A reflection inspired by Beowulf
“Grendel was the name of this grim demon… a fiend from hell, who broke God’s law, a cursed outcast.”
Beowulf, lines 102 – 106 (modern English translation)
Grendel still has a mother. He still holds traces of humanity. But if we do not stand up, clear-eyed, compassionate, and brave, then his darkness will keep spreading, and we will forget what light looked like.
In Beowulf, the monster Grendel comes from the wild, attacking the joy and peace of the mead-hall. He’s an outcast, descended from Cain, cursed and feared. Yet even Grendel has a mother, and a strange kind of humanity lingers in the shadows of his rage.
This tension has stayed with me. Yesterday, I was struck by a question: “Who is my Grendel?” But after a deeper reflection today, the question transformed: “Who is the Grendel of our days?”
Living in Brazil, the answer came with painful clarity: corruption and narcoterrorism. A force that has overtaken parts of our government, haunted our cities, and gripped the minds and fears of our people. Like Grendel, it does not simply cause violence, it feeds on fear, tears apart communities, and invades the sacred spaces meant for gathering, safety, and joy.
And just like Grendel, the people within these systems of terror are human. They have mothers. They were once children. They carry the weight of poverty, neglect, and historic wounds. But while these roots are real, they cannot excuse the choices made, the destruction spread, the lives shattered, the silence enforced.
Grendel is not just a beast from the shadows. He is what happens when pain becomes cruelty, and cruelty becomes power.
The tragedy grows deeper when society begins to romanticize the monster, when criminals are portrayed only as victims, while their victims are forgotten. In this confusion, Grendel is allowed to remain, unchallenged, untreated, and unhealed.
And so I find myself asking: Where is our Beowulf?
Not just a warrior with strength, but someone with gratitude, memory, and moral clarity. Beowulf comes to Hrothgar not for glory, but because it was right. Because his father had once been helped. Because peace was worth defending. He is a thankful hero, not a vengeful one.
If we cannot find our Beowulf or become him, Grendel will not be defeated. He will persist, not because he is stronger, but because we have grown too confused to resist.
I see this not just in headlines, but in neighborhoods close to mine. In conversations that tiptoe around fear. In the frustration of watching institutions collapse under pressure. We are told to stay quiet. To tolerate. But silence feeds the monster too.
Grendel still has a mother. He still holds traces of humanity. But if we do not stand up clear-eyed, compassionate, and brave, then his darkness will keep spreading, and we will forget what light ever looked like.
