The Good King

I recently shared one of my favorite holiday children’s books with you– Gracias the Thanksgiving Turkey. Since I was way ahead of schedule on that one, and since no one complained, I suppose you’ll forgive me for continuing in that same vein. Not that I’m in favor of a premature Christmas, mind you; don’t lump me in with the radio stations and department stores. But Christmas is where the tradition of reading holiday children’s books began in my family, so it’s no surprise that those stories are lodged in my memory and available for recall.

On Christmas Eve each year, the Suttons sat down together in our living room to read our favorites. We added to our collection over time, admiring new Christmas books for their creative storytelling and beautiful illustrations while cherishing the oldies-but-goodies. And among those classics was an illustrated version of the carol “Good King Wenceslas”: 

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.

Wenceslas was a medieval European saint who is renowned for his legendary trek through the winter cold the night after Christmas to deliver a bounty of food and firewood to a poor family in the countryside. According to the story, the king’s page, or assistant, struggles against the bitter weather and nearly gives up, until Wenceslas encourages the boy to tread in his footsteps in the snow, thereby easing his journey. When they finally reach the poor family’s home, king and page join them for a feast, and the carol ends with a life lesson: “Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing, ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.”

Today is World Food Sunday. And the story of Wenceslas is a fitting parable as we remember Jesus’ call to “feed my sheep.” But this story is about more than feeding. Wenceslas is emblematic of the good king, the sovereign who rules by grace. He is compassion personified; moreover, he is bold in his leadership, literally stamping out the way for his servant to follow. And so, Wenceslas has become a figure of Christ himself, the true king who sets the example of servant leadership in order to bring good news to the poor.

There is no clearer teaching on servant leadership than our Gospel from Mark today. For a third time in Mark, Jesus predicts his suffering and death at the hands of the authorities, and for a third time, the disciples miss the point. It might be funny if it weren’t so embarrassing. This time, James and John are the offenders: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you…. Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” James and John have apparently chosen to ignore that Jesus’ leadership is marked by sacrifice, and that following in his footsteps also means taking up a cross.[1]

But we shouldn’t be too hard on them. Pride is as powerful a temptation today as it was then, and we are not so different from the disciples who yearn for glory in Jesus’ presence. Whether or not we’re willing to say it out loud, we also want places of honor.[2] We want recognition for our contributions to the community. We want jobs with perks, and homes in attractive neighborhoods. We want acknowledgment for our children’s gifts. We want a thriving church with a shiny reputation.

But, as Jesus teaches again and again, honor in the community of his followers is not measured according to worldly standards. It’s not about sitting pretty. It’s not about garnering attention. It’s not about being elevated to positions of privilege. In fact, as Jesus explains to his ambitious disciples, places of honor are not his to offer in the first place, but only the chance to serve: “Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

It’s a complete reversal of what we would expect from a king. In the kingdom of God, greatness is defined not by your status, but by your readiness to serve. And there is freedom in relinquishing the best seat in the house, and dignity in offering yourself to others in love. Of course, Jesus sets the standard, giving his own life to “ransom” us, that is, to reclaim us from our self-involvement[3] and turn us toward one another.

And the blessing is in the bond we form with those whom we serve. On the last page of Good King Wenceslas, the book’s illustrator captures the essence of Christian servanthood. The king no longer sits in a castle tower, far removed from his subjects, but braves the winter night to join them in their space. He has not simply sent the poor family a gift, but has gone to be with them.

In this way, Wenceslas embodies the truth at the heart of the gospel, that we are made for each other, and so we are blessed by the blessings we share. Jesus’ invitation to servant leadership, in other words, implies that our humanity is bound up with the humanity of all our neighbors, rich or poor, and that we live most abundantly in solidarity with each other.[4]

Friends, the way of discipleship is the way of servant leadership, the way of the cross. But we don’t need to be afraid of losing ourselves for the sake of Christ because in our sacrifice we cling to the promise of resurrection, the fullness of life we experience only by letting go of the urge to self-preservation. Sacrifice does not mean eradicating ourselves, but enriching life for everyone. And that is the life that God envisions for us in the end, the life into which our king continues to lead us.

[1] Mark 8:31, 34.

[2] See David B. Howell, in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, 190.

[3] See David J. Lose, www.davidlose.net/2015/10/pentecost-21-b-who-will-you-serve/.

[4] Ibid.