An Imperiled Harvest: Visiting the Catholic Vineyards of France
In the modern world, we take our food for granted. God made it clear to the Israelites, however, that the fruit of the harvest would serve as a sign of his blessing. He wanted to lead his people and bless them abundantly, if only they would let him:
“If you live in accordance with my statutes and are careful to observe my commandments, I will give you your rains in due season, so that the land will yield its crops, and the trees their fruit; your threshing will last till vintage time, and your vintage till the time for sowing, and you will eat your fill of food, and live securely in your land.” Leviticus 26:3-5
But if Israel turned away from him, following after other gods, they would forfeit his special protection, just as Adam and Eve did in the Garden.
“If even after this you do not obey me, I will increase the chastisement for your sins sevenfold, to break your proud strength. I will make the sky above you as hard as iron, and your soil as hard as bronze, so that your strength will be spent in vain; your land will bear no crops, and its trees no fruit.” Leviticus 26:18-20
When hardships like this occur, people can accuse God of being vindictive. Challenges, however, are meant to wake people up, helping them to remember that we are not self-sufficient and depend upon God for every good thing.
In a world not known for hearkening to the voice of its maker, this summer’s drought should serve as a wake-up call. I recently moved back to Colorado in the middle of a severe and historic drought. And I’m also about to head to France on a pilgrimage intertwining shrines and wines for a holistic experience of Catholic culture. France, too, has been facing an exceptional drought after extreme heat and fires throughout the summer, which is affecting the grape harvest. The major wine regions — Champagne, Bordeaux and Burgundy — are looking at record early picking dates and are forecasting a 30-year low in wine production. There’s also fear that vines and grapes have been damaged by smoke, which will impart a smoky taint.
A failure of the vine would be more than a wake-up call for Catholics, as wine is an essential part of our worship. This year’s poor harvest won’t make a serious impact on the availability of altar wine, but it’s still an occasion to appreciate the importance of wine in Catholic culture as a sign of God’s continued blessing. Viticulture itself matured due to Catholics’ dependence on wine to celebrate the Mass. It finds its place in the great work of Catholic life and culture that grew up surrounding the Mass, including architecture, visual arts and music. And viticulture was perfected, particularly, through the contribution of monks, who patiently cultivated, pruned and tended vines over centuries to draw out their full potential.
Desmond Seward’s classic book, Monks and Wine, describes the impact of this patient work of the monks.
“The extent of monasticism’s contribution to wine-growing and distilling is rarely appreciated. Monks largely saved viticulture when the Barbarian invasions destroyed the Roman Empire, and throughout the Dark Ages they alone had the security and resources to improve the quality of their vines slowly and patiently. For nearly 1,300 years almost all the biggest and the best vineyards were owned and operated by religious houses” (18).
I’m happy to be visiting some historic sites related to Catholic winemaking this week — Clos de Vougeot and Châteauneuf-du-Pape — and another new one — the Via Caritatis cooperative, initiated by Le Barroux Abbey in the Ventoux region. While the wine itself serves as an important draw to these sites, they also represent a nearly forgotten legacy of the Church’s role in developing Western culture. Wine was not originally a delicacy but a staple of daily life, watered down as a healthy and hygienic beverage for everyone, and a constitutive element of festivity and divine worship. While the psalms describe wine as gladdening the heart of man, in the Mass it enlivens and deifies the soul. Jesus is the vine and we are the branches, and he pours out his blood for us to give us his life.
A pilgrimage to the great Catholic vineyards offers an opportunity to rediscover God as the author of every true gift. As Seward remarks, “One of the joys of Cîteaux — the mother house of all Cistercian abbeys — is the scent of the vines in blossom at Clos de Vougeot drifting down on the spring wind. The autumn is also a pleasant time for such a pursuit, with the aromatic bonfires of discarded vines” (22).
For those not able to make this trek, a new book unpacks the heritage and great beauty of these sites and helps readers to track down their wines: Emily Stimpson Chapman’s Sacred Wine: The Holy History and Heritage of Catholic Vintners (Marian Helpers, 2025). She lays out twelve historic wineries in France, Italy and Spain, while aiming “to give you the stories behind the wineries through introductions of the orders or saints that established them [and] pictures of the rules of life that informed their work. … Also, as much as possible [she] will provide you with some of the information necessary to visit the wineries, taste their wine, and buy a bottle or two” (17). This beautiful book, with its many photographs, will help orient you to the great Catholic tradition of winemaking.
The next time you enjoy a glass of wine, thank God for the gift of the harvest and praise him for the blessings he has bestowed upon us.
