King Wenceslaus’ Hot Boots

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Someone recently pointed out something that now seems obvious to me—don’t know why I didn’t notice before. We are in the season of Advent. It never occurred to me how that word “Advent” and the word “adventure” are related. They actually mean the same thing. Literally they both mean, “toward the opening.” That opening can be an entrance or an exit.

We face many advents, or adventures: birth, death, new birth. The point is that in an advent, or adventure, we head into the unknown. Christians, no matter our age or whatever, are adventurers! We are always looking with faith toward openings as entrances to the unknown. It’ll be worth it! We are adventurers!

I have two stories that get at the Advent heart. One story we have just begun with Elizabeth, Mary, Joseph, and even little leaping John the Baptist. The second story we will be singing as a part of this message: Good King Wenceslaus. Both are great stories of adventure and the great leveling power of God’s Good News, the leveling power of Jesus Christ.

We just sang Mary’s Magnificat right out of the first chapter of St. Luke. The second verse of that song is challenging. She sang that God has cast the mighty down and uplifted the humble of heart. He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty, left the wealthy no part. It’s challenging because—in the world’s scene—those mighty, wealthy and rich are we! It’s challenging, but also most freeing.

The life of Jesus, his teachings, the Gospel, and all of scripture tell us that the true value of all “treasure” depends on its intent, on the heart behind it. Whether or not you are “filled” depends on what you hunger for. The richest person, or glutton, can be a starving wretch if he or she is without spirit or connection with God. “You fill the hungry with good things.” The greatest wealth, treasures and blessings depend on the heart behind them.

I think that carries us well into the second story. Turn in your bulletins to the next song, “Good King Wenceslaus.” The story took place around the year of 925 AD (1075 years ago) in what is today the Czech Republic.

The song says that young Wenceslaus, then in his early 20’s, in the dead of winter on December 26^th (the day Christians set aside to remember the first martyred Christian, Stephen), Wenceslaus looked out his window to see a poor man searching the frozen earth for wood to burn.

So, the young Duke of Bohemia Wenceslaus called for a page, “Come here, stand by me, and if you know tell me: that man out there, who is he? Where, and what kind of house does he live in?”

The page answered, “Far and away at the base of the mountain, just within the tree line where the stream pools and bubbles in the warmer months—at the fountain of St. Agnes.”

Let’s sing the first two stanzas. As we sing, we’ll have the “Chorus” be everyone, all men sing the “Tenor solo,” and all women sing the “Treble solo.”

(Chorus) Good King Wenceslaus look’d out on the Feast of Stephen,

When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even;

Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,

When a poor man came in sight, gath’ring winter fuel.

(Tenor solo) “Hither, page, and stand by me, Il thou know’st it telling,

Yonder peasant, who is he? Where, and what his dwelling?”

(Treble solo) “Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain;

Right against the forest fence, by St. Agnes’ fountain.”

“Adventurer,” King Wenceslaus and his page were adventurers, going out into the winterkill, without fully knowing the results. I heard a fellow on TV suggest that you can tell what someone really values by what they are willing to kill for. No, that’s not true. What you really value is shown by what you are willing to risk your life for.

They ad-ventured out on the Feast of Stephen. That is an important symbol. Stephen was willing to risk and lost his life to spreading the Gospel of Christ just a few years after Jesus’ death. When people looked back on the short life of Wenceslaus they thought of St. Stephen because both young men were willing to give up everything to do right.

The story of Wenceslaus is kind of a Christian evil stepmother story, but actually she was his evil mother. Wenceslaus’ father was a Christian Duke of Bohemia. But his mother, Drahomira (Even her name even sounds wicked, doesn’t it?), was a non-Christian. His Christian Grandmother Ludmilla raised Wenceslaus.

When his father died, Wenceslaus was still too young to rule as duke, so his mother. as Regent, immediately began to oppress Christians, and started a civil war. Grandmother Ludmilla urged the young teen-aged Wenceslaus to take over, but Drahomira got wind and had Grandma put to death.

Christians, with some help from the Roman Church survived to overthrow Drahomira and made Wenceslaus the Duke of Bohemia at the age of 19. His struggles weren’t over. He set about trying to relieve the oppression of peasants …at the expense of the nobility. To further anger them, Wenceslaus acknowledged the Christian Emperor King Henry I of Germany as his overlord.

A few years later, Wenceslaus was married and had a son, which meant he had an heir. The one most angry about that was Wenceslaus’ younger brother, Boleslaus, who had been Drahomira’s favorite. Now, with an heir, there was no chance for Boleslaus to gain power and undo all that Wenceslaus had done.

So, on September 28 in 929, when Wenceslaus was about 26 years old, Boleslaus and a few friends invited the young Duke to a festival. They ambushed him and Wenceslaus’ younger brother stabbed him to death. The last words of Wenceslaus were said to be, “May God forgive you, my brother.”

In his memory, the people rose up. Christians and peasants won out and by 1000 AD Wenceslaus was their patron saint. Today, in the middle of modern Prague you can find Wenceslaus’ Square. It was a popular place for people to gather in the late 1980’s to protest the Communist government and oppression.

There are no historical records to back up the carol we sing, but it was entirely possible, and it fit with his personality. After his murder, someone probably said, “You remember how he once helped that old peasant in the middle of winter?”

Let’s sing stanzas three and four, where we will hear Wenceslaus tell the page to pack up meat, wine and logs for fire. Together they would venture out to feed and warm the peasant in his own home. As they go out, it was not only cold, but also the wind picks up. The page begins to freeze and tire. Listen to Wenceslaus’ advice to the page:

(Tenor solo) “Bring me flesh, and bring me wine, bring me pinelogs hither;

Thou and I will see him dine when we bear them thither.”

(Chorus) Page and monarch forth they went, forth they went together;

Through the rude wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.

(Treble solo) “Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger;

Fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer.”

(Tenor solo) “Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread thou in them boldly:

Thou shalt find the winter’s rage freeze thy blood less coldly.”

Now we find that the story was not so much about Wenceslaus helping some poor peasant; that was just the setting. The real story is about the page, the follower.

And the REAL story beyond that is about Jesus Christ, the true King, and we his followers, his pages. Jesus Christ set out—advent-ured out—as his mother sang, to “lift up the lowly” and “fill the hungry.” And, yes, he turns to us to advent-ure out with him, …WITH him.

The page in the story was apparently trying to walk beside Wenceslaus, his little legs pumping up and down in the deep snow, bearing the force of the icy winds. And the page realized, “Sire, what you ask me to do, I cannot. I haven’t the strength or heart!”

Wenceslaus turned and said (just as Christ tells us), “Use my footsteps. I’ve already made the path for you. Walk boldly, ‘Tread thou in them boldly.’ I will take the force of the wind and weather.”

The page learns what we learn, that as we follow with Christ as our focus—instead of just the task in front of us—we will learn the blessing of his warmth filling us. We are filled with good things!

Sing together the last stanza:

(Chorus) In his master’s steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;

Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed;

Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,

Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.

Where Christ asks us to venture, to ad-venture, he has already gone, and he assures us that there can be no defeat, not even in the icy-est chill of winterkill.

We may have wealth or rank, but at the very same time that Jesus Christ empties our treasures of their passing value, he begins filling us with the real value. He doesn’t empty us to leave us void, but empties us of clutter to open us to receive warmth of his grace and peace. Along with everyone else, without God we are also the lowly and hungry. He lifts us and fills us with wondrous things.

What it means to have the Christ Child born in us each year is, each year, to be reborn into new adventure. Let’s go! Follow! Trust!

How this translates into our Christmas gifts of sweaters, jewelry and Play Station 2 Video Games, I am not always too sure. That is, then, our Christian challenge, your challenge: How can we use our gifts—not just to show human love—but to show the love, patience and joy of God through us and for us?

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