Good Deeds in a Weary World

​Brightly shines the moon
On a world, weary and cruel--
So shines a good deed.

​​Read the full story ⬇︎

The Priest
His beliefs were so radical that a mob once tried to stone him to death and threatened to burn his house down.[1]
 
His crime? As a hymnwriter and Anglican priest, John Mason Neale was on a mission to provide charity for the poor, and in 1854 he founded The Sisters of Saint Margaret in Rotherfield, England.[2]
 
Helping the poor? Radical indeed! Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?[3]
 
But John wasn’t alone in the desire to share kindness and charity with others.


The Duke
The 10th century Duke of Bohemia—affectionately known as Václav (pronounced Vat-slav) the Good—was known to clothe the naked, provide shelter to the poor, and buy freedom for slaves.[4] He so cherished the peace and safety of his subjects that he once stopped murderous raids in his province by volunteering to meet his enemy in hand-to-hand combat and let the outcome end the dispute.[5]
 
But the Duke’s kindness was not without detractors, who thought they could wield power more effectively, and Václav the Good was assassinated in 935 by his own brother, Boleslaus (pronounced Bo-lez-slav) the Cruel.[6]


The Deacon
Throughout history, loving kindness has been met with treachery, including in the year 34, when Deacon Stephen was ordained to distribute food to widows—an act deemed so reprehensible by the powerful elite that he was summarily stoned to death.[7]
 
Apparently, no good deed goes unpunished. And Podevin certainly learned that the hard way.


The Page
History knows little about him, but what they do know for sure are his final words before his execution:
 
"God will care for my health and salvation, but you have lost all your health and salvation long ago and you will die in sin forever."
 
Harsh words from a man who today a chapel marks his grave in the Czech Republic, a place that has become a pilgrimage site for those devoted to loving kindness.
 
What was Podevin’s crime that he should be punished to death? He was a page to Duke Václav the Good, and would assist his master in his charitable works—comforting the sick, the poor, and the orphaned. Podevin was loyal and faithful, so when his master was murdered, he avenged his death by killing one of the conspirators—but Podevin was soon caught by Duke Boleslaus the Cruel and sentenced to death.[8]
 
We might not know his story if not for being immortalized in a Christmas carol.
 
(More on that in a moment.)

The Nuance
Certainly, there is some nuance that led to the violence shown towards John, Václav, and Stephen.
 
When John Mason Neale introduced monastic orders to the Anglican community, it was met with contempt because, at that time, anything remotely resembling Catholicism was deemed undesirable. But did John really deserve to be attacked?
 
During the German invasion of Bohemia, Václav submitted to King Henry I rather than subjecting his people to the turmoil of war—a decision his fellow nobility saw as a sign of weakness.[9] But did Václav really deserve to be assassinated?
 
And though Stephen certainly committed no crime, he did embarrass synagogue leaders in spiritual debates, angering the elite and prompting them to create false testimony against him in order to have him killed, becoming the first Christian martyr. But did Stephen really deserve to be stoned to death?
 
Perhaps what we need is an ambassador.


The Ambassador
In 1853, the British ambassador to Sweden, G. J. R. Gordon, returned to Britain carrying with him an original copy of Piae Cantiones (pee-i can’t-e-own-es)—a collection of late medieval Latin songs first published in 1582.
 
The ambassador presented this book to John Mason Neale, for he was known to not only write his own hymns, but to also translate medieval hymns into English.
 
 
The Hymn
Within the pages of Piae Cantiones, John found many melodies to translate, but there was one in particular that he decided to create entirely new lyrics for: “Tempus Adest Floridum.”
 
The original lyrics were about spring, but John chose this melody to tell the story of a legend that took place on the Feast of Stephen—a celebration of the martyr held every 26th of December.
 
The story is about Good King Wenceslas—the Latinized version of Václav the Good’s name. Though Václav was only a duke in his life, his notoriety for doing good was so great that upon his death, the Holy Roman Emperor Otto I posthumously conferred on him the regal dignity and title of king.
 
The song tells the legend of an arduous journey the page and monarch went on to help someone in need: When the rude wind’s wild lament failed Podevin’s heart, Good King Wenceslas turned to him and said:
 
“Mark my footsteps, my good page; tread thou in them boldly.
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage freeze thy blood less coldly.”
 
As the legend goes, when Podevin followed in his master’s footsteps, he found heat in the very sod which the Saint had printed—allowing him to continue on their journey to bring food, drink, and firewood to those in need of comfort from the bitter weather.
​​

​The Transformation
In a room shrouded in darkness, even the smallest of candles can provide a radiant glow. So too, when the world is shrouded in the dark of night, the moon can offer a glow to guide our steps.
 
The world can sometimes feel dark and weary—shrouded by nuances of fear, jealousy, and rage. Yet, like that gentle candle and moon, even the smallest of deeds done with love in our heart can become a beaconing light to guide our way.
 
When we follow in the footsteps of loving kindness—when we tread in them boldly—we find that the “winter’s rage” of a seemingly dark and weary world will freeze our blood less coldly, revealing that though the lyrics have changed, the meaning of the medieval melody remains:
 
“Now in all things comes the transformation of Spring.
What the cold harmed, the warmth repairs.”[10]
 
In other words: So shines a good deed in a weary world.[11]

​
Reflection
What good deeds are you shining into your world?
​​

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​Footnotes & References
​[1] Kiefer, J.E. (1866, August 7). “John Mason Neale: Priest, scholar, and translator.” Biographical Sketches of Memorable Christians of the Past. http://justus.anglican.org/resources/bio/220.html

[2] Neale, J.M. (1857). The Lewes riot: Its causes and its consequences. Joseph Masters, Aldersgate Street & New Bond Street.

[3] Dickens, C. (1843).  A Christmas carol. Chapman & Hall.

[4] (n.d.). “King Wenceslas.” True Christianity. https://www.truechristianity.info/en/saints_en_10/saint_king_wenceslas_en.php

[5] (n.d.). “Wenceslas I: Prince of Bohemia.” Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/biography/Wenceslas-I-prince-of-Bohemia

[6] Butler, A. (1866). “St. Wenceslas, Duke of Bohemia, martyr.” The lives of the fathers, martyrs and other principal saints, Volume 9.

[7] Acts of the Apostles, chapter 6

[8] Gibbs, C.H. (1929). "Good King Wenceslaus.” The Mitre, 34(3). University of Bishop's College. p. 8

[9] (n.d.). “Wenceslas I: Prince of Bohemia.” Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/biography/Wenceslas-I-prince-of-Bohemia

[10] Symonds, J.A. (1884). “Tempus adest floridum.” [English Translation].

[11] A quote from Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (trading “naughty” for “weary” from William Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice).
Dahl, R. (1964). Charlie and the chocolate factory. George Allen & Unwin
Shakespeare, W. (1598). The merchant of Venice.