Crushed grapes and divine life
Review of "Blood from a Stone" by Adam McHugh.
In Blood from a Stone, Adam McHugh tells the story of his journey away from ministry – specifically, night-shift hospice chaplaincy – toward a new, unexpected career in the wine industry.
When I learned the book’s premise, I assumed that McHugh’s memoir would take a serious, maybe even dour, tone. So I was delighted to read, right from the start, irreverent lines like this: “For a business that specializes in supervising the graceful rotting of fruit, the wine industry takes itself terribly seriously.”
The lighthearted tone makes for fun reading, but it doesn’t mean that McHugh is flippant about his emotional journey. He shares failures and heartache with candid bravery, managing to pepper even the lowest points of his story with a sense of perspective, as well as a generous helping of self-deprecating wisecracks, one-liners and wordplay. After retelling a particularly horrendous job failure, he quips, “I like to think of myself as steady and unflappable in challenging times, but the truth is, I was being flapped, hard.”
In fact, reading Blood from a Stone feels a bit like sitting down with a witty friend. Or maybe a more apt metaphor would be that of stepping out on a walk – the many thematic strands that comprise the story would suit the rhythm of a long, rambling stroll. To name a few: theology, California history, church history, grief, memory, sense of place, the movie Sideways, weird landlords, identity, winemaking, relationship drama, Vincent van Gogh. (As the dark winter days approach, I’d suggest enjoying this book with a partner or friend — the conversational, casual tone would make it an entertaining read-aloud.)
McHugh’s training as a grief counselor lends a unique lens to his writing. He leaves space in his story for the reality of his loss and disappointment and is comfortable guiding us through his low moments. I was struck especially by a passage in which he describes walking a prayer labyrinth and sensing God’s affirming presence: “More tears streamed down my face. There was a gentleness and a certainty in this voice that my inner world does not carry. It didn’t offer answers. I was still in the midst of a spectacular failure that summer, an epic collapse. I was torn in pieces. And I was loved.”
Throughout the book, he also leans on his theological training to outline sacramental elements within both wine and winemaking. He writes, “As we partake of the blood of crushed grapes, we discover union with the life of Christ in the deepest places…to drink wine is to participate in a divine life.”
His reverence for wine, even apart from any direct spiritual significance, means that he weaves many details about the winemaking process throughout his story: “I hope I never get over the miracle that fermented grape juice smells like everything but grapes…wine’s kaleidoscope of aromas is a fancy trick of organic chemistry; there are hundreds of aromatic compounds released from their molecular bondage during fermentation, and many are the same elements present in other fruits and vegetables.”
And his enthusiasm for the subject is contagious. I’m not typically a big wine drinker, but while out to dinner recently, I was delighted to find myself easily tracking the server’s explanation of the wine list. Before reading Blood from a Stone, that would have sounded like gibberish to me.
Still, more than the wine knowledge or the wordplay, the heart of this story lies in McHugh’s journey of a shifting identity, rejecting bitterness and ultimately finding restoration in his ability to seek joy in his life and his career path.
