It is a scene burned into my memory; I remember the death of the Cambodian child as though it had just happened. My granddaughter and I had just finished watching Cookie Monster do his stuff on Sesame Street, and the national news came on. My granddaughter immediately left, but another took her place, not on my lap, but on the television screen. I was whisked off to a refugee camp in Cambodia and, right before my eyes, a refugee mother began to mourn the death of her baby, who had just died. She invaded my den, wailed and wept in my presence, and I felt that the child had just died in the den.17 Indeed, as we have been it seeing it happen all over the world, "Rachel is weeping for her children and will not be comforted."

It might have been Mary weeping for her son, Jesus, if Herod had bee…