What’s the meaning of this?

Recently, I read a meditation in the book, “Divine Intimacy” that brought me to my knees. Even as I write this, I want to go kicking and screaming away from this screen and never ever, ever talk about what I am about to say. But, I can’t. I must tell it soon, or it will slide into my mind’s crevasses forever.

A LITTLE BACKGROUND…

About six months ago, I was watching a podcast by a well-known Catholic apologist (I think that’s how you say it) named Matthew Leonard. He happened to mention a book called, “Divine Intimacy.” The way he talked about it made me want it too. So I ordered it and waited, for like a month. Finally, it came and I’ve been reading it every single day. The meditations and prayers of this Carmelite Priest, who wrote the book before Vatican Council II, touched my heart.

Nevermind the little details. Needless to say, I have been trying to follow along the daily messages gleaned from this book on “Meditations on the Interior Life for every day of the liturgical year.” (That is the Catholic Calendar).

BACK TO THE PRESENT…

On Monday, December 30, 2019, I pulled into the church parking lot and switched off the motor. I had some time before mass, so I pulled out the book and began to read. What I saw shocked me. It was from the reading on December 30, called “A Sign of Contradiction,” from Meditation #34. In the last paragraph of the first meditation , the author spells out the “prophesy of Simeon,” who said “directly to the Virgin Mother. And, thy own soul a sword shall pierce.” I honestly can’t say if I’ve ever read this passage before. I don’t recall, but if I did, it may have some impact on why (or how) I saw a sword in my own meditation. This, I’ll never know. But, I can tell you, it literally freaked me out. I pulled up an app for the Jerusalem Bible and read the whole chapter. And yes, there it was in black and white.

I don’t know how I got from the car to the church, or if I just mechanically found my way there. I sat down and the priest came to the alter and looked around the room. There were only four other people attending mass, aside from the priest and the sacristan.

As soon and the priest made the Sign of the Cross, I began to cry. I was grateful that none of the attendees glanced over at me, though I think I was weeping silently. I didn’t stop until just before we prayed the Our Father. This is a time when everyone joins hands, and I needed to make sure my hands were dry. Yeah, that’s me.

I’m still trying to figure out why this passage came onto my radar screen that day. What does it mean? And why was I so affected? A question for my priest, I guess.

Peace!