The Tower of Babel was never about reaching too high. It was about agreeing too easily. Today, a new kind of tower is rising, not out of brick and stone, but out of language itself. And once again, the danger is not power, but the collapse of difference.
We remember the Magi as three figures frozen in a story we think we already know. But long before gold, frankincense, and myrrh, before a child, before a house, before a name, there was a sky that unsettled them. Something appeared that did not belong. And rather than dismiss it, they moved.
