Sharing the crumbs

 

Here's a fun little song for Sunday, set to a well known folk tune, at least here in Australia. A bit irregular, but the driving 3/4 rhythm makes it quite singable, I think. I think it shouild work across the generations

Sharing the crumbs.

A woman came and sought out Jesus, shouting,

Heal my child, a spirit troubles her today.

His disciples, they found her quite annoying,

Hey, Jesus, can you send her on her way!

The woman kept calling out to Jesus,

It's my daughter, Lord, I beg, make her well!

Jesus said, I'm not sent to help foreigners.

I really am sorry: so long, farewell!

She persisted, came up and knelt before him.

O Lord, please don't dismiss me in this way.

He said, Good food meant for the children,

won't be thrown to the dogs. Now go away!

She responded, Yes, OK, that's fair enough.

But the children are messy, and perhaps

the crumbs from the table can be gobbled up

by the dogs; don't begrudge them the scraps!

Jesus nodded, Top answer, that was the best!

I can see now, you've shown me; great your faith!

Let it be for you as you have made request;

your daughter has been healed, now shout hooray!

Hooray for the woman who pressed her case!

Hooray now, for Jesus, who changed his mind!

Hooray now, for people who've been touched by grace!

Hooray that none need be left behind!

© Ken Rookes 2026

Tune: Botany Bay. (irregular)

Even the dogs

Weary from the crowds,

he slipped across the border for a break.

A holiday with a few close friends,

up north among the foreigners.

Different people, culture, food.

Best of all, no one knows him here.

The woman's love

has grown achingly to despair;

such is her daughter's illness.

Her dormant hopes quicken

when she learns the identity

of the stranger from the south.

Disregarding his request for privacy,

she intrudes, insisting that he intervene

to heal her child.

His response disappoints.

Wrong race, wrong religion.

The man offers a domestic metaphor to justify

his lack of compassion.

Sorry, I can't help;

the food is for the children, not the dogs.

It takes our breath away.

Suddenly we hear the shrill, cheering voices

of the xenophobes, islamophobes, flag wearers,

shock jocks and opportunistic politicians.

But the story continues;

this foreign woman does not know her place.

She accepts the racial calumny,

but, with impertinence,

throws the image back at the teacher:

Yes, but even the dogs . . .

Even the dogs.

The woman, he concedes, is correct.

There are no boundaries to love

except the ones we fashion from our fears.

The man accepts his lesson with grace,

and setting aside his weariness,

offers her the crumb.

© Ken Rookes 2017

Even the dogs.

Linocut. 30 x 30 cm. Ken Rookes 2016 ©