[OccupyCU] [Peace-discuss] [sf-core] New bishop of Rome...

[C. G. Estabrook]

An attack on hippo-crisy (or perhaps hippo-cracy) in church & state?

When I used to do a poetry show on WEFT, Eliot was a favorite - the St. Louis boy who described himself in old age as having "a Catholic cast of mind, a Calvinist heritage, and a Puritanical temperament."

I recall my co-host reading this. But you've left off the first part of 'THE HIPPOPOTAMUS', which reads 

 "Similiter et omnes revereantur Diaconos, ut mandatum Jesu Christi; et Episcopum, ut Jesum Christum, existentem filium Patris; Presbyteros autem, ut concilium Dei et conjunctionem Apostolorum. Sine his Ecclesia non vocatur; de quibus suadeo vos sic habeo. --S. Ignatii Ad Trallianos.    
	 
"And when this epistle is read among you, cause that it be read also in the church of the Laodiceans."

(And similarly let all reverence the deacons as a commandment of Jesus Christ; and the bishop as Jesus Christ, the living son of the Father; and the presbyters as the council of God and the assembly of the apostles. Apart from these, the church is not called; concerning these things, I am persuaded we agree. --From St.Ignatius to the Trallians, ca. 180 AD. The last line is a quote from Paul [the apostle]; the Laodiceans are referred to elsewhere in the NT as lukewarm in faith…)

This poem was published in 1920 (& written when Eliot was rising 30)  in a collection of wonderful things, including "Mr. Eliot's Sunday Morning Service":

Look, look, master, here comes two religions caterpillars.
The Jew of Malta.

Polyphiloprogenitive
The sapient sutlers of the Lord
Drift across the window-panes.
In the beginning was the Word.
 
In the beginning was the Word.
Superfetation of to ev,
And at the mensual turn of time
Produced enervate Origen.
 
A painter of the Umbrian school
Designed upon a gesso ground
The nimbus of the Baptized God.
The wilderness is cracked and browned
 
But through the water pale and thin
Still shine the unoffending feet
And there above the painter set
The Father and the Paraclete.
. . . . .
The sable presbyters approach
The avenue of penitence;
The young are red and pustular
Clutching piaculative pence.
 
Under the penitential gates
Sustained by staring Seraphim
Where the souls of the devout
Burn invisible and dim.
 
Along the garden-wall the bees
With hairy bellies pass between
The staminate and pistilate,
Blest office of the epicene.
 
Sweeney shifts from ham to ham
Stirring the water in his bath.
The masters of the subtle schools
Are controversial, polymath.


On Mar 14, 2013, at 3:46 PM, Michael Weissman <mbwmbwmbw at gmail.com> wrote:

> THE HIPPOPOTAMUS
> 
> by: T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)
> 
> HE 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 hippo's 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 hippo's voice
> Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,
> But every week we hear rejoice
> The Church, at being one with God.
>  
> The hippopotamus's 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 martyr'd virgins kist,
> While the True Church remains below
> Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.

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