Good King Wenceslaus

Wenceslaus I, Duke of Bohemia, was a real person, and not just the hero of the famous Christmas carol. This morning, I was listening to Christmas songs before venturing out into the cold, on the way to my place of spiritual fellowship.

 

Crossing Broadway in the frigid weather, walking very slowly, in a skirt with no stockings, was an older woman with a rollator. I asked if she would like a coffee, and she said yes, "light and sweet," and a bagel with vegetable cream cheese.

"Good King Wenceslas" played in my head as I waited in line at the bagel shop. I don't usually eat breakfast on the go, but had been running late and hadn't gotten a chance to eat before I left home. As it turned out, I didn't really want a bagel, and had been planning on stopping at a bakery for a croissant and an almond milk latte. 

The line at the bagel shop was longer than usual (a lot of other folks had ventured out into the cold too) and I feared that my neighbor would not be able to wait out in the cold, and might have moved on by the time I paid for her breakfast. 

But she was still waiting patiently at the corner of Broadway and 86th, and then inched her way in my direction with her rollator. 

Years ago, at a different spiritual fellowship, I remember being told that good deeds don't "count" if you tell anyone. They are supposed to be between you and God. After this unexpected detour, I was a little late for the service, and mentioned my good deed to our clergy leader. He gave me dispensation on the spot. So yes, I told another human being, but I don't really think any god or goddess will hold it against me. And of course, I'm telling YOU now, but I've decided that blogging about one's good deeds doesn't diminish them, and might actually inspire YOU to buy a coffee and a bagel for the next stockingless elderly woman you see. 

In case you're not familiar with the Christmas carol, here are the lyrics. I think you'll agree that they are fitting. 

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 shall 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.