The Magi realized that two lives needed, or perhaps a hundred or a thousand, and that they will never be enough. Because if we look for a king when we have the entire Universe at our disposal, it is only out of fear of being disillusioned, of being nothing more than a transitory form of nothingness. The Magi do not know, Herod instead understands: outside Jerusalem there is a desert, the desert is aggressive, words like locusts, and the divine stuns, provokes. The walls are for him, so that he stays at a distance.
Unfortunately, the priests and scribes know. It is not their weakness, they are safe, it is the prophet who has no escape.
But then everything falls apart, and it seems due more to the surrender of the powerful than anything else. Thirty years will pass before the reckoning, the magi will return by another route. Oriented this time, they will return home, unaware and unconscious, crystallized in nativity scene statues to decree the end of festivities and the beginning of the massacres.
There is always another path, it is the one that allows you to survive, to escape from the duel. Jesus, the disorienting one, will point out his words like a star. A trail of misinterpreted miracles will deliver him to the enemy. Stubbornly he will remain to eternally challenge every Jerusalem, excluding every other path that does not include Golgotha.
And the light will come. The only way to defeat power is to surrender to the slaughter. Perhaps the Gospel is the manual for those who no longer flee. For those who anchor themselves to their destiny.
