There is something elegiac, almost atavistic about a picture of a shepherd being carried by the flock. It shakes us out of our complacency and wakes us from our sloth.
It's also heartbreaking to see he who is so strong made weak, and weakness is never made more visible than in death.
The scene reminds me of how Christ died that we might live, how he became man that we may become as God. This sense of taking another's role reminds me of a beautiful Irish tune that goes:
O Bridget Donahue, I really do love you,
Although I'm in America, to you I will be true;
And Bridget Donahue, I'll tell you what we'll do --
Just take the name of Patterson, and I'll take Donahue.
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