They [the Magi] have no human worry, when they decide on their journey. You would have had hundreds of problems: ‘How will I be able to make such a long journey in countries and among peoples speaking different languages? Will they believe me or will they put me in prison as a spy? What help will they give me to cross deserts, rivers and mountains? And the heat? And the winds of the highlands? And the malarial fever along stagnant marshes? And the floods and heavy rains? And the different food? And the different languages? And… and… and…’ That is your way of thinking. But they do not think like that. With sincere, holy daring they say: ‘You, o God, can read our hearts and You see the purpose we are aiming at. We trust to Your hands. Grant us the superhuman joy of adoring Your Second Person, Who has become Flesh to save the world’.
That is all. And they set out from the far away Indies. From the Mongolian chains of mountains which are the dominion of eagles and vultures, where God speaks with roars of winds and torrents and writes words of mystery on the immense pages of glaciers. From the land where the Nile rises and then flows with its green blue waters to the azure heart of the Mediterranean, neither mountains, nor woods, nor sands, dry oceans more dangerous than the seas, can stop them from proceeding. And the star shines upon them at night, preventing them from sleeping. When one seeks God, natural habits must yield to superhuman considerations and necessities.