It’s not often that I am so inspired that my breath is taken away, but that’s exactly what happened in Milan, Italy. I was visiting for a few days before I met my riverboat cruise in Venice. Milan is a beautiful city where fashion is at its height. I did not visit Milan because of that; instead, I wanted to see the magnificent painting by Leonardo da Vinci, The Last Supper, which was painted between 1494 and 1498. Despite many attempts at restoration, many art curators say that this beautiful painting will continue to disintegrate, probably lasting only for another 50 years, if not sooner.
The Last Supper and the opposing wall’s painting, The Crucifixion, by Giovanni Donato, survived the Allied bombings of World War II, and the two walls of the dining room of the Dominican convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie where they are painted are the only original walls of the convent left. The remainder of the convent was re-built after the war, and at times, the re-built structure used more neo-classical styles. It is also significant to say that Napolean’s troops used the same two walls of the dining room for target practice. These two walls are called “The Miracles” of Milan and stand as a reminder that God’s Son, Jesus Christ, still watches over our world, even despite our problems. Even the rooms being open to the air, rain, and the sun’s rays have not diminished the power of Christ’s eyes meeting your eyes, and saying, “Come unto me, all you who are heavy laden and I will give you peace.” Artists of Leonardo da Vinci’s time said, “It is the painting that speaks.”
As I looked up to “The Last Supper,” a quiet awe swept over my body, as though Christ was speaking directly to me. Returning home ten days later and worshiping in my own church, that powerful awe returned as I took Communion. Communion, shared by other Christians at one time, brings the meaning of that last supper closer to one’s soul. We are the Body and the Blood of Christ Jesus; we are His disciples. When we leave to go out into the world, that shared time girds us against human hatreds and the evils of a “me-first world.” We are the embodiment of Christ’s love and devotion, the keys to the continuation of that love.
Only groups of 25 people at one time are allowed in to see the two paintings. Turning around to see The Crucifixion on the opposing wall of the dining room, my heart was struck by the fact that Donato’s painting was a more cruel and vivid painting of Christ’s death than I had ever seen before. Mary hugged the bottom of the cross where Christ hung, and there was a skull at the bottom of the cross, possibly depicting others that had met the same harsh death. Christ’s body was painted with His organs hanging harshly at the bottom of His groin, and His face will be forever burned into my mind’s eye, with pain that only He could endure. Once again, a fleeting voice spoke to me as I was leaving the room. “Go out into the world and show the unbelievers what true love is. My Father gave me to the world so that your sins could be forgiven. Go now, and forgive as I have forgiven you.”
There is no greater love than to give up your life for others, and I will never forget the power of these two paintings. My life is more beautiful because Christ died on a cross for my sins. I feel the power of that last supper and that death on a wooden cross on Golgatha more vividly than ever before. I know that my Redeemer lives, and I wait for the day when I shall see Him, face to face. I hope that He will say, “Well done, thy good and faithful servant.”
Anna Hartt
