Good King Wenceslas looked out...

Today is the Feast of St. Stephen, the first martyr. I always try to attend Mass on this day, partly because I'm always off work & so can, but mainly because it's an active reminder that Christmas is not a day, but a season - ending with the Baptism of the Lord on Jan 11. But it's even more than a season; it's a call to live every day in a new way with a completely reoriented vision & an entirely new purpose. Celine Dion sings, "Don't save it all for Christmas Day." There's plenty of need for all that peace on earth & good will among men the rest of the year, too.

As much as St. Stephen, the life & death of Wenceslaus holds lessons for us. The king of Bohemia lived in the early 900's, a time of great political unrest. His work to unify the country & make peace with Christian Germany earned him fierce enemies, including his brother Boleslav, who ambushed & murdered him. His feast day on the new Roman calendar is Sept 28.

So, while yesterday we celebrated a glorious birth, today we are reminded of the death that surely accompanies all births. However, for the disciples of Christ, this death is not the final word - "The last enemy to be destroyed is death" 1 Cor 15:26. This is our hope. This is the hope of Christmas, really.

If I had the gadget that lets me play songs on the blog, I could hook up Celine Dion's song, or a great performance of Good King Wenceslas by the Westminster Abbey choir. Maybe Santa will bring me that next year. Till then, here's the words of the carol:

Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen, when the snow laid round about, deep & crisp & even.

Brightly shown the moon that night, though the frost was cruel, when a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.

K. Hither, page, & stand by me, if thou knowst it, telling, yonder peasant, who is he? Where & what his dwelling?

P. Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain, right against the forest fence, by St. Agnes' fountain.

K. Bring me flesh & bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither. Thou & I will see him dine, when we bear them hither.

Page & monarch, forth they went, forth they went together; through the rude winds' wild lament, & the bitter weather.

P. Sire, the night is darker now, & the wind blows stronger; fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer.

K. Mark my footsteps good, my page; tread thou in them boldly. Thou shall 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 would bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.