From my book:

“Clearly, the legend of Helen is meant to be a Gnostic allegory for the fall of Sophia (which is in turn an allegory of the fall of the soul), but the parallels between Simon Magus and Jesus should also make us look more closely at the parallels between Helen and Mary Magdalene.

Both Helen and Mary Magdalene have represented Sophia’s presence in the physical world; wouldn’t the fact that Helen was incarnated as a prostitute have had some bearing on what was thought of Mary Magdalene’s pre-Jesus life as well? This is a question that hasn’t been fully explored by scholars, but as the studies of Mary Magdalene’s roles in Gnosticism continue, it very well could be the earliest indirect reference to Mary Magdalene as a prostitute.”

Apparently, someone in academia picked up the gauntlet I tossed down in this section in 2004. Here is the first paragraph of the conclusion of a 2007 thesis that very studiously explores the theme I mentioned above as well as the importance of MM’s medieval identity as a fallen woman.

“If Mary was in reality not this paragon of penitence, the contrite whore of the medieval imagination, then who was she? There are numerous possibilities, impossible to verify. If not an actual prostitute, her figure was perhaps viewed as a symbolic whore, the fallen soul and companion to her redeemer figure, an itinerant holy man named Jesus, just as Helen was companion to Simon Magus.”

Mary of Magdala: The Evolution of an Image, by Rachel D. Owen

The thesis is marvelous. Owen’s primary goal is to establish that MM’s medieval identity as a penitent, redeemed prostitute wasn’t necessarily without historical basis. Without scriptural basis, certainly, but neither is there anything to conclude with any hard evidence that she wasn’t a redeemed prostitute. On the contrary, there is circumstantial evidence that MM may have been linked to the harlot identity on several different fronts. Not only was a symbol of the fallen soul, counterpart to Helen, but also as an authority figure appreciated by heretical sects at a time when heretics and independent women were often denigrated as prostitutes. In short, there are plenty of logical ways MM could have landed a bad reputation.

Far be it from me to say that the conversation on MM the harlot is over; I’m sure the controversy is really just beginning now that an eloquent argument with academics who favor a wholesale deletion of 1400 years’ worth of tradition has been presented. The publishing of this thesis does represent significant progress from where I’m sitting though; let’s treat MM’s identities as cumulative layers, one upon the other, instead of random veils tossed at her from various directions.

Big congratulations to Rachel Owen for contributing a brave and articulate voice to modern MM scholarship.

Best wishes to all on this, the Feast of Mary Magdalene!

I thought that the following traditional litany, copied from the Catholic Culture website (formatting is mine), would be a fine reading for the day:

According to the tradition of the Western Church Mary Magdalene, who is mentioned in all four Gospels, is also identical with “the woman who was a sinner” and with the sister of Lazarus, though this identification is challenged by the Fathers of the East. She was of Magdala in Galilee, whence her name of Magdalen. Liturgical devotion, to this glorious penitent has been immemorial. This litany is mellow with age; from an old German version this was translated many years ago. Two prayers have been added from liturgical sources, the Secret and finally the Collect from the Mass of her Feast, July 22, which is duplex in Latin Church and has been since end of ninth century, commemorating the Translation of her Relics from Ephesus to Constantinople on July 22, 886.

Lord, have mercy on us.
Christ, have mercy on us.
Lord, have mercy on us. Christ, hear us.
Christ, graciously hear us.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, Saint Mary Magdalene,
Pray for us.
Sister of Martha and Lazarus,
Pray for us.
Who didst enter the Pharisee’s house to anoint the feet of Jesus,
Pray for us.
Who didst wash His feet with thy tears,
Pray for us.
Who didst dry them with thy hair,
Pray for us.
Who didst cover them with kisses,
Pray for us.
Who wast vindicated by Jesus before the proud Pharisee,
Pray for us.
Who from Jesus received the pardon of thy sins,
Pray for us.
Who before darkness wast restored to light,
Pray for us.
Mirror of penance, R Disciple of Our Lord,
Pray for us.
Wounded with the love of Christ,
Pray for us.
Most dear to the Heart of Jesus,
Pray for us.
Constant woman,
Pray for us.
Last at the Cross of Jesus, first at His tomb,
Pray for us.
Thou who wast the first to see Jesus risen,
Pray for us.
Whose forehead was sanctified by the touch of thy risen Master,
Pray for us.
Apostle of apostles,
Pray for us.
Who didst choose the “better part,”
Pray for us.
Who lived for many years in solitude being miraculously fed,
Pray for us.
Who wast visited by angels seven times a day,
Pray for us.
Sweet advocate of sinners,
Pray for us.
Spouse of the King of Glory,
Pray for us.

V. Saint Mary Magdalene, earnestly intercede for us with thy Divine Master
R. That we may share thy happiness in heaven.

Let us pray. May the glorious merits of blessed Mary Magdalene, we beseech Thee, O Lord, make our offerings acceptable to Thee: for Thine only-begotten Son vouchsafed graciously to accept the humble service she rendered. Who livest and reignest with Thee and the Holy Ghost, God for ever and ever.

R. Amen.

May the prayers of blessed Mary Magdalene help us, O Lord : for it was in answer to them that Thou didst call her brother Lazarus, four days after death, back from the grave to life. Who livest and reignest with the Father and the Holy Ghost, Unity in Trinity, world without end.

R. Amen.

Prayer Source: Kyrie Eleison — Two Hundred Litanies by Benjamin Francis Musser O.F.M., The Magnificat Press, 1944

I’m excited. I’m thrilled. How thrilled am I? I am veritably bouncing with exuberance over something I just read a little while ago.

The early church father, Hippolytus, Bishop of Rome, penned a commentary on Song of Songs sometime in the 3rd century. For those of us who are unlearned in the German language, it has been very difficult to access the commentary which is available only in Greek or a German translation from the 19th century (Werke des Hippolytus, ed. Bonwetsch, 1897). Incidentally, I don’t have any information about what manuscripts of this work might be extant.

The good news is that today I learned that a doctoral student published a thesis earlier this year containing an English translation of the commentary: Hippolytus’ Commentary on the On the Song of Songs in Social and Critical Context, Yancy Smith. Smith successfully defended the dissertation, and as far as I know it is by now available on ProQuest for anyone with access.

I’ll be off to the UW library sometime in the near future to see if I can get a copy. This is great news for Mary Magdalene research since the commentary contains discussions of a “Mary Martha” figure visiting the tomb of Jesus, during which she is compared her to Eve, and may contain a reference to Magdalene as an apostle. In the 3rd century!

In the article that follows, found at the CatholicHerald.com, we see a member of Catholic clergy defending Mary Magdalene’s traditional reputation as a sinner. This is interesting to me since it seems that the choices on this issue are:

1. Disregard the tradition entirely
2. Embrace the tradition and defend it

Embracing the tradition simply because it is tradition, without defending its historical likelihood, doesn’t appear to be an option.

Here is the article:

Straight Answers: Myths, Truths about Mary Magdalene
by Fr. William P. Saunders

Not a word uttered about the fact that Rome has distanced itself from the tradition. After concluding his defense of the sinner reputation by agreeing with Pope Gregory the Great, Fr. Saunders goes on to say (emphasis is mine):

As far as The Da Vinci Code is concerned, what one cannot construe is some of the misconceptions they erroneously present: for instance, that Mary Magdalene was the wife of Jesus, the mother of Jesus’ child, a participant at the Last Supper, His prophetic successor, and a priestess. Such conclusions, despite the best efforts of pseudo scholars, have no foundation in sacred Scripture, sacred tradition, other historical resources or even heretical texts.

I find this amusing for some reason, even though he is clearly echoing the most commonly cited reasons for Mary Magdalene’s conflation with the other women. Maybe because one tradition is being overwritten by another for which there is about just as much evidence.

The cover story in the coming week’s issue of Newsweek (available online now) is devoted to Mary Magdalene:

An Inconvenient Woman
by Jonathan Darman

Taking an angle in favor of the modern feminist position on Mary Magdalene, Darman makes an effort to trace Mary Magdalene’s history in Christianity and Western culture. He begins by quoting from the resurrection narrative in John and then from the Gospel of Mary, emphasizing the importance that she had to the earliest Christians as an apostle and leader. Then comes the pivot:

Why, then, did this woman, whom the New Testament tells us was Jesus’ constant companion and whom the Gnostics claim was privileged above all others, disappear after the resurrection? If Mary were so important to Jesus, why is there no mention of her in Acts, or in the Epistles?

Focusing first on the rivalry between Peter and Mary in the Gnostic texts, Darman then makes an unusual correlation. The Jesus that Mary encountered in the garden (“unrecognizable, untouchable”) could be seen as supportive of docetic beliefs, and the risen Jesus encountered by the male apostles (“Handle me and see me…for a spirit hath not hands and flesh”) represented faith in a bodily resurrection. Going on to mention Constantine’s rise to power as the impetus that sent Gnostic monks scrambling to bury their sacred texts, we’re led to believe that the rift that occurred within Christianity over Christ’s nature was related to the conflict between orthodox Christianity and Gnosticism, at the beginning of which were Peter and Mary Magdalene. When Constantine won, therefore, Mary Magdalene lost.

Fearing that bishops enforcing the new orthodoxy would destroy the texts, monks tried to erase all evidence of the Gnostic tradition. They buried the Gospels, with their powerful portrait of Mary Magdalene, in the sand.

The early Church, of course, went on a patriarchal rampage to oppress women in general, and Darman trots out some of the usual suspects: Paul’s letter to the Ephesians on women submitting to their husbands, Tertullian’s “because of you [women] even the Son of God had to die” in his On Women’s Attire, and finally, Pope Gregory the Great’s 6th century homily. Darman lays the blame for Mary Magdalene’s bad reputation squarely at Gregory’s feet:

Gregory created the prostitute, as if from thin air.

I’ve never had any argument with the notion that the Church fathers were misogynistic; they most obviously were, as were most other men of the time. Again, my familiar refrain: Christianity didn’t invent patriarchy. There is no evidence that Mary Magdalene’s reputation was constructed wholesale in an effort to promote a male domination agenda in spite of the fact that it was advantageous to such ends. In this case, Mary Magdalene was a very convenient woman.

Karen King is quoted by Darman in the article. While Dr. King has my utmost respect, I do differ with her and her colleagues on a couple of points. First, their now-standard position on the origin of Mary Magdalene’s reputation, which I touched on above. Second, there is the issue of Mary Magdalene’s newly-appreciated role as wife and mother. For feminist scholars everywhere, this seems to be anathema. Not only because it lacks historical merit, however, but also because it is sexual.

It has taken me quite some time to want to discuss the issue of Mary Magdalene and gender politics here, simply because I do respect the scholars who have written and spoken on this subject. While I agree fully with their assertion that there is no compelling evidence that Mary Magdalene was married, to Jesus or anyone else, much less that she bore any children, I have to step back when people are criticized for holding such thoughts because they are demeaning.

“Why do we feel the need to desexualize Mary?” wonders Karen King, author of “The Gospel of Mary of Magdala.” “We’ve gotten rid of the myth of the prostitute. Now there’s this move to see her as wife and mother. Why isn’t it adequate to see her as disciple and perhaps apostle?”

Note that she doesn’t ask why people insist on holding such beliefs in spite of history, she asks why we can’t appreciate Mary Magdalene as she does, that is, desexualized. The source of female power appears to be acceptable only when it springs from the same sources as male power: authority, leadership, witness. When the source of a woman’s power is her body, it is somehow viewed as illegitimate. Mary Magdalene, in her role as apostle and leader, is acceptable to more conservative feminists because it places her on equal footing with the male disciples. Mary Magdalene, in her legendary role of wife and mother (and prostitute), is problematic because she is being remembered as a woman.

Here is a potentially shocking observation that I’ve made in the last few years: many women enjoy being women. They want to be acknowledged for their reproductive abilities as well as for their intellectual prowess. Where fifty years ago women may have rightfully asked, “do you love me only for my body?” they now may ask if they are wrong for wanting to be loved for anything but their minds. Darman says:

Indeed, for all its revolutionary claims, “The Da Vinci Code” is remarkably old-fashioned, making Mary important for her body more than her mind. In the movie, we see a stricken, shadowy Magdalene with swollen belly being spirited out of Jerusalem by a crowd of attendant men. But we never hear her voice. “The Da Vinci Code” seems to think that the secret tradition of Mary Magdalene speaks to the carnal. In reality, it tells of something far more subversive: the intellectual equality of the sexes. The current Magdalene cult still focuses on her sexuality even though no early Christian writings speak of her sexuality at all.

I wonder, has Darman actually talked to the current Magdalene cult? Or is he simply reading the media reports that obsessively question whether or not Jesus could have been married to Mary Magdalene? If he had taken the time to talk to some bona fide Mary Magdalene “cultists,” he might have heard tales about how thinking of Mary Magdalene as Jesus’ equal and complement is empowering for women who struggle with their everyday relationships with (gasp) men. In spite of Karen King’s witty observation, made more than once since 2003, that viewing Mary Magdalene as Jesus’ wife “makes her the poster child for heterosexual marriage,” most women in America are heterosexual, and they don’t have a solid understanding of history or feminist theory (as I am probably demonstrating here). Not only that, but they continue to struggle within unequal relationships, not only in marriage, but with fathers, brothers, bosses, priests, car mechanics, computer salesmen, and the list goes on. When Jane Doe encounters sexism, she doesn’t always know the approved feminist response. If viewing Mary Magdalene as a woman who could teach, lead, witness at the same time as being loving and nurturing, where is the harm? How is this demeaning? This is, after all, the kind of life that modern women lead.

We’re bringing home the bacon, and by the heavens, we’re still frying it up in a pan. We’re paying bills, buying houses, and wiping snotty noses. Some of us, along with our more enlightened male partners, are attempting to learn how the exchange of traditionally masculine and feminine characteristics may wax and wane within a more egalitarian relationship. Some of us revel in the power that we wield in the boardroom and in the labor and delivery ward.

So yes, a female saint who is sexual is entirely necessary. The important distinction is that today, it is women who are defining Mary Magdalene’s legendary sexual identity. Men promoted a prostitute for women to look up to, and we’ve since discovered a woman red in human experience: strong, independent, intelligent, and sensual. The legendary Magdalene is everything the Virgin was and more, and regardless of the dubious relationship her legend has to history, there is a reason why mythology moves us. Perhaps feminists would be well advised to ask why women are the ones to “re-sexualize” Mary Magdalene. Sure, we could point fingers at Baigent, Lincoln and Leigh, but it was Margaret Starbird who lit the fire of Mary Magdalene as sacred feminine. It was Dan Brown’s book that brought it to such popular attention, but the ideas that are moving women were developed by a woman. (More on that another day; Starbird has been criticized for unwittingly reinforcing ancient attitudes about men and women.) Men aren’t the ones holding women’s retreats and workshops all over the country to learn about a Mary Magdalene who was as complex as they are.

As I’ve said before, there is more to this than history. And certainly, there is more to it than what is politically correct. If I hope to accomplish anything with this post, it is to point out that the complexity of Mary Magdalene’s appeal far exceeds what appears in popular news media, and that there are some potential pitfalls in the current feminist understanding of same.

I received an email from a gentleman just a little while ago that is very interesting. He’s articulate, a good speller, and seems like a very intelligent person. And yet he says:

I was very moved when I read in the gospel the even though Mary was a sinner and a prostitute that Jesus Christ did not look down on her but forgave her for her sins.

He goes on to say, ironically, that the Gospels are the most accurate source of information that we have about Mary Magdalene. I agree, but where did he get his Gospels?

I suspect that his knowledge of MM as a sinner relies on her composite identity with Mary of Bethany and Luke’s anonymous sinner. But still, I remind my gentle readers, the Gospels do not say that Mary Magdalene was a sinner or a prostitute. Anywhere. Or that Jesus forgave her.

For some time I’ve given consideration to putting a challenge up on Magdalene.org. It would go something like this:

$1,000,000 for the first person who can point out the passage in the Gospels that says Mary Magdalene, specifically, was a sinner of any kind!

It’s a safe bet as far as I’m concerned. It is a bit snarky though, which is why I haven’t done it. Still, on my more cynical days, I find emails like the one I received earlier discouraging. It isn’t that Mary Magdalene is still considered a redeemed harlot. It isn’t that some people believe she was a sinner, or even that she was a prostitute. I find all of that understandable just based on tradition.

What bothers me is when people claim to have read these things in the Gospels themselves. The fellow who sent me the email did not read in his New Testament that Mary Magdalene was a sinner and a prostitute and that Jesus forgave her sins. That is what he believes happened according to his reading of the Gospels.

There’s a difference between what is there and what we believe is there. Sometimes the difference is subtle, and sometimes, as in the case of Mary Magdalene, the difference is glaringly obvious. It seems to me that a great deal of the disagreement that arises between Christians and non-Christians, and even between Christians of different stripes, is caused by differences in the material believed to be there.

That’s fine. We are all entitled to interpret our experience of a text in different ways. But for heaven’s sake, don’t claim to have read something if it just isn’t there.

Mary Magdalene is best known in Christianity, of course, as the woman, or one of the women who visited Jesus’ tomb in order to anoint his body. Upon arrival, she (or they) discovered that the tomb was empty. Given a commission by an angel (or angels) to go tell the other disciples that Jesus had risen from the dead, Mary Magdalene then ran to carry out her task.  In Matthew, she and another woman meet Jesus along the way. They fall at his feet and worship him.  In the long ending of Mark, we’re told only that Jesus appeared first to Mary Magdalene on the morning after the Sabbath.  John, of course, has the most elaborate resurrection narrative, placing primary emphasis on Mary Magdalene’s witness, and even giving her a speaking part.

It seems that everyone in Christendom is reading the resurrection accounts today. Is there really any need to quote them here again?  Instead, I’d like to go a step further, and point out that Mary Magdalene stands at the origins of Christianity.  As one of the foundational events of the faith, the Resurrection is inextricably linked to Mary Magdalene’s witness.

A couple of days ago I received a copy of Bart Ehrman’s new book, Peter, Paul, & Mary Magdalene from Amazon.  He sums up my thoughts on Mary Magdalene’s Easter role, and her role in Christianity at large, very well:

I should emphasize that even though Christianity is based ultimately on the life and ministry of Jesus, it is much more than that. Traditional Christianity is the belief that he died for the sins of the world and was raised from the dead. Technically speaking, Christianity could not begin until someone proclaimed Jesus raised from the dead. It appears that the first to do so was Mary Magdalene. If so, as I argued in the previous chapter, Mary really is the one who started Christianity. There could scarcely be a more significant woman for the history of Western civilization–or man, for that matter–who is at the same time less known than Mary Magdalene.

My best Easter wishes to all!

For many years now I have had the email username “redegg,” in honor of an old legend that is retold in Orthodox Christianity. There are several variations, but the thrust of the story is this: after the Resurrection, Mary Magdalene travels to Rome and dines with Tiberius Caesar. As they eat, she tells him about Jesus, the crucifixion, and his resurrection. Incredulous, Caesar exclaims, “A man could no more rise from the dead than that egg in your hand could turn red!” The egg, miraculously, is transformed to a deep red color before his eyes in testimony to the power of God to raise Jesus from the grave.

Mary Magdalene herself is occasionally pictured holding an egg in Orthodox iconography, a splendid example of which occurs in a mural in the Church of St. Mary Magdalene on the Mount of Olives. She is deeply connected to the Orthodox practice of exchanging red eggs during Pascha. A Russian friend of mine described a typical scenario in the church of his upbringing, in which parishoners would greet one another with red eggs after the Pascha service with the words, “He is risen!” This greeting was then answered with “Yes, he is risen.”

In some versions of the Mary Magdalene egg legend, the back story is eliminated and she simply holds an egg that turns red while announcing the resurrection. This can occur at Tiberius’ table, on the road to Rome, to the Caesar, or to Roman soldiers. This year I was surprised to hear a few variations on the folklore surrounding Mary Magdalene and the red egg. In one version, according to Venetia Newall in An Egg At Easter (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1971), she gave a red egg to Pontius Pilate as she begged for Jesus’ life before the crucifixion. In yet another,

[she] was arrested by a centurion in Alexandria. She offered him an egg and he allowed her to pass.

It seems that in one Polish folktale, Mary Magdalene carried with her to Jesus’ sepulchre a basket of eggs, which she intended to eat while carrying out the work of anointing his body. Newall says:

But no sooner had she arrived than they were all miraculously changed, their shells stained with brilliant hues.

Perhaps the most interesting variation on all of these tales that I’ve seen this year has absolutely nothing to do with eggs, but is a parallel sort of story. Chris dredged this one up from a 1916 issue of the journal Folklore, for which I’m extremely grateful.

In the Cathedral of Lismore, in County Waterford, Ireland, there is an altar tomb with a peculiar statue: a three-legged cooking pot on the lid of which is a crowing rooster. The sexton of the church explains this symbolism with what is allegedly an ancient story: the Roman soldiers who were guarding Jesus’ tomb joked among themselves that Jesus would be able to rise from the dead as well as the chicken that was currently cooking in the pot. Immediately, the lid of the pot was thrown off, the rooster emerged and crowed loudly.

A badly articulated poem was recited by a Galway peasant for the author Dr. D. Hyde, for his book, Religious Songs of Connacht:

There was a flag in the doorway, and surely it was so firm
That a hundred men would not raise it without breaking it up
Until an angel came out of heaven, till he ‘redded’ the road
And he lifted the flag out of their presence.

Mary Magdalene came hastily into it
That she might heal the wounds of Our Lord.
She searched the tomb all round about, hurriedly
And she did not get one sight of Jesus

Until she saw the gravestones ready beside the wall
In the portion that the cover was off (1) (?) it was
She asked timidly, “Are you a man or a ghost (?)
Or where have ye made the room (?) of Our Lord?”

“I never left this place,” said the guard who was watching Him,
“And I do not know who would go looking for Him
I have a small little bird of a cock boiling in this pot”
(And they making a mock of Our Lord.)

“I have a small little bird of a cock boiling in the pot,”
said he, mocking at Our Lord
“And until the cock rises up out of the pot
It is impossible to make a resurrection.”

But up rose the cock out of the pot
He shook his two wings and put a crow out of him.
“My ochone,” says the guard, and surely not without cause,
“There is no use putting a stoppage on Jesus.”

Tonight, as I colored eggs with my three-year-old, trying time and again to get an egg dyed to a true red, I thought of these stories. I look forward to sharing them with him as he gets older.

For another forty-five minutes, here on the West Coast of the United States, it is still Good Friday. It has taken me until now to get time to scan a couple of images and post them. With my love of Passion art combined with my recent interest in Romanesque and medieval Spanish art, I wanted to post a crucifixion image from that region. The trouble is, however, Mary Magdalene rarely showed up in crucifixion art before the 13th century.

For quite some time I believed that the earliest painting to depict Mary Magdalene at the foot of the cross was by Cimabue, a Franciscan painter of the 13th century. (This piece is shown at left.) Upon closer inspection, however, I believe that she is one of the group of woman standing to the far left, behind the Virgin. The figure kneeling at the foot of the cross, although difficult to see due to the state of the mural, clearly has a tonsure hairstyle; shaved at the crown like a monk. Surely this figure is Francis of Assisi. The woman standing near the cross, arms in the air, is a mystery. Although Mary Magdalene has been shown in similar attitudes of grief, there is no halo on this woman. My guess is that she is an anonymous mourner, an “orant” figure.

Mary Magdalene’s appearance at the foot of the cross had much to do with the devotions of the Franciscans, focus on penitence and “observing” the crucifixion through the eyes of one who was there. Coupled with the fact that her presence in that position appears earliest in works of Franciscan-influenced painters establishes a clear relationship between the monastic group and the artistic trend.

As Bonaventura says in his Arbor vitae (Tree of Life):

O my God, good Jesus,
although I am in every way without merit and unworthy,
grant to me,
who did not merit to be present at these events
in the body,
that I may ponder them faithfully
in my mind
and experience toward you,
my God crucified and put to death for me,
that feeling of compassion
which your innocent mother and
the penitent Magdalen experienced
at the very hour of your passion.(1)

Perhaps 60 years after Cimabue’s crucifixion, Pietro Lorenzetti presented a well-formed vision of the Descent from the Cross, with a woman in red kneeling at the foot of the cross kissing Jesus’ feet. Although there is a similar model in the painting, the fact that the woman at the foot of the cross wears red identifies her as Mary Magdalene. The Virgin cradles Jesus’ head. Although Mary Magdalene’s position in similar images would vary, the “Virgin at the head, Magdalene at the feet” theme would be replayed throughout the Renaissance. This formula occurs so often, in fact, that one modern mystical Mary Magdalene author suggests that Mary Magdalene’s place at Jesus’ feet is a hidden allusion to her sexual intimacy with him. (I don’t make this stuff up, I promise.)

The imagery we typically think of during Good Friday, of Jesus hanging on the cross, of the loving hands taking him down, has evolved a great deal through the centuries. Mary Magdalene’s presence was, for the most part, anonymous until Franciscan devotions at the foot of the cross came along. So powerful was this trend among them and, in fact, other mendicants, that the idea seeped into medieval culture at large. Dante even included a reference in his Paradiso; not only does Mary appear at the foot of the cross with Francis and Lady Poverty, she actually places herself upon it with Christ:

Naught it availed being constant and undaunted,
So that, when Mary still remained below,
She mounted up with Christ upon the cross.

But that too darkly I may not proceed,
Francis and Poverty for these two lovers
Take thou henceforward in my speech diffuse. (2)

Now that Mary Magdalene is no longer a penitent, I suppose that such devotions are now obsolete. But penitent or not, she will likely always remain now at the foot of the cross.

* * *
(1) Bonaventura, Bonaventure: The Soul’s Journey into God, The Tree of Life, The Life of St. Francis, trans. Ewert Cousins (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), as cited by Jansen, Katherine Ludwig in The Making of the Magdalen: Preaching and Popular Devotion in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000).

(2) Dante, The Divine Comedy (Paradiso: Canto XI), translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. http://www.ccel.org/d/dante/paradiso/para.txt

Tonight I watched the claymation Gospel story, The Miracle Maker (2000). I’ve watched a lot of Jesus movies in the last couple of months, and I can honestly say that I enjoyed this one more than most. It is, apparently, much more difficult to look and act pretentious when you are a claymation model, much to the movie’s credit. The characters were accessible, both for adults and children, and although a consistent message of love was conveyed throughout the film, it never felt preachy or overly pious. Punctuated by good humor and moments of real depth, I found myself engrossed in the movie and eager to see how it would present the end of the story.

Surprisingly, Mary Magdalene appears in the very first scene, in which we meet Jesus working on a building project in Sepphoris. Mary Magdalene is apparently the resident crazy lady, much to the entertainment of some and the consternation of others. Haunted by demons of mental illness, we eventually see what Magdalene sees; distorted faces and growling voices, an asymmetric world akin to what one could imagine a bad acid trip must look like.

About a third of the way through the film, as she runs from her terrifying visions and finds herself atop a garbage heap, a commanding presence appears in the person of Jesus. He directs the demons to leave Mary in a powerful animated sequence. Fractured by howling specters that rise from her body, Mary collapses as they leave her. Healed, she remains in Jesus’ embrace as the light of day dawns, and then makes her way back down into town. Mary Magdalene has much to be grateful for, and she follows him thereafter.

At the cross, she appears with Jesus’ mother, and together they watch in horror as he dies. In contrast to the his mother’s relative silence, Mary Magdalene wails with grief, and after Jesus’ body is taken down, placed in clean linen and entombed, she returns to the cross. Clutching it, she weeps alone.

Here the movie takes an interesting turn. Wracked with grief, Mary spends the night wandering. We are reminded of her life at the margins of society before she was relieved of her demons. At dawn she discovers the empty tomb, and as she sits alone, crying, she speaks with a “gardener” who stands behind her. When he says her name, she turns, and sees Jesus. She embraces him and he tells her that she no longer has to hold onto him. Sending her off with news of his resurrection, one senses that given her history and her night of wandering, things can’t possibly go well when she delivers the message. In fact, this is the case. The reason why Simon Peter disbelieves her is that he thinks she has once again gone mad.

I am reminded here of 19th century rationalists whose views of Mary Magdalene’s witness of the resurrection were colored by her identity as one formerly plagued by demons. Susan Haskins, in her book, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor (New York: Harcourt Brace & Co., 1993), had the following to say about 19th century Jesus scholar, David Friedrich Strauss:

Strauss mocked the fact that Christianity had been founded on the ‘ravings of a demented and love-lorn woman’; Mary Magdalen’s ‘impetuous temperament’ accounted for her return to the tomb, ‘she having been formerly a demoniac’. (Haskins, p. 330)

Ernest Renan took a similar approach in his 1863 book, Vie de Jesus:

Had his body been taken away? Or did enthusiasm, always credulous, in certain circumstances, create afterwards the group of narratives by which it was sought to establish faith in the resurrection? . . . Let us say, however, that the strong imagination of Mary Magdalene played in this circumstance an important part. Divine power of love! Sacred moments in which the passion of one possessed gave to the world a resuscitated God! (Haskins, p. 331)

So much for visiting the tomb out of devotion. Interpreted this way, Mary Magdalene’s ardor has more to do with madness than dedication.

Questionable interpretation of Mary’s witness aside, The Miracle Maker is an excellent Jesus film to watch with the family, though the scene with Mary’s demons might be a bit scary for younger viewers. An all-star cast provides voices for the characters, with Miranda Richardson, best known to me in her role as Black Adder‘s Queen Elizabeth, plays Mary Magdalene.

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Update (04/10/06): Matt Page over at Bible Movies Blog posted a great review of The Miracle Maker this morning. I think he’s really on the spot with his observations, and I recall having some of the same thoughts while I was watching. Check it out!