Looking back, 2007 was a downright doozy of a year. I’m not sad to see it go. It’s surprising the number of people I’ve run into who agree. As one woman said to me, “It’s gonna be great in 2008 – that’s the motto I’m sticking with.” That’s a solid statement that encompasses other, similar, sentiments: “Gonna find a date (or mate) in 2008,” “Gonna eradicate hate in 2008,” “Gonna strive not to be late in 2008,” “Gonna watch my weight in 2008,” and “Gonna find my fate in 2008.”

Simply put, it’s going to be great. Or so we hope.

Field and fountain
My favorite celebration of the new year occurs not on Dec. 31 or even Jan. 1 – a time that I find can’t live up to the hype. No, my favorite marking of the new year is Jan. 6, on the Christian feast of Epiphany, when the three magi finally make it to the manger to present the Christ child with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

I was fascinated by the wise men as a child. Aside from the baby Jesus who moved unseen into the manger at our church (a distinct departure from the hand-painted infant that my mom carefully unwrapped from a clean sock and placed in our home nativity’s manger every Christmas morning), the three magi were the only characters that moved. As the weeks progressed, they’d slowly wind their way toward the nativity scene, always stuck in the same prostrate position

s. I always felt bad for the one who had to kneel for eternity, frozen in ceramic.
But even more enchanting than the somewhat interactive nativity was the song that accompanied it.

“We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star.”

The melody is haunting and I’ve always liked how it sounds like a chant or a mantra, like the wise men could have been humming it to themselves during their journey, plodding westward to a destination unknown, following a star with royal beauty bright.

Merry ‘Little Christmas’
Epiphany (Little Christmas if you’re Irish) and Twelfth Night (the eve of Epiphany) are celebrated a number of different ways. Most Americans are aware that Epiphany is the start of Carnival in Louisiana, traditionally marked by the consumption of King Cake. I love King Cake and only once received the baby Jesus in my slice. Ironically, I can’t recall if it brought me luck for the year as tradition says, but I can’t quite forget just how unnerving it was to find a plastic Messiah in my mouth.

In other countries, children leave shoes filled with hay for the kings’ camels along with present requests on Twelfth Night. Traditions in Spain, Argentina, Uruguay and Mexico all involve leaving shoes out for the kings to leave presents in.

What’s up with the holidays and footwear? Stockings? Shoes? Have we nothing else to place presents in? I mean, I know these are handy, common items – but so are trousers with the legs knotted. (Those would hold more too!)

Three wise folks
But I digress; the point is that every year on Jan. 6 I’m reminded of three ancient kings, named in the Western world: Melchior, Caspar and Balthasar. Back in 2004 these three poor guys received an intellectual beating when the Church of England declared that the word “magi,” a derivative of Old Persian, reveals nothing about one’s gender, wisdom or numbers. They concluded that the three wise men might not have been men, that there may have been more or fewer of them, and that they might not have been all that wise. The church thus adopted the gender-neutral term “magi,” just in case any of the purported “wise people” came back from the grave to take issue with the terminology.

Such haggling over semantics amuses me to no end. Does it really matter all that much if Balthasar was really Balthasara? (And somewhere Hillary Clinton shudders.) The point is that today we still sing of and celebrate the visitation of three kings to a baby in a Bethlehem stable. Three kings who reportedly set out from the Far East more than 2,000 years ago with nothing but faith and the light from a star to guide them to an even greater king.

Following yonder star
It’s that faith and that dogged determination that inspires me every January. For that reason, the new year starts for me with the Epiphany. I don’t polish and place my shoes near my family’s nativity scene. Nor do I bake King Cake every year, carefully placing a plastic baby in the batter.

But I do think of the few gifts I have to bear – of the twists and turns my own journey has taken through field and fountain, moor and mountain; and the star that guides me – even on the darkest of nights.

It’s far more rewarding than a sticky glass of champagne and the annual descent of a glowing glass ball. Plus, “We Three Kings” kicks the lyrical pants off “Auld Lang Syne.”

Here’s to our 2008 being nothing but great.