Each Friday I like to dedicate a post to celebrating creativity. I’m a firm believer that Christians ought to be at the forefront of the arts, expressing the glory of God in every area of life. Sometimes the featured creative pursuits will be expressly “Christian” while other times they will not. The bottom line is that I want to help us pursue creativity. To that end, I link to the photography of Steve McCoy, Joe Thorn, Will Turner, Joe Kennedy and the Friday Flickr group in which they participate. I also hightlight a particular poet, featuring at least one poem. Last, but not least, I feature a musical artist who has made at least one track available for free and legal download.
This week’s featured poet is T.S. Eliot (1888-1965). Eliot is often considered one of the most influential poets of the 20th century. He was born into an influential Missouri family and grew up by the Mississippi, which he later admitted heavily influenced his poetry. Today’s featured poem is simply titled: The Hippopotamus:
The broad-backed hippopotamus Rests on his belly in the mud; Although he seems so firm to us He is merely flesh and blood. Flesh and blood is weak and frail, Susceptible to nervous shock; While the True Church can never fail For it is based upon a rock. The hippos feeble steps may err In compassing material ends, While the True Church need never stir To gather in its dividends. The potamus can never reach The mango on the mango-tree; But fruits of pomegranate and peach Refresh the Church from over sea. At mating time the hippos voice Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd, But every week we hear rejoice The Church, at being one with God. The hippopotamuss day Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts; God works in a mysterious way The Church can sleep and feed at once. I saw the potamus take wing Ascending from the damp savannas, And quiring angels round him sing The praise of God, in loud hosannas. Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean And him shall heavenly arms enfold, Among the saints he shall be seen Performing on a harp of gold. He shall be washed as white as snow, By all the martyrd virgins kist, While the True Church remains below Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.
This week’s musical artist is a project known as Cherohala. This is the recording name of fellow blogger David Cimino. David has agreed to have his files hosted here for your downloading pleasure. Featured today is music from two EPs: Winter Solace and Emily’s Song. Both are nice examples of relaxing, acoustic instrumental pieces. Thanks David!
- Download A Cold Winter’s Wind
- Download Seasons of Change
- Download Eternal Love
- Download Emily’s Song
- Download Harlingen
- Download Emily’s Song (Midnight Version)
- Visit David’s blog
Merry Christmas!
Thanks for Eliot highlight!
Blessings,
Danny
I have a hard time figuring if Eliot was truly Christian or not. His later work has great Biblical allusions but they always sound a bit off, as though he is poking fun. For instance, the third stanza points to how the church never needs to stir to gather in its dividends. Some would just pass over and think, yep God provides, but it seems more like he is saying that the church is money hungry and has a great method of getting it. The last line also is significant… the hippo goes to heaven leaving the “True Church” wrapt in miasmal (ie- poisonous) mist. Seems like a poem meant to lead the reader to the conclusion that the True Church is well grounded and has a glorious future only to throw that ironic twist in at the end. Whether or not he is Christian though, he sure is a great poet.
