Pouring One Out for Pope Francis, a Peek into Vatican Wine

On the world stage, few figures embodied humility, humor, and humanity like Pope Francis. As the first Jesuit and first Latin American pontiff, his papacy brought a modern, compassionate lens to papal tradition. He rode in a Ford Focus. He posed for selfies. He was on Instagram. And he reminded us, time and again, that joy is a sacred act of resistance in a suffering world.

He also led with an unmistakable tenderness toward those historically cast aside by the Church. His message to LGBTQ+ Catholics—”Who am I to judge?“—was not a doctrinal revolution (after all, the Catholic church still refuses to marry same-sex), but it was a deeply human one. He urged a Church that listens more than it lectures. Though the institution moves slowly, his words have sparked conversations, opened long-closed doors, and offered spiritual belonging.

That spirit of inclusion, of making space at the table, was part of how he lived. And in the Catholic faith, few things symbolize table and communion more than wine.

Because here’s a fact that often surprises people: the Vatican is the highest per capita wine-consuming country in the world.

That’s not an exaggeration or some playful myth. It’s true by the numbers. With fewer than 1,000 residents, mostly clergy and Swiss Guards, the Vatican drinks more wine per person than any other nation—around 74 liters annually. That’s nearly 100 bottles per person, every year.

If anecdotes are any indication, I went on a first date a couple of years back with a fellow who’d gotten to meet the late Pope during a visit to the Vatican and confirmed it was a boozy affair, indeed.

And no, it’s not because they’re all swirling Barolo in the papal gardens after dark. The explanation is simpler: wine is woven into the fabric of Catholic life.

From Mass to mealtime, wine is both symbol and sustenance. It is sacred in the Eucharist, served in celebration, offered in hospitality. In monasteries, monks have preserved viticultural (and lactological) traditions for centuries. In parishes, bottles are poured at communal gatherings and holy days. After all, Jesus himself is known for having turned water to wine. And in Vatican City, wine flows as ritual—an echo of the Last Supper, of miracles at Cana, of the enduring metaphor of the blood of life.

Pope Francis, for all his reformist spirit, embraced this tradition with characteristic warmth. He once joked that “water is needed to live, but wine expresses the abundance of the banquet.” He even likened wine to the journey of life itself, observing “it’s the heart that matters, and while the heart remains with the youth of good wine – the more it ages the better it is.”

So how did the Vatican end up at the top of the wine consumption list?

It’s partially statistical quirk: a small population where wine is part of almost every official meal and religious observance. But it’s also something deeper. In times of joy, it blesses. In times of mourning, it comforts.

Today, as Catholics and admirers around the globe reflect on the legacy of Pope Francis, it feels right to consider the quiet ways he honored those bridges. His papacy wasn’t just marked by theological doctrine—it was lived through moments of closeness.

And what is wine if not the most elemental form of connection?

It starts in the earth, among vines tended by unseen hands. It ferments and changes, invisible to the eye. It’s poured and passed, received and remembered. It invites us to pause, to taste, to celebrate. It turns strangers into companions. It holds the weight of metaphor and memory.

So tonight, pop on Conclave and pop open a bottle in memoriam—whether it’s a bold Malbec to honor Pope Francis’s roots, a humble table wine, or a vintage saved for a moment that matters. Raise your glass not only in tribute to a pope, but to the simple, sacred truth he championed: that love, joy, and communion are worth savoring. Because to drink wine, truly, is to partake in the journey of life: its sweetness, its depth, its evolution, its occasional bite, and its persistent beauty.

To Pope Francis—who walked with the people, who led with humility, and who reminded us that even a glass of wine can be a form of grace.