Setting the Record Straight. . . As Much as I Can

Summer Preaching Series: Mary of Magdala   

Readings:  Judith 9:1, 11-14, Ps  42:1-7, 2 Corinthians 5:14-18, John 20:11-18

Mary Magdalene

First of all, let’s get a few things straight. I am likely not Mary of Bethany, sister of Martha and Lazarus. Not Mary the mother of James and Joseph. I am not Mary the wife of Clopas. I am not Mary, the Madonna, the mother of Jesus. Oh, and. . .I am also not Mary with THAT reputation—the one at the other end of that spectrum.

Now I know what you’ve heard about me.  And a whole lot of what you’ve heard is. . .shall we just say, made up? I guess I understand. There were a lot of Marys to keep track of in the Gospels. But it wasn’t’ my fault that several women with my name were part of Jesus’ story. Four gospels. Only four. Yet these men seemed to have trouble distinguishing us, one from the other.

Maybe the confusion started—or maybe it just got worse—with Luke. In the seventh chapter, Luke writes about a Pharisee who invites Jesus to dinner. Luke writes, “A sinful woman” finds out that Jesus has come to dinner. She slips into the room, bearing an alabaster jar of ointment. She kneels at Jesus’ feet. Opens the jar. Pours expensive ointment on his feet. Weeping, she wipes his feet with her long hair. After a rather pointed exchange with Simon the Pharisee about sins being forgiven, Jesus forgives this un-named woman’s sins. He says,   “Your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”

Un-named. Anonymous woman. Yet in the very next chapter of Luke’s gospel, here is what you read: “Soon afterwards he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him, as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities:  Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their resources.”[1]

May I just point out that no one ever said these two stories were connected—not even Luke.  As one writer has pointed out, “The weeping anointer is no more connected to Mary of Magdala than she is to Joanna or Susanna.”[2] Yet over centuries, the last part of Chapter Seven and the first part of Chapter Eight have gotten conflated in history.

Now keep in mind that not one of the Gospels is an eyewitness account. Beginning with Mark’s gospel (which was the first gospel written), the Gospels “were written 35 to 65 years after Jesus’ death. They were a jelling of separate oral traditions that had taken form in dispersed Christian communities.

Jesus died in about the year 30 CE. The Gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke date to about 65-85 (CE), and have sources and themes in common. The Gospel of John was composed around 90 to 95 (CE)and is distinct.”[3]

So imagine that you are writing an account of your life when you were twenty, all about your family and friends and what you did together. Yet you don’t actually write this account down until you are 55, or maybe not until you are 85. Can’t you imagine that the details would be somewhat fuzzy? That you might take a bit of poetic license with what happened at a particular Thanksgiving Dinner?

In some sense, it’s to be expected that the threads of my narrative got all twisted and tangled. Now, no one knows the absolute truth. Yet if we go back to scripture—to four different accounts like the Gospels—we can learn some truths about Mary of Magdala.

First, I came from Magdala—a little fishing town on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee. If Luke was even slightly correct about me, I was a woman of some financial means. How do you know this? Because, as stated in Luke 8, Joanna and Susanna and I all helped provide for Jesus and his male disciples out of our own resources. In other words, none of us were dependent on a husband for money AND we were free to travel with the disciples.

Second, it is clear that I, along with others, had experienced Jesus’ healing power. Luke says that “And the twelve were with him, and also some women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities:  Mary, called Magdalene, from who seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod’s steward, and Susanna and many others. . .”[4]  Note: In the first century, the number seven is a way to tell the reader that my illness had been severe. Nowhere does it say that the “demons” were of a moral nature.

Third, John’s Gospel, written towards the end of the first century, put me in a far better light. He recognized the important role I played in the story of Jesus—more so than had the accounts written in the earlier gospels.  It was John who affirmed me the most.

Magdalene

In John’s Gospel, I was present at the crucifixion of Jesus, along with Mary the wife of Clopas and Mary the mother of Jesus. Judas betrayed Jesus. Peter denied Jesus. Nine ran away like scared rabbits and hid. Only John was left—John, plus us: three women. Faithful to the end.

Of course we had nothing to lose. In that first century culture, women did not matter at all. We had no rights. We were considered to be property. We may as well have been invisible to the Romans for the amount of power we held. Yet we knew who we were, from Jesus’ perspective. Regardless of what the empire thought, regardless of how marginalized and oppressed we were, we mattered. We were important. We were individuals who had gifts, talents and contributions to make. We had deep, enduring relationships with Jesus that had been forged out of great challenges.

In John’s Gospel, it was on Easter Sunday that I stepped forward, into the light, to be more fully who I was created to be. I was the first in John’s Gospel to see the risen Lord. He appeared to me in the garden. At first, as I sat and wept bitterly over the loss of this man who had been so important in my life, some angels asked, “Woman, why are you crying?” I was so afraid that someone had stolen his body. That there would be no there there when I came to remember him and what he had meant to me. No grave to visit? What would I do?

The angels didn’t answer me. But then I turned, and saw a man I thought was the gardener. But no. This was not an ordinary gardener. It was the Lord. All he had to do was speak my name: Mary. How many times I had heard Jesus say my name. And I responded, “Rabbouni.” Teacher. Because he had been my Teacher and would always be my Teacher—in this world and in the next.

In your century, a woman named Jane Schaberg has written a book about me. In this book, she presents a nine-point “profile” of me:“

1. Mary is prominent among the followers of Jesus;

2. She exists as a character, as a memory, in a textural world of androcentric language and patriarchal ideology;

3. She speaks boldly;

4. She plays a leadership role vis-à-vis the male disciples;

5. She is a visionary;

6. She is praised for her superior understanding;

7. She is identified as the intimate companion of Jesus;

8. She is opposed by or in open conflict with one or more of the male disciples;

9. She is defended by Jesus.”[5]

Mary Magdalene icon with red egg

So where did this train run off the rails, you may ask? Several things happened. First, there were men who were threatened by my role in Jesus’ life and the role I played in the early Church. So they deliberately diminished me specifically, by identifying me as a sinful woman—something for which there is no proof. Second, the institutional Church has a lot of ‘splainin’ to do.

The conflation of me with the unnamed sinful woman who anointed Jesus’ feet, then was forgiven, and the unnamed woman taken in adultery, got official sanction in the sixth century.

Mary of Bethany anoints Jesus feet

According to one scholar, Pope Gregory, also known as Gregory the Great, preached a famous homily. In this short sermon, the Pope “positively identified the unnamed anointer and adulteress as Mary, and suggested that the ointment used on Jesus’ feet was once used to scent Mary’s body. The seven demons Jesus cast out of Mary were, according to Gregory, the seven cardinal sins, which include lust. But, wrote Gregory, when Mary threw herself at Jesus’ feet, ‘she turned the mass of her crimes to virtues, in order to serve God entirely in penance.’”[6]

I would just like to point out here that not one word of this is written in any of the Gospels.It was the institutional Church folks who wiped their hands of me, and wiped their feet on me, simply because I held apostolic power. Apostle to the apostles. Interestingly, it was the Eastern Orthodox Church—unlike the Western Church—that named me “the Apostles to the apostles,” because I was the one who saw the risen Lord first, then ran to tell the others about the Lord’s resurrection. It was the Eastern part of the Church that always held me in high regard.

What is the bottom line? You will never really know. All you need to know is that I have been very important in spreading the gospel—the Good News of God’s love, because of, and through, my relationship with Jesus of Nazareth.

Furthermore, it’s possible that I was a key leader in the early Church. Even the apostle Paul, who some believe was not an advocate of women, writes this in Romans 16:6, “Greet Mary, who has worked very hard among you.”  You, in the twenty first century, don’t know which Mary he meant. But that is not the most important thing I leave with you.

What you must learn from me is this: never underestimate what you can do for Jesus. You may not think you have amounted to much. You may never get the credit you deserve. Yet your faithfulness to the risen Lord matters. In the long run, your willingness to reach out and tell others about Jesus’ love, your faithfulness in the breaking of bread and in the prayers, your support of our children and youth, your outreach to those on the margins—all that may make a difference in the lives of generations to come.

So stand firm, stay grounded deeply in who you are as a beloved child of God. Say your prayers every day. Gather with your brothers and sisters on Sunday to worship. Live as if love matters. Because it does. Love matters. God’s love wins. Then give glory to God. Because whether you are Mary Magdalene in the first century, or someone sitting here today in the twenty-first century, the One who really matters most, the One whose love endures, is God Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.  And that is the Truth. Amen.

© The Rev. Dr. Sheila N. McJilton

[1] Luke 8:1-3.

[2] James Carroll, “Who Was Mary Magdalene?” in the Smithsonian Magazine, June 2006. Accessed at https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/who-was-mary-magdalene-119565482/ on August 22, 2019.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Luke 8:1-3

[5] Jane Schaberg, Resurrection of Mary Magdalene: Legends, Apocrypha, and the Christian Testament, (New York & London: The Continuum International Publishing Group, Ltd., 2002), 129.

[6] Biblical Archaeology Society Staff, “Was Mary Magdalene Wife of Jesus? Was Mary Magdalene a Prostitute?” March 17, 2018. Accessed at https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/daily/people-cultures-in-the-bible/people-in-the-bible/was-mary-magdalene-wife-of-jesus-was-mary-magdalene-a-prostitute/ on Aug. 22, 2019.

Photography/Artwork:Mary Magdalene "Invitation to Love" by Janet McKenzie. https://www.janetmckenzie.com

Pictures of Mary holding candle at tomb, woman anointing Jesus' feet, and Icon of Mary with Red Egg accessed through Google images.