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Was Mary Magdalene the Woman Who Anointed Jesus? The Nard, Judas, and the Bridegroom

A woman pours a fortune in perfume over Jesus. Judas objects. John calls her Mary, but not Magdalene. Then, at the tomb, another Mary appears. Early Christians were not always convinced they were two women.

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In this article
  1. Was Mary Magdalene the woman who anointed Jesus?
  2. One woman, one jar, four Gospels
  3. John finally gives the woman a name
  4. The anointing and the betrayal are welded together
  5. But what happened to the woman?
  6. Luke creates an even stranger sequence
  7. Ancient Christians were already combining the Marys
  8. Hippolytus is the source that changes the conversation
  9. The Manichaean Mary is even harder to separate
  10. Even "Magdalene" may be less decisive than it looks
  11. Then there is the nard
  12. In Mark she may actually be crowning a king
  13. And then Mary Magdalene enters the garden
  14. What happens if they are the same Mary?
  15. Is this a hieros gamos?
  16. The strongest reconstruction
  17. The woman the story refuses to forget
  18. Sources

Was Mary Magdalene the woman who anointed Jesus?

Short answer. Possibly, and some ancient Christians appear to have understood her that way. The Gospel of John explicitly identifies the woman who anoints Jesus with costly nard as Mary of Bethany, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. It does not call her Mary Magdalene. But the four Gospels preserve closely related versions of an anointing tradition; Luke places his unnamed anointing woman immediately before introducing Mary Magdalene; John connects Mary's perfume specifically with Jesus' burial, then makes Mary Magdalene the woman who comes to his tomb. By the third and fourth centuries, several Christian texts blur or collapse Mary of Bethany and Mary Magdalene into a single figure.

The most striking clue, however, may be literary.

John's anointing scene appears to echo Song of Songs 1:12:

"While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof."

In John 12, Jesus reclines at dinner, Mary produces nard, and its fragrance fills the house.

Then in John 20, Mary Magdalene searches for Jesus while it is still dark, cannot find him, finally encounters him, and attempts to hold him. Song of Songs 3 describes a woman searching in the night for the man she loves, finding him, and declaring:

"I held him, and would not let him go."

Those parallels have been argued explicitly in scholarship on John.

That does not prove that Jesus and Mary performed a literal hieros gamos, or sacred marriage. But it does mean that the bridegroom reading is not being imported into John from nowhere.

The imagery is already there.

One woman, one jar, four Gospels

All four canonical Gospels contain a scene in which a woman approaches Jesus during a meal and pours expensive perfume or ointment upon him.

The details move:

GospelWomanPlaceAnointsObjectorMeaning
Mark 14:3-9unnamedBethany, house of Simonhead"some"burial
Matthew 26:6-13unnamedBethany, house of Simonheaddisciplesburial
John 12:1-8Mary of BethanyBethanyfeetJudasburial
Luke 7:36-50unnamed "sinner"house of Simon the PhariseefeetSimonforgiveness

Nobody seriously needs four independent historical incidents to explain Matthew, Mark and John. They are plainly versions of the same Bethany tradition.

The real dispute concerns Luke.

Luke moves the event much earlier in Jesus' ministry. His host is Simon the Pharisee rather than Simon the leper. His woman is characterized as a sinner. Jesus turns the episode into a teaching about forgiveness.

Yet Luke preserves several unusually specific features found in John:

Kent Van Til has argued that Luke's differences come from Luke's own narrative purposes: Luke retells the pouring of the oil as an offering rather than an anointing, to serve his theme of forgiveness. Other scholars distinguish Luke's episode from the later Bethany anointing.

Either reconstruction is possible.

What is difficult to ignore is that the traditions overlap far more than four unrelated stories normally would.

John finally gives the woman a name

Mark and Matthew refuse to name her.

John does.

Before Lazarus is even raised, John introduces the family by identifying Mary through an act he has not yet narrated:

"It was that Mary which anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped his feet with her hair."

John 11:2

That is an odd introduction.

John apparently assumes that his audience already knows the woman who anointed Jesus.

Then John 12 stages the event.

Jesus is dining in Bethany. Lazarus is present. Martha serves. Mary takes roughly a pound of extremely expensive pure nard, anoints Jesus' feet and wipes them with her hair.

John adds a sensory detail absent from the Synoptics:

"the house was filled with the odour of the ointment."

And then John identifies the objector.

It is Judas Iscariot.

Judas complains that the perfume could have been sold for three hundred denarii and the proceeds given to the poor. John immediately tells his reader that Judas did not actually care about the poor; he controlled the common purse and stole from it.

Jesus responds by defending Mary and connecting what she has done with his burial.

The woman gives away something extravagantly valuable.

Judas calculates its cash value.

That contrast is not incidental.

The anointing and the betrayal are welded together

Matthew and Mark make the connection even harder to miss.

Matthew tells the anointing at Bethany in 26:6-13.

The very next sentence begins:

"Then one of the twelve, called Judas Iscariot, went unto the chief priests…"

Judas asks what they will pay him to hand Jesus over.

Mark does essentially the same thing.

The structure is remarkable:

  1. the authorities seek Jesus' death
  2. a woman pours out something precious upon him
  3. Jesus interprets it as preparation for burial
  4. Judas goes to sell him.

One person recognizes value and gives.

The other recognizes value and asks what he can get.

John concentrates that contrast inside the dinner itself by making Judas the person who objects to the perfume.

Whatever else the anointing means, the Gospel tradition remembers it as standing directly across from Judas and betrayal.

But what happened to the woman?

Here the Gospel traditions become strange.

In John, Mary of Bethany dominates chapters 11 and 12.

Jesus loves the Bethany family. Mary falls at his feet after Lazarus dies. Jesus weeps. Lazarus is raised. Mary then performs the anointing that Jesus connects to his coming burial.

And after that, Mary of Bethany disappears from John.

When the burial actually happens, another Mary comes into focus:

Mary Magdalene.

She is there at the crucifixion.

She knows the burial has occurred.

While it is still dark she comes to the tomb.

And she becomes the central human figure in John's resurrection scene.

That transition caught the attention of Elizabeth Schrader and Joan Taylor. They note how easily an ancient reader of John could connect the two women: Mary prepares Jesus for burial with perfume in John 12; when the anticipated burial arrives, Mary Magdalene is the Mary who comes to the tomb.

The Gospel never explicitly tells us they are the same woman.

But neither does John stop to say:

This Mary is not the Mary you met eight chapters ago.

For modern readers accustomed to character lists, that distinction feels obvious.

For some ancient readers, apparently, it did not.

Luke creates an even stranger sequence

Luke's arrangement adds another piece.

Luke 7 contains the unnamed woman who approaches Jesus with an alabaster jar, weeps over his feet, wipes them with her hair, kisses them and anoints them.

The chapter ends.

Then Luke 8 begins introducing the women who traveled with Jesus.

Among the first named is:

Mary called Magdalene.

Luke never says that the unnamed woman of chapter 7 is Mary Magdalene.

That must be stated clearly.

But centuries of readers did not invent the association from absolutely nothing. Luke himself places an unnamed woman performing the famous anointing immediately beside the introduction of Mary Magdalene.

If Luke's story is itself a transformed version of the Bethany anointing, the three identities begin to converge:

That convergence is exactly what appears in portions of later Christian tradition.

Ancient Christians were already combining the Marys

The familiar story says that Pope Gregory the Great confused three women in 591 CE and the medieval West simply inherited his mistake.

That is too simple.

Gregory certainly helped institutionalize the composite Magdalene in Western Christianity. But evidence for the identification is centuries older.

Mary Ann Beavis's study "Reconsidering Mary of Bethany" surveys early texts in which the boundaries between the women become porous. Elizabeth Schrader's study of Martha in the Fourth Gospel likewise notes third- and fourth-century witnesses that appear to identify or combine Mary Magdalene with Mary of Bethany.

Among them are the Pistis Sophia, portions of the Manichaean Psalm-Book, the Acts of Philip, and traditions preserved in the Gospel of Nicodemus.

The important point is not that every one of these sources proves the identification independently.

It is that a composite Mary existed very early.

This was not merely a medieval accident.

Hippolytus is the source that changes the conversation

One of the most remarkable witnesses comes from the early third-century Commentary on the Song of Songs traditionally associated with Hippolytus.

When interpreting the woman of Song of Songs searching for her beloved, the commentator turns to the resurrection.

But instead of simply reproducing John's Mary Magdalene scene, the commentary brings forward Martha and Mary.

They search for Christ.

They encounter the risen Jesus.

They function as the principal female witnesses of the resurrection.

Scholars have noted distinctly Johannine features in the episode, including Jesus addressing the women and the response "Rabbouni," the form used by Mary Magdalene in John 20.

In other words: a third-century Christian interpretation of Song of Songs takes the resurrection role normally occupied by Mary Magdalene and places Martha and Mary of Bethany inside it.

That is significant enough on its own.

But notice the book being interpreted:

Song of Songs.

The Mary problem and the bridal imagery were already intersecting in Christian interpretation more than sixteen centuries ago.

The Manichaean Mary is even harder to separate

The Manichaean Psalm tradition preserves another fascinating Mary.

In one psalm, Mary functions like the resurrection messenger: she gathers the scattered male disciples after Jesus' death.

Immediately afterward comes Martha, described as her sister.

Elsewhere in the collection, the resurrection Mary is associated with Mary Magdalene.

There are alternative explanations. "Sister" could mean spiritual sister rather than biological sibling, and late antique traditions frequently harmonized Gospel characters.

But the pattern remains:

That is exactly the combination one would expect if at least some Christians believed that Mary Magdalene was Martha's sister Mary.

Even "Magdalene" may be less decisive than it looks

The strongest obvious argument against the identification is geographical.

Mary is "the Magdalene."

Mary of Bethany lives at Bethany.

Case closed.

Except the ancient evidence is not quite that clean.

Elizabeth Schrader and Joan Taylor reviewed the literary evidence for the epithet Magdalēnē and argued that its conventional translation as "Mary of Magdala" is less secure than commonly assumed.

Ancient Christian writers did not consistently understand the word as a straightforward Galilean place-name. Jerome, for example, associated it with the Semitic root for tower and treated it as a meaningful epithet.

Schrader and Taylor therefore recommend caution about automatically translating the term as geographical provenance.

Their argument is debated, and it does not establish that Mary lived in Bethany.

But it weakens the claim that the word Magdalene by itself makes identification with Mary of Bethany impossible.

Ancient Christians themselves sometimes managed to believe both.

Then there is the nard

John could simply have said that Mary perfumed Jesus.

Instead, he gives us:

Song of Songs 1:12 says:

"While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof."

The correspondence is unusually tight.

Song of Songs 1:12John 12
the king reclining, diningJesus reclining, dining
the woman's nardMary's nard
the nard gives forth fragrancethe house fills with its fragrance

Jocelyn McWhirter, in The Bridegroom Messiah and the People of God, argues that John 12 intentionally evokes this verse.

And John has already supplied the interpretive key.

Earlier in the Gospel, John the Baptist describes Jesus as the bridegroom:

"He that hath the bride is the bridegroom."

John 3:29

So the Fourth Gospel already possesses an explicit bridegroom Christology before Mary ever opens the jar.

The nard scene therefore carries at least three possible layers simultaneously:

John explicitly gives us the first.

The wider biblical symbolism supplies the other two.

In Mark she may actually be crowning a king

Mark and Matthew preserve a detail John changes.

Their woman does not anoint Jesus' feet.

She pours the perfume onto his head.

That matters.

In Israel's scriptures, kings are anointed on the head.

Saul is anointed.

David is anointed.

Solomon is anointed.

The Hebrew mashiach and Greek christos both mean anointed one.

Santiago Guijarro and Ana Rodríguez have argued that Mark deliberately reshapes the ancient rite of royal anointing. The astonishing reversal is that no priest, prophet or male authority performs it.

A woman does.

And she does it immediately before Jesus enters his passion.

Jesus then commands that wherever the gospel is preached, what she has done must be remembered.

The irony is almost violent:

She crowns the king on his way to execution.

Jesus interprets the same act as burial preparation.

Those meanings need not compete.

In the Passion narrative, coronation and burial become the same road.

And then Mary Magdalene enters the garden

John's second Song of Songs echo is even more difficult to miss once the first has been seen.

Song of Songs 3 describes a woman searching at night:

John 20 opens:

"The first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalene early, when it was yet dark…"

She seeks Jesus.

He is missing.

She asks where his body has been taken.

She encounters someone she initially fails to recognize.

Then he says her name:

Mary.

Recognition comes.

And Jesus says:

"Touch me not…"

The Greek mē mou haptou can carry the sense of stop holding on to me, or do not cling to me.

McWhirter explicitly identifies Song of Songs 3:1-4 as an intertext for John 20.

So John gives us two Mary scenes framing Jesus' death:

Before the death. A Mary approaches the reclining Jesus with nard, filling the house with fragrance.

After the death. A Mary searches in the dark, finds Jesus and attempts to hold him.

And the two passages correspond to two scenes from the same biblical love poem.

That is not proof that the two Marys are historically identical.

But as literary architecture, it is extraordinary.

What happens if they are the same Mary?

Now assemble the tradition without assuming in advance that the Gospel labels describe different historical women.

A woman close to Jesus performs an extravagant anointing.

Mark remembers her anonymously and places the perfume on his head.

Matthew follows.

Luke remembers, or reshapes, a woman at Jesus' feet, using perfume and her hair.

John preserves both traditions: the royal and burial anointing remains, but the woman is finally named Mary and the feet-and-hair detail is retained.

John links her action specifically to burial.

Immediately around the tradition stands Judas: first objecting to the perfume, then selling Jesus.

Jesus dies.

And when the burial that Mary anticipated becomes reality, Mary the Magdalene comes searching for him.

Then later Christian communities begin treating Martha's sister and Magdalene as one woman.

If those traditions preserve a single historical identity, the narrative becomes strikingly continuous:

  1. Mary receives Jesus before his death.
  2. Mary anoints him.
  3. Mary anticipates his burial.
  4. Mary remains connected to his death.
  5. Mary seeks him at the tomb.
  6. Mary encounters him in the garden.
  7. Mary becomes the first resurrection messenger.

That reconstruction cannot be proven.

But it is not a modern fantasy invented from nothing.

The ancient sources themselves move in that direction.

Is this a hieros gamos?

That depends entirely on what the term means.

If hieros gamos means a literal ritual marriage or sexual union between Jesus and Mary Magdalene performed as an ancient fertility rite, then the surviving evidence does not establish it.

No canonical Gospel calls Mary Jesus' wife.

No canonical text describes intercourse.

No surviving early Christian source gives us a historical account of Jesus performing such a ritual.

The later Gospel of Philip calls Mary Magdalene Jesus' koinōnos, usually translated companion or partner, and surrounds its theology with bridal-chamber symbolism, but that text is a product of a later sacramental and mystical Christian world. It cannot simply be projected backward as biography.

But if hieros gamos is being used more carefully to mean a sacred bride-and-bridegroom pattern encoded in the narrative, then the evidence becomes considerably stronger.

John explicitly identifies Jesus as bridegroom.

John places him at a meal where a woman's nard fills the room, echoing the king and woman of Song of Songs.

John then depicts Mary Magdalene searching for Jesus like the woman seeking her beloved in the same Song.

Early Christian interpreters themselves eventually read Mary Magdalene as the Bride of Christ or as the Shulamite searching for her beloved.

That is not a secret modern code imposed on the text.

It is an ancient trajectory of interpretation.

The strongest reconstruction

The evidence permits several levels of confidence.

Secure

Plausible

Not demonstrated

Those distinctions matter.

There is no need to exaggerate the evidence.

The evidence is strange enough as it stands.

The woman the story refuses to forget

Mark never gives her a name.

But he gives her something almost no one else receives.

Jesus says:

"Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her."

And then the Gospel leaves her anonymous.

John appears to answer the omission:

Her name was Mary.

She pours out the nard.

Judas counts its price.

She anoints the one called Christ, the Anointed One.

Jesus says she has understood his burial.

And in the Fourth Gospel's final movement, while the men are still trying to understand an empty tomb, another Mary stands alone in a garden searching for the man who is gone.

The king at the table.

The nard and its fragrance.

The woman searching in darkness.

The beloved found.

The attempt to hold him.

These images already existed in the Song of Songs.

The Fourth Gospel puts them on either side of the cross.

Whether history knew her as Mary of Bethany, Mary Magdalene, or both, the oldest Christian tradition remembered something extraordinary:

a woman understood what was happening before the Twelve did.

And just before Judas placed a price on Jesus, she answered with an act that said he was beyond price.

Sources

Matthew 26:6-16; Mark 14:3-11; Luke 7:36-8:3; John 3:29; John 11:1-12:8; John 19-20; Song of Songs 1:12; 3:1-4; Hippolytus, Commentary on the Song of Songs, especially the interpretation of Song 3:1-4; Pistis Sophia 1.36-38, 1.72-73; Manichaean Psalm traditions; Acts of Philip; Mary Ann Beavis, "Reconsidering Mary of Bethany," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 74 (2012): 281-297; Elizabeth Schrader, "Was Martha of Bethany Added to the Fourth Gospel in the Second Century?" Harvard Theological Review 110 (2017): 360-392; Elizabeth Schrader and Joan E. Taylor, "The Meaning of 'Magdalene': A Review of Literary Evidence," Journal of Biblical Literature 140 (2021): 751-773; Jocelyn McWhirter, The Bridegroom Messiah and the People of God: Marriage in the Fourth Gospel (Cambridge University Press, 2006); Santiago Guijarro and Ana Rodríguez, "The 'Messianic' Anointing of Jesus (Mark 14:3-9)," Biblical Theology Bulletin 41 (2011): 132-143; Kent Van Til, "Three Anointings and One Offering: The Sinful Woman in Luke 7:36-50," Journal of Pentecostal Theology 15 (2006): 73-82.

Released under CC BY 4.0.

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