The Feminine Spirit, the Masculine Truth

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What follows is a addition to The Gospel of John, my restoration of that original text, free from the later interpolations and excisions of the organized Christian religion, and translated afresh from the Greek. You will find ordering information here. This excerpt discusses what Jesus means by saying to Mary Magdalene that God is Spirit (John 4:24)

The opening phrase, πνευμα ο θεος, lacks a verb in Greek, meaning literally “Spirit/Breath/Wind the God”. (Note that it is customary in Greek to use the definite article with θεος, “God”.) Translators usually transpose the words and put in a verb that isn’t there, rendering the phrase as “God is a spirit” or “God is Spirit”. It can just as well be read as “Spirit is God”, or, of course, “Breath is God” or “Wind is God”, since all can be meant by the word πνευμα. The ambiguity here may be an early scribal mistake, or it may be Jesus or the gospel writer saying both at the same time.

The Aramaic, ܪܽܘܚܳܐ ܗܽܘ ܓ݁ܶܝܪ ܐܰܠܳܗܳܐ, makes much more sense, meaning literally “For God is Spirit/Breath/Wind”. We cannot know if this version predates the Greek, if it is closer to the original manuscript of the gospel, but still in my mind it settles the above ambiguity just barely enough for me to render the phrase as “God is Spirit/Breath/Wind”.

It may well be that, on this hot day in Samaria a breath of wind came momentarily to cool and refresh this man and woman as they spoke, and Jesus used this analogy from nature as he will use another one in a few moments (4:35).

It may also be that Jesus, by identifying spirit/breath/wind as God, was invoking the Name of God, YHWH, which is an exhalation, the Name which was breathed into us to give us life (Genesis 2:7), and which we say every time we exhale (see page 30). But much more is going on here.

Since Jesus was in actuality speaking Aramaic here, the Greek version of this verse is inevitably a translation, so it merely has the Greek word for God, θεος. Since the Peshitta is in Aramaic, it is far likelier to relate exactly what Jesus actually said. The name for God in this Aramaic version quoted two paragraphs above is not, as one would expect from the foregoing paragraph, some variation on YHWH. It is not even ܐܠܘܗܝܡ, the Aramaic version of the Hebrew “Elohim”, the familiar to most readers from the creation story at Genesis 1:2, wherin God’s spirit/wind/breath hovers over or moves across the waters (see page 265). Rather, it is ܐܰܠܳܗܳܐ, “Alaha”, which is related to the Hebrew אלוהּ (“Eloah”). Both are a feminine word (literally, “Goddess”); both suggest the feminine aspect of God, united with the masculine in Elohim (see pages 309-10), the familiar name of God known from Genesis 1.

One clue to comprehension is in the context: Jesus says twice (verses 23-24) that true/steadfast (ܫܪܝܪܐ means both in Aramaic) worshippers are to worship God “in spirit and in truth”, as it is usually translated; again the word for “truth”, ܘܒܫܪܪܐ, carries the connotation of “steadfastness” or “firmness”. The phrase brings to mind Joshua’s oration at Shechem – the man for whom Jesus was named, speaking as Jesus would be very aware at Shechem, this very place! – in which he calls on the forebears of both Jews and Samaritans to worship God in בְּתָמִ֣ים וּבֶֽאֱמֶ֑ת, “sincerity and truth” (Joshua 24:14), concluding that the Israelites had to choose whether to worship YHWH or the gods of the Amorites, whose land they were entering. By this reference to Joshua’s speech Jesus is underlining his point that Jews and Samaritans both, as one, have a choice to worship the true God or the gods of others – in this case, the Greeks and Romans. (For the author of this gospel, surely aware of Paul’s repackaging of Jesus as a Græco-Roman deity [see the Introduction], this would have been a significant message in opposition.)

But Alaha (Aramaic), Eloah (Hebrew) is specifically the feminine aspect of God (“Goddess”), and Jesus associates this aspect with spirit/breath/wind. Jesus associates the Jewish aspect of God in verse 22 with the Jews knowing God better than the Samaritans – hence, he is suggesting, the time is coming when sectarian differences between Jew (the masculine “truth”) and Samaritan (the feminine “spirit”) will be put aside, when God will be worshipped neither on the Jewish holy mountain nor the Samaritan holy mountain (4:21). And Jesus is further suggesting that by union in marriage Jesus the Jew and Mary the Samaritan can point out the way toward this union.

In my Father´s House there is a Bull

GJohn-Mockup1

What follows is a addition to The Gospel of John, my restoration of that original text, free from the later interpolations and excisions of the organized Christian religion, and translated afresh from the Greek. You will find ordering information here. This excerpt discusses Jesus saying “In my father’s house” in John 14:2.

One possible reference is to the Second Temple; in 2:16, for instance, Jesus speaks of the Temple as “my father’s house”. As noted before, the Levites associated with Temple operations had their living quarters around the Portico of Solomon. In this sense, Jesus could be saying that, when he is recognized as Messiah he will be able to uproot these Sadducees, priests, and Levites who are so badly managing the Temple (the “hired hands” as he refers to them in 10:12-13, and “slaves” as he says in 8:35), and then there will be rooms available for Jesus’s disciples and others who believe in him and live according to the Λογος. In this interpretation, that is why Jesus adds “if not,” if these quarters in the Temple are not available at present, then “I am going to prepare a place for you.”

Second, Jesus may have intended here a reference to himself, specifically to his body, as his father’s house. That level of meaning appears in 2:19,21. Jesus, as Messiah, as Messenger of God, is in effect a vessel containing a message from God, the presence of God, the Spirit of God. Indeed, Paul uses this very metaphor at I Corinthians 3:16-17.

Finally, Jesus may have been referring to the Æon theology that fills this gospel, as in 8:35-36. In that passage, by the word “house” Jesus is referring not merely to the Second Temple in Jerusalem, a mere finite, physical structure that was built by human hands and could be (and was, in 70 C.E.) destroyed by human hands, but moreover to the House of God, the House of the Æon; that is to say, the Λογος itself, God’s overarching plan and purpose and pattern for the entirety of creation, not just the κοσμος, this physical aspect of it. There is no “house” in that sacred realm, for God Him-Herself is its house, as the amanuensis explains in Revelation 21:22. In this house, which is infinite in time and space, there are indeed an infinity of abodes, and Jesus assures them that he is leaving this physical life for the heavenly realm to prepare their abodes for them. This interpretation of the verse is strengthened by Jesus’s several references in this final discourse to his imminent death.

My view is that all three meanings were intended, and that this is therefore a triple entendre.

The word for “house” in both Aramaic (ܒܝܬ) and Hebrew (תיב) is pronounced beyt. It is no coincidence that the name for the second letter in both alphabets is also called beyt; the orthographical symbol that represents the letter is (as are the entire alphabets of both languages) pictographic in its origin, and that symbol is beth glyph the depiction of a house with an open door in archaic Aramaic, coming from the Egyptian letter, identical in appearance, but with the sound of “h” – that is, an exhalation, the breath of God, the ruach of life. In effect, the letter is a circle or a spiral, representing infinity. Moreover, it is a spiritual labyrinth, drawing the spiritual pilgrim ever deeper into the house of God, into the presence, of God: the symbol tells us that to be lost in the labyrinth of God is to be truly found. This letter became ב in alphabetic Hebrew and ܒ in alphabetic Syriac Aramaic.

The word for “father” in Aramaic is ܐܒܐ, ABA (misspelled with two “b”s in English, “Abba”; it is certainly not, as some contend, the Aramaic way of saying “Daddy”). It should be instantly apparent that this is a palindrome, with A-B-A symmetry (literally!), also called inclusio; as such, the word is a verbal circle, again, a representation of infinity, like the Worm Ouroboros. Even if you do not read Aramaic, you can see one letter at the beginning and end of the word, on either side of the letter you know now is beth. The first-and-last letter is aleph, aleph glyphthe depiction of an ox head in early pictographic Aramaic; this became ܐ in alphabetic Syriac Aramaic, and א in alphabetic Hebrew, the first letter in the alphabet of both languages. The ox head can still be seen in the English letter A: especially if we invert it thus – ∀ – we can better see the head with the horns above.

Thus one semiotic image of ABA is a farmstead: a home with oxen grazing around it. Another is that of the sacred labyrinth with the God-bull within.

The classical religions of the Mediterranean region often spoke of their god as in the form of a sacred bull that loved in the middle of a labyrinth-temple. The most famous version is the Minotaur of Crete, supposedly slain by Theseus, which lived in a labyrinth-temple said to have been built by Dædalus. But this was a variation of the Egyptian Apis Bull, which was associated with the renewal of life after death, and was said to live in a labyrinth-temple dedicated to Ptah. Herodotus, Diodorus Siculus, and Pliny the Elder provide awed descriptions of that massive stone temple, said to contain some 1,500 chambers. Later versions of this tradition appear in the Mithraist religion, popular among the Roman military and known to Jesus.

Much evidence supports the view that the ancient Israelite God was also often venerated in the form of a bull. For instance, Genesis 49:24, Psalm 132, and Isaiah 49:26 and 60:16 give an ancient epithet for God, לַאֲבִ֥יר יַעֲקֹֽב, usually rendered as “the Mighty One of Jacob” but more accurately translated as “the Bull of Jacob”, representing YHWH.

The Israelite sacred bull finds its origin in Egypt. During the Exodus (Exodus 32) the people made the famous idol עֵגֶּל הַזָהָב, called the Golden Calf in English, evidently modelling it on the Apis Bull of Egypt, which they had just left. A fourth-century Christian text, Apostolic Constitutions (vi:4), in fact, emphasizes that it was a representation of the Apis Bull.

The horns of the “Golden Calf” eventually became part of the sacrificial altar (Exodus 27:2) and incense altar (Exodus 30:1) in the First Temple, built by Solomon. The “Bull of Jacob”, the presence of God, was kept in the Temple built by Solomon, in the so-called “Holy of Holies”. This innermost chamber of the temple is called דְּבִיר (debir) in I Kings 6, a word whose pronunciation and exact meaning are modern guesswork. Giulia Sarullo, in her fine summary of recent paleographic studies on this matter (“The Cretan Labyrinth: Palace or Cave?”; Caerdroia 37, March 2008), says linguist Francesco Aspesi associates דְּבִיר with da-pu2-ri-to-jo, the Linear B script for the archaic genetive form of the Mycenaean word meaning “labyrinth”, which appears in three of the Linear B tablets found at Knossos. It is widely acknowledged that the nominative form of the same word, da-bu-ri-to, later developed into the word λαβύρινθος, meaning “labyrinth”. (The “d” and “l” sounds often shifted in classical Mediterranean languages, the most famous example being Odysseus/Ulysses.)

From such evidence it seems likely that Jerusalem’s First Temple was or contained a classical labyrinth to house the Bull of Jacob.

Rod Borghese points out that the first-and-last letter, א, aleph, has been since ancient times for classical Jewish mystics symbolic of the sacred Breath/Spirit/Wind of God that preceded even sound itself, the breath that existed before even the first Word was uttered, even before the Λογος came into being – since, the sages have observed, God had to breathe in first, before exhaling the Word that created light. I would add to Borghese’s point that what God breathed in was chaos, and what God breathed out was the Word, which so perfectly defines light that it is light. And that the fierce hot breath of the ox, who can drive the mill and plough the field, is associated with the power that makes creative things happen; thus it is that aleph represents power, breath, and creativity. This makes the ox equivalent to the חָכְמָה (Chokma, “Wisdom”), who Proverbs 8:23 says was the first of God’s creations, and his mainstay support in the act of creating the universe.

In this matter Jewish theology resembles Lakota theology. The latter speaks not of the Sacred Ox but the Sacred Buffalo, Tatanka, the first living creation of Wakantanka, the Great Mystery, whose first creation was not light (as in Judaism) but Tunka, stone. Buffalo and Creator are both often called Tunkashila, Grandfather. Note the homophony among these words. Read more in The Circle of Life.

The classic Jewish sages also note that the letter א (aleph) begins all three words in the most sacred name of God, אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה (“I Am What I Am”, but literally “I Shall Be What I Shall Be”).

Moreover, they taught, this primal letter א (aleph) symbolizes how God brings oneness to all creation, Heaven and earth. According to the Jewish mystics, the letter comprises an upper י (yud) representing the hidden ineffable deepest nature of God; a lower י (yud) representing the revealed presence of God in the world; and a ו (vav; “hook”) on a diagonal like a ladder or stairway uniting these two realms, the heavenly and earthly (“Jacob’s ladder”; cf. Genesis 28:12). Jesus speaks of himself in these very terms, as the emissary, the Messenger of God who goes back and forth between these two realms, like the angels on Jacob’s ladder (cf. John 1:51), and the Prologue to this gospel is very much built on the same imagery. Note also that yud and vav are the first and third letters in הוהי (YHWH), the Sacred Breath that is God’s Name, with a he, an exhalation, following each one. Note also that being a vav surrounded by two yuds, this letter is itself a palindrome, a symbol of infinity, as is the entire ABA word.

This, by the way, is the same theology of oneness expressed with different symbolism in the Revelation, probably written by the amanuensis John the Presbyter: in that book John uses 7 and 12 to speak of that oneness of Heaven and earth, since 3 = heavenly things (the triangle and pyramid were ancient symbols for God, and, to name but one among many examples, the Hindus had the त्रिमूर्तिः [Trimūrti] of Brahmā-Vishnu-Śiva long before the Christians invented the Trinity) and 4 = earthly things (the four winds, four directions, four seasons, etc.); 7 = 3 + 4 and 12 = 3 x 4.

The symbol א (aleph) has often represented infinity, in both mathematics and also in the symbolic work of Jorge Luis Borges. According to Borghese, “Infinity, nothingness, and continuity are concepts which have intrigued mathematicians, as well as Jewish scholars, throughout history. In many religions and philosophies it is believed that one must reduce one’s mind to a state which approaches ‘nothingness’ before one can begin to grasp the infinite knowledge and the divine connection between all things.” Borghese is right, and I find this to be a very Buddhist concept that Jesus may have picked up in the Himalayas if scholars like Holger Kersten and Suzanne Olssen are right that he spent his early adult years there – though he may have also encountered this concept among early Kabbalists.

As to the other letter in ABA, “father”, ב in Hebrew and ܒ in Aramaic (both pronounced beyt): Borghese points out that this, the second letter in both alphabets, originally referred not merely to “house” but to “container” or “vessel”. Again, we can see this pictographically in the fourth side open in order to take contents into the vessel. Thus, Borghese concludes, this name for God, ABA, shows us symbolically “the Infinite contained in the vessels, the Mystery of the Infinite contained within the Finite.” That is to say, all finite, created things in this universe contain in microcosm the Infinite, God. Again to add to Borghese’s point: This very Jewish philosophy has been around at least from Philo to Martin Buber; the latter writes eloquently of God playing hide-and-go-seek with us, begging us to seek and find the Sacred Presence hidden in every leaf and flower, and the Presence is saddened when human beings do not look for It, or look but fail to find It. Also and again this philosophy of immanence, the idea that the presence of God can be seen in and through every thing in creation, is very Buddhist and Taoist, as well as very Native American. In short, it is the ancient truth that the modern civilization of arrogation and greed has forgotten.

With this understanding in mind, we can see that Jesus meant “the house of my father” not only (as discussed above) to refer to the Second Temple or his body or to the Æon, but to how every created thing in this universe, though evanescent and ephemeral, still contains the Λογος, the glory of the presence of God, if only we would realize this! – and so too does each one of us.

Jesus and Mary Magdalene: The Image of God

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What follows is a addition to The Gospel of John, my restoration of that original text, free from the later interpolations and excisions of the organized Christian religion, and translated afresh from the Greek. You will find ordering information here.

This excerpt discusses how not Jesus alone but Jesus with Mary Magdalene is in the image and likeness of Elohim, God.

The Gospel of John begins by saying that those who believe in the Word of God, as put into the man Jesus, “who received it and believed in his name”, gain “the right to become children of God, … begotten (as such) not out of racial ancestries, nor out of a natural will, nor out of a man’s desire, but out of God” (1:12-13). To be a child of God is therefore not a oneness of identity with God, on the part of Jesus or anyone, but a oneness of unity and commitment. This is the oneness Jesus speaks of in his culminating pastoral prayer before his execution: he and the father are one (17:22), but the goal is for all humanity also to be one with God (17:20-23). This is the very Jewish concept of covenant, and marriage is the central example given thereof in the Bible. God creates in Genesis 1 by separating complements: light from darkness, sky from earth, land from sea, male from female – but then God brings one of these pairs together again, husband and wife (Genesis 2:24), in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:27). So, Jesus here and in chapter 20 is one with his wife in unity and commitment, jointly with her a sacred being that reflects God’s nature, and so we must be, and will be, if we heed his voice. Why this splitting apart of the nature of Elohim into male and female only to put them together again if it is not to teach us that the nature of God is love (I John 4:8)?

Indeed, Jesus is not alone in not just speaking the Word of God but delivering it also in his way of life, including his marital status: Jeremiah’s unusual, frowned-upon bachelorhood to say thus God feels no longer “married” to the Israelites; Ezekiel’s being forbidden to mourn his wife’s death to say thus God will not mourn the fall of Jerusalem (Ezekiel 24); and of course Hosea’s “ho”, his prostitute wife, whom he wedded to say the Israelites were likewise whoring after other gods (Hosea 1).

In the most ancient strata from which emerged the Samaritan and Jewish religions, God was a single deity comprising male and female aspects. In Genesis 1:27, for instance, Elohim created male and female human beings in the image and likeness of Elohim. Rod Borghese writes: “The word Elohim is a plural formed from the feminine singular ALH (Eloh), by adding IM to the word.” I add that the word Eloah appears to mean “Power”. Borghese continues:

But inasmuch as IM is usually the termination of the masculine plural, and is here added to a feminine noun, it gives to the word Elohim the sense of a female potency united to a masculine idea, and thereby capable of producing an offspring. Now we hear much of the Father and the Son, but we hear nothing of the Mother in the ordinary religions of the day. But in the Kabbalah we find that the Ancient of Days conforms himself simultaneously into the Father and the Mother, and thus begets the Son. Now this Mother is Elohim.

John J. Parsons (www.hebrew4christians.com) makes a similar point about “El Shaddai”, a common term for God in the Tanakh, which modern translators usually render as “the Almighty”, following the lead of the scholars who created the Septuagint (an ancient Greek translation of the Tanakh), who believed that it was derived from shadad, which means “to vanquish” or “to destroy”. However, Parsons points out that the blessing Jacob gives in Genesis 49:25 includes both masculine and feminine imagery, the latter being the “blessings of the breasts and of the womb” (בִּרְכת שָׁדַיִם וָרָחַם), a phrase that suggests “El Shaddai” may come from shadaim (“breasts”), as an indication of God’s all-sufficiency and ability to nourish, to care for, all creation.

Thus, in the very first episode in Jesus’s ministry, following his baptism by John, he encounters a woman at a spring in Samaria. There is much in this scene [discussed elsewhere in the book and in this blog] to suggest a romantic, erotic subtext. Even the water of the spring itself implies a sense of courtship.

The first premise is that water was in the Mediterranean cultures of this time largely associated with women, since it was used mainly for cleaning and cooking. Wine, symbolically associated with blood, the blood of life, the “blood” of one’s ancestry (1:13), was associated with men, as being fiery in temperament and conducive of manly qualities such as courage and thought. According to several classical writers, including Plutarch, women were forbidden from drinking wine.

The second premise is that it was almost universal throughout the Mediterranean region, including the Levant, to drink water and wine mixed together. Water alone was considered too cooling to the spirit, and wine alone was too elevating of the passions (there are many stories from antiquity of men driven to madness and violence by drinking undiluted wine, which, so it was said, was only done by barbarians). Revelation 14:10 speaks of God’s wrath in terms of undiluted wine, suggesting that the wrath was unmixed with any “cooling water” emotions, such as mercy or forgiveness. Proverbs 9:2, II Maccabees 15:39, and I Timothy 3:8 have references to wine and water mixed together for drinking. Justin Martyr, in chapter 45 of his first Apology, gives very early evidence of wine and water being mixed together sacramentally, as is still done today in the more “catholic” denominations of Christianity. Finally, the Gospel of Philip says in logion 106:

The chalice of prayer has in it wine and water. It is designated as the symbol of the blood, over which they make their thanksgiving. And it is filled with the Holy Spirit, and it belongs to the one who is perfect and whole/complete. Whenever we drink this, we shall receive into us the perfect person.

That is to say for the Valentinian school that composed this gospel, and was mainly devoted to this Gospel of John, the sacramental mixture of wine and water represents the blood (mixed with water; John 19:34) of Jesus, who is the “perfect person”. Jesus is perfect, the text says, because he is whole/complete. Other passages in Philip (see pages 570-72) make it clear that this is because, united with Mary, he is androgynous, as was Adam before Eve was removed from him: he is male-and-female-as-one in the image and likeness (Genesis 1:27) of the male-and-female-as-one understanding of God, called Elohim in Hebrew.

Therefore, when Jesus asks this young, attractive, unmarried woman for water, he is at least subliminally suggesting she mix her feminine “water” with his masculine “wine”: that they marry. Bear in mind that in every subsequent scene in this gospel in which Mary appears there is water and wine mixed: at the wedding, where Jesus makes the feminine water into masculine wine; even if not mentioned water and wine mixed was served at the supper in chapter 12 and at the Last Supper; at the crucifixion a sword thrust brings forth “blood and water” from Jesus’s body; and at the resurrection, Jesus the wine and Mary the water are reborn and mixed together into “one flesh” (Genesis 2:24) that is the very image and likeness (Genesis 1:27) of the male-female-as-one understanding of God, called Elohim in Hebrew.

Certainly the author of the gospel intended this combination of eroticism and spiritual profundity in the story. For the modern reader, as a child of Western philosophy with its unbridgeable divide between the physical and the spiritual realms and the latent repressiveness of the Puritans, this will come across as very strange, even distasteful. But it was not to first-century Jews, whose Tanakh often conjoins eroticism and spiritual profundity, nowhere more so than in the exquisite Song of Songs. The gospel’s writer (and Jesus through him) is telling us that love and marriage are also part of the Λογος, perhaps the most significant part, since the story of Jesus’s ministry begins with love and marriage. The first chapter of Genesis describes the creation of the universe by אֱלֹהִים (Elohim) – a term for God that is plural (the -im is a Hebrew plural suffix), speaks of Godself with plural pronouns (“Let us make… in our own…”), but takes the singular form of the verb. The reason for this is simple: Elohim is male and female as one, which is why Elohim says השענ נתומדכ ונמלצב םדא (“Let us make humanity in our image and after our likeness”), and creates at once both male and female. And therefore, neither man nor woman alone perfectly images God, but rather man and woman together. What is more, only male and female together can imitate Elohim’s ability to create life. This is why there are a number of comments in the Talmud to this effect: “Rabbi Eleazar said, ‘Any man who has no wife is no proper man; for it is written, “Male and female created He them and called their name Adam”’” (Yebamoth 63). Hence, it was spiritually essential for Jesus to have a wife before beginning on his ministry.

Water and wine figure in the wedding at Cana, which in the restored original gospel immediately follows the scene at the Samaritan spring. At his own wedding to the woman at the spring Jesus turns water (feminine) into wine (masculine).

This act brings back to mind the final logion, 114, in the Gospel of Thomas, in which he says, in part, “Look, I will draw her into myself so I may make her male, so she may also be a living spirit resembling you males: for any woman who makes herself male will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” Here, by marrying her, Jesus is undoing the separation of Eve from (the originally androgynous) Adam, drawing Mary into himself. Since, as discussed above (page 291), water represents the feminine and wine the masculine, here the turning of feminine water into masculine wine symbolizes the union of Jesus and Mary into, in sacred terms, a single being that is like the original Adam in the image and likeness of Elohim, God understood as comprising both male and female as one.

At the resurrection, Jesus and Mary meet each other again-for-the-first-time. They are both naked and in a garden, with the obvious Edenic overtones.

In logion 36 of the Gospel of Thomas Jesus says, “Do not worry from dawn to dusk, or from dusk to dawn, about what you shall wear” (cf. Matthew 6:25-30). In the following logion the disciples ask Jesus, “When will you appear to us, and when will we see you?”, and he replies, “When you can take off your clothes without feeling ashamed, and you take your clothes and throw them beneath your feet like little children and trample them; then you will see the Son of the Living One, and you will not be afraid.” The (Greek) Gospel of the Egyptians has Jesus reply similarly, but adds a further thought: “When you have trampled on the garment of shame, and when the two become one, and the male with the female is neither male nor female.” This is an eschatology in which the two genders become one, in which they become again the image and likeness of their Creator, Elohim, in which male and female are one.

This eschatology is found also in the Gospel of Thomas, particularly in the last logion in the book (114), which, unfortunately, is widely misunderstood. Here the complete logion:

Simon the Rock said this to them: “Let Mariam [Mary] go away from us, for women are not worthy of the [Æonian] life.”

Jesus said this: “Look, I will draw her into myself so I may make her male, so she may also be a living spirit resembling you males: for any woman who makes herself male will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

This verse is often put down as an example of first-century misogyny, as Jesus insisting that only males are welcome in the Æon, the Kingdom of Heaven. But Jesus is actually referring to the Hebrew myth of the creation of male and female. In the first creation story God creates by separating complementary opposites: day from night, above from below, land from sea; finally, God takes the androgynous human who was made male-and-female in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:26) and separates it into two humans, the primordial couple. The second creation story likewise has womankind, in the person of Eve, drawn forth from the side of the prototypical androgynous human, Adam. Jesus thus is saying in the above logion that women, in order to enter into the Æon, the Kingdom of Heaven, must again become one with the male. Mary, as is made clear in this resurrection scene, is reborn to a new life along with her husband Jesus: they experience in this scene a hierogamy, a spiritual marriage, which renders them truly one, hence truly reflecting the image and likeness of Elohim, and fully capable of entering into the Æon.

F. F. Bruce (Jesus and Christian Origins Outside the New Testament) is the only scholar who to my knowledge interprets this logion correctly; he nicely summarizes Jesus’s point thus: “Jesus’s promise that she will become a man, so as to gain admittance to the kingdom of heaven, envisages the reintegration of the original order, when Adam was created male and female (Genesis 1.27). Adam was ‘the man’ as much before the removal of Eve from his side as after (Genesis 2.18-25). Therefore, when the primal unity is restored and death is abolished, man will still be man (albeit more perfectly so), but woman will no longer be woman; she will be reabsorbed into man.”

This interpretation of logion 114 is supported by logion 22, in which Jesus says in part, “When you make the two one … when you make the male and the female a single one, such that the male is not male nor the female female … then you shall enter into [the Kingdom of Heaven].” Likewise he says in logion 75, “There are many standing at the door, but the united/whole/single ones (are) the ones who will go in to the bridal chamber.”

We find the exact same theology in the Gospel of Philip, for instance in logion 76:

In the days (when) Eve was within Adam, death did not exist. (When) she was separated from him, death came into being. If again she goes into (him), and he takes her into himself, death shall not exist.

Paul seems to be quite aware of this uniting-of-the-sexes to be in the image and likeness of God at Galatians 3:28, though he puts on it his usual spin, saying that all human differences are eliminated if we become one with Jesus-as-God.

While the sexual element is not clearly prominent in the garden of Eden story, it certainly is in the Song of Songs, and very much so here as well. There had to be some sexual energy in their embrace (and no doubt a kiss, as the implications of the Odyssey suggest; see below) in the next verse; most emphatically, Jerome’s “Noli me tangere” (“Do not touch me”) is repugnant as a translation. This is Jesus’s and Mary’s hierogamy, their spiritual (re)marriage, and so it has to be erotic. The eroticism is further discussed below.

This sexual element is related to the previous point that their Edenic nakedness has spiritual meaning. In the act of coïtus the couple become physically one, and their conscious minds are set aside, allowing them a moment of sheer ecstasy, which is a harbinger of the joy of living in the Æon. (This wakan aspect to lovemaking is explored in detail in The Circle of Life.) Further, the act of coïtus can result in the creation of new life, in the form of a child. Thus, Elohim appears in Genesis as a Creator, as Father-Mother to all life, and the man and woman, when they are truly one (including physically, during coïtus), are in the image and likeness of Elohim also creating life. This points to the deep meanings of the “bridal chamber” theology found in several early gospels, especially Philip, and also Thomas. Logion 86, quoted on page 586, says that when male and female are mated together again in the bridal chamber they gain eternal life; death is overcome for them. It is beyond the scope of this work to speculate in detail on what physical manifestation, if anything, the “bridal chamber” references pointed to. Generally, the strand of spirituality leading from the early Gnostics (especially Valentinius and Marcus) to the Cathars eschewed the panoply of ritual, ceremony-as-sacrament, and preferred inner, spiritual transcendence. The suggestion in Philip is that a bride and groom entered into the “bridal chamber” privately.

Karen L. King dates the recently published “Gospel of Jesus’s Wife” fragment to the fourth century, but says the text, in view of its nature, seems originally written in the first or second century. It is clearly to me closely related to the Gospel of Thomas, because it includes phrases similar to logia 101 and 114 in that “sayings gospel”. A big difference, however, is that the Gospel of Jesus’s Wife appears to weave these separate logia (sayings of Jesus) into a continuing narrative, that is, an extended discussion with the disciples. It may be somewhat later than Thomas, representing an editor’s attempt to create such a continuing narrative by weaving together unrelated sayings in Thomas, or it may be earlier, and Thomas is simply a collection of sayings lifted from the Gospel of Jesus’s Wife and perhaps other sources.

The latter gospel’s most notable feature is that it has Jesus specifically call Mary his wife: (“Jesus said to them, “my wife/woman…”). The prefix ta serves as the possessive pronoun “my”, and hime, just like נָשִׁים in Hebrew, ܐܢܬܬܐ in Aramaic, and γυνη in Greek, means “wife” or “woman” depending on context, and the context provided by the possessive prefix forces the meaning here to be “wife”. Jesus adds that she is “worthy of it”. King guesses the text said she was worthy of being a disciple; my guess is that it said she was worthy of being his wife, since the phrase (“she will be able to be my disciple”) follows the reference to her as wife and her worthiness. Jesus also says, “As for me, I dwell/exist/live with her in order to […] an image […]”. The verb implies cohabitation, spiritual union, and the vitality that vivifies life. I add that the phrase also implies eroticism, even sexuality, as part of their marital relationship. The last word is found in another line after a brief section of badly degraded manuscript, in my view too brief to fit in the ending of one sentence/thought and beginning of a new sentence/thought. I believe it is part of the previous phrase, and that this is Jesus saying that his union with Mary is intended to embody the very image and likeness of God, which male and female reflect (Genesis 1:27) as part of the Messianic image that he hoped to convey.

While – if it is eventually accepted as genuine – this is the first known early manuscript specifically to call Mary the wife of Jesus, it is far from unique in suggesting a very close relationship between them. The Magdalene is described as elevated to a special status as disciple in the Pistis Sophia and the Gospel of Mary (noncanonical texts probably composed in the second century). Most prominent among these texts is the Gospel of Philip, which calls Mary his κοινωνος (his companion, consort, coworker, the word also implying an erotic connection), and says the disciples were envious of how Jesus often kissed her often on the mouth. Kissing in this context does not, or does not merely, suggest romance but (as Philip says itself) it is an exchange of breaths (the breath representing the spirit) between spiritual companions in which spiritual truth is transferred – the πνευμα and hence the Λογος.

Mary Magdalene: What’s in a Name?

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What follows is a addition to The Gospel of John, my restoration of that original text, free from the later interpolations and excisions of the organized Christian religion, and translated afresh from the Greek. You will find ordering information here.

Mary’s cognomen “Magdalene” is only associated with the Synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke). Other than two highly doubtful references, it never appears in the Gospel of John. Its author must have known her, since she had to be a primary source for chapters 4 and 20, and was besides the mother of his eyewitness, Lazarus. And Mary clearly wished to distance herself from her priestess life, which “Magdalene” implies. Nevertheless, it is so commonly associated with her still today that its origin and meaning must be considered. One of the following explanations is usually offered, that the cognomen:

a: Says she came originally from Magdala, a village on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee.

b: Comes from the Hebrew לדגמ (migdal, “tower”, related to μαγδωλος in Greek, “watchtower”).

c: Comes from the related word in Aramaic, the language then commonly spoken by Jews and Samaritans, ܡܓܕܠܝܐ (magdala, “tower” but also suggesting “elegant” or “great”, likewise related to μαγδωλος). This could be simply a reference to the Samaritan Temple high on Mount Gerizim, where as the “woman at the well” Mary served as a priestess. Coins minted in Nablus (Shechem) portray an architectural complex that appears to include a tower. Or it could refer to Song of Songs 4:4, and other similar verses; this one compares the Shulammite’s neck to the Tower of David (cf. Nehemiah 3:25). Similarly, her breasts are likened to towers at 8:10. Her “dance of Mahanaim” (Song 6:13; see option e) is an indirect reference to a tower as well.

d: Comes from megaddelá, an Aramaic word for a woman with ܓܕܠܐ (g’dalw; plaited or braided hair), and later, by extension, a word for a hairdresser. The term carried, later in time, an aroma of “harlot” about it, and some passages in the Talmud appear to associate it with Temple priestesses.

Before evaluating the four above, I also propose:

e: Comes from Mahanaim (מַחֲנָ֫יִם in Hebrew), literally meaning “Two Camps”, a place so called by Jacob because he and God both camped there. The “h” would have shifted in the Greek transliteration into a “g” (since the “h” does not appear in Greek words except at the beginning) and a Greek-style suffix added. At this place Jacob erected a watchtower (Genesis 31:48-52; see b, c, and h). The “dance of Mahanaim” is mentioned at Song of Songs 6:13 in reference to the Shulammite (who is discussed in relation to the Magdalene below).

f: Comes from Song of Songs 4:15, the same verse discussed on page 614, where the Hebrew for the “spring of water” in the garden is מעין גנים (mayan gannim). This could have gotten garbled by Greek ears into “Magdalene” the same way pretty much all of the proper names in the New Testament mutated when shifting from Hebrew or Aramaic into Greek. Through this verse she would be associated with living waters, mentioned in the same verse of the Song, of which Jesus spoke to her in their first conversation (John 4:10); also, the waters of spiritual purification, as in the mikvah, and in John’s baptism.

g: Comes from ܩܕܠܐ (’qda:la), “neck” in Aramaic, should Mary have had a long, beautiful neck. This is a near-homonym with ܡܓܕܠܝܐ (magdala, “tower”), lacking only the initial ܡܰ (ma-), and also with ܡܓܕܠܝܬܐ (magdalayta, Magdalene), lacking the ma- and the suffix -ta. But the final “m” (ܡ) in her Aramaic name, ܡܪܝܡ (Maryam), could very well have elided over onto ܩܕܠܐ (’qda:la), creating ܡܩܕܠܐ (Maqdala). This could possibly a reference to, or for the amanuensis reminiscent of, several references in the Song of Songs, especially at 4:4, to the Shulammite’s neck, though a different word for neck (ܝܟܪܘܨ; sawara) is used there.

h: Comes from the Tower of Eder (מִגְדַּל־עֵ֫דֶר, Migdal Eder, literally “the Tower of the Flock [of Sheep]”) beyond which Jacob (then renamed “Israel”) pitched his tent after the death of his wife Rachel (Genesis 35:21). Jesus and Mary are implicitly associated with Jacob and Rachel at Jacob’s Spring in chapter 4 of John. The only other Tanakh reference to this tower is at Micah 4:8, where it is mentioned in a messianic prophecy that the greatness of Judah and Jerusalem will return, a very meaningful reference should this be the cognomen of Jesus’s consort. Rachel died on the way to Ephrath (Bethlehem); Josephus writes that the tower site was about a Roman mile (4,860 feet) beyond Bethlehem. But in which direction Israel was going is unclear. The original Hebrew text has him going south, toward Hebron, but the Septuagint transposes Genesis 35:16 and 21, likely correcting a mistake, which would have him going north, toward Bethel; this would put the Tower very close to Bethany, which was Mary’s home town.

i: Comes from the Greek μαγδαλια, a late contraction of the classical word απομαγδαλια, which appears in Aristophanes and Plutarch as a term for the inside of a loaf of bread, used by Greeks as a kind of napkin for their hands, which they then threw to the dogs; hence, “dog’s meat”.

j: Comes from the Aramaic ܡܓܕܐ ܐܠܗܬܐ (maqd’ alaht’a; “precious to the Goddess” or “gift of/to the Goddess”), which is very close to the Aramaic original of the cognomen “Magdalene”, ܡܓܕܠܝܬܐ (magdalayta).

k: Comes originally from μάγος δαλος (a magic torch or lamp or thunderbolt), which would have been contracted to μάγα-δαλος and then to μαγδαλος. Many oil lamps from the Samaritan Temple on Mount Gerizim and Samaritan synagogues in the region have been found. They were probably used ceremonially, perhaps tended by priestesses, and are customarily decorated with spiritual imagery. One common motif is a ladder; this was probably a representation of Jacob’s ladder, since the Samaritans believed and still believe that Bethel, where Jacob had his famous dream (Genesis 28:12-15) was on Mount Gerizim (A Companion to Samaritan Studies, by Alan David Crown, Reinhard Pummer, and Abraham Tal).

l: Comes from “Magdalu in Egypt”, as it is called in the letters of Šuta in the 1340s B.C.E. On the northeastern frontier of Egypt, this ancient town was near the last encampment of the Israelites before they crossed the Reed Sea during the Exodus. The name probably comes from גָּדַל (gadal), meaning “to increase in size or importance”. Jeremiah 44:1 says Migdol (as he and Ezekiel call it) and other nearby Egyptian communities had significant colonies of Diaspora Jews. These Jews worshipped at a temple in Elephantine built on the same scale as the one in Jerusalem; James D. Purvis and Eric Meyers say scholars generally agree that the cultus at Elephantine was a mix of Yahwistic and Canaanite ways, and (as strongly suggested by the Elephantine Papyrii) heavily influenced by Egyptian religion. Indeed, Jeremiah 44 describes the cultus at Migdol in some detail, including worship of “the Queen of Heaven”. This temple was destroyed by the Egyptians in 410 B.C.E., but another was built by Onias IV in the first century B.C.E. in Leontopolis, near Magdalu, after Judah Maccabee denied him the high priesthood in Jerusalem. Some classical Jewish literature, such as the Yuhasin, associates it with the Samaritan Temple on Mount Gerizim. What makes the possibility interesting that Jesus and/or Mary were at one time connected with it is the number of passages in this gospel, especially the resurrection, that suggest they were both more than passingly familiar with the Egyptian language.

m: Comes from the Aramaic ܝܘܢܐ ܡܓܕܠܝ (magdal’ yawna; “dove tower”). Ancient columbaria, also called dovecotes in English, have been found throughout the Levant, and indeed the entire Mediterranean region; they were known in Greek as περιστερεῶνα (peristereōna). For Jews and Samaritans they would provide not only food and crop fertilizer, but Temple sacrifices, as required in the Torah. Sometimes they were made in caves, but, where caves were not available towers were constructed: at the famous Masada site, for instance, three towers served as columbaria. There had to be columbaria in Mary’s day atop Mount Gerizim to provide sacrificial birds as well as to feed the priests, priestesses, and staff. Mary may have had duties associated with the columbaria. This explanation would also amplify the theory outlined that the “dove” at Jesus’s baptism was Mary.

n: Comes from the Aramaic ܢܐ ܕܘܠܐ ܡܓܕܗ (magdh-dawla-na). The first two words mean “to draw-up-to-oneself a-bucket-of-water”, and the imperative/cohortative suffix ܢܐ (na) signifies that this request for a bucket of water is deeply yearning and implored for). This would have contracted to ܕܘܠܐ ܢܐ ܡܓ (mag-dawla-na), and the accent would fall on –la, giving just about exactly the sound of μαγδαληνη (magdalēnē), her cognomen in the Greek text; it is not quite as close to ܡܰܓ݂ܕ݁ܠܳܝܬ݁ܳܐ (magdalata), her cognomen in the Aramaic text of the Peshitta, though that is probably a transliteration of the Greek. The origin of this cognomen would be the event at the Samaritan spring, wherein Mary, in a memorable statement recorded at John 4:11, suddenly refers not to the spring in front of them but to a well, saying the well is deep and Jesus, unfortunately, doesn’t have a bucket. As noted in the commentary to that verse, she is making an oblique reference to Moses’s first encounter with his wife Zipporah by a well (Exodus 2:16), and to the deep, dry well of her heart.

Option a, the most frequent explanation of Mary’s cognomen, is straightforward, and should be adopted if it can be proven that Mary came from Magdala. But, alas, there is nothing connecting her to that village. Her family home is in Bethany, her father probably originally came from Ramathaim (Arimathea) in Kohath (in northern Judæa just south of Samaria), and she herself had lived in Samaria proper. She wasn’t even a Galilean, let alone a resident of Magdala. Therefore option a is to be rejected.

The pronunciation of the Aramaic word magdala is closer to the text’s Greek version of Mary’s cognomen than the Hebrew migdal, and these were Aramaic speakers, so option b is rejected.

Option d is also rejected; the textual evidence is flimsy, and there is no reason to assume that the Talmudic writers were merely recalling in a subsequent generation how this word was used in the first century: these comments may have been no more than unfounded anti-Christian polemical aspersions, of which in subsequent generations there was quite a bit. They may even have been based on the persistent later Christian legend that described Mary Magdalene as a repentant prostitute.

Option i is rejected too, lacking a solid rationale for adoption.

Options e, f, and h, and probably c and g as well, are Biblical in origin. All of these except h could refer to the Song of Songs; e comes indirectly and h directly from the story of Jacob and Rachel in Genesis, with whom the gospel often implicitly associates Jesus and Mary. Options c, e, h, and m all suggest a watchtower, with c carrying the indirect meaning of “elegant” or “great”, and e referring to the Shulammite’s dance.

Option f is a fascinating but unlikely possibility, and options e and h are logical but abstruse, therefore weak as explanations for why Mary’s friends and family would call her “Magdalene”. Still, the erudite amanuensis could well have had e and h and especially f in his own mind as he composed the gospel, in particular as he sought appropriate imagery for describing the nearly indescribable scene of Jesus’s resurrection. In the process of borrowing Song of Songs 4:15 in his composition of that episode he could well have read mayan gannim, in the same verse, been struck by the phonetic resemblance to Magdalena, and borne in mind a poetic association between the “wellspring of water” (which is what mayan gannim means) and Mary’s overflowing tears.

That leaves either c, g, j, k, l, m, or n as the reason that she was generally known as “Magdalene”. Either c or g or some combination would be a sensible if cautious conclusion, especially if Mary had a beautiful neck or breasts; certainly we learn from 20:17 that she was sexually attractive. Options j, k, l, m, and n are risky conclusions and would have to prove themselves through time and scholarly debate, but the ground has long been prepared for them by such scholars as Raphael Patai (The Hebrew Goddess) and Merlin Stone (When God was a Woman).

I myself lean toward j, m, or n as the best solution. The first two would succinctly denote the fact about Mary that most stood out to those who knew her: her having been a Temple priestess. The third, which is the one that by a hair’s breadth I favor most of all, would directly relate her cognomen to her first encounter with Jesus, amply explaining why it caught on in the Christian community and is well remembered to this day.

Any of these three would also answer a very good point made by Karen L. King (as quoted in “The Inside Story of a Controversial New Text About Jesus”, by Ariel Sabar, Smithsonian.com, 18 September 2012). She notes that in the first century “women’s status was determined by the men to whom they were attached,” citing as an example “Mary, Mother of Jesus, Wife of Joseph” (and later, I add, “Wife of Clopas”). If Mary Magdalene had been Jesus’s wife, King insists, she would have been known as that, and the fact that she isn’t King calls the strongest argument against the contention that she was Jesus’s wife. But, if “Magdalene” means “sacred of/to the goddess” or refers to a dove tower on Gerizim, then that was her “marital status” as a priestess in the Samaritan Temple, and she would have been already well known by that cognomen before wedding Jesus. And if her cognomen refers to Jesus going into the well of her spirit and drawing forth water – in short, becoming one with her such that they, together, embody the very image and likeness of Elohim (God understood as comprising male and female as one), returning the state of perfect, androgynous Adam, before the disobedience and before Eve had been removed from his side – then the cognomen does, as King would wish, refer (albeit cryptically) to her marital status. In deed, this gospel strongly suggests that what made Mary so appropriate a spouse to Jesus’s thinking was that she was a κοινωνος, his spiritual equal, and this interpretation of her cognomen emphasizes this central fact about Mary.

All this said, the cognomen “Magdalene” only appears in John twice, in the crucifixion and resurrection episodes. But this is enough to lead many scholars to conclude that she is a different woman from the Mary who lives in Bethany, and whose name is always just Mary, without any cognomen. As discussed in the commentaries to the two episodes where “Magdalene” appears, I believe this cognomen was added therein by the redactor, and that the Beloved Disciple and amanuensis in the original text referred to her as “Mary”, without cognomen. Thus, in this translation, “Magdalene” is excised. My belief is that the eyewitness’s mother told him she wanted no more to be known by a cognomen referring to her time as a priestess.

Her given name, Μαριαμ (Mariam), has two origin explanations: the traditional one and the actual one. Both would have been commonly known to reasonably well-educated Jews in the first century. The actual derivation of her name is from the Egyptian Mari-Amen, “Beloved Amen”, the name of Moses’s elder sister, referring to the Egyptian deity who was so pervasive by the time of the Middle Kingdom, in the last centuries B.C.E., that Egypt was essentially monotheistic. (I reject Madan Mohan Shukla’s idea, in an article published by the Oriental Institute at Baroda in 1979, that the name Mari may go back to Sanskrit मातृ [matri; the “t” is very gently pronounced], meaning “wife” and “mother”, which evolved into that English word, as well as the first half of “matrimony”. Shukla’s reference to an Indian goddess named Mari is likelier since she might be etymologically associated with the Egyptian Mari [Beloved].)

The traditional explanation is that it comes from the Hebrew word הרמ (mara, “bitter”), referring to tears; it is the name that Naomi (which means “sweet” or “pleasant”) gave herself when she was weeping bitter tears for the death of her sons and her husband (Ruth 1:13). The traditional name has a deeper root meaning in מָר (mar, “drop”), as in a teardrop, but going even farther back to מֹר (mor, “myrrh”), which is the resin of a thorny tree, harvested by wounding the tree until it bleeds out, drop by drop, its bitter lifeblood, hence the name. Myrrh was associated with death, being an embalming compound. It was also a component in ketoret, the consecrated incense used in the First and Second Temples at Jerusalem, according to the Tanakh and Talmud – and thus would then have been very much in the nostrils of Mary and the disciples during the commemoration of Passover at the Temple.

How ironic that, before Jesus’s death, a thorny wreath, very possibly from the myrrh tree, was placed on his head (19:2), and that he was whipped and stabbed like the tree until his blood came forth as does the liquid myrrh (19:1,34). How ironic that after his death Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea prepared his body with myrrh and aloes (19:39-40). How ironic it is that Mary Magdalene, with such a name as that, but recently weeping bitter tears for her son (John 11:31,33), now again had drops of tears falling like drops of myrrh from her eyes for her husband (20:11).

How could a woman so clearly central to Jesus’s life, central enough to grieve for him at the very thought of his impending death (Luke 7:38) and to come by night with spices to anoint his body, only be mentioned at the very end? Without a doubt, she does appear previously in the gospel, and my contention is that Mary Magdalene, Mary “of Bethany”, the unnamed woman in Mark 14, and “the woman at the well” are one and the same.

This perspective is underscored in the noncanonical Gospel of Philip, which calls Mary Jesus’s κοινωνος (companion, partner, or consort), and also lifts up the spiritual eroticism between them, saying for instance that “he used to kiss her often on the mouth”, implying not only romance but the sharing of sacred breath, πνευμα. The recently published Gospel of Jesus’s Wife also appears to back this perspective.

What is more, the beautiful woman in the Song of Songs is called (in Song 6:13) the Shulammite. For centuries it has been said that this cognomen deliberately fuses the Hebrew word for peace (shalom) with the cognomen of the Shunammite woman introduced in II Kings 4:8, a wealthy woman who the passages that follow strongly imply was Elisha’s lover despite having a husband, and whose dead son Elisha brought back to life. There are obvious similarities to Mary Magdalene, a wealthy woman (Luke 8:3) who was surely Jesus’s wife, who had previously had “husbands” (John 4:16-18), and who was probably the mother of Lazarus, whom Jesus brought back to life.

This scene with Elisha in its turn bears a strong resemblance to the story (I Kings 17:8-24) of Elijah his teacher. This tale begins with Elijah asking the woman for a drink of water from her water pot (verse 10); she has some shame on her conscience (verse 18). Both of those details mirror the “woman at the well”. And Elijah raises her son from death (verse 22), as Jesus does Mary’s son Lazarus. Again, the similarities between the two lives are striking. Since every detail in this gospel is clearly carefully chosen, these connections to Elijah and Elisha must be taken very seriously, and certainly they draw more sharply the nature of the connection between Jesus and Mary Magdalene.

Mary Magdalene and Jesus Naked at the Tomb

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What follows is a addition to The Gospel of John, my restoration of that original text, free from the later interpolations and excisions of the organized Christian religion, and translated afresh from the Greek. You will find ordering information here.

We know Jesus is naked since his entombment linens are still in the tomb (20:5-7) – they would in any case be much too soiled with blood and bodily fluids to serve as makeshift garments – and he cannot have gone somewhere to pick up a fresh suit. If he has gone anywhere, it would only be nearby, to one of the abundant springs and streams in this garden, to wash himself clean. As for Mary, by the time she arrived at the tomb in 20:1 she would have already torn her clothes asunder, as was then the tradition for those in mourning; as noted above, one reason she separated from the other women may be, as noted above, that she was by now close to quite nude. In any case, the text here, by vividly evoking the naked couple in the garden of Eden and in the Song of Songs, clearly signals Mary’s nakedness to match Jesus’s. She almost certainly took off what shreds remained of her robes while inside the tomb; the removal of clothing in many cultures, including the first-century Jewish (and the Native American, which refers to death as “the dropping of the robe”) signified death and mourning of death, so this act indicated her unwillingness to live without her husband and master.

First to note, their nakedness represents birth and death; as in Job 1:21, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I shall return there.” The “mother” here is the Earth herself, and Jesus returned into her, specifically the tomb, and now has come forth from her womb. This is a second birth for Jesus, just as he “preenacted” it with John (1:32-33) and discussed it with Nicodemus (3:3-7) and so this scene forms an inclusio with the beginning of the gospel. Moreover, in terms of Plato’s allegory (see page 528), we are born owning none of the things of this world, which are just shadows cast by the more real world, the Æon, and at death we release all property, including the body. Clothing, and property in general, proclaims our social status and wealth; it divides us from others. Without clothes we are united in our common heritage, the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:26). Thus Jesus’s and Mary’s nakedness here implies that in the Æon we are one, unencumbered by worldly things and their shadows.

Second, their nakedness in a garden brings to mind Adam and Eve naked in the garden of Eden, but it reverses that story: in Genesis Adam and Eve’s guilt and shame over their sin of disobedience, for which God punishes them with mortality, is associated by Genesis with the primordial couple clothing their naked bodies; here, Jesus and Mary unclothing their bodies represents for them (and us if we follow them spiritually) a return to the human condition before the primordial couple ate of the fruit. Modern readers, reading Genesis through their own cultural lenses, often think that Adam and Eve clothed themselves out of a kind of sexually fueled embarrassment for being “naked in public”. But a careful reading of the text reveals that, no, they were afraid of God’s omnipotent wrath in the face of their vulnerability, especially following their disobedience of God, and so they sewed leaves together to disguise themselves as trees in this garden of trees. Thus the nakedness of Jesus and Mary is to say no person need feel any longer afraid of God, as needing to hide her- or himself from God or ignore God, that “all is forgiven”, as the classic prophets often emphasize, as long as the individual accepts the Λογος, the truth and wisdom of the plan of God. Spiritually speaking, true trust is true nakedness, with no need to hide oneself, or to make of oneself something other than naturally human. In this sense, this nakedness is not just to bring Adam and Eve to mind; this is an eschatological nakedness: Jesus and Mary are the “Adam and Eve” of the people of the future who are completely integrated into the Λογος, who trust God completely, and do not put clothes on out of fear or misrepresentation of their true selves. (In the next chapter, Simon the Rock is fishing naked, but puts on his clothes before swimming ashore where Jesus is; he has not yet “understood the scripture” [20:9].)

In logion 36 of the Gospel of Thomas Jesus says, “Do not worry from dawn to dusk, or from dusk to dawn, about what you shall wear” (cf. Matthew 6:25-30). In the following logion the disciples ask Jesus, “When will you appear to us, and when will we see you?”, and he replies, “When you can take off your clothes without feeling ashamed, and you take your clothes and throw them beneath your feet like little children and trample them; then you will see the Son of the Living One, and you will not be afraid.” The (Greek) Gospel of the Egyptians has Jesus reply similarly, but adds a further thought: “When you have trampled on the garment of shame, and when the two become one, and the male with the female is neither male nor female.” This is an eschatology in which the two genders become one, in which they become again the image and likeness of their Creator, Elohim, in which male and female are one.

This eschatology is found also in the Gospel of Thomas, particularly in the last logion in the book (114), which, unfortunately, is widely misunderstood:

Simon the Rock said this to them: “Let Mariam [Mary] go away from us, for women are not worthy of the [Æonian] life.”

Jesus said this: “Look, I will draw her into myself so I may make her male, so she may also be a living spirit resembling you males: for any woman who makes herself male will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

This verse is often put down as an example of first-century misogyny, as Jesus insisting that only males are welcome in the Æon, the Kingdom of Heaven. But Jesus is actually referring to the Hebrew myth of the creation of male and female. In the first creation story God creates by separating complementary opposites: day from night, above from below, land from sea; finally, God takes the androgynous human who was made male-and-female in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:26) and separates it into two humans, the primordial couple. The second creation story likewise has womankind, in the person of Eve, drawn forth from the side of the prototypical androgynous human, Adam. Jesus thus is saying in the above logion that women, in order to enter into the Æon, the Kingdom of Heaven, must again become one with the male. Mary, as is made clear in this resurrection scene, is reborn to a new life along with her husband Jesus: they experience in this scene a hierogamy, a spiritual marriage, which renders them truly one, hence truly reflecting the image and likeness of Elohim, and fully capable of entering into the Æon.

F. F. Bruce (Jesus and Christian Origins Outside the New Testament) is the only scholar who to my knowledge interprets this logion correctly; he nicely summarizes Jesus’s point thus: “Jesus’s promise that she will become a man, so as to gain admittance to the kingdom of heaven, envisages the reintegration of the original order, when Adam was created male and female (Genesis 1.27). Adam was ‘the man’ as much before the removal of Eve from his side as after (Genesis 2.18-25). Therefore, when the primal unity is restored and death is abolished, man will still be man (albeit more perfectly so), but woman will no longer be woman; she will be reabsorbed into man.”

This interpretation of logion 114 is supported by logion 22, in which Jesus says in part, “When you make the two one … when you make the male and the female a single one, such that the male is not male nor the female female … then you shall enter into [the Kingdom of Heaven].” Likewise he says in logion 75, “There are many standing at the door, but the united/whole/single ones (are) the ones who will go in to the bridal chamber.”

We find the exact same theology in the Gospel of Philip, for instance in logion 76:

In the days (when) Eve was within Adam, death did not exist. (When) she was separated from him, death came into being. If again she goes into (him), and he takes her into himself, death shall not exist.

Third, while the sexual element is not clearly prominent in the garden of Eden story, it certainly is in the Song of Songs, and very much so here as well. There had to be some sexual energy in their embrace (and no doubt a kiss, as the implications of the Odyssey suggest; see below) in the next verse; most emphatically, Jerome’s “Noli me tangere” (“Do not touch me”) is repugnant as a translation. This is Jesus’s and Mary’s hierogamy, their spiritual (re)marriage, and so it has to be erotic. The eroticism is further discussed below.

This sexual element is related to the previous point that their Edenic nakedness has spiritual meaning. In the act of coïtus the couple become physically one, and their conscious minds are set aside, allowing them a moment of sheer ecstasy, which is a harbinger of the joy of living in the Æon. (This wakan aspect to lovemaking is explored in detail in The Circle of Life.) Further, the act of coïtus can result in the creation of new life, in the form of a child. Thus, Elohim appears in Genesis as a Creator, as Father-Mother to all life, and the man and woman, when they are truly one (including physically, during coïtus), are in the image and likeness of Elohim also creating life. This points to the deep meanings of the “bridal chamber” theology found in several early gospels, especially that of Philip. Logion 86, quoted on page 586, says that when male and female are mated together again in the bridal chamber they gain eternal life; death is overcome for them.

In sum, this resurrection scene is frighteningly beautiful, joyfully fearsome. Mary encounters a dead body that speaks to her: in her culture he is a ghost or an angel, perhaps, or Death Incarnate even, and it is impossible for her not to be afraid. And yet, when she comes close to him, and looks through her fear and exhaustion, she finds a familiar face. She smells the comfortable scent of his skin. She feels the warmth of his body against hers, the wonderful strength of his arms. She is scared and ecstatic at once. In the words of Rainer Maria Rilke, if an angel

… gesetzt selbst, es nähme
einer mich plötzlich ans Herz: ich verginge von
seinem stärkeren Dasein. Denn das Schöne ist nichts
als des Schrecklichen Anfang, den wir noch grade ertragen,
und wir bewundern es so, weil es gelassen verschmäht,
uns zu zerstören. Ein jeder Engel ist schrecklich.

… put itself before me and pulled
me suddenly against its heart, I would be overwhelmed by
its prodigious existence. For beauty is nothing
but the beginning of terror, which we can barely endure,
and we admire it so, because it serenely scorns
to destroy us. Even a single angel is terrifying.

Fourth, nakedness represents departure from the physical body in behalf of life in the Æon. As the Gospel of Philip has it (logion 24):

There are those made afraid lest they arise and find themselves naked. Because of this, they wish to arise in the flesh, but they do not understand that those made to wear the flesh are the naked ones. Those who are made of light strip themselves naked for they indeed are not naked. [or: Those who are unafraid to strip themselves naked are not really naked.]

Jesus speaks in a very similar way in the last dialogic section (probably late first century) of the Johannine-in-style Dialogue of the Savior, saying the “governors and administrators” of this world have garments (of flesh) which will not last, but his disciples will be blessed when they strip themselves of such garments.

And so: “Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). The first rays of dawn reveal to Mary the face of her beloved husband; I believe this moment was in the Presbyter’s mind as he described “the woman clothed with the sun” in Revelation 12:1; the next verse confirms she was pregnant, as does John 16:21. They embrace and kiss, naked as they are, in a garden; they are the eternal archetypal lovers, and their wedding that began the gospel is now confirmed and made holy, and the celestial clock is set back to the moment of Creation, εν αρχη ην ο λογος, with the first wrongdoing of humanity trying to separate itself from God now forgiven and undone, and the entire universe is reborn. “This was their thousandth meeting,” as Charles Williams put it in All Hallows Eve, “but yet more than their first, a new first, and yet the only one.”

Only a few manuscripts, most importantly the Codex Sinaiticus (01C2a), have the critical phrase at the end of this verse, “And she runs to embrace him.” This is less likely a cut by the redactor, since publication did not take place before he had completed his work. More likely the sentence was taken out by an early copyist for theological reasons – his Christian community, with its emphasis on Jesus as God incarnate and its typically Roman misogyny clearly frowned on the idea that Jesus would allow a woman to embrace him, especially at such an august moment as his resurrection – and the majority of later copies retained this excision. It is in any case essential: it confirms that she was inside the tomb, with some distance intervening between her and Jesus; it dramatically informs the reader of her sudden change from the depths of deepest despair to cerulean euphoria; and it sets up Jesus’s asking her to cease embracing him. Thus it is included in this translation.

Without doubt the gospel writer had in mind these lines from the Septuagint (Greek) version of the Song of Songs:

First, Song 2:17a, ἕως οὗ διαπνεύσῃ ἡ ἡμέρα καὶ κινηθῶσιν αἱ σκιαί ἀπόστρεψον ὁμοιώθητι σύ ἀδελφιδέ μου τῷ δόρκωνι ἢ νεβρῷ ἐλάφων ἐπὶ ὄρη κοιλωμάτων (“Until the day breathes and the shadows flee, turn around, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young deer on the spice-laden mountains”). This dawn breathes new life not only into Jesus but Mary too. Their shadows on the far wall of the tomb flee away, for Mary has turned away from them, probably throwing down the embalming spices in her arms, to flee the tomb like a gazelle to her beloved.

Second, from Song 3:4b, ἐκράτησα αὐτὸν καὶ οὐκ ἀφῆκα αὐτόν (“I took hold of him and did not let [him] go”). Mary embraces Jesus and will not let him go, as 20:17 makes clear; Jesus must ask her to do so.

Third, from Song 1:2, the very beginning of that glorious poem, φιλησατω με απο φιληματων στοματος αυτου οτι αγαθοι μαστοι σου υπερ οινον (“Would that he kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your love is better than wine”). The amanuensis, always conscious of inclusios between the beginning and end of the gospel, certainly had in mind not only the miracle of the wine and no doubt the traditional kiss of the bride and groom at Jesus’s wedding (2:1-11), but also the implied kiss when they met at the spring in Samaria (see the commentary to 4:13-14) and here in the form of the kisses of his mouth Mary has the everflowing living waters of eternal life again, and the miraculously appearing wedding wine again, and this time it is not merely “the best wine” (2:10), but “better than wine” (Song 1:2)!

And last, Song 8:6, κραταια ως θανατος αγαπη σκληρος ως αδης ζηλος, “As strong as death is love, as fierce as Hades is passionate desire.” Their love has survived death itself.

It is not only the Song of Songs that echoes in this passage; the well-read amanuensis might well again have had the incomparable Sappho in mind as he wrote:

Αρτίωσ μ᾽ ἀ χρυσοπέδιλλοσ Ἀύωσ. …
Στᾶθι κἄντα φίλοσ, καὶ τὰν ἔπ᾽ ὄσσοισ ἀμπέτασον χάριν.

And in this moment golden-sandalled Dawn [has spoken]. …
Turn and face me, my beloved, and unveil for me the grace in your eyes.

Moreover, it is without question that we hear in the brief but mighty phrases of verse 16 the voice of Homer. Consider these lines from the Odyssey (205, 207-208, 231-232, 241, 247-250), in which Odysseus reveals himself to his longsuffering wife Penelope:

τῆς δ’ αὐτοῦ λύτο γούνατα καὶ φίλον ἦτορ…
δακρύσασα δ’ ἔπειτ’ ἰθὺς κίεν, ἀμφὶ δὲ χεῖρας
δειρῇ βάλλ’ Ὀδυσῆϊ, κάρη δ’ ἔκυσ …
τῷ δ’ ἔτι μᾶλλον ὑφ’ ἵμερον ὦρσε γόοιο:
κλαῖε δ’ ἔχων ἄλοχον θυμαρέα, κέδν’ εἰδυῖαν. …
καί νύ κ’ ὀδυρομένοισι φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς …
καὶ τότ’ ἄρ’ ἣν ἄλοχον προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς
ὦ γύναι, οὐ γάρ πω πάντων ἐπὶ πείρατ’ ἀέθλων
ἤλθομεν, ἀλλ’ ἔτ’ ὄπισθεν ἀμέτρητος πόνος ἔσται,
πολλὸς καὶ χαλεπός, τὸν ἐμὲ χρὴ πάντα τελέσσαι. …

And then her knees and precious heart gave way …
Then in tears she ran to him, to throw her arms
Around Odysseus’s neck, to kiss his face …
And she elicited in him even more the desire to weep;
He held his wife, beloved and loyal, and shed his tears.
Rosy-fingered Dawn would have risen upon them as they wept …
And then resourceful Odysseus said to his wife,
“Woman, we haven’t finished yet with all our trials
For I must yet undertake, in the future, a great work,
Long and difficult, before I have completely finished. …”

Like Penelope, Mary is tottering on her legs, exhausted by considerable stress, and weeping copious tears (20:11). As Odysseus does Penelope, Jesus addresses Mary as γυναι (“woman”). Like Penelope, Mary runs to Jesus and embraces him (20:16). In both works, this poignant moment comes at dawn (20:1). And like Odysseus, Jesus says there are things that they both yet must accomplish, especially he himself (20:17).

This embrace is more than romantic and erotic, though it is that too; this embrace is what Jung calls the coincidentia oppositorum, the union of complementary opposites. As it is put in The Circle of Life:

The embrace is a sign of love that symbolizes the Sacred Hoop: both persons are within the circle. When we embrace, first we open our arms, becoming vulnerable in a sense, exposing our hearts both literally and figuratively, to create space in ourselves to welcome the other into us. Then we close our arms around each other, one with each other within the Sacred Hoop. (Sexuality is an extension of the embrace, of course – an even closer joining in which we each enter even more deeply into the other, body and soul.) Then, when the ceremony of embrace ends, we open again, and return to our separate identities, but enriched by the moment in which we were one together. Now and forever after, we are connected, and carry a little bit of the other in us.

And likewise the kiss is more than “just a kiss”; it is the eternal man and woman exchanging their sacred breath/spirit, רוּחַ (ruach) in Hebrew and πνευμα (pneuma) in Greek. As Plotinus would later put it in his Enneads, II:7, “All things depend on each other; as has been said, ‘Everything breathes together.’” And as the noncanonical Gospel of Philip (ca. 150 C.E.) would put it in years to come (logia 35, 59-60):

[Grace comes] from him, from the mouth, the place from which the Word came forth, to be nourished from the mouth and to become perfected. The perfect conceive and give birth by a kiss. This is why we also kiss each other, to receive conception from the grace that is in each other. …

And the companion of the [Anointed One] is Mariam the Magdalene. [The Lord] loved her more than the other disciples, and would kiss her often on her mouth. The other [women saw how much he loved Mariam], and say to him, “Why do you love her more than us?” The Savior answered and says to them, “Why do I not love you as (I do) her?

“Someone blind with someone who sees: if they are in darkness together, their differences do not matter. When the light is made to come, then the seeing one will see the light, and the blinded one shall remain in the darkness.”

The last is probably Jesus answering his own question (there are, of course, no quotation marks in the original): he loves Mary because she sees him, knows and understands him, where the other disciples are still blinded by their ignorance, represented by the darkness of night (John 20:9). Thus their kiss at the resurrection is an exchange of holy breath, of grace, of the living water that comes out of them both (John 4:14). For Philip, Jesus and Mary sharing a kiss is more than merely romantic. Jesus has said that those who believe in him must drink the Word that proceeds from his mouth, an image that brings to mind the “holy kiss” – a sacred exchange of breaths, hence of the πνευμα άγιον (the sacred breath/spirit), that was at that time central to several spiritual communities, including the Mystery Religions, the Gnostics, and probably the Essenes. Logion 112 in the Gospel of Thomas reads: “Jesus said: ‘Whoever drinks from my mouth will become like me. And I too will become that person, and the hidden things will be revealed to him.’” That is to say, those who accept the Word that proceeds from Jesus’s mouth will become like him, speaking the same word. That person and Jesus will become one, a concept that Jesus explores in 17:21-23, no doubt in the sense that all individuals will realize they are a part of the All. Jesus and Mary become truly one in this scene, even more one than the disciples in the next few verses, when he breathes on them.