all taste like Manischewitz? Not  anymore. On my 
own travels to Israel, I noticed real progress between the early  1990s and 
2007. Boutique wines are now available that match some of the best  small 
wineries in California, Washington, and Oregon for sheer interest. 
Israeli wine production is plagued by one serious irony, Butler  and 
Heskett note. To be sold in most grocery stores, wine must be kosher. Wine  can 
only be certified kosher if all those who work to produce it are observant  
Jews. Observant Jews, however, must cease from work on the weekly Sabbath and 
a  number of holidays. This means that vintners and their workers are unable 
to  time their harvesting and other steps of winemaking with the precision 
that  other makers of fine wines aim for. Not all Israeli wines are kosher, 
though,  and some of the better wines need to be purchased directly from 
producers. 
Beyond mere wine tourism, such as one might do on a visit to  California or 
France, Butler and Heskett seek out wine producers who are trying  to 
restore ancient winemaking techniques. One such vintner is the Shiluh-Süryani  
Sarabi vineyard in a Kurdish region of Turkey not far from the Syrian border.  
This area was settled by Syriac (Aramaic-speaking) Christians in the fourth 
 century, and, while only 18,000 Syriac Christians live in Turkey today, 
about  3,000 are concentrated in this region. Today, this winery grows its 
grapes  organically, crushes them in traditional stone gats, and ferments the  
wine for 45 to 60 days in large clay jars kept cool by being buried in the  
ground. Then, without any filtration or fining, the wine is bottled. This  
preserves the wine's purity for sacramental use in the Syriac church. 
The authors call these Syriac wines "truly biblical" because they  are 
produced using ancient methods that are part of a wine-making tradition  
reaching back to biblical times. That brings us back to the question, What wine 
 
would Jesus (criticized by his opponents as a "winebibber") drink? 
Jesus seemed more than ready to break the ritual kosher rules, say  Heskett 
and Butler, especially if fellowship would be impaired by ritual purity.  
That freed the authors to consider a wide variety of wines made according to  
ancient techniques. They finally settled on a traditionally made white wine 
from  the former Soviet republic of Georgia, not exactly biblical, but 
definitely  ancient. They describe the 2009 Pheasant's Tears Rrkatsiteli as 
"deep  yellow-gold" and having "saline-mushroom, floral-herb, and olive 
scents." 
It has  a "chewy finish that is more like a red wine's." 
But what about a red wine? Jesus would be eating lamb, no? One of  the 
authors' suggestions is a traditionally made red from Sicily: the 2010 COS  
Pithos. 
But really, was Jesus a wine snob? Or did he drink wine as a form  of 
fellowship with those excluded from Jewish society? If the latter, Heskett  and 
Butler are right to say on the very last page that Jesus would, as a guest  
of honor, be humble enough to drink whatever he was  served.

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