Who Was Mary Magdalene?

Few figures in the Gospel narratives command as much fascination and debate as Mary Magdalene. Her presence in the story of Jesus is both undeniable and enigmatic, evolving from a devoted follower to the first witness of the Resurrection. Yet, despite this prominence, her identity has been shrouded in centuries of conflation, misinterpretation, and, in some cases, deliberate redefinition. To understand the depth of her significance, we must first accurately identify Mary Magdalene in the canonical Gospels before exploring how her story challenges traditional notions of intimacy, companionship, and theological propriety.

Separating Fact from Tradition

The earliest and most reliable sources on Mary Magdalene are the four canonical Gospels. Within these, she appears in three significant roles:

As a disciple and supporter of Jesus (Luke 8:1–3), she is named among the women who traveled with Jesus and his disciples, helping sustain the movement financially. She is also described as one from whom Jesus had cast out seven demons—indicating a profound personal transformation.

At the Crucifixion and burial (Matthew 27:55–61, Mark 15:40–47, John 19:25), she is one of the few individuals who remained by Jesus' side during his execution, standing with his mother and other women.

At the Resurrection (Matthew 28:1–10, Mark 16:1–8, Luke 24:1–12, John 20:11–18), she is the first to encounter the risen Christ and is commissioned to bring the news to the other disciples.

Notably absent from any of these texts is the idea that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, a misconception introduced centuries later. This confusion arose from the conflation of three different figures: the unnamed "sinful woman" who anoints Jesus' feet (Luke 7:36–50), Mary of Bethany (John 12:1–8), and Mary Magdalene herself. This synthesis, later codified by Pope Gregory the Great in 591 AD, has no scriptural foundation. The Eastern Orthodox Church, by contrast, has always preserved a distinction between these women.

What remains indisputable is that Mary Magdalene held a position of unique proximity to Jesus—one that transcends the expected role of a disciple and ventures into the realm of sacred companionship. It is this closeness that makes her story both compelling and disruptive.

The Challenge of Intimacy in the Gospel Narrative

In the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), Mary Magdalene is among the few who remain at the cross when nearly all of the male disciples have fled. In John’s Gospel, she stands with Jesus’ mother and the beloved disciple (traditionally identified as John). This places her not at the margins of the narrative but at its very heart, as someone so deeply connected to Jesus that she endures the horror of his death firsthand.

She is also present at his burial and is the first to return to the tomb—an act that sets her apart from the others. While Jewish custom did permit women to attend burials, Mary’s urgency in returning suggests more than duty. It reflects profound personal loss, longing, and devotion.

A Moment of Physical Intimacy

John 20:11–18 presents one of the most stunning moments in the New Testament. After initially failing to recognize Jesus, Mary realizes who he is when he calls her by name. Her reaction is immediate—she embraces him.

Traditionally, biblical scholars and theologians have emphasized not the embrace, but Jesus’ command for her to release him. However, I would argue that above all, this scene is the first declaration in the Gospels that the risen Christ was physically real. This fact is paramount to understanding the Christian ontology of the incarnation. A series of events follows—all of which reinforce the importance Jesus placed upon assuring his followers that he was indeed alive, risen, incarnate, and fully embodied. He is not a hallucination, not a spirit or ghost, not a transcendental abstraction—but wounded, hungry, and eager to walk again among them in fellowship (koinōnía - κοινωνία).

It is remarkable—and revealing—that 2,000 years of Christian tradition have often overlooked the evangelist John's declaration that the first act of physicality by the risen Jesus was to receive the embrace of a woman. Even more striking is the tendency to interpret his words as a rebuke rather than a moment of sacred transition. Yet it is precisely in these words—so often cited as a denial—that their mystical significance is unveiled:

“Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father.” (John 20:17)

The Greek Tells a Different Story

The Greek phrase mē mou haptou (μὴ μου ἅπτου) is crucial to understanding this interaction. The verb haptō (ἅπτω) can mean “to touch,” “to take hold of,” “to grasp firmly,” or “to cling to.” In this verse, the form haptou is a present middle imperative—indicating not a single act, but a continuous or ongoing action.

This implies that Mary had already embraced Jesus and was still holding on to him. Jesus’ instruction is not “Do not touch me,” but rather, “Stop clinging to me.” It is a moment of redirection, not prohibition.

Further reinforcing this interpretation is Jesus' later interaction with Thomas (John 20:27), in which he explicitly invites Thomas to touch his wounds. If physical contact were the issue, why allow it for Thomas but not for Mary? The difference lies not in access, but in purpose. Jesus’ words to Mary signal a shift in their relationship: she must move from physical presence to spiritual mission. Her new role is to become the first messenger of resurrection.

“I Am Ascending…” — The Deeper Promise

The second half of what is often taken as a rebuke—“for I have not yet ascended to the Father”—draws its depth from the Greek phrase oúpō gàr anabé̄bēka pròs tòn Patéra (οὔπω γὰρ ἀναβέβηκα πρὸς τὸν Πατέρα). The verb anabé̄bēka is in the perfect active indicative, indicating a completed action with continuing present effect: he has not yet ascended, and he remains in a state of transition—between resurrection and glorification.

But then, in the same breath, Jesus shifts to the present tense: anabaínō (ἀναβαίνω), “I am ascending.” The process has begun. And in the next lines, he ties this ascent to a shared identity with Mary and the others:

“I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”

In this intimate reframing, Jesus offers more than a commission—he offers a promise of union. Far from distancing himself from Mary, he extends to her the first invitation into divine glorification. The relationship is not being severed; it is being transfigured. Where once she touched him in the garden, she (and all who follow) are now drawn into the divine mystery—not in absence, but in presence of a new kind.

“And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to myself, so that where I am, you also may be.” (John 14:3)

A Story That Still Challenges

Mary Magdalene’s presence in the Gospels is not incidental—it is disruptive. Her story forces us to confront enduring questions: Who is closest to Christ? What does love look like in the divine-human encounter? And how often do our religious traditions reshape narratives to fit cultural comfort zones?

Whether seen through historical inquiry, theological reflection, or spiritual contemplation, Mary Magdalene stands as a figure who continues to unsettle, inspire, and challenge. She is not simply a misunderstood woman at the margins of the Gospels—she is the first to witness, the first to touch, and the first to proclaim the risen Lord.

The mystery of Mary Magdalene is not just about who she was—it is about what her story compels us to see, to question, and ultimately, to embrace.