Maybe the cowboy is the consummate American. Driven. All in with big, thunderous, stampeding noise. Armed to the teeth, fighting, pushing, and eating everything from the head to the hoof on the promise of big payday.
“I am the good cowboy.” Jesus wouldn’t say that. He couldn’t! Not in the stereotypical way. But he could say, “I am the good shepherd.” The cowboy consumes. The shepherd cares. The cowboy wants his pay. The shepherd wants his sheep. The cowboy’s trail ends in death. The shepherd’s trail ends with life - the only death he invokes is his own - in protection of his sheep.
