The Last Supper

A discussion about a painting for our times.

The idea for a painting based on the Last Supper came to me two Summers ago as I watched the world going insane. Mr. Global was out in full force with mandates and crackdowns and mad plans to push the great reset button. I thought of doomsday and then of the salvation represented by the sacrifice of Christ. That supreme act was the complete opposite of the gross hubris and gluttony of people to whom we have given our trust. A trust they have taken advantage of to prey on the fear of Covid, the fear of climate change, to propagate fear itself; and getting rich while doing so.

Leonardo DaVinci's Last Supper would be the template for my version. But the focus would be switched to Judas as a way to present the moral ambiguity of betrayal in a context where good and evil are not what they appear to be. I remembered this passage from Nikos Kazantzakis' Last Temptation Of Christ:

“You will, Judas, my brother. God will give you the strength, as much as you lack, because it is necessary—it is necessary for me to be killed and for you to betray me. We two must save the world. Help me."

Judas bowed his head. After a moment he asked, "If you had to betray your master, would you do it?"

Jesus reflected for a long time. Finally he said, "No, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to. That is why God pitied me and gave me the easier task: to be crucified.”

I thought of how Kazantzakis's perspective inverted the role of Judas into an essential ally in the crucifixion story; someone with the stomach to bear under infamy to help Jesus complete His destiny. This is not the way most people view Judas, but it is a powerful idea of supreme dedication cloaked in an act of treachery.

In my Last Supper, I wanted to address the treachery of trusted authority that causes harm. The treachery that perverts the dedication that leaders, institutions, and governments should have for people but don't, and how it converts health into sickness, food into poison, truth into deceptive narratives, protectors into terrorists, Christian Love into cruelty and cowardice. These inversions serve Mr. Global well as he wreaks havoc on civilization everywhere. This treachery sneaks in to our world under a cloak of banality disguised as health programs, poverty relief efforts, and climate change activism. These are the programs that one might see discussed at a Davos symposium or, just as likely, at the table among the luminaries depicted in my painting. The Last Supper suggests the profound hypocrisy of a genteel gathering of insincere actors as they deny the universal power of sacrifice represented by the Eucharist. For them there is no magic; flesh remains flesh and wine is a profane intoxicant, much like their illegal power is.

This dinner swaps salvation for abuse and greed. It is a table attended by moneychangers. Jesus has been cancelled; forced to stay home for speaking Truth to power or because he refused to get the shot. The broken plate where Jesus might have been remains as a symbol of integrity amidst this feast of the profane. I place my self (portrait) next to Bill Gates and yell in frustration as if I were a modern Judas tasked with betrayal; this time against the predators of the NWO and the Big Lies they promote. I am a traitor serving humanity, not them... no matter the cost. My cup tippeth over.

As I completed The Last Supper, I wondered how much longer we, as humans, have left in this, our only garden of Eden. Mr.Global seems hell-bent on cancelling our tenure on the planet. How much longer will we have if they succeed with their NWO plans? Does this moment in history constitute... metaphorically speaking... our 'last supper'?

Here is the painting:

                                                                   The Last supper

Here is a description of the painting that may help navigate its symbolism. It is tongue-in-cheek to help get through the length of it.

The Last Supper is designed for impact. It is large at 12 feet long and 4 feet high. Similar to DaVinci's layout, it features portraits of 13 People dining at one side of a table. They are not disciples rather, they are prominent players in the NWO Great Reset scheme; two techies, two financiers, four master-schemers, four executives, and one outcast – Judas. Mr. Fauci is the waiter on the left serving the feast. Mr. Trump towers on the right taking aim at the white balloon that has broken free and is rising up and out of the scene.

Money changers have seized this holy table. Men of God and truth-sayers have been shut out and probably arrested. Christ has vanished. Perhaps his ministry was infiltrated and co-opted, or maybe the cost of a seat at the table was too prohibitive for the Son of God to attend. Maybe a society with this level of duplicity was not the fertile ground for Jesus to grow a movement, so He opted to wait for conditions to improve. Whatever it was, the chairman's position remains vacant.

The table is laid out with empty plates in anticipation of an infinite feast to satisfy the infinite appetite of the attendees' vacant souls. The waiter will soon arrive to serve them the corpus of humanity's hopes, dreams, culture, ingenuity, and well being... all on a silver platter. These insatiable diners are not interested in communing with the divine in this Eucharist supper. Theirs is a different fellowship. The wine in their glasses is unwanted and wafers remain unwrapped (and unseen). Accepting the compassion that might arise from union in Agape with Christ would dull the sharp, killer edge of their monopoly game.

A lone dissenter spills the divine juice. He looks upset. Is it about the wasted wine? Is it because the guy to his left is making a pass at him? Or is it something else?

Apples represent the Original decision for these Titanic consumers. To sin or not to sin... that is the question. They now own the garden of Eden, why would they care about the unpleasant consequences of their choices if they can ‘fix’ them with a generous donation? They also know that Apple's algorithms will enforce the community guidelines that will maintain their illusory power over God indefinitely. They will probably be OK with their decisions.

In the niches, I placed typical lab animals as if they were brought to Pfizer at the 'speed of science' to be crucified and dissected. They stand as testaments to the experiments conducted by enlightened scientists all over the world in their efforts to discover things like how much cosmetics sting the eyes after 48 hours of exposure or how long sand fleas take to suck the life out of dogs with severed vocal cords. Hanging on the wall beside the niches are flags with Logos of the new empires born of 'public-private partnerships', awash in printed money, and resting on the shoulders of humanity. These 'PPP's' will be essential in implementing the Re-Set of the table after the diners have consumed everyone else's food. These elegant tapestries displaying symbols of Novus Ordo Seclorum shimmer lazily in the shadows on the wall, celebrating the National Socialist entities they depict.

I placed five balloons with Olympic colors in the air and tethered them to the table - save one escapee. That singular symbol of liberty is being shot at by the most excellent sharpshooter off to the right.

The landscape in this version of the Last Supper, unlike that in DaVinci's mural, is lunar, depicting the divine Feminine located somewhere 'out there'. Saturn floats in mid-space to remind us that the über-male God of the cosmos keenly watches everything all the time and is taking notes. For surveilance he has installed the eye of Ra and for back-up, the ever-seeing eye of the IOT. Seven orbs representing the heavenly spirit-world allude to the possibility that we are actually living in a simulation.

As for the minor players: The naughty snake of the great mistake hovers to strike. The reckless Humpty Dumpty teeters on his daring perch of liberty. (Or is he perched on a crumbling culture?) Falling maple leaves, gifts from the truckers, float past Mr. True Dough in recognition of his bravery in the recent Crisis. All of humanity’s eggs are neatly arranged in one 'basket' for the convenience of industry. The adorable Panda is mounting a comeback while an equally adorable Russian bear is making one too... but farther to the Left. The globe drowns in Al Gore's flood of warming water as the great pyramid probably did in the time of Noah. A Goliath beetle rages against a plucky ant in an asymmetrical struggle for survival. Borobudur's Buddha looks on indifferently, for he too sees the possibility that we all exist within a simulation. Oh, and the challah went moldy in the metaverse.

This is The Last Supper... a feast for the eyes.

Here is the poem for the painting:

The Last Supper

Please call him Judas...

He sat the table but didn’t fit in.

Had entered their group with an alien skin.

Before, it was the cost of 30 odd pieces.

Now it’s the lives of nephews and nieces.

No he's not the one who’s sold off the future…

That's for the posers, the beast-numbered losers.

He's Revealing the secrets that capture their rage.

Cutting a key to their dictator-cage.

It's they that are traitors the one and the all

They are the sinners that led to the Fall.

Have a good look! They feed on a corpse.

Their plate is infected; their greed is the source.

They’ll tear at the organs; and strip out the hair…

Boil the skin of the living; butcher the fair.

They prowl at the table with lust in their craw.

Then press for consumption that violates law.

Of God, man and nature; they Strafe at what's Good.

They’ll feast on the children if only they could.

They loathe truth, loathe love, and the wonders of man…

Like they hate this old Judas who sneaks in when he can.

Exposing their torture, their theft, their abuse…

Silent but waiting for any excuse…

“Abomination” a word among many he’d choose…

For these criminal diners of whom he'll accuse.

Anti-disciples turn’d wicked, destructive, yea bad…

Jesus is nowhere… no solution is had.

The world's on the menu for those gathered around…

Who'll ravage the lot; crush it right to the ground.

At the ultimate supper where the wicked attend…

Where the Shepard is missing; he failed to ascend.

They abominate nature. All that lives they offend.

They've brought us to doomsday… and we’re close to the end.

They treasure that feast based on cruelty and pain.

To the wizened observer these folks are Insane.

So please call him Judas, yes, his hosts he'll offend

At the meal of dis-aster... He'll the table upend.

He's crashing the feast of the traitors to God.

He's their Judas, their jailer, who’ll not spare the rod.