It was her test, her Rubicon,
Her constitution put to test.
Her dwelling then was Sidon,
Her dearest daughter was possessed.
And so she sought and found the Lord,
And after Him she cried and called,
“But save my daughter, speak the word!”
But He won’t answer, not at all.
And His disciples urged Him them,
To make her stop her noise and leave.
He turned to her, with words thus grim,
“But I was sent to Israel’s sheep.”
“For is it right to take men’s bread,
“And feed it to the little dogs?”
This ethnic slur thus scorning said,
As if with words He seeks to flog.
Could any answer such a quip?
His followers or scribes, perhaps?
Ah! none but her! With trembling lip,
“But dogs may even eat the scraps.”
It was her test, and it was done.
But the disciples now were taught.
Thus was her humble plea first shunned,
To show them how to act towards God.
Would we then have humility,
To plead with love and empathy?
Or else assume, unworthily,
And thus ignore the Gentile’s plea?