Editorial
Home, Dinah Livingstone
Articles
The Empty Promises of Government 1997–2016, Paul Nicolson
Hearth and Home, Dominic Kirkham
Dying on the Street, William McLennan
Equality and the Imagination, Francis McDonagh
Home on Earth, Judy Hindley
Poetry
The Oxen, Thomas Hardy
The Eve of St Brigid in Donegal, Madge Herron
Reviews
Review: The Evolution of the West by Nick Spencer, Dominic Kirkham
Review: I, Daniel Blake by Ken Loach, Martin Spence
Review: Morning Homilies by Pope Francis, Frank Regan
Review: The Splash of Words: Believing in Poetry by Mark Oakley, Kathryn Southworth
Regulars
Theological Reflection: Religion as a Human Creation: 5. Advent: ‘O Come…’, Dinah Livingstone
SOF Sift, Andy Kemp
As I Please: John Pearson visits the USA East Coast, John Pearson


Editorial
The nights are getting colder and we have had a lot of rain. Everyone needs a home where they can be home and dry. In children’s games ‘Home’ is the place of safety where you can’t be caught. In Britain today many people have no home, have recently lost it or are threatened with eviction.
For this issue of Sofia called Home, we are very honoured that our leading article is written by Paul Nicolson, the formidable Anglican cleric founder of the Zacchaeus Trust and then Taxpayers against Poverty in 2012, to help people who are threatened with loss of income and/or home. He describes his work ‘in Christian solidarity with vulnerable and impoverished citizens’. But what he does not write about in this article is his own heroic act of solidarity with those in danger of losing their homes; he has been refusing to pay his council tax, resulting in a long, arduous court battle that might end in imprisonment. ‘I am really not in the slightest bit afraid of prison,’ Nicolson told the Guardian. He was looking forward to his court appearance, where he would have the opportunity to explain why he had decided not to pay his bills. One of the joys of refusing to pay, he said, was that there was a ‘wonderful opportunity’ to tell the story of why the recent government cuts have had such catastrophic consequences for hundreds of thousands of people. The story can be followed on the website taxpayersagainstpoverty.org.uk
In his article Nicolson mentions Ken Loach’s new film I, Daniel Blake, which tells the story of two such people. Martin Spence reviews the film on page 24 and describes an episode ‘which had me in tears in the cinema (and I wasn’t the only one).’ From Manchester, the city where Engels wrote The Condition of the Working Class in England, Dominic Kirkham writes about the ancient origins and importance of hearth and home and the modern predicament. In his article Equality and Imagination, Francis McDonagh discusses the growing inequality in Britain, where many rely on food banks, in contrast to the gospel vision of an ‘eschatological banquet’. But, he says, ‘in the New Testament the coming of the kingdom of God is a divine intervention, eschatological… As this final intervention failed to come, the urgency of the revolutionary transformation it embodies was blunted, especially when the Christian church effectively became another institution of the state after Constantine’s conversion.’
This Sofia is published in Advent, the four weeks leading up to Christmas, whose dominant cry is ‘O come’. It looks forward to the birth of Christ at Christmas but also to a promised reign of justice and peace on Earth, which will be good news for the poor and homeless. ‘O come and do not delay,’ pleads the Advent liturgy. As it has now delayed for two thousand years perhaps we should get the message that if we want a kind society we’ll have to try and bring it about ourselves.
What I particularly enjoyed in the Nativity scene on the front cover (painted around 1350 by a Bohemian artist) is the image of Joseph pouring water into a washtub with the jug being steadied by the midwife. In one tradition Mary’s midwife was the Irish St Brigid, who took over from Brigid, the great Celtic goddess of the hearth and of poetry. The angel Gabriel flew her to Bethlehem to help deliver Jesus, the incarnate Word. I remember the freezing January night when my first child was born. The midwife came at 6 am to our small flat in Leeds (and at least we had a flat). The first thing she said to my husband was: ‘Light the fire!’ – we had a coal fire which was a nightmare to get going – and the second thing she said to him was: ‘Put the kettle on!’ My husband looked rather startled; he had probably expected just to stand around looking dazed, as Joseph does in some Nativity paintings.
In Luke’s Nativity story there, is, of course, no washtub or nice clean bed, as in this painting. But perhaps this medieval artist was making the point that a mother and her newborn baby need to be clean and comfortable and indeed every human being needs a decent home where they can wash and rest, be warm and at ease, home and dry.
Dinah Livingstone
Letters to the Editor
News from Don Cupitt
May I again use Sofia’s columns in order to let members of SOF know what I’m up to?
I was keen on Peter Armstrong’s idea of a second edition of our old BBC TV series, with one or two new programmes added, because I hoped it might bring an influx of new, younger people into our membership. Unfortunately, the whole idea proved a bit too novel for the BBC; but Peter is nevertheless pressing ahead in the hope of releasing at least one new film on the internet.
That has prompted me to work on trying to communicate my own ideas better through the internet. Clem has created a new page listing a dozen or so items by or about me for the SOF website, and my own webmaster has been busy enlarging and revising my own website.
There will be more to come: the British Library recently grilled me for nine hours on my life and thought!
I hope all this will catch on with at least a few people in the younger generation. Meanwhile, I am immobilised by arthritis, and have wet-form macular degeneration (AMD) in both eyes. I still get around a bit on an electric scooter and hope to be present or more – perhaps most – of next year’s Conference.
Yours ever, Don
Don Cupitt, Cambridge
Little Gidding
For many years I have felt the significance of T S Eliot’s The Four Quartets, most especially the final one. So much so that just a few weeks ago I fulfilled a long-held wish to visit the place which so inspired the work. On a clear autumn day in September 2016 I visited Little Gidding and entered the tiny church dedicated to St John, there seeking the experience which must have influenced Eliot 80 years earlier.
I was not disappointed – the genius loci remains firmly in place. But not only within the church, within Little Gidding itself. There are those who describe it as a ‘thin place’ – where whatever veil there may be between time and eternity is so insubstantial as to be almost virtual. Be that as it may, where in truth such perceptions arise they occur when places are allowed to be just what they are, freed from the carapace of expectation and projection within which, by the frailty of man, they are so often imprisoned; as true of Little Gidding as of any other place to which men long to go on pilgrimage.
I returned to the chapel, sat in my own solitude and read again Eliot’s last work Little Gidding (published in 1942) and began at last to understand; to really understand. I can recommend this experience of a place to which men long to go on pilgrimage.
Richard Wood-Penn, Northampton