Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Scoot over, Judas! The Last Supper, personal space, hubris, and humility

Throwback (HOLY) Thursday updated

Lenten Reflections #38

I often find myself rattling off the same rule reminders to my students. Some are basic “say please and thank you,” while others are more distinctive: “Shirt on please, your arms need to be inside your sleeves… no spinning on the floor…stop sucking on your shirt…walk in the hallway…” Today, I even had a kindergarten girl come into class and ask if I would please remind Michael not to use bathroom words because “earlier he kept saying P-O-O”, she spelled it out.

Other than the potty talk, most of the kid offenses were about personal space, which, when you are under eight years old, the truth is, whoever is next to you, really wants you to sit super close to them…they just don’t know it.

So tonight, I focused on the famous “Last Supper” painting I acquired from my grandmother’s home after she passed. I remember walking through her double-wide trailer, seeing those apostles all lined up and thinking, if this meant something to her, it means the world to me. I grabbed the apostle crew and a small hand mirror that flipped back and forth, revealing facial blemishes and all your pluckable eyebrow hair.

In Leonardo’s Last Supper, the first thing I noticed was the lack of personal space between the apostles. I wondered why, out of the twelve guys having dinner, none of them considered sitting on the other side of the table to get a better view of the whole water-and-wine miracle.

Of course, we know this masterpiece depicts the moments after Christ let his chummy crew KNOW-HE-KNEW that one of his disciples would betray him before sunrise. When you look closely, that darn Judas looked nervous, yet not an ounce of humility lingered in his soul.

I thought…maybe Judas was weak…or felt he didn’t belong…or didn’t have a space.

Do you ever question your space in the world?

I do. In fact, sometimes Judas and that nasty Satan sneak into my brain, and I focus way too much on my jiggly inner thighs and not enough on the homeless. Or care too much about my future and not enough about a refugee’s tomorrow.

What I learned (2026):

Be humble.

“Wash the feet” of others – bring them water, listen to their needs, and bolster them up in their despair.

Shush hubris.

Stop it in its tracks. Shakespeare’s Macbeth was based on hubris, the complete collapse of a prideful man from a position of supremacy to humility. Pride is a fatal flaw.

It’s not about us.

Why is it so hard to ignore the mirror in front of you and look into the eyes of those around you?

“The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

Matthew 23:11–12

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Scoot over Judas! The Last Supper and personal space

Lenten Reflections #38

I often find myself rattling off the same rule reminders to my students. Some are basic “say please and thank you” prompts, while others are more distinctive: “Shirt on please, your arms need to be inside your sleeves…no spinning on the floor…stop sucking on your shirt…walk in the hallway…”. Today, I even had a kindergarten girl come into class and ask if I would please remind Michael not to use bathroom words because “earlier he kept saying P-O-O”, she spelled it out. Other than the potty talk, most of the kid offenses were about personal space, which, when you are under eight years old, the person sitting next to you, really does have the most exciting space of all.

So, tonight, on Holy Thursday, I stared up at a copy of the famous artwork by Leonardo Da Vinci given to me by my grandmother and noticed the lack of personal space between the apostles. I also wondered why, out of the twelve guys having dinner, not one of them considered sitting on the other side of the table to get a better view of the whole water and wine miracle. This masterpiece also depicts the moments after Christ let his chummy crew KNOWHE-KNEW that one disciple would betray him before sunrise. Judas is looking pretty nervous.

What I learned:

We all find ourselves in that space sometimes, that skeptical time when trust in ourselves and others circles the drain, and our own Judas creeps stealthily into our world. But Jesus didn’t lose hope, and we shouldn’t either. No matter how tough times can be – jobs lost, retirement a far-off dream, health failing – keep your faith strong, and for goodness’ sake, tell all the Judases in the world to scoot over and mind their own personal space.

INTERESTING FACTS: In my research of The Last Supper, I found a few rare facts about this stellar painting on leonardodavinci.net to share:

  1. Leonardo Da Vinci hadn’t worked on such a large painting and had no experience in the standard mural medium of fresco.
  2. The spilled salt is symbolic – speculations about symbolism in the artwork are plentiful. For example, many scholars have discussed the meaning of the spilled salt container near Judas’s elbow. Spilled salt could symbolize bad luck, loss, religion, or Jesus as the salt of the earth.
  3. Was it eel or herring? Scholars have also remarked on da Vinci’s choice of food. They dispute whether the fish on the table is herring or eel since each carries its own symbolic meaning.
  4. Da Vinci used a hammer and nail to help him to achieve a one-point perspective. What makes the masterpiece so striking is the perspective from which it’s painted, which seems to invite the viewer to step right into the dramatic scene. To achieve this illusion, da Vinci hammered a nail into the wall, then tied a string to it to make marks that helped guide his hand in creating the painting’s angles.
  5. The existing mural is not da Vinci’s work. At the end of the 20th century, restorer Panin Brambilla Barcilon and his crew relied on microscopic photographs, core samples, infrared reflectoscopy and sonar to remove the added layers of paint and restore the original as accurately as possible. Critics maintain that only a fraction of the painting that exists today is the work of Leonardo da Vinci.

Here’s to Another Good Day!

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia