There is a grim irony in the Western anticipation of the “Second Coming.” Societies that sit at the apex of global power, consuming the majority of the world’s resources, are waiting for a Savior to return and rescue them.

But the question remains: Save them from what?

Are they asking to be saved from the discomfort of their own excess? Are they asking to be protected from the consequences of their geopolitics?

The historical figure they await was born in the Levant, lived under military occupation, and was executed by the Empire of his time for disrupting the status quo. He did not dine with the governors; he walked with the marginalized.

If the logic of that narrative holds true, a return would not happen in the cathedrals of the West. It would happen in the cobalt mines of the Congo, among children extracting the batteries for the world’s phones. It would happen in the rubble of Gaza’s hospitals, or among the displaced in Iraq.

The paradox is stark: The civilization waiting for the Savior is likely the very thing the Savior would be coming to dismantle. He would not be coming to save the Empire from its enemies; he would be coming to save the victims from the Empire.