Folks all around me have been talking about the opening ceremony at the Olympics in France and, oddly enough, “The Last Supper.” At first, many people suggested that the opening ceremony mocked Leonardo Davinci’s “The Last Supper.”
Then, a host of voices said that this was not a mockery of DaVinci’s painting, but it depicted “The Feast of the Gods” by Johann Rottenhammer and Jan Brueghel.
I started thinking about images of the Last Supper, and I am drawn to Jacopo Tinteretto’s “Last Supper.” His art is part of a post-Renaissance movement known as Mannerism. Many of the paintings contain a black background. These artists were drawing upon techniques from their Renaissance forbears but also exaggerated specific elements.
When I look at Tinteretto’s “Last Supper,” I feel transported to a 16th-century pub. The room is loud and alive with crowds of people eating and drinking. There’s a table off to the side that goes almost unnoticed. It’s Jesus and his disciples sharing a last meal together. Now, I realize this deviates from the Biblical story. No painting of a Biblical story depicts the actual event. They invite us to reflect on themes inherent in the stories or themes that bring the culture in dialogue with the Gospel story.
Tintoretto opens the spiritual world above the disciples, and we see what appears to be angels and possibly even demons. The spiritual world presses right up against the natural world. In this dark world, a light is shining out from Christ and even from His disciples. This makes me think about how God in His goodness does not abandon a world in darkness but descends into the midst of human sin and brokenness to redeem it.
It reminds me of a scene from Graham Greene’s novel, “The Power and the Glory.” The priest is thrown into a darkened jail cell of criminals, drunks, and even a couple of fornicators. When I read this passage, I am usually moved to tears because I cannot help but see the goodness of God, who descends into our brokenness. In His unfathomable love, He has even sent His disciples into places of darkness with the light of His love.
This movement is sometimes called condescension. It is rooted in God’s freely chosen humiliation in Christ (Philippians 2). The divinity descends into humanity. Christ empties Himself, taking the form of a servant, and He continues to humble Himself by dying as a criminal on the cross. He is mocked and cursed, and simultaneously offering forgiveness to His persecutors.
I see another kind of condescension on the Internet. People look down from on high, mocking people from one group or another. Some Christians have cursed a pagan world for a perceived offense at the Olympics. Others have mocked the Christians who failed to see the mythological references.
Both of these responses could easily be seen as condescension without humility. We have all made mistakes and could easily be mocked, so I am always puzzled when we choose to mock others while being blind to our own faults. Paul puts it this way, “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). I have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. I cry out for mercy.
I am the criminal on the floor of the jail in Graham Greene’s “The Power and the Glory.” When the priest is cast beside me, I confess my sin and cry out for mercy. I am the criminal hanging beside Jesus and crying out, “Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42-43).
I need grace to look up at those who speak down to me as a fool, as a failure, as a loser. I want to speak the word of grace to them, hoping against hope that they might sense the good God who comes to lead them and me and us all into freedom.
