When Paul McCartney took part in James Corden’s Carpool Karaoke, he retold the story behind writing Let it be.
One night, when he was feeling anxious, he dreamt of his mother Mary: in his time of trouble, she spoke words of wisdom and peace.
McCartney told Corden: ‘She was reassuring me, saying, ‘it’s long to be OK, just let it be’.
So he wrote the song out of that positive place of reassurance.
In trouble; in darkness.
Speaking words of wisdom; whispering wisdom.
Let it be,
don’t fret.
Be at peace.
All shall be well.
Let it be.
But placing the name Mary alongside the phrase “let it be” conjures up a different story.
The story of a young woman who says yes to God.
A woman who, through troubled and perplexed, says “let it be”.
According to God’s word.
In fulfilment of a promise.
Embodying hope.
In the fullness of time,
the fullness of God,
dwelt in her womb,
birthed by this woman.
In this place, made by God,
God was made flesh,
to have a place amongst us.
The priceless sacrament; the corner stone.
The one without reproach; our sure foundation.
This woman bears her child so that we might be children of God.
God’s very self revealed in flesh of our flesh.
Loving the lowest and the least.
Mixing with the marginalised.
Healing the hurting.
Challenging the curious.
Infuriating the influencers.
Debating the detractors.
Feeding the famished.
Restoring the rejected.
In the fullness of time,
the fullness of God,
was made flesh.
Flesh that lived and walked and breathed.
Flesh that died, was buried and raised to life.
Flesh that spoke words of peace in our fear.
Breathing on us the Spirit that our hearts might turn outwards: crying, Abba! Father!
Breathing in the Spirit of God, might we cry out: let it be.
according to your word: let it be.
And that can be hard; and it can be compelling;
It can make perfect sense; using our gifts and skills; being more fully human.
How are we to know what to do?
Seeking what might be the loving thing in each moment.
By saying, ‘let it be’.
Being receptive to God’s word.
Allowing it do dwell in our hearts.
To fill our lungs.
That we might speak,
might whisper, words of wisdom.
Let it be.
Let it be in my heart as it is in your will.
Let it be in my heart.
Sometimes it can be hard to discern God’s word.
For Mary, it was unexpected and disruptive.
She asked questions; and took it to heart.
She played her part.
She doesn’t laugh; or test it.
She trusts it, and says ‘here I am’.
She says, let it be.
She's says let it be, even though a sword will pierce her own soul too.
He speaks to her and says, here is your son.
She sees him; unable to comfort or console.
At a wedding in Cana, she’d told others to listen to him.
At a cross on Calvary, she hears words of love.
For here, her son is drawing humanity to God’s very self.
Soon he will draw his final breath; dying to destroy death.
Soon he will be buried; a place on earth in a tomb.
A tomb that will be emptied, as abundant life is restored.
But for now, in his hour of darkness, Mother Mary is standing right in front of him.
She stands alongside the beloved disciple; two broken hearted people.
And though they will be parted, her son speaks words of wisdom;
and of care.
Here in the long labour of death, a new community is born.
Waters break; blood is shed.
We are given new birth; into a living hope.
He says to her, here is your son; my friend; my beloved; my disciple.
He says to him, here is your mother; who bore me; who said ‘let it be’.
In this home, these two broken hearted people prayed; they prayed in this dark night clouded by death.
They waited trusting that a light would still shine.
For the one who had entrusted them to each other, would bring new life.
Through him, mother and friend become God’s adopted children.
Mary and the beloved disciples are drawn into a deeper fellowship.
They are united in a unity of love; of communion and of blessing.
This place, their home, was made by God.
A place where they cold grow in trust and compassion.
Our places of worship too, made by human hands, are sacramental signs too;
reminding us that God dwells with us on earth.
But our bodies too are places where God chooses to dwell.
Though we are many, our bodies are one in Christ’s body.
And through the work of our hands, we bear Christ in the world.
We labour in love; labour for God’s Kingdom.
In our churches and our homes,
we are bound together not just be physical or digital connection:
we have a spiritual communion.
Although we are parted, and though we sometimes feel broken hearted,
light still shines; our lives become whispers of wisdom;
as we say, let it be in my hearts according to God’s word.
Let it be, as we pray for the Spirit to bring:
peace to the broken-hearted;
patience in our relationships;
joy and gentleness and kindness in our work.
Let us pray for one another, adopted children in God’s family:
For pastors in medicine, childcare, and social care;
For prophets seeking justice in public service, business and volunteering;
For wise stewards in accountancy, tech industries and administration;
For imaginative witnesses in the arts, education and hospitality.
For calls to ordination and leadership in church and world.
For a deepening of our fellowship in Christ; that in the power of the Spirit we
may witness to God’s healing love.
Let it be in your hearts, according to God’s world.
Broken hearted; let it be.
© Julie Gittoes 2020
