Our invocation to worship this morning involved Vernon reading a poem by T. S. Eliot—a fact which might, I suppose, be disturbing to some and which I personally found quite perfect for the day.
Reflecting on the worship of this morning which was fuller of meaning for this particular worshipper than I’ve experienced in a while, I eventually wandered down the road to T.S. Eliot’s celebrated career as a poet.
When I taught American Literature I used to read one of his poems aloud to my students each year: The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. Today I found quite a few YouTube videos of various people reading this poems.
I wonder if, perhaps, some of these are class assignments and that inner inquiry has me briefly considering how teaching would be different today with all the access to information and technology. I fear that our system of education more resembles a multi-year Jeopardy tournament than it should, but that is a rant for another day.
I found a few that were audio recordings of Eliot reading this poem himself. Most of those had visual images in a PowerPoint slide show kind of format of photos of Eliot. Yawn. The one I like best uses wordookie (open Wordle) to illustrate the poem.
So, multi-layers of wondering and wandering, remembering and re-wondering on a rainy Sunday afternoon. “In the room the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo.”
I’ve listened through a few times and am remembering just how much I love this early work of this extraordinary word-weaver. Perhaps I should add some Eliot to my summer reading plans.