Published in 1853 by the Rev. J.M. Neale, the carol “Good King Wenceslas” tells of a cold, snowy night on which Wenceslas, the Duke of Bohemia, notices a man foraging in the woods near his home.
Wenceslas calls to his page to ask who the man is and where he is from. The page, or servant, quickly informs the monarch that the man lives about a league away, at the foot of a mountain, right beside St. Agnes’ fountain.
Whether St. Agnes, who was known for her compassion to the poor, touches Wenceslas’ heart or whether sympathy overwhelms his soul, the duke pities this poor creature scurrying around, bent on raw survival in the midst of life’s stormy perils. Wenceslas immediately orders flesh, or meat, and wine, as well as pine logs to be brought to him. The duke’s most fervent desire is to see the man dine in comfort that very night. With riches and comforts at his own disposal, Wenceslas’ happiness is not to be found in merry-making within his own walls, but in bringing joy to someone else.
The servant follows his master’s instructions promptly and the two head off in the snow, trodding to the poor man’s house. Trouble is, the inclement conditions are not just a mere deterrent, but a critical threat to their safety. Yet that is where the miracle is born.
As they begin their short journey, the servant, wanting to serve but feeling anxious, tells his master he cannot go on. He is limited in strength – his heart in particular, he says, cannot take the cold any longer. Wenceslas does not flinch. He encourages his companion to step where he steps, for in his footsteps the servant will find repose and comfort.
Therefore, still duty-bound, the servant begins to walk behind the master, stepping in the very indentations his master’s large strides have left in the deep snow, very much like a child toddling along behind his strapping father. Miraculously, the servant does find solace because, to his surprise, the footsteps of the master are warm. The cold no longer hinders him.
In the end, they reach their final destination and fulfill their intended purpose. Yet I dare say two men are saved on this night by Wenceslas’ mission of mercy.
Some may say that Neale portrays Wenceslas as a figure of Jesus. In this respect it is easy to compare the fifth stanza of the carol to the poem “Footprints in the Sand” by Mary Stevenson, where only one footprint is found in the sand because Jesus is, in fact, carrying his faithful servant during the difficulties of life. Similarly, we can find many parallels between Wenceslas and Jesus, healing and protecting with God as his shield through extraordinary obstacles. But for a moment let’s look at the carol from a different angle.
Let’s view Wenceslas as a mortal man but also as a leader, which is true to history because being of high rank we are told through both the title and the narrative that he represents a monarch. Wenceslas initiates a desire to help someone in need, sets a mission or goal, and takes steps to make it happen. He develops a plan and delegates duties, simultaneously taking the first step himself to lead the way to the desired end.
The servant, on the other hand, represents the other side of the spectrum, although by no means unwilling. The servant accomplishes what his master asks of him, stays the course and makes the mission a success just by the physical weight of his presence. Yet the servant seems to have more limitations: health, strength and leadership ability.
Could it be that the two opposing figures immortalized in this traditional Christmas hymn could both represent each of us individually as Christian stewards today?
The Church is a body of people filled with many talents, abilities, resources and backgrounds. How we each step up to the challenge of serving our own parishes and our communities are vastly different – as it should be.
Some of us are born leaders. Whether it be our “type A” personality, our ability to plan, organize, initiate or fund certain projects, we step up often to serve and lead in church functions.
Others of us may feel more reluctant. We may be limited in time, resources, health or leadership abilities. Yet we still want to help; we feel our conscious pulling us to try to do something. And to that there is good news!
The point of stewardship is not always to step in to big roles that might overwhelm us, but just to “step in.” If all we can do is simply chip in, that is service made perfect, for God uses even the smallest and the least to make the biggest impact.
In God’s kingdom, the richest noble can serve alongside the lowliest servant in equal joy and peace. On that cold night so long ago, Wenceslas depended on the servant just as the servant depended on Wenceslas. All hands, large and the small, are called upon to build God’s kingdom – from the tiniest nail and brush stroke in the framework, to the heavy cornerstones, oak doors and stained glass windows. It takes a diverse group of people of courage and willingness to bring God’s kingdom to fulfillment here on Earth.
April Parker is a parishioner and teacher at St. Pius X Church in Greensboro, as well as a published author of historical fiction and educational resources.