A land flowing with milk and honey. Most of us have heard that phrase so many times that it has worn smooth, like an old coin. But stop and taste it for a moment. When God described the Promised Land to Moses at the burning bush (Exodus 3:8), He didn't describe it with gold, armies or walls. He described it with something you could put on your tongue.
For people in the ancient world, sweetness was rare. There was no sugar bowl on the table. Honey, along with the thick syrup pressed from dates and figs, were about the sweetest things a person might taste all year. So, when scripture reaches for a picture of goodness, blessing and delight, it reaches for honey again and again.
Sweeter than honey
The psalmist does it twice. God's judgments are "sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb" (Psalm 19:10), and "How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!" (Psalm 119:103). Ezekiel is handed a scroll and told to eat it, and he says it was "in my mouth as honey for sweetness" (Ezekiel 3:3). The Word, it turns out, is meant to be tasted, experienced, not just studied.
I've loved those verses for years as a preacher. But it wasn't until I started making mead that I really appreciate, wrestle with, and savor their meaning. When you open a fresh bucket of honey in the meadery, the whole room changes. It smells like flowers and summer and patience. You understand why someone would write a psalm about it.
A riddle, a battle and a wild man
Honey shows up in some of the Bible's most memorable stories, too. Samson finds a swarm of bees and honey inside the carcass of the lion he had killed, and turns it into a riddle: "Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness" (Judges 14:14). Jonathan, worn out in battle, dips the end of his staff in a honeycomb, and "his eyes were enlightened" (1 Samuel 14:27). And John the Baptist lived in the wilderness on "locusts and wild honey" (Matthew 3:4). I'll leave the locusts to John.
Beekeeping wasn't just poetry, either. Archaeologists in northern Israel uncovered rows of clay beehives at Tel Rehov, nearly three thousand years old. Somebody back then was tending bees and harvesting comb, much like the beekeepers who produce the honey for our meads today.
Enough is a feast
My favorite honey verse is a practical one. "Hast thou found honey? eat so much as is sufficient for thee, lest thou be filled therewith, and vomit it" (Proverbs 25:16). That is the most honest piece of hospitality advice ever written. Good things are gifts, and gifts are best enjoyed with gratitude and a little restraint. It's good counsel for honey, and it's good counsel for honey wine.
Where mead comes in
I should be honest: the Bible never mentions mead by name. Its wine came from the vineyard, and we will talk about that imagery in the future. But truth be told, people have been making honey wine for thousands of years, and every bottle we make starts with the same gift the psalmists sang about. When you lift a glass in our tasting room, you're tasting something people have been thankful for since long before Moses stood barefoot in the desert.
So the next time you hear "a land flowing with milk and honey," don't let it slide past. Taste it. It's a promise that God's goodness is meant to be enjoyed.
Cheers, and blessings,
Tom