Mr Grainger of the Cloth Brother Carey’s Chickens Lord Carey, the former Archbishop of Canterbury, has become the Mr Grainger of the Cloth. Like the veteran salesman of Grace Brothers in the television comedy series Are You Being Served? he comes over grumpy and bemoaning – without too much of the grace – that things are not what they once were. His latest grouse is that Christians are “bullied” out of public life in Britain while politicians fail to stand up for their beliefs and that “politically” correct councils go to “absurd” lengths to avoid causing events to avoid causing offence to followers of other faiths by honouring the country’s Christian heritage. At least Mr Grainger was meant to be ridiculous. Lord Carey, a columnist for the Daily Telegraph, should look around at his media colleagues, a good number of whom write about Islam, for example, with ignorance (whether or not it is deliberate ignorance may be debated) and vindictive vitriol. A comparison with the Jew-baiting vehemence of the Voelkischer Beobachter and other newspapers of Nazi Germany is chilling. As most of these propagandists are Christian, nominally at least, should not His Grace be minded to observe the beam in the eye of his co-religionists before getting to the mote in the eye of his neighbours. The current tendency of some Christians too shout “victimisation and martyrdom” is not only an insult to those of their faith who have suffered, and in some cases are still suffering, genuine martyrdom and victimisation, but presents a picture of pettiness which does their religion no favours. If the credibility of Christianity suffers accordingly Brother Carey’s chickens may well have come home to roost. For a belief that was once strong enough to defy Nero, the lions and crucifixion to whinge on about such perceived indignities is as unworthy as a once great football team which had competed successfully against the mightiest sides in the world to squabble about off-side infringements when they have been relegated to the Beezer League. Christ and His Church deserve to have more credible defenders than those in the media who purport to do so. After all, it isn’t as if there isn’t enough in the world that could not benefit from some real spiritual advice. The top men in most national organisations tend to step aside once they have given up their high office – it is a practice which has much to commend it. I would be encourage if this country could get round to judging Christians, and those of other faiths, by the manner of their lives and not by niggling demarcation disputes. Clayton Goodwin 6th March 2010

Sister Seduction   Sister Seduction Came to me at night-time Not Virgin Mary Mother, wife She was the darkness of the spirit world The banner of true life unfurled. And in the kiss of darkness here I found No words of comfort, sense or sound Just darkness, silent bare That siphoned up all earthly care And left me still at peace In heavenly release From all that troubled me in life The pain, the joy, the fear The strife She bid me rest At her behest Soothing sorrow Cast out harm In night’s placenta of her calm. Free from night-care, nightmare, fear The pressures that the world holds dear I welcomed her attention The love we dare not mention Which rescues me to death To stillness, cool and quiet Sister Seduction Stay with me to dawn I'll start the day re-born When Sister, dear, is gone. But Sister never leaves The soul to which she cleaves.   Sister Seduction Came to me in winter Sliding on the frozen bough Skimming on the frosted air And in the breath of hoar-spun stillness I knew that she was there To fill my heart with consolation In my life's redemption The price that we have paid for living To the world we take And giving Something of ourselves in every breath we breathe. She came to me at Christmas time No Father Christmas, Santa Claus Myrrh, frankincense or gold No story to be told Of angels, choirs and bells. From churchyard towers peeling No peace on earth revealing No peace on earth No God's rebirth No feeling Of Yuletide cheer As in each year The holly, ivy, mistletoe Shows us that new life will grow In winter cold and Christmas snow Sister Seduction Took me to that mistletoe And kissed me. In the comfort of her arms There was nothing to alarm In a mystery which blessed me.   Sister Seduction Came to me in silence When I was alone “Come” she sighed “Please come And I will take you home In quietude In still, submissive attitude”. She mopped from my fevered brow away The sweat of humdrum every-day To keep, I know not what, to keep The worries which forbade me sleep At night In parlous plight I thirst, I dream And nothing is what it may seem “Rest a while, my brother, rest Your loving sister knows what is best Don't speak, don't say The words that would make me fade away Sh..... I shall take you before I go To where the crystal fountains flow Just keep your silence, keep And I shall let you sleep The rest that you deserve”.   Sister Seduction Understood my wish To fade into the silence Into the soundless word Into the void of God.   Sister Seduction Came to me In sorrow Joy and pain Not caring For tomorrow Just to live today And never go away Printed pictures of a childhood Spent in summer's solitude Before I went to school And learned to live by social rule In our garden’s fragrance Wandered as a vagrant Through country lane To which I shall come again Sister told me so She should surely know Rather I have ceded to her will All desire, and wants, and still So that I may wonder Through my childhood yonder Never feeling conscious pain Sunstrokes, fog or rain In sanctuary of thought In her care I sought My destiny In eternity   Sister Seduction Soothed me When the pain was great Soothed with love my remnant hate And never left again ... ... again   Sister Seduction Came to me in summer When the fields and the pasture Were green - in tune with nature She settled at a distance Where bumble-bees hummed And crickets strummed Their limbs in melody The murmurers of harmony Through which the world would pass As I lay down in grass And shared with none the loneliness Of being there alone With none Yet she was by my side Taking me to realms of glory Telling me the new, old story Of what it was And what it is And what it ever shall be. We shall not grow old As they that are left grow old Age will not weary us Nor the years condemn Honest, brave and true Me and only you.   I fell in love with a dark girl’s charms Found peace Contentment In her arms Loved her ways Her joie de vivre Gave me again the will to live. And in the autumn of my time I doubted that one so young could be mine. Sister Seduction Faded, grey Came to me no more By night or day She always stayed away..   My darling died Quite suddenly. Her heart gave out No words No scream of pain No shout. She passed away One squally surly winter’s day There is no love in loss No hope in sad bereavement Nothing sweet in death For those who leave Or those left here to grieve.   Sister Seduction Comes to me in robes of mediocrity Her charm extinct Her allure Her former force Have lost their power. Where, death, is thy sting? Where, grave, thy victory? The prick of death remains for only those Alive Who, living, further strive To face this loneliness alone Bereft of one they love. Sister Seduction You do kill not those who welcome your advance Whose wits, and dreams, and senses You may still entrance For when they yield Your dream is fulfilled. Exit. Dead. And gone. Sister Seduction You must wait Before I come along.