Let It Be

A sermon preached at Faith Episcopal Church, December 18, 2005.

Advent and Lent are seasons that have a similar function – they are the seasons of preparation before the two most important events in our year. The colors are serious colors, purple or this wonderful saran blue – the color of the night sky. They are different in their intensity – while Advent is a solemn season, Lent is penitential, no Alleluias allowed. There’s another difference – Lent feels somewhat leisurely – it takes its time and given our deprivation of choice, it seems even longer. Advent on the other hand flies by in a round of preparation, parties and the foods of celebration. There barely seems enough time in Advent to be ready for Christmas – unless you’re a child. Then Advent can seem like the longest season. A child’s anticipation of Christmas, the arrival of something wondrous, is deliciously agonizing. The closer it gets to Christmas, the more impossible the task. By Christmas Eve, children are usually wound so tight that you have to be careful around them as they might explode – the pressure of waiting is so great.

To me Advent is like a Master Class in waiting – it forces us to wait. You have to do it, but you have lots of ways to do the waiting.

Our Gospel today is the lovely story of Mary and her visit from the angel Gabriel. His announcement begins her very particular waiting. Pregnancy is another one of those seasons that takes its own sweet time. Mary models good waiting for us. To continue our Beatles’ theme from last week…”When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom “Let it be.” That’s how she begins her waiting; she gives herself to the will of God and her season of waiting and all that it will mean. There’s no evidence that Mary began to try to affect her future, she accepted.

In Florence, Italy, at the Convent of San Marco, the lovely frescos of Fra Angelico are found. The depiction of this story, the Annunciation, for me was literally breath-taking. I have always loved it but was unprepared for its power. You come upon it as you climb the stairs to the second floor. Suddenly it’s right in front of you. It’s beauty nearly undid me. It stopped me in my tracks and it was a while later that I realized that I wasn’t even breathing. There’s a calm that radiates from Mary, she is looking down and to the left, not at the angel, it’s clear that she’s already been given the news. Her face so perfectly communicates “Let it be.” In that moment she gives her life over to God and accepts what that might mean. She begins a life of waiting.

Mary’s waiting is not passive. The first things she does is to walk over the hills of Galilee to go visit her cousin Elizabeth. Waiting is often done best with those who understand. Mary and Elizabeth are both undergoing unlikely pregnancies in small town settings. Better to meet the gossips together. They have both been told that their children are special, that God’s particular drama is being played out in their wombs. They stand together and say “Let it be.”

This kind of waiting has played out through all history. The mothers and wives and sweethearts of men at war or out at sea have always come together to share their anxiety, loneliness, fears, impatience. Somehow it is lessened when one is not alone.

Faithful waiting seeks company and stays busy which keeps the fearful mind in check. Of course there are many different sorts of waiting fears. Fear of the unknown is hard for those of us who like to be in command of our lives. Let it be – the way I want it. I remember when I was engaged to Melanie’s father. He told me that he had picked out a ring. Now I like surprises but I wasn’t sure that he could be trusted with such a decision of taste and fashion. My anxiety about this came through in a dream in which the ring he gave me had a black stone. Obviously I was fearing the worst. But the ring turned out to be a lovely star sapphire and all of my worry had been for naught. That fear that you won’t get what you want makes for difficult waiting.

Then there’s the waiting that fears the inevitable. We all fear the future when someone we love is leaving, whether they are moving or moving on to a larger life. Looking ahead to a future changed by loss is truly fearful. When Brady and Melanie were little and unspeakably cute, I felt real disease about their growing up and moving on, partly because I wasn’t sure who I would be or whether they would still need me. That kind of waiting needs to be tended carefully so that fear doesn’t lead to clinging or obessessive control. Seek the words of wisdom and let it be. As we await inevitable changes, trusting that God will be with us and those we love is holy waiting.

There’s another kind of waiting – that of endurance. “Let it be” is replaced by “How long, O Lord, how long?” How long until pain and suffering ends. The hymn “Come thou long expected Jesus” is about that kind of waiting. For Jews in Jesus’ day, there was suffering. As a nation, they could not control their cities let along their destinies. Rome was cruel oppressor and they sought comfort in the hope of a long expected messiah who would change things. People in grinding poverty know this kind waiting. Hoping that their lives will be made easier some how, some day. They are waiting for the kingdom to come. “Let it be” can sound hollow and uncaring.

Then there’s the joyous kind of waiting – the grown-up kind of Advent. We know that there will be joy. We know that some of the things that mattered when we were sleepless 8 year olds have been replaced by a calmer more profound sense of Christmas surprise. We hear in all of this bustle, the quiet renewed promises from a God who loves us so much so as to enter into our small lives and say “Greetings, favored one, I am with you. Be with me.” Mary has given you the wise reply - "Let it be."