The Feast of La Befana

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany. This is a very important holy day in the Christian Tradition because it marks the unveiling of baby Jesus to the world. Yet, this is one of the many places in Biblical lore where things get a little sticky for Christianity (depending on your level of spiritual flexibility). You see, the Magi of Persia (AKA: the three wise men) were notorious Pagan mystics known for their knowledge of occult philosophy, astrology, and sorcery. The Bible does little to debunk their metaphysical abilities, rather it discusses the possibility of the infiltration of Jewish prophetic ideology into the Zoroastrian culture that was prevalent in the Middle East at the time. For a religion that put millions of people to death for the supposed practice of witchcraft, it seems a little hypocritical to blatantly glorify astrology and the deliverance of gifts that perfectly coincide with the Pagan festival of Saturnalia. But let's move on to another festival that takes place on January 6th, and that's the Feast of La Befana (celebrated primarily in Italy). We have a tradition in my family that on Christas Eve before the presents are opened, a story is read. This year I read the tale of La Befana. The story begins with an old woman who prizes cleanliness above all things, always keeping her broom close by her side. One night, three men knock on her door in search of food and shelter. They explain that the townspeople had sent them, telling them that Befana keeps the cleanest house in all the village. Beaming with pride, she lets them in, feeds them, and allows them to stay in her cottage for the night. The three men, dressed in strange robes, tell La Befana that they are in search of an infant, prophesied to be the saviour of the world. They even go so far as to invite her on their journey . . . but Befana fears that while away, her house will gather dust, and panics at the idea that she won't be there to clean it up. Upon their departure, Befana has a change of heart and sets off on the road with her broomstick. Alas, she searches far and low for the three men and the infant, but finds nothing. Legend has it that Befana continues to wander the European countryside in search of a child, and that is why she creeps in the night with her broom, bringing gifts to all the children on January 6th: The Feast of La Befana. While I enjoy this version of the Italian folktale, there is a variant to the story that interests me far more. It tells of an old woman stricken with grief by the death of her infant son. She secludes herself in her home, her only comfort being a rickety broomstick that she uses to sweep up the remnants of her painful memories. One day a bright star appears in the sky, and Befana hears whispers of an infant born in a faraway land. Delusional, Befana sets off with her broomstick madly searching for the child, thinking he is her own dead infant son. After weeks of wandering, Befana finds the child, bestowing upon him a loaf of bread that she herself had baked. The infant, delighted at receiving the first gift of his short life, gives her a gift in return, making her the mother of all the children in Italy. Hence, on the night of January 6, all italian children can expect to find a present from none other than La Befana.

I view the story of La Befana as a metaphor for the human search for meaning. We have all lost something, whether it be our innocence or an apparatus much more concrete, and in our maddness and delusion we wander aimlessly, looking for a saviour. Perhaps, like Befana, it is only through giving of ourselves that we can find true fulfillment . . . or maybe we find an illusion that brings us peace and comfort and we allow it to envelope us, concealing our miserable existence within the confines of myth and legend. Either way, Befana tells us something about the world. That's why this story fascinates me. Whether she's an old witch or a grief-stricken mother, Befana gives us hope that there is something at the end of the tunnel - perhaps not an infant saviour - but a gift from above or below that seems to say, "yes, there is a meaning to this life . . . don't give up hope." And in that moment, we receive our gift. Not a loaf of bread, something much less substantial. It's the Holy Communion of the unknown, and we accept it only inasmuch as we believe in it. So tonight, while you get ready for bed and take time to reflect on your day, think of Befana . . . think of what you've lost, and hopefully - your search will be a fruitful one.