Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of the Emerald Coast
“The Good King Wenceslas”
Rev. Rod Debs
December 13, 2009
Story: Once upon a time there was a Good King. He was a king because he had a castle. He had a whole pine forest to supply wood for his fireplace and meat for his table. The king had beautiful clothes and warm fur coats so that he could walk outside in the coldest weather.
Other people had warm castles and plenty of food to eat too. Others had beautiful clothes and winter coats, but he was a King because he also had a page. A page was someone else’s child who lived at your castle and would go for whatever you wanted.
Not everybody had a page. Not everybody had a warm place to live or food to eat. Some people had to gather branches that fell in the road for fire to stay warm. Sometimes they lived outside along the fences that kept them out of other people’s property.
The Good King was good because of his kindness. One cold winter night, the King was looking out of his castle window with his blazing fireplace behind him keeping him warm. He called to his page and asked, “Who is that peasant, picking up sticks? Where does he live?”
The king’s page new the poor peasant because he hadn’t always lived in the castle serving the king. The page told his king that the peasant lived near the mountain and against the fence next to the king’s forest.
There was one thing bad about this king. His name was hard to say: King Wenceslas. But we remember King Wenceslas as Good King Wenceslas because he asked his page to go for some meat, some wine and some pine logs. The Good King said that they would take dinner to the peasant and see that he had a real feast!
Most peasants didn’t get to eat much meat or have fancy wine. They did everything they could just to stay warm and to eat whatever they could find to throw into a pot to make a watery stew.
We remember King Wenceslas as Good King Wenceslas because, the Good King went out in the bitter, blowing cold of winter, trudged for about an hour—three miles, through snow and freezing cold, to take meat, wine and pine logs, so a poor peasant could have a feast.
That’s what our winter holidays are all about—giving loving-kindness to others, like the good king. Now let’s sing the carol “Good King Wenceslas.”
Good King Wenceslas
Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night, tho’ the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gath’ring winter fuel.
“Hither, page, and stand by me, if thou know’st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain;
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes‘ fountain.”
“Bring me flesh, and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither:
Thou and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.”
Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together;
Through the rude wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.
“Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger;
Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, good my page. Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage freeze thy blood less coldly.”
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.
Message: The Native American proverb from the Dakota Indians, that, “We will be known forever by the tracks we leave”, got me thinking about tracks of generosity and kindness that we leave in the world.
The holiday carol, “Good King Wenceslas” originally from Bohemia, now the Czech Republic, celebrates the generosity of the privileged and powerful toward the poor and needy. The Good King and his page trudge through the snow to personally deliver meat, wine and pine logs so that a peasant can feast. The last verse of the carol has the page faltering in the bitter cold and wind, walking a league—the distance one might go in one hour, about three miles. The song celebrates the Good King’s footprints, his tracks in the snow, as warm and encouraging for the page who followed. We sing:
“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.”
Is it true? Is it true that “Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing”?
Albert Schweitzer went to mighty effort and suffered great hardship to “bless the poor” in Africa, the diseased and suffering. He said: “I don’t know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.” In other words, “Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.”
In early 2001, Katrina and Jeannette accompanied me on sabbatical to explore living Buddhism in Thailand. During those nine weeks visiting temples (wats) and monasteries, we observed thousands of golden Buddhas, usually in sitting posture. I remember several huge reclining Buddhas. I also recall a couple huge black Buddha footprints; I’ll bet there’s a story there!
Among the four postures of The Buddha: sitting, standing, walking and reclining, I was especially interested in the walking Buddha. The story goes that The Buddha had attained heaven—which I take to be a qualitative state of earthly life. However, he chose to walk back to earth in order to save his mother. I obtained this three-inch silver amulet encasing a walking Buddha from a street vender. I also took lots of pictures of walking Buddhas.
Consider the value of postures: We speak of “taking a stand” or of “standing up for what we believe in,” and we speak of “sit-ins” as expressions of moral and political commitment. “Here I stand” (or sit) expresses unmovable nonviolent resistance. Sitting suggests calm restraint. There is no kneeling Buddha; Buddhism does not teach submission to power. It does celebrate standing—patiently. It celebrates sitting in calm reflection. It even celebrates the self-care of rest and repose in reclining. I like that I can practice breathing meditation waiting in line or sitting in a waiting room. I especially like that I can practice Buddhist breathing meditation even in bed, whether sick or insomniac.
Of the four postures: sitting, standing, reclining and walking, it is the walking Buddha that expresses calm, steady, active commitment, “to walk the talk.” Not running. Not backing away. Not even staying put. Walking is active commitment—going somewhere! Walking, you are able to change your direction. Walking, you can respond to learning along the way and change. Even turn around. Walking, you can move yourself into a place where you can learn, where you can make a difference.
John Keith, a member of UUFEC who moved to North Carolina—when he lived here he was sometimes asked to offer a public prayer at various civic gatherings. John offered a simple model which we have taught to our children in RE (Religious Exploration) as well as from this pulpit. It’s a simple prayer: “May we have eyes that see, hearts that care, and hands that are ready to serve.”
Evidence is that our hearts respond to what our eyes see. Scotty tells me it’s called “mirroring”; we see ourselves mirrored in the suffering of others. If we have not been aggressively desensitized to others, our hearts naturally respond with caring: “There but for the accident of birth go I.” Our hearts and hands are responsive to what we see.
I’m not suggesting that social justice work is determined by our nature. Though religions everywhere and our U.S. Constitution express commitment to “the general welfare” for the good of all—without mention of any right to unlimited private accumulation, we privileged persons have made up all kinds of arguments to justify withholding assistance from others. What I am suggesting is that it is our human nature to lend a hand of compassion when our eyes see and our hearts have not been hardened from suffering.
Before we can see more than our stereotype judgments of others, we need to put ourselves in the place we can see their situation. Really see. It involves walking—driving, flying, sitting, listening, and researching hidden stories and contexts—walking into a new place. The heart and hand stuff—caring and serving all depend on walking to the place we can really see.
“We will be known forever by the tracks we leave.” Walking. One step at a time. Where will we go? Will we stay home and pass judgment? Or walk… and leave tracks of compassion?