What Befana Can Teach Us

In the United States, a holiday that passes almost unnoticed by most is the Epiphany. I hardly ever hear any American talk about the Epiphany. For the most part, even Italian Americans let the day pass without much fanfare, which is surprising when you consider in Italy La Festa dell’EpifaniaI is a national holiday. Just as Christmas involves a visit from Santa, La Festa dell’EpifaniaI includes Befana, a witch who flies around the world on her broom visiting homes with children. Like Santa, Befana leaves treats for good children while those who did not behave well receive coal, garlic, or onions. When I was a boy, my parents told me that Santa would not stop at our house if I did not go to bed. Italian Children were told that if Befana found them awake when she arrived, they would be rapped on the head with her broomstick.

I must digress on the general subject of Befana just a moment to suggest a perspective on this whole getting coal for Christmas thing. Both Santa and Befana are said to give coal for Christmas. Today, a kid would consider that a pretty terrible gift. What the heck are you supposed to do with a lump of coal? But if you think back to when all these legends first started, although a lump of coal may not have been the best of gifts, it wasn’t terrible. Didn’t they heat their homes with coal? Maybe back then getting a lump of coal was the equivalent of giving a kid some socks? It wasn’t something they necessarily enjoyed, but there was some value. Just a perspective to consider.

Returning to Befana, there are a number of stories concerning her origin. The story that appeals to me the most links Befana with the story of the Magi. In this story, Befana was the best housekeeper in her village; she provided delicious, bountiful meals in her clean, comfortable home. Naturally, with such a reputation, the Magi stayed with her when they passed through her town. Impressed with her hospitality, they invited her to join them in their search for the newborn king. Befana, however, declined the offer since she was far too busy tending to her domestic responsibilities. Later, regretting her decision, she set out in search of the child on her own. Sadly, she was never able to find the baby Jesus. So, to this day, she searches, visiting homes with children hoping to find Christ.

There is a life lesson in this story. Befana missed out because she was too busy. It is easy to relate. We all know how easy it is to become distracted, to miss out on what truly is important. We focus on our work, different obligations, even achieving personal goals. Like Befana, we have a reputation to maintain. While we believe we are working on what has priority, we are actually focused on the wrong thing.

This article, however, is not meant to be an old curmudgeon’s screed against people who spend too much time at the office. The point of the story is not what distracts Befana. It doesn’t matter if it is housekeeping, a job, or social media. The problem is that she did not place enough of a priority on the people around her. This is where many of us are missing out.

There is a joke about an old man on his deathbed. As he is lying there, waiting for the angel of death to make his arrival, the old man smells the fragrance of his wife cooking meatballs in the kitchen. They are his favorite. He struggles to get out of bed, crawling to the kitchen, where he reaches up to take one last meatball, one last treat before death. As he is about to take one from the plate, his wife cracks his hand with a wooden spoon. “Those are for the funeral,” she scolds. That describes well how we treat the ones we love.

Funerals are funny things. I have seen in many funerals people moan and cry that they will never see the deceased again. They talk of what a tragedy it is that he or she was taken from them. Yet, often the people doing the crying did not place that high an importance on their friend when they were alive. I knew of one woman who passed away, but the family kept the matter quiet. Then, a year later, some of her friends found out about the death and became very upset. “How could they not have told us? It is outrageous that we went an entire year not knowing she died,” they complained. Were they friends if they went an entire year without reaching out to her, without wanting to speak with her?

How easy it is to become complacent, to take a spouse or other family member for granted. Do you tell the people you love that you love them? Do you show affection to the people who are important to you? Are you like Befana, so focused on the day-to-day functions of life that you miss the crucial things? By the time she realized what she had missed, it was too late. Project yourself into the future, stand over the coffin of that loved one. Are you thinking you wish you had told them that you love them? Are you wishing you had shown them affection? If you wait, like Befana, it will be too late.

 To read more about Italian and Italian-American culture read my book, Italianità: The Essence of Being Italian and Italian-American.