This week I watched television coverage of Jewish and Palestinian women mourning the deaths of their children. The images are graphic and their sorrow seems almost raucous as they walk behind the draped bodies of their children, carried overhead by family and friends and outraged community members. I remind myself that people mourn in ways molded in great degree by their surrounding culture. Theirs is a world I have never observed, except through the lens of a television camera.

I am challenged by the notion that if I Americanize such events I will miss the powerful insight that comes with modern cultural understanding as well as what life must have been like for the ancients of that region.

A cursory knowledge of Scripture no longer sits comfortably with me either and it has been an enjoyable experience to become a researcher of sorts during this Lenten season. Not only have I opened my Bible, but I have also pulled nearly abandoned reference books off my shelves and visited search engines on the Internet. It has been a fascinating adventure and my growing knowledge adds insight to the passion I see displayed today in women from that region.

The depth of their sorrow and frustration is centuries in the making, for many aspects of their lives have been trying beyond what we Americans have ever experienced on a personal level. Our national history is spotted with stories of tremendous hardship and misery, to be sure. Life contains a component of suffering for everyone. With each exceeding generation, however, we Americans continue to embrace the notion that life will improve. We grow up with the cultural expectation that if we work hard enough we will beat the odds, find a cure and promote the American way of life because the world needs us.

I wonder what Mary, Jesus’ mother, would have reported about her life. What defined her visions of the future and fueled her dreams? How would she react to the current wave of retaliations being displayed by the nation of Israel?

An interesting portrait has emerged in all of my fact finding. Mary (whose name is derived from the more common Jewish women’s name Miriam) was born to Joachim and Ann somewhere near Nazareth in the foothills of Galilee. Known for its dry, healthy climate and proximity to essential trade routes linking Egypt to Mesopotamia, Mary grew up among the hard-working and closely-knit Jewish people.

She probably lived in a small family home made of stone and mud bricks and worked alongside other children as they hand ground flours made from barley and wheat, and prepared dishes that included eggs, fruits, nuts, vegetables, beans, and mutton — when times were good. She learned from her mother and the other women how to hand weave wool, bake bread and carry water in a large jar atop her head. Jews learned early on that cleanliness prevented disease and so the daily task Mary was given to haul water from a central well not only became a part of her life but seeped into her religious practices as well.

It was during these times of communal care taking that Mary and the other females shared the news of the day with one another. Whether they were harvesting wheat in nearby fields, pressing olives for oil to fuel their lamps or drying figs that provided a sweet, nutritious element to their diet, Mary learned about life. Though she most likely enjoyed little wealth, outside culture or formal education, she learned about the human condition when she chatted about who was getting married, who was pregnant, what lambs were lost to predators and who was sick.

She also learned early on that the Jews believed the land was rightfully theirs, given to their ancestors when they were led out of Eqypt by Moses. A strong oral tradition educated her about the actions of the early kings and the words of the prophets. She understood that the Romans occupied her land and watched as her people frequently rioted and revolted. She heard her father speak of governmental taxation, manipulation and terror. She most likely grew up longing for a Messiah to free her family and community from the grip of their enemies.

With this information, let us continue next week with a look at Mary. In the meantime, let us ask God to fill us with compassion as technology exposes us to people and ancient conflicts raging around the world, requiring us to evaluate human responses and cultural diversity with hearts filled with love.

And may we pray that people with workable, God-inspired solutions will rise up among us. It is the cry of mothers worldwide.

Joan Bay Klope is a freelance writer and a former editor of Chrisitan books. Contact her at jbklope@hotmail.com