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The First Will Be Last

I may have mentioned a genuine hero--both naturally and supernaturally--that also attends our daily Mass. As it happens, we share the same birthday. Anyway, it had always been the Monsignor's practice since he came to serve that man first, and then I proceed across the front of the pew to meet the line in the middle aisle. It saves the priest of a certain age a few steps, and it saves me an obstacle course. It also comports with a just order of things, in my mind. I did not save our world from fascists, whilst urging the Catholics (ordering?) going into battle during that great war to go to Confession beforehand, just in case. So that makes sense to me.

But the young priest who has returned after some time away is terribly fond of me, or so it appears, though we've never spoken. He keeps going right past the old hero, and giving me Communion first. Father can obviously do what he likes, but I want to say something. Father, don't you know who that is? Let him go first. I suppose I know what he'd say, and that's precisely why he should go first.

What I know I can do is make sure I'm prepared as much as possible to receive the gift that is Christ Our Lord. That's what the hero would do, and that's what he'd say. So be it.

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