As we light the fourth candle of Advent, we reflect on Mary’s courage, and the wisdom she might offer to mothers today who face hardship, particularly in places of conflict and instability such as Gaza, amid Israel’s military offensive against Hamas. Tragically, twenty-first century women in Gaza find themselves echoing Mary’s first-century experience of pregnancy and delivery with minimal resources, support, and medical care. According to recent UNFPA data, approximately 155,000 women are pregnant or breastfeeding in Gaza with roughly 180 women expected to give birth each day. Access to medications, soap, and hygiene products is severely limited, with a critical shortage of antenatal and postnatal care amid a worsening sanitation crisis. The catastrophic lack of power further jeopardises safe deliveries in hospitals that are only partially functioning. The inner strength and resilience of these modern Palestinian women reflect Mary’s inner faith and trust in God as they nurture life amid this ongoing humanitarian crisis.

Expectant and new mothers of the late first-century BCE and early first-century CE, especially in rural areas, also experienced psychological trauma, witnessing brutal forms of oppression such as crucifixion as a method of public execution. Israel at this time was politically and socially unstable. Herod the Great, the client king of the Jews, ruled Judea from 37 BCE to 4 BCE under the aegis of the Roman Empire, governing a Jewish population that, in practice, had no rights. Growing up in Nazareth, Mary would have seen Roman soldiers travelling the international route below her village on the ridgeline. Roman legions were primarily stationed in nearby strategically important Syria, and when Roman officials traveled through Judea en route to or from there, they were typically accompanied by small military contingents, a tangible display of the Empire’s might, proximity, and threat of intervention if necessary.

Mary would have also experienced King Herod’s Jewish army patrolling Judea to deter rebellion, maintain control, and ensure tax compliance. His army included multi-ethnic mercenaries from regions within the Roman Empire, such as Gaul, Thrace, and other non-Jewish areas, ensuring loyalty that transcended local Judean sympathies. Although at the time of Jesus’ birth Herod had no Roman troops, his army mirrored Roman military discipline and organisation, and was a visible connection to, and reminder of Rome’s presence. It also demonstrated that Herod’s ruthless and despotic rule was supported by Rome. These were the soldiers who would go on to carry out the slaughter of the innocents recounted in Matthew 2:16-18. Other concrete symbols of Herod’s power were his imposing garrisoned palace-fortresses such as Herodium, a few kilometres from Bethlehem, and the Antonia fortress at Jerusalem’s Temple Mount, creating an atmosphere of surveillance and repression.

Into this world filled with oppression and fear, shepherds and wise men came bearing the message of peace and hope. Their arrival was a quiet yet profound reminder that even in the darkest of times, hope can break through. It is this same hope, born in Bethlehem that I imagine Mary would share with expectant women of Gaza today. She would speak of her own experience of social oppression, political instability and personal hardship, encouraging them to cling to faith, hope and love. She would advise them to seek out a safe space and the support of other women, to prepare for difficult choices and changes of plan, and to keep sight of the future potential of their baby’s life. As they cope with the waves of labour pain, she would encourage them to trust in their instincts and their body’s strength, focus on their breathing – to breathe for themselves and for their child, to quiet their mind, even amid the noise of bombardment and suffering. Mary would remind them that they are part of a long tradition of mothers labouring and giving birth in challenging circumstances, bringing the miracle of new life into even the hardest of places. Mary would counsel them to pray as she had done, and to trust in God.

As we celebrate the traditions that Christmas brings, we also celebrate this Jewish mother of Jesus shaped into the Theotokos – the Mother of God – a title which has both honoured and obscured her. We should read into the biblical gaps to remember her historical life, to appreciate her deeply human example of strength and resilience and allow those biblical silences to speak to us of her. In doing so, we recognise the strength and dignity of women facing similar struggles in our world.

Wishing you all a joyful and peaceful Christmas season. May you have a truly happy Christmas!

Dr Amelia Fleming is a lecturer in Theology at Carlow College, St. Patrick’s.