Happy Stephenmas

The Feast of Stephen (or Stephenmas) falls on December 26th. It's close proximity to the Nativity celebration (or Christmas) explains why we sing "Good King Wenceslaus" (a Stephenmas carol) at this season.

Although primarily associated with Saint Wenceslaus (or Vaclav, in Czech) the first, Duke of Bohemia in the early 10th century, I like to think of it in conjunction with a later Wenceslaus.

Wenceslaus IV of Bohemia was the king who provided political protection for John (or Jan) Hus, the proto-reformation figure who inspired Martin Luther a century later. We remember Hus for his courageous stance that Christ alone is head of the Church.

According to Wikipedia:

[Hus's] book on the Church and on the power of the pope contains the essence of the doctrine of Hus. According to it, the Church is not that hierarchy which is generally designated as Church; the Church is the entire body of those who from eternity have been predestined for salvation. Christ, not the pope, is its head. It is no article of faith that one must obey the pope to be saved. Neither external membership in the Church nor churchly offices and dignities are a surety that the persons in question are members of the true Church.

His ecclesiastical opponents condemned Hus as a heretic and had him burned at the stake. One student of history observed that Wycliffe kindled the spark; Hus lit the torch; and Luther illumined the land.

As we think of John Hus on this Feast of Stephen, let's not forget the "good king" whom God used for a season to provide protection for the reformer:

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
Though 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 him 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, my good 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