Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS
Luke 1:26-38
December 4, 2022
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
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be [1]
Do you remember what it’s like to be a child, alone in the dark of your bedroom, and not be able to fall asleep? Some of us may have had this experience last week and for others of us it was years ago now, but I bet most of us can remember what that feels like. Every sound in the house is amplified. Shadows take on new life. Our imaginations go into overdrive.
In our house we call these “the nighttime worries.”
As we grow older the worries change but the feelings of uncertainty and dread stay the same. Worries about monsters under the bed give way to worries about credit lines over the limits. Ears surprised by the sound of creaking floors become ears straining for the sound of the garage door opening. Our worries change but nighttime worries are still very real for adults, too.
Paul McCartney has spoken at length about the lyrics to Let it Be. And although many of us have read religious overtones into it, he says it’s simply a song about his own mother, named Mary, coming to him in his dreams with a simple message to soothe his own nighttime worries: “Let it be,” she said. And he felt a sense of comfort and peace. [2]
Now Sir Paul may insist that this song has nothing to do with faith but I have a hard time separating things quite so cleanly into secular and sacred. After all, in this season of the year when we remember the incarnation, what else is the Christian faith if not remembering that the Christ force imbues absolutely everything in this world? Dreams, worries, messages from our deceased parents, three-word mantras, and iconic pop songs can all be places where the Divine brings tidings of comfort and joy.
Perhaps it is the image of Sir Paul’s mother coming to him in the dark - or perhaps it’s that his mother spoke the same words as Jesus’s mother - but this song is intertwined in my mind with the painting The Annunciation by Henry Osawa Tanner.
Let me show it to you. (screen share)
There is something about the vulnerability and perplexity on Mary’s face…something about the bold gentleness of the angel Gabriel’s beam of light….that calls to mind Mary McCartney’s simple message of courage in the midst of great fear, “let it be.”
(long pause while we look at the image)
“Let it be with me according to your word,” said the teenager as she pondered all these things in her heart. Gabriel, that radiant column of warm light, shines in the darkness, pointing the way to the one who comes so that we remember darkness can never overcome the light. And when he says, “nothing will be impossible with God,” this young woman simply…believes him?
I don’t know about you, but I long for a faith like that. A faith that overcomes fear. A faith that trusts that nothing will be impossible with God. Although Mary’s words are simple - “let it be” - we know from our lived experience that there’s nothing simple and easy about a faith like this. We catch glimpses of it in fleeting moments, but there are just as many moments of doubt and paralyzing fear. Surely Mary had these moments, too, but the curated version we receive of her in our holy texts is one of quiet confidence.
“Let it be,” she says. And in the hopeful courage of this young woman’s words we catch a glimmer of possibility that we, too, might be centered in that peace that passes all understanding.
We typically speak of this story as the Annunciation of the angel Gabriel - announcing to Mary that she would become the mother of Jesus. But artist Carmelle Beauglin, whose beautiful art is featured on the cover of our bulletin today, reimagines this story as Mary’s Annunciation. (show the art)
The angel comes with tidings of impossibility, yes, but it is Mary’s announcement, Mary’s “yes” that truly makes the incarnation possible.
Beauglin writes:
“Mary’s Golden Annunciation depicts not only a remarkable encounter, but also the moment that divinity in human form was conceived. It is my speculation that the divinity of God entered Mary’s body no sooner than Mary’s “yes” went out from her mouth. In a time when women had few options other than marriage, Mary’s consent to a potentially unwed motherhood is a brave act of subversive agency. In Mary’s “yes,” uttered in her Magnificat, we see the transformation of a young teenage girl from fearful to determined, from simply accepting to deciding, from passivity to agency, from betrothed to surrogate mother of God—an honor rarer than gold. Perhaps the most remarkable annunciation in this passage is not the messenger’s revelation to Mary, but Mary’s ‘yes’ to the call.” [3]
(stop showing art)
Mary’s ‘yes’ - her ‘let it be’ - enters the world despite her fear and uncertainty. Living held within that circle of deep peace doesn’t mean we don’t feel unsettled. It doesn’t mean we stop grieving or worrying. The grief and worry may still be present with us, but we are not alone with it. Instead, we are held within a cosmic embrace that gives us a sense of reassurance, even in the midst of feelings of pain.
I have a dear friend named Ashley who lost her mother about a year ago. They were very close and she’s shared her journey with grief openly on social media. This week she shared a photo of what she has come to call her “mom light.” There is a window in her house that is over 100 years old. The light comes in just so in the morning, falling across her face in a dappled way. When she sits in that light she feels the warmth of her mother’s love reaching her across the divide. Her grief doesn’t go away, but she’s not alone in it. She’s held within a golden circle of great love that persists even when grief, pain, and worry is palpable.
My friend says this is how her mother hugs her now. In this beam of warm morning light. She goes to this place and feels contained within that golden circle of peace. Strengthened by love in this place, she’s able to keep putting one foot in front of the other - saying ‘yes’ and ‘let it be’ to life, even as she struggles with grief, loneliness, uncertainly, fear, pain.
In this season as we await the incarnation - as we ponder seemingly-impossible tidings of great joy - as we wait for the return of the light - may we remember Mother Mary’s words. And may we be held in that great golden circle of her affirmation, saying ‘yes’ to life even in the midst of grief, loneliness, uncertainty, fear, and pain.
And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me
Shinin' until tomorrow, let it be
I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be [4]
NOTES:
[1] Lyrics by Lennon and McCartney
[2] https://archive.sltrib.com/article.php?id=52552400&itype=cmsid
[3] Reflection from artist Carmelle Beauglin in materials from A Sanctified Art, LLC
[4] Lyrics by Lennon and McCartney
