The Mystery of the Holy Companion

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 primary 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 non-canonical traditions deepen the mystery, and how a close reading of her encounter with the risen Christ 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 texts, her story unfolds across three significant roles. She is first introduced as a devoted disciple and financial supporter of Jesus's ministry (Luke 8:1–3), a woman who underwent a profound personal transformation after he cast out seven demons from her.¹ Her loyalty is then underscored by her steadfast presence at the Crucifixion and burial (Matthew 27:55–61, Mark 15:40–47, John 19:25), where she remained a witness when most of the male disciples had fled in fear. This unwavering devotion culminates in her most pivotal role at the Resurrection (Matthew 28:1–10, Mark 16:1–8, Luke 24:1–12, John 20:11–18). Across all four Gospels, she is the first to discover the empty tomb, the first to encounter the risen Christ, and the one commissioned to proclaim the news to the other disciples, earning her the ancient title apostola apostolorum (apostle to the apostles).²

Notably absent from any of these texts is the idea that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute. This misconception 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, which has no scriptural foundation, was officially codified in the Western Church by Pope Gregory the Great in his Sermon 33, delivered in 591 AD.³ This interpretation served a pastoral purpose, creating a powerful archetype of the repentant female sinner, but it obscured the historical figure of Mary. The Eastern Orthodox Church, by contrast, has always preserved the distinction between these women.

This canonical portrait is further complicated and enriched by non-canonical texts, particularly those from the Nag Hammadi library. In works like the Gospel of Mary, Mary Magdalene is portrayed not just as a prominent disciple, but as the one who best understood Jesus' secret teachings, making her a spiritual leader and a source of apostolic authority, much to the chagrin of Peter.⁴ These texts suggest that in some early Christian communities, her role was seen as even more central than the canonical Gospels let on.

What remains indisputable across these traditions 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

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, this scene contains the first recorded physical interaction with the embodied, risen Christ, a moment 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, and fully embodied. He is not a hallucination, not a spirit or ghost, but wounded, hungry, and eager to walk again among them in fellowship (koinōnía - κοινωνία). It is therefore remarkable 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,” but its semantic range more accurately includes “to take hold of,” “to grasp firmly,” or “to cling to.” In this verse, the form haptou is a present middle imperative—a grammatical construction that typically indicates stopping an action already in progress.⁵

This implies that Mary had already embraced Jesus and was still holding on to him. Jesus’ instruction is not a prohibitive “Do not touch me,” but rather, a redirective, “Stop clinging to me” or “Let go of me.” It is a moment of reorientation, 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. As scholar Raymond Brown notes, Jesus’ words to Mary signal a shift in their relationship: she must move from cherishing his physical presence to undertaking her spiritual mission.⁶ Her new role is to become the first messenger of resurrection.

“I Am Ascending…” — The Deeper Promise

The second half of the phrase—“for I have not yet ascended to the Father”—draws its depth from the Greek 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 completed the process of ascension, 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 a new kind of presence, fulfilling the promise made earlier: “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.

Bibliography

¹ Ehrman, Bart D. Peter, Paul, and Mary Magdalene: The Followers of Jesus in History and Legend. Oxford University Press, 2006, pp. 187-189.

² Brock, Ann Graham. Mary Magdalene, The First Apostle: The Struggle for Authority. Harvard Divinity School, 2003, pp. 45-50. This title (apostola apostolorum) was famously used for her by Hippolytus of Rome in the 3rd century.

³ Haskins, Susan. Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor. Harcourt Brace & Company, 1993, pp. 96-98. Haskins provides a detailed history of Pope Gregory's sermon and its impact.

⁴ King, Karen L. The Gospel of Mary of Magdala: Jesus and the First Woman Apostle. Polebridge Press, 2003, pp. 21-35. King provides both a translation and a theological analysis of Mary's elevated role in this text. See also Pagels, Elaine. The Gnostic Gospels. Random House, 1979.

⁵ Brown, Raymond E. The Gospel According to John (XIII-XXI), The Anchor Bible. Doubleday, 1970, pp. 1012-1013. Brown’s analysis of the Greek grammar is considered a standard in Johannine scholarship.

⁶ Ibid., p. 1013. Brown argues that the command is not about impurity but about recognizing the new reality of Jesus' post-Resurrection state and Mary's subsequent mission.