Does the Bible Prohibit Christians from Consuming Alcohol?
Does the Bible Prohibit Christians from Consuming Alcohol?
The question of whether or not Christians may responsibly consume alcoholic beverages has long been a subject of rigorous theological inquiry. Within the context of conservative hermeneutical frameworks, only two main views exist:
1. Moderation: the view that alcohol, particularly wine, may be consumed occasionally, provided it never leads to drunkenness or moral compromise.
2. Total Abstinence: the conviction that Christians should refrain entirely from consuming alcohol in any form.
While more permissive perspectives exist, positions that relax restraint on alcohol beyond moderation tend to attract fewer theologians willing to defend them on explicitly biblical grounds. Therefore, the scope of this study will be limited to viewpoints that derive their ethics from a high view of Scriptural authority.
To examine this question responsibly and comprehensively, I have incorporated targeted research where it materially impacts and informs the biblical discussion:
- Lexical Analysis: I engaged a Greek scholar to clarify the semantic range of New Testament terms related to wine that are frequently disputed in this debate.
- Viticultural History: I consulted a professional who holds a degree in oenology with over twenty years of experience in French vineyards. Her academic expertise in ancient viticulture provides essential historical context for understanding key biblical passages involving wine.
- Jewish Context: I interviewed a Jewish Rabbi to address a passage in the Torah commonly cited by proponents of Total Abstinence. Namely- the metaphorical connection between leaven and sin, which is often presented as the ultimate closing argument for that position.
Accordingly, this analysis and more will proceed through the following structure:
- The Common Ground: Points of agreement shared by both the Abstinence and Moderationist positions.
- The First Contention: Did Old Testament Priests consume fermented wine outside the Tabernacle? A complete hermeneutical analysis using Scripture, history, and science.
- High-Stakes Interpretations - Fermented or Unfermented? A focused analysis of the Wedding at Cana and the Last Supper.
- The Closing Arguments of Both Abstainers and Moderationists: Evaluating the theological claim linking leaven (yeast) with sin.
- Final Conclusions
- Bonus Questions and Objections
The Common Ground:
Ephesians 5:18 states: “And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit”.
This verse serves as a clear and universally accepted starting point in the discussion. Both viewpoints, Moderation and Total Abstinence, agree without qualification that drunkenness is sinful. Scripture therefore establishes a definitive boundary for Christian conduct, even if proponents of Total Abstinence extend the ethical implications further.
Additionally, both positions acknowledge a specific Old Testament instance of mandated abstinence. In Leviticus 10:9, God issues a solemn prohibition to Aaron and his sons: “Do not drink wine nor strong drink, thou, nor thy sons with thee, when ye go into the tabernacle of the congregation, lest ye die.” The severity of this command underscores the seriousness with which God regarded sobriety in sacred service.
Those who hold the Moderation view affirm this command but interpret it as limited in scope: a directive given to a specific group (the Levitical priests), within a specific context (ministering inside the Tabernacle, and later the Temple). From this perspective, the prohibition applies strictly to priestly service within the sanctuary. Whether priests, or the broader Israelite population, consumed fermented wine outside of these sacred duties therefore becomes a historically and culturally significant question. If fermented wine was commonly consumed off duty, it would suggest that such use was culturally normative rather than morally taboo - an important factor when tracing biblical ethics of alcohol consumption from the Tabernacle period to the New Testament era.
In contrast to this, proponents of Total Abstinence view the prohibition in Leviticus 10:9 not as merely situational, but as revelatory of an enduring spiritual principle, further illuminated by the teaching of Christ and the Apostles in the New Testament. Their argument rests on the expansion of priestly identity under the New Covenant, particularly in Revelation 1:6, which declares that Christ “hath made us kings and priests unto God.”
Within this framework, priesthood is no longer confined to a select class defined by Aaron’s lineage, gender, or ceremonial function, but is reconstituted metaphorically as a shared spiritual identity among all believers. Furthermore, Abstinence proponents readily acknowledge that New Testament “priests” are not carbon copies of Old Testament Levitical priests; the sacrificial system, temple rituals, and hereditary qualifications have been fulfilled and set aside under the New Covenant (cf. Galatians 3:28). Nevertheless, they maintain that while the form of priesthood has changed, its moral demands have not been relaxed and are, in certain respects, intensified.
Such intensification, they argue, is consistent with Christ’s own ethical teaching, wherein external prohibitions are internalized and deepened—for example, anger being equated with murder and lust with adultery (Matthew 5:21–28). On this basis, standards once applied to Old Testament priests - particularly those safeguarding clarity of judgment and fitness for sacred service - are understood to carry forward under transformed conditions.
Accordingly, if Old Testament priests were required to abstain from wine while ministering in a physical sanctuary, and if every Christian now serves God continually as a New-Covenant priest, with the body itself described as “the temple of the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 6:19), then sobriety is no longer episodic but perpetual. On this reading, abstinence is not circumstantial or ceremonial, but a lifelong mandate rooted in continuous priestly readiness.
Thus, both viewpoints affirm two foundational points before their frameworks diverge: first, that drunkenness is unequivocally sinful; and second, that Scripture establishes at least one clear precedent for abstinence from alcohol in a sacred context.
From this shared ground, the discussion turns to a pivotal historical and hermeneutical question - whether Old Testament priests consumed fermented wine outside the Tabernacle. The answer to this question functions as a crucial linchpin, shaping how historical precedent informs higher-stakes interpretations concerning the Wedding at Cana and the Last Supper.
At first glance, one may think researching such a specific nuance of wine consumption would be difficult and fragmentary. However, there exists a surprisingly large corpus of Old Testament material that allows for a responsible, textually grounded investigation into whether Old Testament priests consumed fermented wine while off duty. Because textual references are abundant rather than sparse, hermeneutical conclusions regarding off-duty priestly practice need not be speculative. Establishing whether Old Testament priests consumed fermented wine therefore provides a meaningful interpretive advantage to whichever position can demonstrate it convincingly, grounding later arguments in historical precedent rather than theological inference alone.
The First Contention: Did Old Testament Priests Consume Fermented Wine Outside the Tabernacle?
Under the Mosaic Law, the Levites were economically sustained through Israel’s tithes. Unlike the other tribes, they possessed no territorial inheritance and were instead supported by the offerings of the people. Scripture is explicit that this provision included agricultural produce -grain, oil, and wine.
Numbers 18:12 states:
“All the best of the oil, and all the best of the wine, and of the wheat, the firstfruits of them which they shall offer unto the Lord.”
Likewise, Deuteronomy 18:3–4 confirms that the priest’s due included:
“The firstfruit of thy corn, of thy wine, and of thine oil.”
At a minimum, these passages establish that wine, in some form, was part of the priests’ regular provision. The critical question, however, is what form that wine took. Was it fermented wine, unfermented grape juice, or raw grape clusters freshly cut from the vine?
Answering this question requires attention to the original Hebrew text. Scripture distinguishes between tirosh— often translated “new wine” or fresh, unfermented grape juice— and yayin, the primary term for wine once fermented and aged. Because tithes were offered immediately at harvest, proponents of total abstinence argue that priests would have received tirosh rather than fermented yayin. This assumption is further underscored by the fact that both Numbers 18:12 and Deuteronomy 18:3–4 employ tirosh rather than yayin in their respective tithe contexts. On this basis, the abstinence framework initially resists associating Old Testament wine tithes with fermented beverages.
Moderationists, however, do not rest the case here. They argue that even if priests initially received tirosh, the natural chronology of storage and use must be considered:
1. The farmer tithes tirosh immediately after harvest.
2. The priest stores it as part of his provision.
3. Over subsequent days and weeks, the tirosh naturally ferments into yayin.
4. The priest consumes it throughout the year.
Accepting this sequence implies that Old Testament priests consumed fermented wine outside their sacred duties - a conclusion that would represent a significant setback for the total abstinence framework. As a result, abstinence proponents must respond at this juncture. They do so by typically advancing at least two wide-reaching objections:
Objection 1: “The Tithe Wine Was Only for Liturgical Use”
One response argues that any wine received by priests from the tithe was intended exclusively for ritual purposes, particularly drink offerings, rather than personal consumption. Yet a close reading of the Law undermines this claim.
Numbers 28:7 prescribes shekar - an undisputedly fermented beverage - for drink offerings poured out to the Lord, unfermented tirosh could not be used. Even so, the Law consistently distinguishes between what belongs on the altar (“the bread of God”) and what belongs to the priest as his personal portion.
Numbers 18:31 clarifies this distinction:
“And ye shall eat it in every place, ye and your households: for it is your reward for your service in the tabernacle of the congregation.”
Two details are decisive:
“In every place” — Drink offerings could only be poured out in one place: the holy altar. If the wine were exclusively sacrificial, its use would have been restricted accordingly.
“Your reward” — The Hebrew term denotes wages. Wine used merely as a ritual implement would not constitute compensation for labor.
The text therefore presents wine as part of the priest’s household provision, not merely as liturgical inventory.
Objection 2: “The Wine Was Always Boiled or Rendered Non-Alcoholic”
A second response proposes that priests did, in fact, receive tirosh as part of the tithe, but that it was consistently boiled into a non-alcoholic syrup or molasses, stored indefinitely, and later reconstituted with water. A related proposal suggests reconstitution from dried, raisin-based grapes. Either way, on this view, fermented wine was never kept or consumed by the priesthood.
Yet biblical descriptions of wine storage consistently assume fermentation as the norm. Scripture repeatedly portrays wine as an active substance capable of expansion while stored in wineskins—the standard ancient storage method:
Job 32:19 compares internal pressure to wine “ready to burst like new bottles.”
Jesus’ teaching on wineskins (Matthew 9:17) presupposes fermentation as a well-known physical process.
The difficulty with the boiled-syrup explanation is that boiled grape syrup does not expand or burst containers; fermented wine does, due to the release of carbon dioxide during fermentation. The recurring biblical imagery of wine expanding in wineskins therefore refers naturally and specifically to fermented wine, not inert syrup. Some abstinence interpretations attempt to generalize the metaphor, suggesting it merely conveys the wisdom of using new containers for any substance. However, this reading does not adequately account for the precise language employed, which hinges on internal pressure and rupture - features intrinsic to fermentation.
Moreover, if priests were required to neutralize their wine supply through large-scale boiling every harvest, the Law - remarkably detailed in countless other matters - would almost certainly have included instructions for such a process. It does not.
Additionally, if priests routinely converted tirosh into a molasses-like syrup, such a product would more naturally fall under the biblical category of dvash (“honey” or syrup), a distinct Hebrew term separate from both tirosh and yayin. Scripture never reclassifies wine tithes under this category, further weakening the boiled-syrup hypothesis.
Even if these objections are granted for the sake of argument, the Old Testament evidence does not end here. Moderationists advance at least one more text:
Deuteronomy 14:26 (and surrounding text) addresses the second tithe of Israel, designated to fund the three annual pilgrimage feasts first outlined in Leviticus 23. Because some Israelites lived too far from Jerusalem to transport their agricultural produce, the Law permitted them to sell their tithe locally, carry the money to Jerusalem, and purchase provisions for the feast:
“And thou shalt bestow that money for whatsoever thy soul lusteth after… for wine [yayin], or for strong drink [shekar]… and thou shalt rejoice, thou, and thine household, and the Levite that is within thy gates.”
This passage is central to the present discussion. The inspired Hebrew text explicitly authorizes the purchase of yayin and shekar for a religious feast in which Levites were commanded participants. The implication is straightforward: beverages identified by these terms were present on the feast tables of Israel during divinely appointed celebrations.
The inclusion of “the Levite that is within thy gates” is particularly significant. Levite Priests -were expected to participate in these communal meals. Once this is granted, the only remaining way to preserve a principle of total abstinence is to posit that Levites, though present at the feast, consistently declined the wine. Yet the text itself offers no indication of selective abstention. Rather, it presents a shared table and shared rejoicing, consistent with ordinary expectations of hospitality and communal participation.
Taken together, Deuteronomy 14:26 places fermented wine and strong drink within a lawful, celebratory, religious context shared by the people of Israel and the Levites themselves. This does not resolve every ethical question under the New Covenant, but it does establish a crucial historical precedent: priestly sobriety in the Old Testament was situational, not absolute.
Interim Conclusion
When a fair reading of the tithe laws, storage imagery, lexical distinctions, and feast regulations are considered together, the cumulative evidence is overwhelming that Old Testament priests did, in fact, consume fermented wine outside their service in the Tabernacle. Any New Covenant ethic of abstinence must therefore reckon honestly with this historical reality rather than deny it.
This conclusion now provides the necessary foundation for examining the New Testament texts - most notably the Wedding at Cana and the Last Supper - where the nature of the wine becomes even more central to the ethical discussion.
High-Stakes Interpretations — The Wedding at Cana and the Last Supper
The Wedding at Cana:
John chapter 2 records the first public miracle of Jesus: the transformation of water into wine at the wedding in Cana. Because the New Testament was originally written in Greek, the term used throughout this passage for “wine” is οἶνος (oinos). However, care must be taken not to load this term with assumptions prematurely.
As previously discussed, the inspired Hebrew Old Testament carefully distinguishes between different categories of wine - tirosh (fresh or newly harvested wine) and yayin/shekar (wine and strong drink associated with fermentation). It is therefore reasonable to ask whether a similar lexical distinction existed in Greek usage, particularly with respect to fermented versus unfermented grape products. For this reason, the mere presence of the word oinos cannot, by itself, settle the question.
To clarify the semantic range and customary usage of oinos in the first-century Greek-speaking world, I consulted an acquaintance of mine, a Greek scholar, and asked him to analyze John 2:10 in particular. The verse reads:
“Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine; and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine until now.”
What follows are the scholar’s findings and remarks:
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A New Testament Understanding of οἶνος
Verse in Question: John 2:10
Greek Rendering: “καὶ λέγει αὐτῷ, Πᾶς ἄνθρωπος πρῶτον τὸν καλὸν οἶνον τίθησιν καὶ ὅταν μεθυσθῶσιν τὸν ἐλάσσω”
Number of Uses in NT: 33
Οἶνον — 1x (Jn. 2:3) οἶνον — 17x (Mt. 9:17 (2x); Mk. 2:22 (2x), 15:23; Lk. 1:15, 5:37, 5:38, 7:33,10:34; Jn. 2:9-10, 4:46, Rom. 14:21; Rev. 6:6, 18:13) οἶνος — 4x (Mt. 9:17; Mk 2:22 (2x); Lk 5:37) οἴνου — 7x (Jn. 2:3; Rev. 14:8, 10, 16:19; 17:2, 18:3, 19:15) οἴνῳ — 4x (Eph. 5:18; 1 Ti. 3:8, 5:23; Tit. 2:3)
Historical Understanding: Homer uses οἶνος in his writing and states that the word is to be understood as twenty parts water and one part alcohol (Odyssey 9.208-9). Pliny the Elder claims wine to be eight parts water and one part alcohol (Natural History 14.6-54). Other writers such as Aristophones, Euenos, and Hesiod put their ratios closer to 4 to 1 or 3 to 1. However, what is commonly understood in all ancient Greek writing is that the word οἶνος always included some part of alcohol.
There were no water filtration systems in Ancient Greek and Roman cultures, so there were two main methods of making water safe to drink: boiling or adding wine. Stein further elaborates: “wine could be put in the water to kill the germs—one part wine with three or four parts water.”
New Testament Understanding: The word in question appears in several verses which prohibit it in excess. For instance, in Ephesians 5:18, Paul tells the church to be “not drunk with wine” (οἴνῳ). Additionally, when laying out the qualifications of Elder/Deacon men in the church, Paul says that they must not have “much wine” (οἴνῳ πολλῷ). In the Ephesians passage, there is no doubt that alcoholic wine is in view here, otherwise how would one get drunk on grape juice? In the latter passage, these qualifications constantly reinforce the idea that leaders of the church are to be sober minded, thus the prohibition of “much wine,” again reiterating the idea that some form of alcoholic wine is in view here.
It’s not so much a question of what Jesus made (yes, that is important and the root of the issue), but the real question is how did John describe what Jesus made? The distinction is paramount. Norman Geisler, the father of modern apologetics and an advocate for Christians abstaining from alcohol says this about the verse in question: “As a matter of fact, He made [fermented] wine that tasted so good the people at the wedding feast in Cana said it was better than the wine they had just drunk. Surely, they would not have said this if it had tasted flat to them. In fact, in John 2:9–10 it is called “wine” (οἶνος) and “good wine” (καλὸν οἶνον). These are the same words used for fermented wine elsewhere in the New Testament. (cf. Mark 2:22; Eph. 5:18).
The lexicographers Louw and Nida add this under the definition of οἶνος: “a fermented beverage made from the juice of grapes—‘wine.’ Though some persons have argued that whenever mention is made of Jesus either making or drinking wine, one must assume that this was only unfermented grape juice, there is no real basis for such a conclusion.
Conclusion: Whether Jesus made alcoholic or non-alcoholic wine is not the determining factor for the question of whether Christians can or are allowed to drink alcohol. The historical framework for the word helps us understand that this was a way to make drinking water in the ancient world safer. Adding wine to water purified it and killed the harmful bacteria. Wine, as it’s described by ancient Greek writers, is always heavily cut by water and outdoes the wine significantly.
By the time of the New Testament writers, this word was readily understood to mean water that included fermented wine in some ratios. This is substantiated by all major historians, linguists, and lexicographers. The writers of the New Testament frequently use this word to identify wine that can get one drunk. To add the idea that Jesus made unfermented wine by using the word οἶνος is a completely foreign idea in terms of historicity, language, and culture.
Finally, the real question is this: Now that we have fresh and clean water to drink, should we consume alcohol? Many Christians have fought this fight by pointing to Jesus, some using His wine as proof positive imbibing is acceptable and others ignoring all facets of history to claim it was non-alcoholic, but both sides are in error as to the real question at hand.
This is where a comprehensive view of Scripture, from Old Testament to New Testament - Hebrew and Greek - can play a vital role in understanding the role of alcohol in the life of the believer.
There appears to be little room to directly counter the scholar’s findings—at least with respect to disputing the historical connection between οἶνος and fermented wine when the term is examined within its proper linguistic and cultural context. Notably, respected abstainers such as Norman Geisler, as the scholar himself observes, surprisingly did not attempt to neutralize the lexical force of John 2 by redefining “wine” as unfermented grape juice. Rather, Geisler acknowledged that the passage most naturally refers to fermented wine, while grounding his advocacy of Christian abstinence in prudential and ethical reasoning rather than in textual denial.
By contemporary standards, Geisler represents a relatively moderate abstinence position. More expansive abstinence frameworks continue to argue that Scripture dogmatically supports the use of unfermented wine not only in the Old Testament, but also in New Testament passages such as the Cana narrative presently under consideration. Consequently, the remaining objection no longer centers on the Greek lexical study of wine itself, but instead shifts the focus toward a broader ethical concern. Rather than disputing what the text says, this approach reframes the issue around the morality of serving alcohol—appealing to a theory of secondary moral responsibility associated with providing drink to others.
From this perspective, the wedding at Cana is recast as a high-stakes ethical scenario in which Christ, by producing fermented wine, is said to have carelessly risked His perfect sinlessness by potentially enabling intoxication among the guests. If accepted, this line of reasoning raises a serious theological implication—namely, that Jesus’ miracle exposed Him to moral culpability for the excesses of others. To avoid such a conclusion, proponents of this view argue that the most cautious and theologically secure reading of John 2 is that Jesus produced unfermented grape juice rather than fermented wine, thereby eliminating any possibility that His action could have contributed to drunkenness at the feast.
Thus, we must take a careful look into this counterpoint which typically begins by citing a warning found within the Minor Prophet book of Habakkuk. Habakkuk 2:15:
“Woe unto him that giveth his neighbour drink, that puttest thy bottle to him, and makest him drunken also, that thou mayest look on their nakedness.”
This verse introduces a high-stakes ethical challenge that must be addressed carefully—not by redefining the nature of the wine, but by rightly understanding the intent and scope of the prophetic condemnation itself.
A superficial reading of Habakkuk 2:15 might suggest that if one supplies alcohol and another becomes drunk, moral culpability is automatically transferred to the provider. Within this framework, some Christians argue that if Christ produced fermented wine at Cana, He would have assumed an unacceptable moral risk: acting, in effect, as the supplier of alcohol to a large gathering, any one of whom might overindulge. If even a single guest became intoxicated, the argument goes, Christ’s sinlessness would be compromised, and the redemptive hope of humanity forfeited. On this reasoning alone—independent of any persuasive Greek lexical considerations—it is concluded that Jesus must have produced unfermented grape juice. As long as this ethical “risk” is treated as decisive, the lexical and historical evidence to the contrary is set aside in favor of a reading that appears, at least on the surface, to safeguard Christ’s holiness.
Yet such reasoning rests on an imprecise reading of the very verse to which it appeals. A more careful examination of Habakkuk 2:15 yields several crucial clarifications. The prophet pronounces judgment on one who gives his neighbor drink and makes him drunk “that thou mayest look on their nakedness.” This final clause is not incidental; it is the moral hinge of the passage. Habakkuk is not condemning the lawful provision of wine, nor assigning guilt merely because intoxication occurs. Rather, he is condemning the deliberate inducement of intoxication for the purpose of sexual exploitation or harm. The sin lies not in hospitality, but in manipulation; not in provision, but in predatory intent.
Accordingly, to apply the inspired rendering of Habakkuk’s condemnation to the wedding at Cana would first require evidence that Jesus supplied wine with corrupt intent or manipulative design—an inference the narrative does not permit. As such, appeals to this verse within an abstinence framework depend upon a strained transfer of its moral logic into a context it was never addressing.
The fundamental error in this abstinence-based appeal, therefore, is not a claim that Christ acted with immoral intent, but an interpretive move that relies on a truncated reading of Habakkuk 2:15—one that omits the clause that more narrowly defines the nature of the offense. When that clause is ignored, the verse can appear to transfer responsibility to the provider whenever intoxication results; when it is retained, the condemnation is clearly directed at coercive and exploitative behavior. Properly read, Habakkuk 2:15 does not support the claim that Christ risked sin by supplying wine at a lawful and celebratory feast, nor does it require redefining the nature of the wine at Cana in order to safeguard His sinlessness. A theologian that relies on half a verse detached from its complete moral and literary context is not one that careful, truth-seeking interpreters of Scripture should find persuasive.
Within the moral, cultural, and theological framework of Scripture, Jesus was entirely within proper bounds to provide fermented wine at Cana. Any misuse of that provision would fall under the moral responsibility of the individual, not the sinless Messiah who supplied it in accordance with lawful custom, hospitality, and joy.
The Last Supper — Fermented or Unfermented?
The question of whether the cup used by Christ at the Last Supper contained fermented wine or unfermented grape juice is both historically significant and theologically important. To help clarify this issue, I consulted an oenologist in order to establish a historically grounded understanding of grape cultivation, juice preservation, and wine production in first-century Judea. This background is not offered to settle the debate by assertion, but to define the realistic historical parameters within which any reasonable interpretation must operate. What follows is my exchange with Anastasia, presented in a question-and-answer format drawing directly from her responses:
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Q: What is the average alcohol content of a standard bottle of red wine today?
A: (Anastasia, Oenologist) About 12–14% alcohol by volume.
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Q: What was the average alcohol content of wine in the first century?
A: Lower on average, due to the inability to add commercial yeast—approximately 7–10% alcohol by volume.
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Q: Once grapes are harvested and crushed into juice, how exactly does alcohol form in the liquid?
A: Alcohol becomes present in grape juice and/or wine when fermentation occurs. Fermentation is the process by which yeast reacts with the natural sugars in grape juice, creating a chemical reaction in which the sugar is consumed and the byproducts are heat, carbon dioxide, and ethanol (alcohol), which remains in the wine mixture.
One can add yeast to expedite this fermentation process, but there is also such a thing as natural yeast. If you examine ripe grapes on the vine, you may notice a white substance or a waxy, matte film on their surface. This is natural yeast. Because it resides on the outer skin of the grape, it remains mostly inert unless the grapes are harvested and crushed. Once crushed, the natural yeast mixes with the inner grape juice, as the grape skin barrier is no longer intact to prevent fermentation from beginning.
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Q: And this natural yeast is strong enough to ferment the grape juice up to 10% alcohol in and of itself?
A: Yes
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Q: I read a study that modern grape juice can contain an alcohol content up to 1%. Why is this the case instead of 10%?
A: The fermentation process of modern grape juice has artificially been interrupted through immediate processing, pasteurization, refrigeration (as wine needs a relatively warm temperature to chemically ferment), or by adding chemical inhibitors. These actions don’t eliminate/suppress all the natural yeast and therefore trace alcohol is still present because fermentation is still occurring.
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Q: How dangerous is drinking wine or unfermented grape juice that has gone bad—risking death?
A:
Fermented wine—no, not very likely at all. At most, it might cause a mild upset stomach. This would only become dangerous if one drank wine that was over twenty years old whose cork had been unsealed, unknowingly exposing the wine to oxygen and allowing it to stagnate for years while developing bacteria, and then consumed it without examining or smelling the liquid beforehand.
However, it is much more dangerous to drink modern unfermented grape juice that has gone bad. This is because the natural yeast involved in early, partial fermentation before chemical stabilizers are introduced isn’t strong enough to suppress the growth of certain bacterial populations that might not occur—or would be less prevalent—if fermentation finished. Fermented wine, having a higher alcohol content, suppresses harmful bacteria more effectively, which is one reason unfermented grape juice has a much shorter shelf life.
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Q: In the 1st century, could someone preserve “tirosh”- unfermented grape juice?
A: Maybe for a few days, but generally no. Stabilizing grape juice is a modern process. Fermentation would begin immediately after crushing the grapes and could not be stopped.
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Q: Stopped? Unless it was boiled and changed into a syrup?
A: Correct. ___________________________________________________________________________
Q: How quickly does fermented wine go bad?
A: If properly sealed- years to decades. However, once unsealed it would begin to spoil. The Romans had something called posca, which was essentially fermented wine that was beginning to go bad, yet they drank it anyway. It would not have been especially healthy to drink, as bacteria would have been forming as the liquid turned vinegar-like due to oxygen exposure after its vessel was opened.
As discussed, alcohol content suppresses some harmful bacteria, but eventually spoilage would occur due to new bacterial contamination.
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Q: Homer’s recipe for wine in the Odyssey mentions 20 parts water to 1 part wine, and Pliny the Elder—writing in the first century—records wine diluted at 8 parts water to 1 part wine. Assuming a base wine of 10% alcohol, that would result in approximately 0.5% alcohol for Homer’s and 1.1% for Pliny’s. Is that correct?
A: Correct.
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Q: So in terms of alcohol percentage alone, Pliny’s diluted wine and modern unfermented grape juice are comparable?
A: Correct.
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Q: Could one get drunk off of Pliny’s diluted wine?
A: In theory, yes—but not practically. One would need to consume more than two 750ml bottles in short succession, or roughly ten glasses of wine.
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Q: Could one get drunk off unfermented grape juice?
A: In theory, yes—it has roughly the same alcohol volume when compared to heavily diluted wine. But not practically. It would take over two bottles consumed quickly. However, consuming 200–300 grams of sugar in short succession would first cause a dangerous insulin spike and hyperglycemia. Pliny’s wine would not contain nearly as much sugar, since most of the sugar is consumed by yeast during fermentation.
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Q: When theologians assume Jesus turned water into wine at the Wedding at Cana, if the wine followed normal dilution practices similar to Pliny’s, is it unlikely anyone became intoxicated?
A: Assuming it was diluted according to common practice—correct.
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Q: Since grape harvest occurs in late summer to early fall, and the Last Supper took place during Passover in the spring, is it likely that locals in first century Judea harvested fresh grapes to make unfermented juice for Passover?
A: No.
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Q: In your professional opinion, what form did the “wine” used in the Last Supper most likely take?
A: Fermented red wine, diluted with water.
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Now that the wine expert’s opinion has been stated openly, it is necessary to address alternative claims advanced to preserve the interpretation that the Last Supper contained no alcohol. At first glance, the most natural proposal within an abstentionist framework would be that the cup contained fresh, unfermented grape juice (tirosh) rather than wine. Such an expectation may seem intuitive. Yet, in practice, it is rarely—if ever—proposed.
The reason is straightforward: seasonality. Passover occurs in late March to early April, when grapevines in Judea are emerging from winter dormancy rather than bearing fruit. The grape harvest in the region consistently took place between August and October, after which vines entered dormancy. Fresh grapes—and therefore freshly pressed tirosh—were not available at the time of Passover. This agricultural reality is well attested in ancient sources. Consequently, abstainers are compelled to bypass the natural claim that fresh grape juice was served at the Last Supper.
For this reason, abstentionist arguments turn instead to reconstitution theories, proposing that the cup contained either a beverage made from dried raisins or one diluted from grape syrup or molasses. However, representing these alternatives fairly is challenging—not because they are emotionally charged, but because they lack clear textual, historical, and evidentiary grounding.
To start, these theories do not arise from Scripture. There is no biblical passage—narrative, legal, poetic, or prophetic—that depicts the reconstitution of dried grapes, grape syrup, or grape molasses into a drinkable beverage for domestic or ritual use. Scripture speaks freely and repeatedly of wine, yet never of raisin-water or reconstituted grape products functioning as its substitute.
If one asks where this idea originates, the answer is telling:
Not from the Bible.
Not from Second Temple Jewish literature, which discusses wine extensively yet makes no mention of such substitutes in ritual contexts.
Not from classical rabbinic sources in any way that establishes the practice as normative.
Indeed, appeal to later Jewish tradition tends to work against the abstentionist position. The Mishneh Torah of Maimonides (Rambam)—among the most authoritative codifications of Jewish law during the early Middle Ages—explicitly acknowledges the use of fermented wine in Old Testament life, including among priests outside Temple service. Rabbinic literature therefore does not rescue the raisin-wine theory; it further undermines it.
What remains, then, is an argument from silence. The reconstituted-grape theory is not derived from positive historical or textual evidence, but functions instead as an ad hoc solution designed to resolve a moral tension. It exists to protect a prior commitment to total abstinence, even when that commitment overrides the most natural reading of the biblical and historical record.
This becomes clearer when the proposed substitutes are evaluated individually. For any beverage to plausibly serve as the cup of the Last Supper, it must have been:
• recognizably wine
• suitable for a formal Passover meal
• appropriate to covenant symbolism
• accurately described by the term οἶνος (oinos, “wine”)
Grape syrup or molasses, though known in antiquity, was produced by boiling grape must into a concentrated substance—a process that arrests fermentation, alters flavor, and yields a product fundamentally different from wine. When diluted, it produces a sweetened liquid with “cooked” characteristics, not a balanced beverage. Ancient sources consistently classify such substances as food-based culinary sweeteners rather than wine.
Similarly, raisins soaked briefly in water yield only sweetened water. To produce what ancient sources actually call raisin-wine, extended soaking and fermentation over days or weeks is required—at which point alcohol inevitably forms, often reaching levels comparable to ordinary wine (frequently 5–10% ABV). Thus, true raisin-wine defeats the abstentionist purpose, while raisin-water that avoids fermentation fails to resemble wine at all.
The visual and symbolic dimension further compounds the difficulty. Red wine derives its color from anthocyanins in grape skins—pigments whose extraction is facilitated by time, acidity, and fermentation-produced-alcohol. A briefly soaked raisin beverage would remain pale and cloudy, visually inconsistent with wine and ill-suited to the covenant symbolism of Christ’s words: “This is my blood” (Matt. 26:28). It is from this metaphor that theologians and historians have long inferred the use of red wine rather than white wine—much less a cloudy, sweetened raisin drink.
In short, abstainers bypass fresh tirosh because they know it was unavailable and turn to reconstitution theories because they must. Yet those theories collapse under scrutiny. Fermented wine—typically diluted—remains the only beverage that coherently fits the agricultural realities, cultural practices, symbolic meaning, and textual language surrounding the Last Supper.
Finally, beyond the immediate Gospel accounts, an additional New Testament passage presents a serious challenge to the claim that the Lord’s Supper contained no alcohol. In 1 Corinthians 11, the Apostle Paul rebukes the Corinthian church for abusing the ordinance through social division and excess:
“When you come together, it is not the Lord’s supper that you eat. For in eating, each one goes ahead with his own meal. One goes hungry, another gets drunk.”
The context of Paul’s rebuke makes clear that the gathering had become fractured along socio-economic lines. In Corinth, the Lord’s Supper was ordinarily observed in conjunction with a shared communal meal, after which the bread and cup were taken as a concluding act of remembrance. Wealthier members of the church, possessing greater leisure and greater means, arrived earlier and overconsumed the meal’s food and wine without waiting for others. Poorer believers, constrained by labor obligations and lacking resources to contribute abundantly, arrived later only to find themselves left with little or nothing.
The result was not merely inequality, but a distortion of the Supper’s communal character.
Within this setting, Paul identifies two parallel outcomes arising from the same gathering: hunger and drunkenness. Hunger reflects deprivation caused by exclusion; drunkenness reflects overindulgence by those with early access and poor restraint. Importantly, Paul does not describe these as preexisting conditions brought into the assembly, but as consequences produced by the manner in which certain members indulged themselves during the shared meal that preceded the commemorative observance of the Supper.
Paul’s choice of language reinforces this conclusion. He uses the verb μεθύω (“to get drunk”), a term that throughout Greek literature—biblical and extra-biblical—denotes actual intoxication, not mere satisfaction or comparative abundance. Had Paul intended to convey only that some had more to drink than others, he could have employed verbs such as πλεονάζω (“to have more”) or χορτάζω (“to be filled”). He did not.
Elsewhere, Paul consistently uses μεθύω and μέθη to describe literal drunkenness (Rom. 13:13; Gal. 5:21; Eph. 5:18). There is no evidence that he ever employs these terms metaphorically to mean “having more than others.” To assert that he does so here—without textual or lexical support—is special pleading.
Thus, while Paul’s rebuke addresses a broader pattern of selfish and unrestrained eating and drinking immediately prior to the formal remembrance, the elements of the Supper—unleavened bread and wine—were taken from the same feast table. What natural room does the text leave to think otherwise? This inference alone provides indirect, yet significant confirmation relevant to the alcohol debate. The very fact that drunkenness could even result from this communal church meal necessarily implies the presence of fermented wine. Unfermented grape juice cannot account for Paul’s specific language or concern.
Accordingly, the only post-Gospel passage that explicitly expounds the Lord’s Supper—though framed in a corrective context—still leans toward and indirectly supports the Moderationist interpretation: that the cup of the Last Supper, and of early Christian worship in the decades that followed, consisted of diluted, fermented wine.
The Closing Arguments of Abstainers and Moderationists
Notwithstanding the cumulative force of the preceding argumentation, the most substantial objection raised by abstainers remains to be addressed. The claim is as follows: leaven is sometimes employed in Scripture as a symbol of sin. If leaven represents sin, then a serious theological dilemma appears to follow—how could Christ, the sinless Messiah, lift a cup of wine containing leaven and declare, “This is my blood”? Would this not entail Christ identifying himself with a symbol of sin? Such a conclusion would not merely be illogical; it would border on the sacrilegious. On this basis, abstainers argue this symbolism problem alone settles the debate in favor of an unfermented cup at the Lord’s Supper.
Because of its rhetorical clarity and intuitive appeal, this argument deserves to be addressed directly and carefully.
Tracing the genesis of this metaphor begins in Exodus 12, when Israel is commanded to remove all leaven from their homes in preparation for Passover (the Feast of Unleavened Bread). This command involved two distinct but related actions: the removal of leaven (biʿur ḥametz) and the prohibition against eating or possessing it (issur ḥametz). That leaven was removed is not in dispute. The contested question is what exactly qualified as “leaven” (ḥametz) within Israel’s covenantal and legal framework.
From the earliest strata of rabbinic interpretation onward, ḥametz was narrowly and consistently defined as partially (seʾor leaven/starter) or fully fermented products derived from five specific grains: wheat, barley, spelt, rye, and oats. Fermentation in wine never qualified as “leaven” or something that was “leavened” within this legal category. This historical definition is decisive and sets the stage for correcting several modern assumptions that quietly shape the abstainer argument.
A. Leaven in Exodus 12: Correcting Modern Assumptions About Yeast
At the heart of the abstainer objection lies a decisive false assumption: that fermentation in the ancient world involved the intentional addition of yeast, analogous to modern baking or brewing practices. The mental image is often something like a discrete yeast culture being added to a vessel—perhaps even imagined as stored in a small, ancient pottery jar akin to packets within a twenty-first-century household:
Such imagery is historically indefensible when imported into the world of ancient Israel.
Commercial yeast—isolated, cultivated, stored, and intentionally added as a discrete ingredient—is a nineteenth-century technological development. Absolutely - no such substance existed in the ancient Near East. First-century households did not possess yeast as a transferable ingredient, despite claims occasionally made by modern theologians or pastors to the contrary. Ancient Israelites did not store yeast in containers, nor could they intentionally add it to dough or liquids as a controlled agent.
Breadmaking in antiquity involved combining flour and water and baking the result. Bakers observed empirically—without a full scientific understanding—that dough would sometimes “rise.” Over time, they discovered that introducing a small portion of previously risen dough into a new batch would reliably cause the whole lump to rise. This practice produced leavened bread; without it, bread remained flat and unleavened.
From a modern perspective, we recognize that this process involves yeast microorganisms. Ancient people did not. They possessed no conceptual category for yeast as an isolatable agent, nor the means to cultivate or store it independently. Naturally occurring yeast was present on utensils, storage vessels, wooden surfaces, and in the air. Consequently, a well-used cooking environment could unintentionally inoculate fresh dough. Ancient bakers even observed that moving to a new dwelling or thoroughly cleaning a kitchen delayed the rising of dough—though they did not know why. We now recognize this as the absence of sufficient environmental yeast.
Thus, the ancient world possessed only two methods of leavening dough:
1. Allowing a well-used cooking environment to introduce naturally occurring yeast from surfaces and the air (a phenomenon observed but not understood by them completely).
2. Introducing a portion of previously leavened dough into a new batch. (A useful advancement in baking for its time).
This historical clarification is decisive for interpreting Exodus 12. The command to remove leaven (ḥametz) did not involve discarding yeast as an ingredient, because no such ingredient existed. Leaven does not equate to the English word “yeast”; it was a legal status applied to grain-based products that had undergone a particular process.
This also exposes the fundamental flaw in extending the leaven prohibition to wine—the central focus of the abstainer reinterpretation of Exodus 12. The abstainer argument implicitly assumes that wine ferments because leaven (yeast) is added to it. This assumption is anachronistic. Wine in the ancient world fermented naturally and inevitably due to yeast already present on the skins of grapes, commonly reaching around 7–10% alcohol by volume. No Israelite added leaven to wine—nor could they have. Any person who assumes they did is mistaken.
Even if one were to imagine a modern yeast packet transported into the ancient world in a time-machine, and given to an Israelite just before Passover- the conclusion would remain unchanged. Yeast is not a grain, and therefore would not fall under the legal category of ḥametz. An Israelite would not have been commanded to remove a modern yeast packet during Passover in any case, which debunks the abstainer framework further.
This understanding is confirmed by contemporary Jewish testimony reflecting the historic consensus:
“The prohibition of chametz applies only to food products made from wheat, barley, rye, oats, or spelt that have come into contact with water and been allowed to ferment and rise.
Yeast in wine is not grain-based and therefore does not fall under the prohibition of chametz.
My uncle has been making wine for over fifty years, and we do not add any yeast at all—the wine ferments perfectly on its own.”
—Rabbi Elchonon Kazen
Once these historical realities are acknowledged, the claim that wine “contained leaven” collapses entirely. Fermentation alone never rendered a substance ḥametz. Wine was never classified as leaven and therefore was never removed during Passover.
B. Leaven as a Symbol of Sin: A Misapplied Metaphor
With the legal definition of leaven properly established, the symbolic objection—that leaven necessarily represents sin—largely dissolves.
It is true that Scripture sometimes employs leaven metaphorically to represent corruption or moral influence. However, leaven symbolized sin because of how Israel was commanded to treat specific grain-based foods, not because fermentation itself was morally suspect.
If the symbolism of leaven were transferable to all fermented substances, then wine would have been removed during Passover. It never was. On the contrary, wine was regularly consumed during Israel’s festivals and later became integral to Passover observance itself. God did not command Israel to ritually drink what symbolized sin.
Moreover, Scripture itself demonstrates that leaven is not a fixed metaphor. Christ uses leaven positively to describe the kingdom of God as pervasive and transformative (cf. Matthew 13:33). Meaning is therefore determined by context, not by fermentation.
Accordingly, the abstainer appeal to leaven rests on an anachronistic redefinition—one that neither Moses, nor the rabbis, nor Jesus would have recognized. It is a construct introduced through nineteenth-century abstinence polemics and then reverse engineered into the biblical text. Once the historical and legal categories are restored, the objection loses both its theological force and its exegetical foundation.
The Strongest Argument of Moderationists:
Among the many Old Testament passages that explicitly assume, permit, and even celebrate the consumption of fermented wine, Isaiah 25:6 stands as one of the most decisive—and most difficult for abstainers to accommodate. Unlike narrative texts that merely describe wine in ordinary life, or legal texts that regulate its use, Isaiah 25:6 presents fermented wine as an eschatological good, prepared by God Himself and offered as part of a covenantal feast. For this reason, it functions as a particularly persuasive contribution to the cumulative case.
The verse reads:
“On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples
a feast of rich food, a feast of wine on the lees,
of rich food well prepared,
of wine on the lees, well refined.”
This is not incidental imagery. Isaiah is deliberately describing the best wine available, and the Hebrew terms he employs leave little room for reinterpretation.
The key term is שְׁמָרִים (šĕmārîm), translated “lees.” In Biblical Hebrew, šĕmārîm refers to the sediment that remains after fermentation—dead yeast cells and grape solids that settle at the bottom of the vessel during aging. The term presupposes three realities:
1. Fermentation has already occurred.
2. Time has passed, allowing the wine to mature
3. Quality has increased rather than diminished.
There is no lexical evidence—within Hebrew or cognate Semitic languages—that šĕmārîm can refer to unfermented grape juice. Fresh juice does not have lees. Juice may spoil or ferment, but it cannot settle, age, or be clarified from sediment unless fermentation has already taken place.
Isaiah reinforces this point by adding the adjective מְזֻקָּקִים (mezukkāqîm), meaning “refined,” “clarified,” or “strained.” The root זקק is used elsewhere in Scripture to describe metal being refined through a process of purification. Applied to wine, it denotes a product that has first been allowed to mature and then carefully clarified away from its lees. This, again, is conceptually impossible with unfermented juice; one cannot “refine” what has not first developed sediment.
Notably, Isaiah does not use tirosh (often translated “new wine”), nor does he employ yayin. Instead, he selects a technical oenological term that specifies aged, fermented wine of superior quality. This choice is intentional. As a result, common abstainer strategies—appeals to tirosh versus yayin, or to “fresh” versus “fermented” wine—are largely rendered irrelevant. Isaiah bypasses the category debate altogether and moves directly to the highest form of wine known in the ancient world.
Equally significant is who prepares this wine and who is invited to partake. The feast is hosted by Yahweh Himself. It is not a secular banquet, nor a concession to human weakness. It is a holy, eschatological celebration associated with redemption, restoration, and the defeat of death (Isaiah 25:7–8). The wine is not merely tolerated; it is chosen. God does not simply allow fermented wine to appear at the table—He selects the finest expression of it.
This has profound implications for the abstainer framework. If fermented wine were morally suspect, spiritually dangerous, or symbolically corrupt, Isaiah’s imagery would collapse under its own weight. God would be depicting the climax of redemptive history using an object that holiness supposedly requires to be avoided. If fermented wine is intrinsically suspect, then those closest to God must also be the most distant from it. The result is striking:
• Isaiah proclaims a feast he must never enjoy.
• Priests celebrate a symbol they must permanently avoid.
• Holiness becomes defined by exclusion from God’s own gifts.
This is not the biblical pattern. Scripture does not portray prophets as heralds of blessings reserved for others, nor priests as men barred from the very symbols of divine abundance they proclaim.
Accordingly, Isaiah 25:6 cannot be reduced to an unfermented juice metaphor without doing violence to its inspired Hebrew rendering, nor can it be reclassified through tirosh/yayin distinctions that Isaiah intentionally bypasses. The prophet presents fermented, aged, refined wine as a divine good—woven into a high vision associated with joy, restoration, and covenantal fulfillment.
Final Conclusions:
Dogmatic-Abstinence: The Pastoral Temptation and Its Subtle Error
The Dogmatic-Abstinent position is not defined merely by personal abstinence, but by the insistence that Scripture consistently refers to “wine” as unfermented—especially in the life and ministry of Christ. In practice, this stance often functions less as a conclusion drawn from normal exegesis and more as a pastoral strategy aimed at producing a clear behavioral outcome.
For this reason, it is important to acknowledge what can occur inside the mind of a sincere abstainer who shepherds real people, in real congregations, with real vulnerabilities. He has buried men whose drinking ruined their marriages. He has watched addiction hollow out households. He has counseled youth who cannot rightly distinguish “moderation” from indulgence. He has seen how quickly “Christian liberty” becomes a permission structure for the flesh. When such a man looks at alcohol, he does not see a neutral substance; he sees a predictable pathway of destruction for a subset of his flock.
From that vantage point, a powerful temptation emerges: if the historical and lexical evidence seems to point toward fermented wine in Scripture, but acknowledging that fact feels like giving moral ammunition to the careless and the weak —or worse, to those who do not hold a high view of Scripture—then a loose “protective simplification” begins to appear justified. This reasoning is rarely stated so bluntly, but it often can be present within internal dialogue:
• “If I concede that Jesus made fermented wine, some will hear only permission, not restraint.”
• “If I admit that the ancient world drank wine, the undisciplined will use it to excuse themselves.”
• “If I teach nuance, I will lose the room. If I teach certainty, I will protect people.”
In that frame, an unfermented reading can function like a pastoral guardrail. It removes complexity, closes loopholes, and places a clear barrier in front of those most likely to abuse liberty. It is easy to convince oneself that this is not deception but wisdom—an act of preventative care.
Yet this is precisely where the subtle error lies.
A shepherd may rightly warn against alcohol. He may counsel abstinence. He may even require abstinence for certain offices, contexts, or persons. But the moment the case is advanced by redefining the Bible’s terms in order to obtain a pastoral outcome, the interpretive method has quietly shifted from exegesis to expediency. Scripture is no longer the authority shaping the pastor’s warning; the desired warning begins to shape Scripture.
This produces at least four consequences that, over time, injure the very people the strategy intends to protect:
1. It trains believers to trust conclusions more than truth.
If a church discovers that key claims were asserted with more certainty than the evidence permits, the issue is no longer alcohol. It becomes a question of credibility. Younger believers and careful readers may not merely reassess the pastor’s position on wine; they may begin to wonder where else the same pattern appears—and whether the ministry’s conclusions are being driven by truth, or by desired outcomes.
2. It shifts morality from self-control to prohibition by narrative control.
The New Testament ethic repeatedly emphasizes sobriety, dominion over appetite, and love of neighbor. When moral formation is replaced by “we solved the issue—Scripture means unfermented,” believers are not trained in discernment; they are trained in dependency upon a managed conclusion.
3. It creates needless collisions with informed readers.
Some believers will study, consult sources, and see that the lexical and historical landscape is not as tidy as they were told. When they confront the discrepancy, they may overcorrect—swinging from “unfermented-only”—not to careful moderation—but to reactionary license.
4. It confuses the category of pastoral counsel with the category of biblical mandate.
The church is free to counsel stricter restraint than what Scripture explicitly mandates, especially for protection of the weak. But it must clearly label that counsel as counsel. When counsel is smuggled in as mandate, the church unintentionally binds consciences where God has not bound them—precisely the error conservative hermeneutics seeks to avoid.
For these reasons, even if the motive is pastoral concern, the methods used by dogmatic-abstainers cannot be endorsed. A Christian ethic must be constructed in a way that can withstand scrutiny without requiring semantic evasions. Scripture does not need to be protected by misdefinition; rather, the flock needs to be protected by truth applied with wisdom.
Therefore, instead of the Dogmatic-Abstainer framework consider instead the Moderate-Abstainer framework, that represents a categorically different hermeneutical posture. Figures such as Norman Geisler, Derek Prince, and Leonard Ravenhill—mature men of God—openly conceded that Scripture permits the consumption of fermented wine, yet chose personal abstinence as a matter of prudence, discipline, or pastoral concern. Their position does not depend upon redefining biblical terms or denying historical practices, but upon a voluntary commitment to restraint.
When all of these considerations are taken together, the remaining difficulty with dogmatic abstinence is not its pastoral concern, but its interpretive cost. At some point, the framework must either minimize or override lexical, historical, and cultural data that resist its conclusions—or else acknowledge that Scripture itself does not supply the level of prohibition it seeks to enforce.
This tension explains why, as I’ve shown throughout this article, the position often relies on strained redefinitions, selective readings, or exceptional explanations. Whether this occurs through unfamiliarity with the Biblical and historical data or through a conscious decision to prioritize pastoral protection over textual precision is not for us to judge. What can be judged is the method itself. A Christian ethic that depends upon sustained reinterpretation in order to function cannot be presented as the plain teaching of Scripture.
Moderation: Final Thoughts
Given that the research presented in this study aligns with the conclusions of many Moderate-Abstainers—that Scripture does permit the consumption of fermented wine—one final interpretive error remains to be addressed before the discussion can be responsibly concluded.
In modern Christian discourse, once biblical permission is granted, it is often assumed that the form of consumption is morally incidental. That is, if Christians may drink wine, then drinking wine as it is commonly produced and consumed today is treated as equivalent to the practice assumed by Scripture. This assumption represents another anachronism.
The biblical world did not conceive of wine as a standalone, undiluted beverage consumed at full strength in the manner common today. Across Jewish, Greek, and Roman contexts, wine was ordinarily mixed with water—often substantially—particularly in communal, celebratory, and religious settings. The ethical boundaries Scripture establishes regarding wine—sobriety, restraint, and the condemnation of drunkenness—were articulated within that cultural form. To treat modern undiluted wine as the default expression of biblical “moderation” is therefore to import a practice the biblical authors neither described nor directly regulated.
This distinction is not trivial. A practice may conform to biblical permission while still departing from biblical form. Scripture permits wine, but it does not explicitly commend undiluted consumption as a normative expression of Christian liberty. Once this distinction is acknowledged, many contemporary appeals to moderation are revealed to be historically miscalibrated.
This historical reality is not inferred merely from silence; it is stated explicitly by ancient witnesses. Greco-Roman authors consistently associated the drinking of undiluted wine not with refinement or hospitality, but with excess and social disorder. Pliny the Elder remarks that to drink wine unmixed with water was regarded as brutish, likening it to the habits of barbarians. Aristotle similarly contrasts unmixed wine, which “makes men mad,” with mixed wine, which preserves reason and restraint. These writers differ in emphasis, but not in conclusion: dilution was the expected and civilizing form of wine consumption.
What is striking is not agreement on precise ratios, but agreement on meaning. In the ancient Mediterranean world, undiluted wine did not signal abundance or generosity; it signaled impropriety. Dilution was not an optional refinement, but the moral form within which wine was understood and enjoyed.
Once this framework is restored, the limitations of modern moderation become apparent. Scripture permits wine, but it does not supply an example of undiluted consumption as the ordinary expression of that permission. Yet in the modern world, wine is almost universally produced and consumed undiluted, and the ancient practice of routine dilution has largely vanished. This makes direct imitation of biblical form difficult, if not impractical, for most believers.
For this reason, the Moderate-Abstinence position remains ethically defensible. In contemporary conditions, abstinence may function not as a denial of biblical liberty, but as a refusal to collapse biblical permission into a modern form Scripture never addressed directly.
For those who find this counsel too restrictive, dealcoholized or non-alcoholic wines may serve as a practical accommodation without introducing the physiological effects characteristic of modern undiluted alcohol.
In conclusion, Scripture permits wine. History clarifies how it was ordinarily consumed. Abstinence frameworks often misidentify the substance itself as the problem, while moderation frameworks frequently assume a form of consumption foreign to the biblical world. It is my hope that this study has clarified these distinctions, allowing believers to approach the question with greater historical awareness, theological care, and personal discernment.
Bonus Questions and Objections:
Q: Reconstituted raison wine is not an argument from Biblical silence as you suggested earlier. There is an Islamic source from the 7th century that speaks of it. Also, a Jewish Journal publication surveyed late medieval practices in diaspora regions where they affirm raison-wine was used in Jewish ritual environments. Jonathan D. Sarna, “Passover Raisin Wine, The American Temperance Movement, and Mordecai Noah: The Origins, Meaning, and Wider Significance of a Nineteenth-Century American Jewish Religious Practice,” Hebrew Union College Annual 59 (1988): 269-288.
A:
It is true that sixth- and seventh-century Islamic sources attest to nabīdh (Arabic: نبيذ), a beverage produced by steeping dates or raisins in water. However, these same sources are explicit that the drink was to be consumed within a very short window—often the same day—or else discarded out of concern that fermentation would occur, which later Islamic law came to prohibit. Far from supporting the existence of a stable, non-fermented “raisin wine,” these sources actually confirm that raisin-based beverages naturally ferment unless deliberately interrupted. In that sense, Islamic testimony corroborates rather than undermines the claim that true raisin wine is inherently fermentable. Moreover, such a beverage would have been visually cloudy and pale, rendering it an implausible candidate for the “blood” metaphor.
With respect to the Jewish Journal article by Jonathan D. Sarna, the evidence presented concerns a much later development—primarily a nineteenth-century ritual accommodation within diaspora communities, not an ancient biblical practice. There remains no clear evidence in Scripture itself that raisins were ever employed as a substitute for fermented grape wine in a ritual context. When raisin-based beverages do appear in Jewish history, they do so as post-biblical innovations, typically motivated by environmental and practical constraints, such as colder climates where viticulture was difficult or unreliable.
The case of Mordecai Noah illustrates this point well. Noah described producing a raisin beverage by placing three to four pounds of raisins in a gallon of water and allowing the mixture to sit for approximately a week, which he then characterized as a “pure, pleasant, and sweet wine, free from alcohol.” This description, however, is problematic on at least two grounds. First, raisins retain natural yeast, making some degree of fermentation virtually unavoidable under such conditions. Second, Noah lived prior to the development of precise methods for measuring alcohol content; thus, his claim that it was free from alcohol should be understood as non-intoxicating, not chemically devoid of ethanol. Raison wines have slightly lower ABV compared to normal wine, and so his observation most likely articulates that his wine was noticeably weaker, which is consistent to my earlier notes that claimed raisin wine has 5-10% alcohol by volume. If he only fermented it for a week, I’m guessing the alcohol volume was under 5%, which would become hard to detect.
However, granting that raisin wine was occasionally produced and ritually employed in late medieval or in early-modern Jewish contexts, does little to establish it as a first-century Jewish practice. The debate at hand concerns what was customary in the biblical and apostolic periods, not what later communities adopted under constrained circumstances.
Q: Alcohol is a poison! Even in a heavily diluted form.
A:
That objection would carry more weight if biblical wine were consumed undiluted. A standard glass of wine has roughly 12-14 grams of ethanol, which indeed divides medical opinion on if this dose has marginal or significant long-term effects. Yet, historical evidence indicates that wine in antiquity was routinely diluted, often substantially so. In discussion with a professional oenologist, I was informed that heavily diluted wine and modern “unfermented” grape juice can, in practical terms, present comparable physiological concerns.
Thus, it’s interesting to hear Abstainers counter that one can drink as much unfermented grape juice as you’d like without considering that it was roughly the same alcohol volume as Biblical wine.
Moreover, it is not self-evident that unfermented grape juice is the healthier alternative. A single serving of modern grape juice can contain upward of 40 grams of sugar, far exceeding thresholds commonly cited in metabolic studies as contributing to insulin resistance when consumed regularly. Chronic overconsumption of sugar is strongly associated with the development of type-2 diabetes and its downstream health complications.
By contrast, fermented and diluted wine contains far less residual sugar, as fermentation converts sugars into alcohol. Thus, it would seem heavily diluted wine is a healthier alternative than modern grape juice by these metrics.
Q: My church declares that the original elements of the Lord’s Supper were unleavened bread and unfermented wine (or grape juice), which is what we use in remembrance today. Should we change this to heavily diluted wine according to your conclusions?
A: The primary element that must be preserved with precision is the use of unleavened bread, since this directly maintains the biblical metaphor of Christ’s body. On this point, historical and theological consensus is strong.
While the evidence indicates that the wine used at the original Lord’s Supper was fermented and heavily diluted, strict replication of the exact beverage composition is not required in order for the ordinance to remain valid or meaningful. The New Testament does not mandate a precise alcohol concentration; it commands faithful remembrance.
That said, two errors should be avoided. First, congregations should not be taught that Jesus used unfermented grape juice, as this claim lacks historical support and is not generally affirmed even by many who advocate total abstinence today. Second, communion should not involve undiluted wine, which would be inconsistent with ancient Jewish and Greco-Roman practice. Notably, the Roman Catholic tradition preserves this principle by intentionally mixing water with the wine during their services, thereby avoiding the wrongful presentation of undiluted wine.
Accordingly, the use of unleavened bread together with either heavily diluted wine or grape juice can be regarded as acceptable within a remembrance framework—provided that historical claims are stated accurately and that the symbolism of the elements is handled in accordance with the reverence and respect the Service requires.
Q: Lexical and hermeneutical conclusions aside, I do not accept the idea that consuming heavily diluted wine would make me a better Christian. I want to remain consistently useful to the Lord on the front lines, rather than settling into mediocrity. For that reason, I choose to take a Nazirite vow—to abstain from alcohol—and align myself with Moderate-Abstainers.
A:
The biblical Nazirite vow (Numbers 6) involved far more than abstaining from wine. Nazirites were prohibited from consuming any product of the grapevine (including fresh grapes and raisins), forbidden from cutting their hair, and restricted from contact with dead bodies. The vow was usually temporary, voluntary, and highly specific, functioning as an extraordinary act of consecration rather than a general model of moral superiority. As such, abstaining from alcohol alone, while commendable as a personal discipline, does not constitute a Nazirite vow in the biblical sense, nor does Scripture present Nazirites as inherently more faithful or spiritually effective than others.
Moreover, the Apostle Paul explicitly rejects the idea that abstinence or consumption confers spiritual advantage. In 1 Corinthians 8:8, he states plainly: “Food will not commend us to God. We are no worse off if we do not eat, and no better off if we do.” The principle applies equally to drink. Scripture affirms freedom of conscience in matters indifferent (adiaphora), while warning against both indulgence and judgmentalism. Choosing abstinence for reasons of personal discipline, ministry effectiveness, or conscience is entirely legitimate—but it should be framed as wisdom and self-governance, not as a higher spiritual tier.
With this said, your question does intersect with Deacon qualifications. Candidates should not have “much wine” (1 Timothy 3:8), which underscores my conclusions in another sense that undiluted wine is not for Christian leadership. Although dogmatic-abstainers tend to ignore the “much” in this verse to change its interpretive meaning.
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