Last Sunday was the feast of the Epiphany, the classical “Twelfth Day of Christmas,” the end of the season of celebrating the birth of Jesus, our Savior. (You can now take down your Christmas tree and decorations!)

You know the narrative: three “wise men” from the East see the star of Bethlehem. Their studies told them such a sign would herald the birth of a great king. Off they go, inquisitive scholars that they are, in search. This journey leads them to Jerusalem, where they consult with King Herod asking for directions. The sovereign, after checking with his own scholars, informs them that such a long-expected Messiah was to be born in the city of King David, Bethlehem – off they go, until the star illuminates the crib of Bethlehem, and there they adore the newborn Lord, Jesus, presenting him with gifts of gold, incense, and myrrh.

In Italy, from where I just returned, the faithful add a legend. Actually, they claim, there was a fourth member of the Magi, a poor, humble woman, whom they call the Befana. She traveled behind the three kings and lost her way. Crushed, she now spends her days searching still for this promised child. Lest she miss Him again, she brings little, simple gifts to every child the night before Epiphany dawns. In Italy to this day, the kids rush down from bed early the morning of January 6 to discover candy and little toys . . . or, so parents caution, a piece of coal if they’ve been nasty and mean!

Legend aside, we’re all on a search like the Befana, and will not rest until we behold Jesus, our Savior. Then we present Him our insignificant gifts, and He, never outdone in generosity, gives us abundant treasure: love, mercy, meaning, eternal life!

(I hope you did not find a lump of coal under your tree yesterday!)