Finally, in 1955, after twelve years of labor and countless revisions, the first printed edition of the Gospel of Mary was released, and much later, in 1983, yet another Greek fragment (Papyrus Oxyrhynchus 3525) was discovered, further strengthening the Gospel of Mary’s historical credibility. Why Does It Matter?
Here’s the remarkable thing: we now have fragments of three separate copies of the Gospel of Mary, two in Greek from the early third century and one in Coptic from the fifth century. This level of preservation for an early Christian text is rare. Most ancient works survived only if they were meticulously recopied over the centuries. Yet, the Gospel of Mary, by contrast, seems to have been suppressed, neglected and physically mutilated before finally emerging from the shadows. Thanks to serendipity, determination and a large amount of luck, this Gospel—fragmentary as it is—has, at last, re-emerged.
What it offers us is a unique glimpse into early Christian thought and reminds us of the countless other stories and teachings that may lie hidden, waiting to be discovered. Gnostic or Not? So, is the Gospel of Mary a “Gnostic” text? Well, that’s a question scholars are still kicking around. The heart of the debate lies in whether so-called “Gnostic” texts really share enough of a unified worldview to even justify the label. After all, we’re talking about a pretty diverse collection of writings here. Can one word really cover it all? Some Gnostic texts do make a clear distinction between the earthly Jesus and some heavenly redeemer figure. But the Gospel of Mary doesn’t play that game. For instance, when the disciples mention how the Savior wasn’t spared from suffering, that shows us they believed Jesus genuinely suffered and died—and they were terrified the same fate might await them.
In other words, there’s no sign of that docetic Christology you might expect in a truly Gnostic text. The Gospel of Mary sticks to a flesh-and-blood Savior who truly lived and died. Interestingly, most scholars no longer lump texts like the Gospel of Thomas, the Dialogue of the Savior, and the Gospel of Mary into the Gnostic bucket. While they might share some overlapping ideas with Gnosticism or even Platonism—like the notion of the soul’s ultimate return to the realm of light—they don’t embrace one of Gnosticism’s hallmark ideas which is the idea that an “evil demiurge” created the material world. That’s completely absent here. Another interesting twist is that scholars like Esther A. De Boer and Elizabeth Schrader Polczer argue that the Gospel of Mary leans more toward Stoic philosophy than Gnostic thought.
So, maybe it’s time to rethink how we classify this fascinating text. As Harvard theologian Karen L. King asserts, “I never call the Gospel of Mary a Gnostic text because there was no such thing as Gnosticism.”1 A Composite Text? Some scholars have wondered if the Gospel of Mary is really more like a patchwork quilt, stitched together from different pieces rather than a single cohesive text. Scholars like Jean Puech certainly lean toward the former. In his contribution to Hennecke’s New Testament Apocrypha, he suggests that the Gospel of Mary might actually be made up of two smaller, independent writings, that were later merged.
Here’s his reasoning: At the end of the first part of the Gospel, Mary Magdalene steps into the narrative. Her presence seems designed to lift the disciples out of their fear and despair. But there’s a noticeable shift in the second section where Mary takes center stage, playing a dominant role. Compare that to the first part, where she’s more of a background character—barely making an impression—and one wonders if we’re dealing with two different authors. Puech argues that the title “Gospel of Mary” really only fits the second part of the text. That’s the section where Mary’s voice shines, inspiring and leading the disciples. As for the first part? It might belong to a different story altogether. What we have now, according to Puech, is an Apocryphon that’s been pieced together—artificially united to form what we call the Gospel of Mary today.2
Scholars like Barrie Wilson seem to agree with Puech’s theory.
Wilson points out a fascinating detail about the section sandwiched between two longer sections—the dialogue between the Savior and the disciples and Mary’s vision. What’s interesting is that while the middle section has a significant concentration of New Testament references, the two longer sections show almost no clear Christian influence. Wilson’s conclusion is that these two longer sections might have originally been independent, possibly even non-Christian in origin, and were later merged into a single text by a Christian editor.
Scholar Anne Pasquier takes this idea a step further when she focuses on the shifting roles of Peter in the text. In the earlier part of the story, Peter’s attitude toward Mary is refreshingly positive. He calls her “sister” and even acknowledges her special connection with the Savior: “We know that the Savior loved you more than the rest of women.” He even encourages her to share her vision, giving her a platform to speak.
But, fast-forward to the end of the text and suddenly, Peter’s tone takes a 180-degree turn. He’s questioning Mary’s revelation, even wondering if the Savior could really have spoken to her privately and without others present. Pasquier argues that Mary’s vision and the positive portrayal of Peter inviting her to recount it might have been added later, inserted into the text to tie things together. Here’s where things get even more interesting: Not everyone agrees with Wilson and Pasquier.
Some scholars—both old and new—argue that the Gospel of Mary makes perfect sense as it stands. They believe there’s no need to assume it was pieced together from separate sources. So, is the Gospel of Mary a carefully curated quilt of stories, or is it a seamless garment that’s been misunderstood? Either way, exploring these questions gives us a deeper appreciation for the complexity and history of this remarkable text.
Magdalene Defined Most references to Mary in the New Testament Gospels refer to her as “Mary of Magdala” which suggests that she was from the town of Magdala. However, it might surprise you to learn that, not only is there no mention of any town called Magdala in any of the New Testament texts, there is also no evidence that the place now called Magdala was called that at the time of Christ. In fact, it wasn’t until the sixth century that references to the town of Magdala started to appear. There were several places with Migdal (tower) in the name, but none of them were compelling as a place of origin for Mary Magdalene. So, what’s going on? Why do some New Testament Gospels identify Mary as being from Magdala? Perhaps it could be that what was originally being communicated wasn’t the name of the town where Mary was born, but the title given to Mary as the result of her prominence in the early Church. The Hebrew word Midgal means “tower” and there is some speculation that the term “migdal” was later confused as a reference to a town called “Migdal" (or “Magdala”) rather than as a title for Mary, “The Tower,” in much the same way that Peter was called “The Rock.” So, it’s quite likely that Mary Migdal is a reference to Mary, the Tower, and not to the town of Magdala which, as far as anyone can see, didn’t exist until around the sixth century, and was probably named such because of the mistaken reference in the Gospels to Mary the Magdalene, or Mary from the town of Magdala.
Here’s what scholars Elizabeth Schrader and Joan E. Taylor have said on this question: “While it is common today to refer to Jesus’s disciple Mary Magdalene as Mary ‘of Magdala’—with Magdala identified as a Galilean city named Tarichaea—what do our earliest Christian sources actually indicate about the meaning of this woman’s name? Examination of the Gospel of Luke, Origen, Eusebius, Macarius Magnes, and Jerome, as well as evidence in hagiography, pilgrimage, and diverse literature, reveals multiple ways that the epithet ‘Magdalene’ can be understood. While Mary sometimes was believed to come from a place called “Magdala’ or ‘Magdalene,’ the assumption was that it was a small and obscure village, its location unspecified or unknown. Given the widespread understanding that Mary Magdalene was the sister of Martha, it could even be equated with Bethany. However, Jerome thought that the epithet was a reward for Mary’s faith and actions, not something indicative of provenance: Mary ‘of the Tower.’ No early Christian author identifies a city (Tarichaea) called ‘Magdala’ by the Sea of Galilee, even when they knew the area well. A pilgrim site on ancient ruins, established as ‘Magdala’ by the mid-sixth century, was visited by Christians at least into the fourteenth century, and thus the name is remembered today. In view of the earlier evidence of Origen and Jerome, however, the term ‘Magdala’ may be based on an underlying Aramaic word meaning ‘the magnified one’ or ‘tower-ess,’ and is therefore best left untranslated.” 3 As we’re about to see, this isn’t the only clue that Mary Magdalene’s prominence was aggressively downgraded by some Christian leaders over the centuries in an attempt to rewrite the history of her importance in the early Church. That’s what we’ll talk about in our next chapter.
REDISCOVERING MARY MAGDALENE A Scholar's Journey to Uncovering the Truth
Imagine being a musician who stumbles upon a mystery hidden in the text of the Gospel of John—a mystery so profound that it could rewrite our understanding of Mary Magdalene’s role in early Christianity. That’s exactly what happened to Elizabeth Schrader, a singer-songwriter turned biblical scholar. Schrader’s journey began in the most unexpected way. While living in New York and frequenting a Catholic church with a garden dedicated to the Virgin Mary, she had a profound moment of inspiration as the phrase, “Maybe you should talk to Mary Magdalene about that,” popped into her head while praying.
Inspired by this, she penned a song about Mary Magdalene, not realizing it would change the course of her life forever. Curiosity about Mary Magdalene led her to the Brooklyn Public Library, where she began studying all that she could about this mysterious woman. What started as an effort to better understand the subject of her song turned into an obsession that propelled her into the world of biblical scholarship. “It was like falling down the world’s deepest rabbit hole,”1 she said. Soon, she was poring over ancient manuscripts, diving into textual criticism, and asking bold questions. The Mystery of Martha’s Addition
In her quest to find answers about the life and character of Mary Magdalene, she turned to Papyrus 66, one of the oldest substantial copies of the Gospel of John, dating back to around 200 CE. What she found was shocking: in John, chapter 11, where the story of Lazarus unfolds, the text showed clear signs of alteration. Mary’s name had been crossed out and replaced with Martha in several key verses. Even the verbs were altered to change singular references to plural, suggesting the addition of a second sister. “It looked like someone had split one woman into two,” Schrader explained.2
In fact, the changes were so awkward and clumsy that they hinted at an editor grappling with conflicting source texts. Scholars had noticed these edits as far back as the 1960s, but no one had delved deeply into their implications. Elizabeth decided to change that.
A Competitive Hypothesis Elizabeth’s research uncovered a plausible hypothesis: originally, the Gospel of John might have featured just two siblings—Lazarus and Mary—with Mary playing a prominent role. “There’s no reason to think Martha from Luke’s Gospel has anything to do with this story,” she argued.3 After all, Luke’s Martha and Mary live in a different location, lack a brother, and appear in a completely unrelated context. What’s more, early church fathers like Tertullian and Hippolytus seemed to remember a version of John’s Gospel where Mary—not Martha—was the central figure.
This Mary was the one who made a pivotal confession of Jesus as the Christ, a role similar to Peter’s confession in Matthew’s Gospel. Yet, over time, Martha appears to have been added to the text, diluting Mary’s prominence. Why Was Mary Magdalene Erased? So why would anyone tamper with Mary’s role?
Elizabeth points to a potential power struggle in early Christianity. “The Gospel of John makes deliberate parallels between Mary’s role in raising Lazarus and her encounter with Jesus at the empty tomb,” she said. “It suggests that Mary Magdalene could have been as central to the movement as Peter.”4
However, this posed a problem for a patriarchal church structure that favored Peter’s authority. Adding Martha served a purpose.
It diminished Mary’s unique role by spreading her actions across multiple characters. Suddenly, the confession of Jesus as the Christ belonged to a minor character, not the woman who stood at the cross, visited the empty tomb, and received the first apostolic commission from the risen Christ.
Bringing the Research to Light Schrader’s groundbreaking work didn’t stop with her discoveries in Papyrus 66. She broadened her research to include over a hundred manuscripts and found similar patterns. Her findings culminated in a peer-reviewed article published in the Harvard Theological Review, an achievement that shocked even her. “I was just a songwriter,” she said. “Now I’m presenting my work to the top biblical scholars in the world.”5
Today, her work has sparked conversations about the need for diversity in biblical scholarship. “If everyone studying these texts comes from the same background, we’re bound to miss things,” she noted.6
Her fresh perspective as a woman and a layperson allowed her to ask questions others hadn’t...
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