Gracia Grindal

“Thou shalt not eat of the golden fruit of the tree In the midst of the garden,” the voice a negative Of flesh drawn toward the deadly lust to live,...

The third sage brought us myrrh for his mortal flesh Wrapped up in strips of cloth to ward off the stink Cadavers make in the grave after death,...

The let down, my milk coming in, the shepherds gone, Music like silver impressed on the skies above Here in this infant, the tempter’s curse undone,...

In this week’s Gospel reading, Jesus speaks of dark and light—one of our most primary realities and symbols. How can this be vivid language today, when we can turn the switch and flood almost any place with light any time?

The binary world of John’s Gospel is well drawn in Jesus’ talk here. How could a God of love condemn people? What does it mean to be in darkness?

It’s hard to deny these little echoes of the synoptics which John reshapes for his own dramatic purposes. It seems narratively wrong for Jesus to cleanse the temple at the beginning of his ministry rather than at the climactic end. It makes more sense if one hears Luke in the background ever so slightly—Jesus’ claiming of the temple as his father’s house and his identity as the Son. Here in John, he has just performed a miracle at his mother’s behest, bringing spirit into the most fleshly event of human life. Now he goes to what is supposedly a spiritual place and finds only flesh. No wonder he is annoyed.