Let it Be

In my first Advent reflection, I talked about my uncertainty over what the upcoming Advent season would bring. This uncertainty, to a certain extent, still holds true a week later, and I found myself searching yet again for an idea. However, after reflecting some more on preparations for Christmas, I was drawn back to the very beginning of the story and the person whom you might call the first to prepare for the coming king: Mary.

In an attempt to put into practice what I said in my previous post (about seeing a familiar account with new eyes), I read over this passage from Luke 1:

“In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.”

This is no small passage, and the words it contains are laden with truth. I would say it is somewhat like a sponge, saturated with water so that the beads drip from its surface and sparkle onto the floor. When we are thirsty (deprived of peace or love or joy), the sponge can be squeezed and the water from it poured into our mouths, providing us with the strength to carry on. And yet, a sponge of this sort differs from other sponges with which we are acquainted: it will not (it will never) become dry. It will never be emptied of truth.

At other times in my life, different parts of this passage have jumped out at me, such as the oft-quoted yet ceaselessly inspiring verse, “For nothing will be impossible with God.” This time, my attention was captured by a single line uttered by Mary in response to the words of the angel: “let it be with me according to your word.”

Much has been written about Mary’s ‘fiat’ (or ‘yes’), and perhaps I will be adding nothing essentially new to this great collection. But I was struck by these words in a new way this morning, specifically by the first three: let it be.

Of course after that I had to sing “Let it Be,” a song by the Beatles that I have always found moving. Whether you don’t know the song or know it very closely, ponder these lyrics for a moment:

“When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.”

Later in the song, the repeated line becomes “there will be an answer, let it be.”

Considering the passage and the lyrics together, I was suddenly hit by how beautiful and how (astoundingly) counter-cultural this message really is. In the advice we are given by the world, I think that “let it be” is the last thing we are likely to hear. If faced with a problem, we are not counseled to “let it be” but to fix it, to do something about it. There is an unquestioned connection between action and strength. A lack of action or a resignation to less than ideal circumstances is automatically linked to weakness. But we make an assumption when we say that the two can be equated, and as we all know, assumptions do not often align with the truth.

Of course there are times when we are in “darkness” and we must take action in order to move towards the light and to make a positive change. And yet, I’m not sure that action should ever be the first step, the first facet of our response. Mary is filled with questions when the angel presents this seemingly impossible situation before her, and she asks, “How can this be?” showing clearly her lack of knowledge and certainty. Despite this, she also says “Here am I.” In those three simple words and in the three simple words that follow (“let it be”), she opens herself to the future and to the purpose that God is unfolding for her life. She does not begin immediately to plan out her course of events or to make preparations for the news of her pregnancy. She doesn’t do anything at all. Instead, she accepts what will be. She accepts it and she rests in this being.

How often do we resist the things that happen to us and look immediately for a solution? We have such a deeply ingrained belief in the power and possibility of personal improvement, that if something is going wrong in our lives, it is because we have not worked hard enough, and the situation can be rectified if we simply try harder and mold our own selves to be the way we want them to be. But what if the solution is not yet accessible to us? What if there are things at work in our lives which we cannot see from our limited perspective? What if a spirit of contemplation was not viewed with suspicion as a form of “passivity” and was instead seen for what it truly is, as a channel through which a greater power can flow than we could ever be capable of producing ourselves?

In the song, “Let it Be,” the lyrics say that “there will be an answer.” Significantly, they do not say there already is an answer, or that there might be an answer. They say that there will be an answer, and the certainty of this future answer is firm, even though it cannot yet be discerned by the human mind that searches for it. Knowledge and action are not everything, and they miss the essence of true power and true freedom when they are isolated and separated from contemplation, and the presence of God to which this leads. Often the greatest courages lies not in action but in acceptance. And when we can look an unresolved fear or difficulty in the eye and say, “let it be,” instead of resisting, then we will truly be able to attest to the fact that “nothing is impossible with God.”