It was 1942. We were at war. It was a time of clandestine codes, a time for new ways to encrypt our everyday national life so the enemy would not get any useful information by accident. And for a long time at our house, we were convinced, as we gathered together around our one-and-only radio on Sunday evenings, that L.S. – M.F.T. was one of those secret codes.

Yes, we knew what it meant commercially: Lucky Strike (a popular brand of cigarette at the time) Means Fine Tobacco. But the way it was done, the way it was said, made us certain that it was also a code sending some kind of clandestine information somewhere in the world at war.

This is the episode from the past which came to my mind recently when, at the end of the parable about the Kingdom, Jesus makes that shocking comment, The last shall be first and the first shall be last.

I must have said it out loud 20 times when I read it on this occasion. The last shall be first and the first shall be last. The last shall be first and the first shall be last. Suddenly it was like I was hearing some secret code for the Kingdom.

Last-First. First-Last.
Last-First. First-Last.
L.F. – F.L.
L.F. – F.L.

Silly? Probably. But, after all, it is the Third Millennium and, in case you haven’t noticed, we are at war in the Kingdom.

So it might not be so bizarre to have something of a code for the Kingdom, something which we understand very well in our everyday life but which the enemy doesn’t get.

For whatever else "last" or "first" really means in terms of the Kingdom, I wonder if we are not meant to discover the ways in which it also applies to our everyday emotional, intellectual, spiritual lives as well.

In our everyday lives, isn’t it sometimes true that what is last on our priority list mysteriously ends up being made first and what seems to be first ends up being last?

L.F. – F.L.! L.F. – F.L.!

For example, I believe that I had the makings of a vocation in music when I was a child. It was a special gift which should have been first in my life. Certainly it should have come before all the other banal talents of my childhood. But it wasn’t, and I felt deprived and misunderstood in that area of my life.

It was only years later, when I was an adult and a Madonna House priest that I recognized God’s plan for my musical talent.

It happened at the Easter Vigil while I was singing The Exsultet—my favorite, favorite Easter event. (You need to know that in a community like ours, which is not a parish, we have a number of priests and so you may only get to sing The Exsultet once in five or more years!)

On that particular night, I knew in a joyful flash, while I was actually singing, why the gift of music had been given to me and why it had not been first.

That night when I sang The Exsultet, it was as if all the music that was in me flowed out into that single melody. When I was finished, I felt that, in the depth of my soul, God had put music in my life in the first place for the singing of that one melody. And I felt that I would never need to sing it again in order to be "fulfilled" musically.

That was the night when I discovered music was not about me. It was about the Kingdom. I discovered that what was once first on my agenda had to become last because only in that way could it, that one night, become first.

As I pondered this later on, I realized that the Spirit had been protecting me all along. From what? From music becoming first in my life. For if it had been first, my possessive, arrogant tendencies coupled with that powerful gift would have eventually turned me from the Kingdom and probably destroyed me and many others in the process.

I suspect that "last – first, first – last" experiences are not unusual, and that if anyone thought about it prayerfully, he or she would discover some of them.

Here’s another example from my own life. In one parish where I served, I did not get along with the pastor at all and he did not get along with me at all, at all! My pastor and I had had a real "knock-down-drag-out" argument the night before, and my mind was poisoned with it as I vested for Mass that Sunday morning.

Me, myself, and I were first on my mind that day, and the words of the Gospel, which I had read in preparation for the homily the night before, were last on my mind. And yet when I read that Gospel at that first Sunday Mass I was stopped dead in my tracks.

Jesus said that if you are bringing your offering to the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your offering there before the altar, go be reconciled first, and then come back and present your offering.

Suddenly I had no choice! What had been first (me) was now last, and what was last (the Gospel) was now first.

The congregation must have thought I had a kidney failure as I left the sanctuary right after reading the Gospel. Even the pastor in the sacristy was not too happy, though he did begrudgingly accept my apology for the events of the previous night. But only after that apology could I go back and "bring my offering to the altar."

L.F. – F.L.! L.F. – F.L.!

"Mom! It’s the code! They’re doin’ it again!"