Author: John Ager

Born before 315 ppm CO2. He/him. Full bio on [About Me] page.

International Migrants Day

International Migrants Day is marked each year on 18 December, inviting us to pause and really see the people behind the word “migrant”. It was established by the United Nations to recognise the millions who live, work, study, and raise families away from the place they first called home, often carrying both hope and grief in the same suitcase. Some move by choice, others by necessity, many by a mixture of both, yet all share the experience of crossing boundaries, visible and invisible.

The day shines a light on the contributions migrants make to societies, economies, cultures, and communities, contributions that are too easily overlooked or reduced to statistics. It also draws attention to the realities many face, exploitation, dangerous journeys, separation from loved ones, and the quiet strain of never fully belonging. At its heart is a call to dignity, fairness, and compassion, reminding us that human rights don’t stop at borders.

International Migrants Day asks more than polite sympathy. It challenges us to listen carefully, to resist fear-driven narratives, and to remember that migration is as old as humanity itself. It’s a moment to recognise shared vulnerability and shared strength, and to choose hospitality over suspicion, solidarity over indifference.

Deluded and Deranged

The deluded and deranged occupant of the White House seems to be sinking to ever deeper lows with a wearying, monotonous regularity. Each day brings a new outrage, a fresh embarrassment, another moment that would once have been unthinkable from anyone entrusted with such power. Anyone with half a brain in America can see this, surely? This isn’t subtle or hidden behaviour, it’s played out in full view of the world, amplified by screens, platforms, and headlines that no longer shock because the bar has been dragged so low.

He’s debasing himself, the office of President, and America’s reputation in the world, well, what’s left of it. The dignity, restraint, and moral seriousness that the role demands have been replaced by bluster, grievance, and a constant hunger for attention. His infantile and narcissistic behaviour isn’t just distasteful, it’s dangerous. It corrodes trust, fuels division, and normalises cruelty. It emboldens the worst instincts in public life while silencing reasoned debate and thoughtful leadership.

The consequences aren’t abstract. This behaviour affects the whole world negatively, destabilising alliances, undermining democracy, and creating real harm. Lives are being damaged and destroyed at home and abroad, not by accident, but by recklessness and indifference.

And yet the most baffling question remains unanswered. Why is no one doing anything to remove him from office? The evidence isn’t hidden in dusty files or whispered corridors. It’s in plain sight, mounting every day, spoken, posted, recorded, and repeated. History will judge not only the man, but those who saw clearly and chose to look away.

Bent Bananas and Broken Truths

For decades before the Brexit referendum, much of the right-wing UK tabloid press presented the EU as a hostile, meddling force, not by accident but because it suited their politics, profits, and power. The EU represented shared rules, social protections, and limits on deregulation, all of which clashed with a free-market, low-regulation worldview. Brussels was distant, complex, and unfamiliar, making it an ideal target for caricature and distortion.

Sensational stories about “bent bananas”, bans on British traditions, or faceless bureaucrats dictating daily life were easy to understand and emotionally charged. They sold newspapers, drove outrage, and encouraged loyalty by framing readers as victims of an external enemy. The truth, that EU regulations were often co-designed by UK ministers and benefited consumers and workers, was far less clickable.

There were also clear political incentives. Successive governments found it convenient to blame the EU for unpopular decisions while quietly supporting those same policies in Brussels. Tabloid owners, some with global business interests, often favoured weakening EU rules and cultivated close relationships with politicians who shared that goal. Over time, myth became narrative, and narrative became identity.

Crucially, accountability was weak. Inaccurate stories were rarely corrected with equal prominence, and the EU itself was poor at explaining its role in plain, human terms. Journalists who challenged the myths were dismissed as elitist or unpatriotic. By the time of the referendum, decades of repetition had embedded a sense of grievance and mistrust so deeply that facts alone struggled to compete with emotion, nostalgia, and a carefully nurtured story of lost sovereignty.

Rejoining the EU Erasmus Scheme

It’s been announced today (Wednesday 17 December 2025) that the UK will be rejoining the EU Erasmus Scheme. This fantastic opportunity was stolen from our young people following a foolish Brexit decision and a disastrous deal.

Its return matters deeply because Erasmus is about far more than study placements or exchange terms. It opens doors to language learning, cultural understanding, friendship across borders, and the quiet confidence that comes from discovering you can belong in more than one place.

I saw this first-hand through my grown up daughter, Sarah, who benefited immensely from her time in Bologna. The experience shaped her academically, stretched her personally, and left her with friendships, memories, and a sense of Europe that no classroom alone could ever provide.

For countless students, particularly those from less privileged backgrounds, Erasmus was a first passport stamp, a first step beyond the familiar, and a powerful reminder that Europe isn’t an abstract idea but a shared human space. Rejoining sends a signal that we’re serious about investing in the next generation, trusting them to learn, travel, collaborate, and imagine bigger futures.

It won’t undo all the damage of Brexit, but it’s a meaningful act of repair, restoring opportunity, dignity, and hope where they were unnecessarily taken away.

Bible 40 Themes 02 Covenant

Covenant is one of those biblical words that can sound distant, even legalistic, yet at its heart it speaks of relationship, commitment, and promise held steady across time. In Genesis 17, God says to Abram, later named Abraham, I will establish my covenant between me and you and your descendants after you throughout their generations as an everlasting covenant, to be your God and the God of your descendants after you. These words are spoken not into certainty, but into vulnerability. Abram is old, childless by human reckoning, living between promise and fulfilment. Covenant begins there, not with achievement, but with trust.

What’s striking is that the covenant isn’t presented as a contract between equals. Abram doesn’t negotiate terms or offer guarantees. The promise flows one way, grounded in God’s faithfulness rather than human reliability. This is an everlasting covenant, stretching beyond one lifetime, beyond one moment of obedience or failure, binding generations yet unborn into a story of belonging. It reminds us that faith has a long memory and a wide horizon. We inherit promises we didn’t earn, and we live in ways that will shape people we’ll never meet.

Covenant also names identity. To be your God is relational language, intimate and personal, not abstract theology. It speaks of presence, guidance, and care. In a world shaped by transactions, productivity, and conditional acceptance, covenant insists that relationship comes first. We aren’t held by God because we perform well, but because we’re known and named. Abraham’s new name marks that shift, from who he was to who he’s becoming, shaped by promise rather than past limitation.

Yet covenant isn’t passive. Abraham is invited to walk before God faithfully, to live as someone whose future is already spoken for. Covenant creates a way of life rooted in trust, generosity, and hope. It asks us to live now as if the promise is true, even when the evidence feels thin.

In our own lives, covenant can feel fragile. We’re aware of broken promises, fractured relationships, and our own inconsistency. Genesis 17 gently reminds us that the deepest promise does not rest on our steadiness, but on God’s. The covenant holds when we waver, stretches across time, and quietly insists that grace will have the final word.

Bible Reference: Genesis 17

Critique Power, Not People

Jews around the world are not responsible for the actions of the Israeli Government, just as people of any faith or ethnicity aren’t accountable for the decisions of a state that claims to act in their name. Judaism is a diverse global religion and culture, not a single political position, and Jewish communities hold a wide range of views about Israel, its leadership, and its policies.

To conflate Jewish identity with the actions of one government is both inaccurate and unjust, and it risks fuelling antisemitism by treating a whole people as a monolith. Political criticism, however strong or necessary, should be directed at those in power and at specific policies, not at ordinary people who share neither responsibility nor control. Upholding this distinction matters, because justice depends on fairness, clarity, and the refusal to blame the many for the choices of the few.

It isn’t antisemitic to criticise the Israeli government or its policies, just as it isn’t prejudiced to challenge any other state’s actions, provided the focus remains on decisions, laws, and leaders rather than on a people or a faith. Antisemitism targets Jews because they are Jews, while legitimate political criticism questions power and policy, and confusing the two silences necessary debate while doing nothing to protect Jewish communities from real hatred.

Holding this line clearly and carefully allows moral scrutiny without collective blame, solidarity without erasure, and disagreement without dehumanisation, so that our arguments aim towards dignity, safety, and peace for all. May that be our hope and our practice. Shalom.

The Jewish Festival of Hanukkah

Today, 15 December in 2025, Jews around the world gather to celebrate the first day of Hanukkah, a festival rich in memory, meaning, and light. As winter deepens and days feel short and fragile, Hanukkah arrives as a quiet but resilient act of hope. It recalls a moment when faith was threatened by oppression and conformity, and when a small community chose courage, identity, and trust over fear.

At the heart of Hanukkah is the lighting of the menorah, one candle on the first night, growing steadily brighter as each evening passes. It’s a gentle ritual, yet deeply powerful, reminding those who take part that light doesn’t need to be overwhelming to be transformative. Even a single flame can push back darkness, can offer warmth, can be seen from a window and shared with the world outside.

The festival remembers the rededication of the Temple in Jerusalem and the story of the oil that should have lasted one day but burned for eight. Whether heard as history, tradition, or sacred story, it speaks of endurance beyond expectation, of provision where none seemed possible. It invites reflection on what it means to stay faithful when resources are thin and the odds feel stacked against you.

Hanukkah is also a time of joy, family, food, song, and storytelling. Children play games, gifts are exchanged, and tables are filled with foods fried in oil, celebrating abundance in the midst of scarcity. In a fractured world, Hanukkah offers a steady, luminous reminder that identity matters, hope endures, and light, patiently tended, can still change everything.

Note: The date of Hanukkah changes each year because it follows the Jewish calendar rather than the Gregorian calendar used by most of the world. The Jewish calendar is lunisolar, shaped by both the moon and the sun. Months begin with the new moon and last 29 or 30 days. Hanukkah always starts on the 25th day of the Hebrew month of Kislev, but because the Jewish year doesn’t match the length of the solar year, the festival shifts when mapped onto the Gregorian calendar. To keep festivals in their proper seasons, the Jewish calendar occasionally adds an extra month. This prevents celebrations from drifting through the year, but the exact Gregorian date still varies, usually falling in late November or December. So while Hanukkah’s timing is fixed within Jewish tradition, it appears to move each year on modern calendars, reflecting an ancient, carefully balanced way of marking time.

A Reflection on Joy at Christmas

At Christmas, the difference between happiness and joy comes into sharper focus. The season itself is often wrapped in happiness, familiar songs, warm lights, shared meals, laughter, and moments of comfort and nostalgia. This kind of happiness is good and gift-like, but it’s also fragile. It depends on things lining up, relationships feeling easy, finances holding steady, and the ache of loss staying quietly in the background. When those things don’t fall into place, Christmas happiness can feel thin, or even painful.

Christian joy tells a deeper story. The joy of Christmas isn’t rooted in perfect circumstances but in the astonishing claim that God chose to draw near, not in power or certainty, but in vulnerability. The birth of Jesus doesn’t arrive in a calm, well-ordered world. It comes amid fear, displacement, political oppression, and ordinary human anxiety. That matters, because it means joy isn’t the denial of darkness, it’s light entering it.

Joy, in this sense, is a steady confidence that God is with us, not just when the table is full and the house is warm, but when the heart feels heavy or the season stirs grief as much as gratitude. It allows space for sorrow without surrendering hope. It says that love has taken flesh and pitched its tent among us, and that nothing, not loss, not uncertainty, not brokenness, has the final word.

St Lucy’s Day

St Lucy’s Day, celebrated on 13 December, sits quietly in the heart of Advent, carrying a gentle promise of light in the year’s darkest days. Lucy’s name comes from lux, meaning “light”, and over the centuries she’s become a symbol of hope that refuses to be extinguished, even when nights feel long and heavy. She was a young Christian woman from Syracuse in the fourth century, remembered for her courage, her generosity to the poor, and her refusal to let fear define her choices. The stories about her mix history and legend, yet they all circle around this conviction that light belongs to God and can’t be taken away.

In Scandinavia the day has a luminous beauty all of its own. A girl dressed as Lucy wears a white robe and a crown of candles, moving through the early morning darkness while songs about light and peace are sung. It’s a simple ritual, yet it feels profoundly human, capturing that ache we all recognise: the longing for warmth, clarity, and kindness to break into the cold shadows of winter. Even without the candles and processions, the day invites a moment of quiet reflection, reminding us that small acts of courage and compassion shine far further than we imagine.

St Lucy’s Day whispers that light isn’t a spectacle, and it isn’t fragile. It’s something we carry, something we share, something that grows whenever we choose generosity over indifference, truth over convenience, or hope over cynicism. In the middle of December, it’s a gentle reassurance that dawn always comes.

Hamilton’s Nightmare F1 Season

Lewis Hamilton finished his first season with Ferrari in 2025 calling it a “nightmare” and the worst year of his Formula 1 career. For the first time in 19 seasons he failed to score a podium, and the emotional toll was clear as he spoke of anger, exhaustion, and a desire to disconnect completely over the winter. The move to Ferrari had begun with huge optimism, pairing the sport’s most successful driver with its most iconic team in pursuit of an eighth world title, but that promise quickly faded.

Ferrari’s car proved difficult and inconsistent, particularly due to skid wear problems that forced performance-limiting compromises. Although Hamilton won a sprint race in China, repeated technical issues and strategic limitations undermined race pace across the season. He struggled more than team-mate Charles Leclerc, who consistently out-qualified him and finished 86 points ahead, leading to unusually self-critical public comments from Hamilton. Team principal Frederic Vasseur downplayed these remarks as emotional reactions in an exceptionally tight field.

Ferrari’s first winless season since 2021 intensified scrutiny, and chairman John Elkann urged the drivers to focus more on driving and less on public commentary. Despite his frustrations, Hamilton insists he remains motivated, believing the sweeping rule changes coming in 2026 could reset the competitive order. Whether his struggles reflect car characteristics, team issues, or the effects of age remains uncertain, but his attempt to rebound next season is set to be one of F1’s defining stories.