Genesis 22, Caravaggio, and the Ram

Belatedly, I write to reflect further on Carl Trueman's Counterpoint ("Close, but No Cigar").  There Carl writes about his recent visit to a synagogue and the rabbi's thoughtful homily on Genesis 22, which included everything except the gospel.

As I read Carl's article -- and as I write this post -- I have before me a reproduction of Caravaggio's "The Sacrifice of Isaac."  The friend who gave me the picture was kind enough to put a description of the painting on the back.  It too, is close, but no cigar:

"In 1603 Caravaggio painted this for Cardinal maffeo Barberini, the future Pope Urban VIII. Old Abraham is intercepted in the act of slitting his son's throat by an admonishing angel who with his right hand prevents the murder and with his left points to the substitute victim. Light directs the viewer to scan the scene from left to right as it picks out the angel's shoulder and left hand, the quizzical face of Abraham, the right shoulder and terrified face of Isaac and finally the docile ram."

It is true that the ram is docile, but he is more: he is imploring.  He is insistent.  He is willing.  For all his patience, there is also an eagerness about his posture.  The ram is presenting himself for sacrifice.  He has come forward, desiring to be offer himself in Isaac's place.  This is Caravaggio's artistry: for all the drama in the other figures -- not least the sharp edge of Abraham's blade and the horrified look of protest on Isaac's face -- the ram is clearly at the center of the meaning, despite the fact that it is at the painting's edge.

So Jesus stands in relation to Genesis 22.  He is at the edge of the narrative.  But the angel is pointing past Abraham and Isaac to his willing sacrifice.  And when we read the ancient story, Jesus is imploring to be seen at its center, insistent that he will be the saving sacrifice.