Da Vinci’s Enigmatic Last Supper

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Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper is probably the second most famous painting in the world—after the Mona Lisa. But there is some question about what it portrays. It was painted in the late 15th century on the plaster wall of a refectory (dining room) of a monastery in Milan. Instead of a durable fresco in which the paint is applied to wet plaster, Leonardo painted a secco, in which oil tempera paints are applied to dry plaster and can easily flake off. The Last Supper has been subject to numerous restorations, the latest completed in 1999,^a and today the painting is 80 percent restoration. Hence, it can be seen more easily in some early copies/restorations than now on the monastery wall (see, e.g., Giampietrino’s 1520 copy). It is 15 feet high and nearly 30 feet wide.

Does The Last Supper portray the institution of the Eucharist (the eating of consecrated bread and drinking of sacramental wine) or does it portray Jesus’ announcement that one of his disciples would betray him?

For many years it was thought to depict the moment after Jesus announces his betrayal.

In a new book by Ross King titled Leonardo and The Last Supper,¹ the author suggests that more recently The Last Supper has been recognized as an amalgam of two consecutive situations—that is, the announcement of the betrayal and the institution of the Eucharist.

King makes a strong case.

The Last Supper is described in all four gospels (Matthew 26:20–29; Mark 14:17–25; Luke 22:14–23; John 13:1–30). Here are the critical words about the betrayal in Matthew 26:20–25:

When it was evening, he took his place with the twelve; and while they were eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.” And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?” He answered, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.” Judas, who betrayed him, said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?” He replied, “You have said so.”

It is easy to see why early interpreters confined their views of the painting to this moment.

Judas the betrayer reaches toward the dish next to Jesus’ right hand to dip the bread, using his left hand. As a southpaw, Leonardo was very familiar with the long-standing prejudice against left-handed people. This suspicion is evident in the Latin word for “left”: sinister. By the very act of using his left hand, Judas becomes suspect. Meanwhile, with his right hand Judas clutches a purse—a clear reference to the 30 pieces of silver he earned for his betrayal.

In the commotion his right arm has also knocked over the salt cellar on the table. (This 011 portion of the original painting is hard to make out, but it is clearly visible in several copies.) King explains that the act of “spilling salt was one of a series of calamitous significance” that Roman priestly augurs interpreted as ill omens.” Leonardo invented the motif of spilled salt, according to King, and many superstitious people today consider spilling salt to be bad luck, even if they don’t know why.

Judas’s face is noticeably darkened, set in shadow, compared to all the other disciples depicted in light.

But we can also make the case for the depiction of the Eucharist. The focal point of Leonardo’s composition is the central figure of Jesus. It is hard to ignore the wide downward gesture of his arms as his hands reach out—his right hand toward the wine and his left hand toward the bread. To emphasize the point, Leonardo directed Jesus’ gaze directly toward the loaf of bread for which he reaches. Since The Last Supper was painted on the walls of a refectory for Dominican friars, it is only fitting that the subject should be Christianity’s most important meal.

So today most experts find an amalgam of the two interpretations in the painting.

Another debated matter concerns the identity of the figure to Jesus’ immediate right. Is it Mary Magdalene (as Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code would have it) or the apostle John, son of Zebedee? Here Mr. King’s position is clear: It is John.

The case for Mary Magdalene is based almost entirely on the figure’s supposed feminine physiognomy. S/he has light skin. But so do a number of the apostles. S/he has long hair. But so do a number of others in the painting, including Jesus. So we are left with the suggestion that her face is “feminine,” hardly enough to identify the figure as Mary Magdalene. Moreover, there are only 12 figures in addition to Jesus. So either there is one missing apostle or this figure is not Mary Magdalene.

King also gives numerous examples of Leonardo’s fondness for androgynous figures. One of his favorite models, a young man with feminine features named Salai, may have been the model for Philip (seated three places to Jesus’ left) and possibly Matthew next to him—both are youthful, beardless figures with arguably female characteristics, much like the figure next to Jesus.

In short, this is a portrayal of John, traditionally the author of the Fourth Gospel, there identified as the Beloved Disciple (John 13:23).—D.D.R.

Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper is probably the second most famous painting in the world—after the Mona Lisa. But there is some question about what it portrays. It was painted in the late 15th century on the plaster wall of a refectory (dining room) of a monastery in Milan. Instead of a durable fresco in which the paint is applied to wet plaster, Leonardo painted a secco, in which oil tempera paints are applied to dry plaster and can easily flake off. The Last Supper has been subject to numerous restorations, the latest completed in 1999,a and today […]