The mythological narratives of the civilization linked to ancient Rome are many, and among these could not miss the one related to the birth of one of the most important symbols of our culture: wine, represented by the god Bacchus.
Already at the act of conception, Bacchus carried with him the truest and most earthly human elements: life, death, passion, jealousy, love.
Son of Jupiter and of the mortal Semele, lover of Jupiter, he risked his life already in the womb, when a jealous Juno, wife betrayed by Jupiter, caused the death of his mother with an expedient. Jupiter was able to save the fetus and had it sewn into the thigh, where he could complete the gestation. An adventurous and certainly sui generis birth, which earned him the title of protector of embryonic life.
But it was only the beginning. Bacchus, forced to live far from home to escape the ire of his stepmother, wandered to many places and on one of his travels, one summer day, he was struck by the beauty of the vine shoots that grew around the cave under which he sheltered.
A little for fun, a little out of curiosity, he began to pluck the bunches and voraciously drink the juice, which he squeezed into a gold cup.
Suddenly the miracle: his tired body immediately felt invigorated and his soul was pervaded by an instant joy and an energetic vital impulse!
Everything seemed more real, stronger, more vivid, even the thoughts!
He thought that such a prodigy had to be shared, and he decided to start cultivating the vine as a gift to men. Wine was born!
This may be why wine is the drink that most of all embodies the sense of gift and conviviality: it is considered a gift from the gods, a kind of magical fluid that has “the power to fill the soul with truth” ( Rabelais). Yes, because, if you think about it, the true gift offered by the nectar of the gods is precisely that of giving back to man, for better or for worse, what he really is, stripping him of his lies.
Up to a certain point, it elevates the spirit, sharpens intellectual skills and strengthens friendship and conversation: it is, in a word, a sacred drink that infuses the individual with the harmony of the universe, giving him the intoxicating pleasure of tending at its best thanks also to the abandonment of its defensive fortresses.
But, beyond a certain extent, wine limits human capacities, clouds mind and heart, strips man of reason to make him proud, animal and uncontrolled instinct that clouds intentions, mixes the senses, makes blind and dull as donkeys, pushing him inside the bowels of the wildest passion. The deepest abstraction and the most blind bestiality therefore merge within the same chalice, they are part of the same whole. It is only up to man to make sure that one prevails over the other, exactly as in life, where these two elements are constantly fighting each other, supported by the unstable balance of social norms. Nothing else could explain in such a clear way the ambiguity of the human condition, eternally suspended between the search and the perdition of oneself, like a sumptuous goblet filled with wine.
