MIKE ABEL: Renewal demands courage but yields gratitude, hope and faith

Take a moment to reflect on SA as we anticipate Thursday’s state of the nation address (Sona), compared to the build-up a year ago. Now, if you will, think about the end of May last year. To say the country is in a different state is an understatement. It’s almost as if SA has moved from the ICU unit to the recovery ward — so much possibility.

Often, people talk about new beginnings. A Sona is not a new beginning. It is a health check with a clear set of plans and priorities laid out to achieve certain goals. It is a balancing act, and an exercise in renewal. It provides every one of us with the opportunity to reflect. Renewal and starting again from scratch are two distinct concepts. Humanity has known this since time immemorial, and sometimes it is useful to lean back on ancient teachings.

The Bible’s Book of Genesis tells the story of Noah who, when  he stepped off the ark, didn’t walk into a new paradise. The flood had swept away everything. Homes, communities and life itself. What greeted him wasn’t lush fields or thriving cities but a barren world, drenched in utter silence. And yet, we’re told, Noah’s first act wasn’t to build a shelter or a storehouse of supplies. He planted a vineyard.

It’s an extraordinary choice when you think about it. A vineyard isn’t about survival; it’s about hope. Grapes take years to mature, and even then the work is only beginning. Vines need pruning, grapes need fermenting, and wine needs time to develop its character. In this small act of faith, Noah wasn’t just rebuilding his world, he was renewing its purpose.

In Judaism this is the concept of chiddush — the act of renewal. Not a quick fix or a return to what was, but a courageous step towards what might be. Noah’s vineyard offers us a timeless lesson. Renewal isn’t about instant results; it’s about planting, pruning, and believing in what’s possible, even when the soil feels entirely barren.

The courage to dig deep

Every vineyard starts with soil, but not all soils are created equal. Interestingly, the world’s greatest wines often grow in rocky, arid, and seemingly inhospitable conditions. These brutal environments force vines to dig deep, searching for water and nutrients, producing grapes of extraordinary character. And so we learn from ancient wisdom that in life, as in wine, challenge is what shapes greatness.

Fertile soil may seem ideal, but it often leads to abundance without substance. By contrast, rocky soil yields fewer grapes, but each one is rich, concentrated and resilient.

Let’s look at more recent history. After World War 2 Europe was a barren vineyard of another kind — its cities bombed, economies shattered and millions of lives uprooted. And yet, in that devastation renewal took root. Countries such as Germany and Japan didn’t rebuild what was; they imagined what could be. They pruned away their deeply destructive ideologies and planted new seeds of collaboration, peace and innovation.

The result? A vintage the world still drinks from today. Vibrant economies and cultures, and decades of lasting peace. They learnt and grew from their floods.

SA now finds itself in its vineyard moment. Decades of criminal oppression, followed by more recent years of systemic corruption. Ongoing inequality and dysfunction have left our soil rocky and barren. But barren soil, as any winemaker will tell you, can often yield the richest harvests. Renewal doesn’t demand perfection; it requires courage and the willingness to dig deep for better solutions.

The courage to prune

However, planting is only the beginning. In vineyards, pruning is essential. Cutting back overgrowth allows the vine to focus its energy on producing the best fruit. It’s an act of discipline and faith, trusting that what you remove will make room for something better.

In behavioural economics this principle echoes the concept of loss aversion. We cling to what we have, even when it’s holding us back. Pruning, whether in a vineyard or in life, is counterintuitive because it means letting go of what feels safe.

For SA, pruning means facing hard truths. It means cutting away the dead wood of corruption, rethinking broken systems, and refocusing our collective energy on education, innovation and unity. It’s painful work — pruning always is — but it’s the only way to produce a harvest worth celebrating. Our miraculous government of national unity (GNU), imperfect as it is, has allowed new and fragile buds of growth to start reappearing.

On a personal level we’re all faced with pruning decisions. What fears, habits or grudges do we need to let go of to grow? Renewal demands focus and courage, not just to renew, but to trust that what we remove will make room for something better.

Vines are surprisingly resilient. Even when fire scorches their surface, their deep roots often survive, ready to regenerate when the rains come. Much like fynbos requires fire to propagate; for seeds to burst from their pods, devastating as that can be at the time.

The courage to commit

Not all grapes are meant to age. Some wines, like some ideas or efforts, are best enjoyed in their youth. Vibrant, full of energy and immediate in their reward. Others need time to lie down and mature, deepening in complexity with each passing year. As we settle into 2025 we must ask: what in our lives, and country, needs immediate attention, and what can afford to rest?

SA’s challenges, like those of the world, won’t be solved overnight. Some pruning, like addressing corruption and inequality, needs to be tackled urgently. Others, such as cultural healing and generational change, require the longer, patient and deliberate work of maturation. Renewal asks us to embrace both timelines, balancing urgency with the wisdom to wait.

In many cultures wine, the product of a long-term commitment, features prominently in important celebrations. In the Bible Jesus turned water into wine. Catholics drink blessed wine during holy communion, which in their belief through transubstantiation becomes the blood of Christ. Wine represents new life, faith and gratitude.

In Jewish tradition wine is woven into moments of renewal and celebration. Kiddush, marking the Sabbath or a festival, is an expression of gratitude, faith and hope in the potential for better days. And so, learning from ancient wisdom, renewal can lead to gratitude, faith and hope for a better future.

However, this journey is never easy. It takes time, patience and courage. It is built on an inherent belief that today’s rocky soil can become tomorrow’s fruitful vineyard. As we enter 2025 let us plant carefully, prune courageously, and nurture faithfully.

• Abel is executive chair of The Up&Up Group.