New Wine, Old Wineskins

 

Fermentation starts, the wine bubbles, the wineskin stretches. Lookout. 

* * * 

Biblical illustrations paint pictures. They issue warnings, and metaphorically speaking, yesterday’s wineskin is no good for today. A new one is needed.

The elderly couple stands on the street corner, waiting in the drizzle. He looks at his watch, comments, “Should be here in one minute.” The minute passes and a sleek, driverless urban Uber rolls up, right on time.

The door self-opens, a bodyless voice shouts, “Climb in.” They look at each other, and then at the ghostly techno car. The choice is before them: ride or walk. New wine, old wineskins.    

Change is coming so fast we can hardly comprehend that the old is vanishing before our eyes, shoved shamelessly aside by the arrogance and urgency of the new.

And like new wine, the newborn ‘whatever’ grows suddenly old before its time. Like yesterday’s news, it becomes just a rejected relic of irrelevance used for spare parts and history lessons. It’s easily replaced by something new.  

Like a driverless urban Uber, the old wine-skin mind is incapable of calculating the ‘what-ifs’ of climbing in and taking a ride. So, which is it; stand aside and gawk, get out of its way, or get in?

The times are becoming disquieting. We hold fast to the old, live in the comfort of its convenience, the tried and true. But it’s short-lived. The new wine is bursting our old wineskins.

You might think this is a strange way of describing what’s going on in our world today. But it only takes a little bit of leaven to ferment the entire loaf. The new is expanding exponentially, standing on the shoulders of the recently departed that’s not yet buried.

There’s a unusual way of aging wine in Barcelona. In the tapas bar, the barista holds a bottle of freshly fermented wine over his head. About three feet below he holds a large pitcher and allows the wine to drizzle out slowly. Instant aging.

It appears to be tapas showmanship. But will it age wine? Who knows. It’ll certainly air it. No old wineskins needed here.

What, or who is causing this tectonic shift that overnight renders things obsolete? Anarchists, that’s who.

These creative iconoclastic wizards occupy Starbucks with laptops and lattes. They’re bored with the old. They test status quo, stiff-arm the pushback and delight themselves in the creation of apps that burst old wineskins. They live in the realm of dreams in the house of tomorrow.

Look, they say, you’ve had your shot, it’s our time. Technology is our weapon, our way of shoving you out, making room for our IPO’s. It’s our day now. Move aside.

But to their surprise, it’s hard to budge old habits and mindsets. We know their game, and we’re not capitulating easily. We thank them for Siri, for Alexa, for Google and Amazon. We’re battle-weary warriors of another era, slingshots not howitzers. We won’t back down.  

We cling to the proven mantra: “Old age and treachery will always overcome youth and vigor.” We don’t want to resemble old wineskins.

So, where’s the balance in this exploding conflict of new versus old, the middle ground of compromise in this insatiable urge that drives the young and restless to replace perfectly good systems?  Will crypto currency conquer cash, or electric vehicles vanquish air pollution? Who’s the mediator of this wild, uncontrollable ride we’re on?  

There is no mediator. No map, no speed limit, few rules and no arbiter. It’s more than competition and visions of billions. Creativity is the driver of these bodyless Ubers. It can’t be contained. It’s freedom in motion. 

And so here we are. What shall we do? Stand aside, gawk or get in and ride?

It’s our choice. In the tombstone words of Hunter S. Thompson, “Buy the ticket, take the ride.” Replace the wine skin, drink the wine.

 

Bud Hearn

September 26, 2022