The Jesus Discovery

by James D. Tabor

  These are the sorts of anomalies that archaeologists look for. It is when we find the unexpected that we are able to advance and broaden our understanding of the culture and its diverse population. Most experts in the field see the followers of Jesus as Jews living like other Jews, and therefore leaving nothing behind that is distinctive or identifiable in the archaeological record. This might be true when it comes to food and drink, clothing, houses and ceramics, ritual baths, and most items of daily life, but we should not assume it is true in the case of burying the dead. Jesus’ first followers were thoroughly Jewish, but they believed in a resurrection faith centered in their crucified Messiah that we should not assume went unmarked.

  The Patio tomb seems to be Exhibit A in that regard. The two tombs mutually interpret one another. Taken in isolation each has its own fascinating tale, its anomalies to consider. Taken together we believe they tell a compelling and moving story, one of the most dramatic in history, of the tragic murder of Jesus, his burial and that of his family, and the developing resurrection faith of those who followed him. It is not hard or even overly speculative for us, to posit that the Talpiot tombs are a tiny but amazing glimpse into the life of Joseph of Arimathea, who makes his entrance and exit in the New Testament on a single page of the text.

  We now turn to what is perhaps one of the most significant and far-reaching implications of these tombs, and particularly the Jesus family tomb: the question of whether Jesus was married and had a child. If the Talpiot tomb is indeed that of Jesus of Nazareth, it has already answered our question in the affirmative. But what else can be known or said about this subject that might help us understand what we find in the tomb?

  CHAPTER FIVE

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  JESUS AND MARY MAGDALENE

  Is it possible that Jesus was married? And that he could have fathered a child? These ideas so directly contradict our received tradition that they are hard to believe. Furthermore, there have been such sensational claims in the past, particularly in The Da Vinci Code, that it is important to be skeptical and to base any conclusions on solid evidence. It is for this reason that in his book The Jesus Dynasty, James said that he did not believe there was sufficient evidence to argue that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene and that they had had a child. But to be a scholar is to remain open to new data and new interpretations and to be always willing to change one’s position. Based on new evidence, James now believes that his earlier position was wrong.

  The New Testament says nothing directly about Jesus being married or having a child. If Jesus had been married with a child would there not be some record, some hint somewhere in the gospels? There are times when the silence of a text speaks volumes. We are now convinced that the authors of the New Testament, written many decades after Jesus’ life, were either unaware of Jesus’ wife and child, or more likely, for theological reasons, decided to suppress this information. The Jesus of these gospels was the divine Son of God, ascended to heaven, and any “earthly,” or sexual, ties to a mortal woman may well have been deemed inconceivable. His exalted heavenly status as the Son of God surely precluded him “leaving behind” such mortal remains. The New Testament gospels are male-dominated accounts in which the few women who do play a role in Jesus’ life are marginalized and subordinated. They purportedly did not hold leadership roles equivalent to the male disciples. But the gospels are not devoid of references to Mary Magdalene’s singular importance in Jesus’ life. To the contrary, Mary Magdalene, along with Jesus’ mother and his sister, prepared Jesus’ naked corpse for burial, and she was the first witness to his resurrection from the dead. These stories show how central she must have been in his life. It is as though she could not be written out of the story—but her relatively isolated inclusion in such intimate and important ways hints at a larger role.

  This silence, as we will see, is in sharp contrast to half a dozen other ancient texts that have been discovered in the last hundred years, including several “lost” gospels that are not included in the New Testament. In these texts, Mary Magdalene is mentioned very prominently, given a role superior to that of the twelve apostles, and presented as Jesus’ intimate companion. These texts were written later than the New Testament gospels—most of them dating to the 2nd century CE—yet they bear witness nonetheless to an alternative role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus’ life. As such they give voice to a suppressed history and a muted memory that correlates strongly with the evidence in the Talpiot tombs.

  As mentioned earlier, the fact that the Talpiot tomb contains two ossuaries inscribed with names of women—Maria on one and Mariamene Mara on the second—plus a third ossuary Judah son of Jesus, strongly suggests that one of these two Marys is most likely the mother of the son, and thus the wife of the Jesus buried in this tomb. The DNA evidence, as we will see in chapter seven, shows that Mariamene Mara is not Jesus’ mother and most likely is the mother of the son.

  Jesus of Nazareth had a mother named Mary, and apparently one of his sisters was also named Mary.1 If Jesus’ sister Mary were married, which seems likely given the norms of the culture, she would not be in his tomb but in the tomb of her husband. If the Talpiot tomb is that of Jesus and his family, the second Mary—Maria—is most likely his mother, unless she lived past 70 CE, which is very unlikely. Alternatively, the second Mary could perhaps be a wife of one of his brothers. That leaves Mariamene Mara as the most likely candidate to be the mother of his child. Based on the history that we can reconstruct as well as the linguistic fit of the name, Mary Magdalene is really the only viable candidate for that inscription in this tomb.

  There is the related issue of the status of Mary Magdalene. The Mariamene buried in the Jesus family tomb is also known as Mara—the Lady, as we have seen. This title can potentially refer to her place of leadership and authority in the emerging Christian movement, a role that is hinted at by the evidence in the Talpiot tomb but never explicitly indicated in any of our sparse New Testament texts mentioning Mary Magdalene.

  When we consider all the relevant ancient textual evidence regarding Mary Magdalene, both inside and outside the New Testament, with the new archaeological evidence from the Talpiot tombs, we find that there is an impressive correlation between much of this textual material and what we observe in the tombs.

  MARY MAGDALENE IN THE NEW TESTAMENT GOSPELS

  We begin with our earliest source on Mary Magdalene—the gospel of Mark, which, as we have said, most scholars consider to have been written before Matthew, Luke, or John. According to the gospels, Mary Magdalene is undoubtedly the most mysterious and intriguing woman in Jesus’ life. She appears for the first time out of nowhere, without any introduction, watching the crucifixion of Jesus from afar. She is named first, surely giving her special priority, and she is associated with an entire group—one might even say, an entourage of women who had followed Jesus down from Galilee to Jerusalem just before the Passover festival began:

  There were also women looking on from afar, among whom were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and Joses, and Salome, who, when he was in Galilee, followed him, and ministered to him; and also many other women who came up with him to Jerusalem. (Mark 15:40–41).

  Luke supplements this tradition of Mark, also emphasizing the many women from Galilee who were followers of Jesus. He names Mary Magdalene first, implying she has some kind of leadership role, but then identifies two others: a certain Joanna, who is the wife of Chuza, a household administrator in the court of Herod Antipas, king of Galilee; and Susanna, otherwise unknown. The implication is that these women are of high standing with financial means. Luke specifies that they provided for the Jesus movement (Luke 8:2–3).

  In Mark’s gospel it is Mary Magdalene, along with the other Mary, the mother of Joses, and presumably, although not mentioned, the mother of Jesus, who observes Joseph of Arimathea taking down the bloodied body from the cross, placing him temporarily in a nearby tomb, and sealing the entrance with a heavy stone, until the Passover was over (M
ark 15:47).2 As soon as the Sabbath day was over Mary Magdalene, accompanied by the other Mary and an unidentified woman named Salome, possibly Jesus’ sister, bought spices so they might return to the tomb early Sunday morning to wash the corpse and complete the rites of burial. Mark relates that early on Sunday morning, the three women go to the tomb before the sun is risen, and find the stone rolled away and the body removed. Inside the tomb is a young man dressed in a white linen garment who informs the women that Jesus has been “raised up,” that they are to go and tell his male disciples, and that he is going to meet them in Galilee (Mark 16:1–7).3 According to Mark they flee from the tomb in fear and astonishment, saying nothing to anyone. In our oldest copies of Mark that is how the story ends—abruptly and mysteriously, with the promise to the women that Jesus will appear in Galilee in the future. The oldest copies of Mark have this abrupt ending with no “sightings” or appearances of Jesus to anyone. Later manuscripts or copies of Mark add one of three different alternative endings, composed by scribes to try to blunt the abruptness of Mark’s original ending. They feared that Mark’s account, if left as is, might leave doubt as to Jesus’ resurrection.4

  Washing and anointing a corpse for Jewish burial was an honored and intimate task. The body was stripped naked and washed from head to toe. This ritual was performed by the immediate family or those closely related. Although these narratives from Mark do not identify Mary Magdalene as the wife of Jesus, they cast her taking the lead in carrying out the burial rites for Jesus—an intimate task for a wife, mother, or sister. Matthew and Luke have Mark as their source, and although they relate the story of Jesus’ burial slightly differently, they seem not to have independent information. It is also entirely possible, writing so many decades after the events, when all of the original witnesses were dead, that they know the tradition of Mary Magdalene’s involvement in Jesus’ burial and thus find it essential to include her, but have no idea who she was or why she was so prominent in the story they had been told.

  In the gospel of John we seem to get an alternative narrative tradition, independent of Mark. John writes that Mary Magdalene comes alone to the tomb very early Sunday morning, while it is still dark. She sees the stone rolled away from the tomb and the body removed and she runs in panic to tell Peter and an unnamed disciple, otherwise identified as the “one whom Jesus loved” (John 20:2). What she exclaims to the men is most revealing: “They have taken the Master out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him” (John 20:2).5 In this account Mary Magdalene’s logical assumption is that the body has been removed from the temporary tomb, which John has already emphasized was a tomb of convenience in an emergency, not a permanent burial cave (John 19:41–42). “They” refers to Joseph of Arimathea, assisted by another Sanhedrin member, Nicodemus, who John says assisted in the initial removal of the body from the cross.

  What happens next is a story unique to John. Mary Magdalene returns to the empty tomb, weeping outside, then enters the tomb for the first time to look inside. She sees two angels dressed in white sitting inside. The Greek word translated “angel” (aggelos) can refer to a “messenger” and does not necessarily mean a nonterrestrial being. These two ask her why she is weeping. She repeats her take of the situation—“Because they have taken away my Master, and I do not know where they have laid him” (John 20:13). Just as she replies she turns and sees a man outside the tomb that she takes to be the gardener. He asks her the same question: “Woman, why are you weeping, whom do you seek?” She replies, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have taken him, and I will take him away” (John 20:15). The man then addresses her by name—calling her Miriam, in the original Greek text, using the Hebrew form of her name. She apparently recognizes the voice and turns to face him, crying out in Hebrew, Rabboni—a diminutive term of endearment meaning “my dear Master.” She recognizes it is Jesus but he tells her not to touch him, adding that he is ascending to heaven (John 20:16–17). For a woman to touch a man in this culture further implies a familial connection. Mary Magdalene returns to the male disciples and tells them what she has seen.

  This remarkable story presents Mary Magdalene as the first witness to Jesus’ resurrection. Unlike Mark, who has no appearances of Jesus following the empty tomb, or Matthew, who has Jesus encountering the eleven remaining apostles on a misty mountain in Galilee much later, or Luke, who relates that Jesus appeared physically to the disciples in a closed room, showing his wounds and eating a meal in front of them, John’s story of Mary Magdalene’s encounter stands in sharp contrast. John includes in his gospel additional appearances of Jesus to groups of men, but he alone preserves this Magdalene tradition.

  Professor Jane Schaberg and others have interpreted this singular experience of Mary Magdalene as forming the core of the resurrection faith of Jesus’ first followers.6 It is a personal encounter prompted by an exchange of greetings—Miriam and Rabboni—as if those words signaled a flash of recognition based on personal intimacy. If one asks who can lay claim to the first appearance of Jesus after his death, John’s story offers a clear answer—it was Mary Magdalene. Matthew knows a garbled version of the story in which the group of women encounter Jesus as they flee from the tomb, but without John’s personal exchange between Mary and Jesus (Matthew 28:9–10). In Matthew’s story the women are mere vehicles who carry the news to the male disciples, not independent witnesses whose testimony is valued. Jesus commissions the eleven remaining apostles, and the women are nowhere to be seen (Matthew 28:16–20).

  Paul, who wrote in the 50s CE, just twenty years removed from the crucifixion, says explicitly that Jesus appeared first to Peter, then to the twelve apostles, then to James, and finally to five hundred brothers en mass (1 Corinthians 15:5). He either knows nothing of the Magdalene tradition, or given his view of women, considers it without merit. This was after all a time in ancient history when a woman’s testimony in court did not carry the same weight as that of a man. Even in Luke the initial testimony of the women who first visited the tomb is dismissed as an “idle tale” (Luke 24:11). In a male-dominated movement how could a hysterical woman, weeping at a tomb, provide any kind of credible testimony?

  There is evidence of criticism leveled against the developing Christian movement from the late 2nd century CE because of the involvement of women. Celsus, a pagan philosopher who wrote an attack of the Christians called True Doctrine around 178 CE, says:

  Jesus went about with his disciples collecting their livelihood in a shameful and importunate way . . . For in the gospels certain women who had been healed from their ailments, among whom was Suzanna, provided the disciples with meals out of their own substance.7

  Celsus does not specifically name Mary Magdalene but seems to have her in mind:

  While he was alive he did not help himself, but after death he rose again and showed the marks of his punishment and how his hands had been pierced. But who saw this? A hysterical female, as you say, and perhaps some other one of those (women) who were deluded by the same sorcery, who either dreamt in a certain state of mind and through wishful thinking had a hallucination due to some mistaken notion (an experience which has happened to thousands), or, which is more likely, wanted to impress others by telling this fantastic tale, and so by this cock-and-bull story to provide a change for other beggars.”8

  Further on in the same narrative Celsus charges that Jesus “appeared secretly to just one woman and to those of his own confraternity.”9 This is without a doubt an accusation based on his reading of the account in the gospel of John. There is evidence that a number of other pagan writers were critical of the female initiative that apparently was central to Christianity’s development.10

  Is there any likely historical truth to the notion that the faith in Jesus’ resurrection began with this entourage of women led by Mary Magdalene? Schaberg has argued that this singular account in John 20:1–18, where Mary Magdalene encounters and speaks to Jesus in the garden tomb, preserves fragments of a tradition of Ma
ry Magdalene as successor to Jesus—and thus “first founder” of Christianity, in the sense of authoritative witness to resurrection faith. Schaberg shows that the narrative structure of John 20 reflects an imaginative reuse of 2 Kings 2:1–18, where Elijah the prophet ascends to heaven, leaving his disciple Elisha as his designated witness and successor. This intimate personal appearance to Mary Magdalene, which focuses on an ascent to heaven rather than resurrection of the dead per se, stands in sharp contrast to the other formulations in the gospels that present indirect angelic encounters to a group of women. Upon this foundation Schaberg offers a preliminary sketch of what she rather boldly labels “Magdalene Christianity,” both suppressed and lost in the New Testament gospel tradition, and particularly in Acts, much as the history of James the brother of Jesus and the Jerusalem community from 30 to 50 CE has been suppressed.

  The notion of apostolic authority in early Christianity depended most of all on one’s being a witness to Jesus’ resurrection and receiving a commission.11 Paul, for example, bases his own late addition to the apostolic roster upon his visionary experience of Jesus several years after he had been crucified: “Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God” (1 Corinthians 15:8–9). One should not take this modesty on the part of Paul as any indication that he thought he was in the least bit inferior to the apostles who were before him. He says of the other apostles: “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God, which is with me” (1 Corinthians 15:10). Apparently Paul did receive challenges to his rights to be called an apostle. Against such charges he adamantly defended himself, insisting that his apostleship was based squarely on his experience of having “seen Jesus our Lord” (1 Corinthians 9:1). Apostleship was not, in his view, something that was passed on from men, but was given by a “revelation of Jesus Christ” (Galatians 1:12, 16). But according to the book of Acts the main criterion in deciding who would replace Judas Iscariot as the twelfth apostle after he had betrayed Jesus and then killed himself was that the one chosen had been with Jesus in his lifetime and was a “witness to his resurrection” (Acts 1:21–22).