Given the identity of the Eucharist and the Last Supper, I am surprised that nobody has drawn attention, in the context of the Eucharistic Congress, to the mural (above) in Blooms Lane, in the Italian Quarter of Dublin.
Might this have anything to do with the current misfortunes of developer Mick Wallace TD? Or might it be the uncomfortably secular nature of this particular rendering of that meal.
The characters are based on real people, invited in off the street, so to speak, and as such represent a cross section of Dublin passers by. An ideal image for a congress structured around the theme of "communion", you might think. There is even the resonance with the wedding feast of the Gospels.
Well, just to redress the imbalance I thought I'd mention John Byrne's Last Supper located slap bang in the middle of Mick Wallace's development.
While I'm at it I notice that Pat Igoldsby has not been included in the list of speakers for the Congress. I assume he was not invited, but have to admit I don't know whether or not he would have accepted such an invitation. Pat is as much a part of Dublin as the GPO and way more articulate than your average postage stamp.
As a modest contribution to redressing that imbalance, I have reproduced his poem "The Last Supper" below. I'm sure Pat won't mind. He's sort of laid back about some of this stuff.
LAST SUPPER
The man with nowhere to go
stood under
the cold petrified
night-time tree
in the middle of
O'Connell Street.
Because he had nothing
else to do
he joined up
all the white dots
which the birds
had dropped
onto the pavement
and he created
a perfect picture
of The Last Supper.
He wandered into it
and ate the bread
and drank the wine
and fell asleep
on the pavement
deep frozen
into the shape
of a cross.
The man with nowhere to go
stood under
the cold petrified
night-time tree
in the middle of
O'Connell Street.
Because he had nothing
else to do
he joined up
all the white dots
which the birds
had dropped
onto the pavement
and he created
a perfect picture
of The Last Supper.
He wandered into it
and ate the bread
and drank the wine
and fell asleep
on the pavement
deep frozen
into the shape
of a cross.
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