In Search of the Woman who Anoints Jesus
Who was the mysterious woman who anointed Jesus and why did she do it? The answer may surprise you.
If you were raised a Christian, no doubt you are familiar with the story of the woman who anoints Jesus as he reclines at dinner with his disciples. You might remember quite vividly how she bathed his feet with tears of contrition for her sins, wiped them dry with her long, beautiful hair and anointed them in fragrant oil. However, that is only one version of the story, and certainly not where it began.
The evolution of the story
The earliest version we have of this story is told in the Gospel of Mark, and it occurs only two days before the Last Supper.
While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head.
Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, ‘Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor.’ And they rebuked her harshly.
‘Leave her alone,’ said Jesus. ‘Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.’
Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them. They were delighted to hear this and promised to give him money. So he watched for an opportunity to hand him over. [Mark 14:3–11]
Matthew recounts basically the same story, [Matthew 26:6–16], though more succinctly, omitting the detail of the woman breaking the alabaster jar, specifying that those present were Jesus’ disciples and expanding somewhat on Judas’ betrayal.
Then one of the Twelve — the one called Judas Iscariot — went to the chief priests and asked, ‘What are you willing to give me if I deliver him over to you?’ So they counted out for him thirty pieces of silver. From then on Judas watched for an opportunity to hand him over. [Matthew 26:14–16]
Luke, however, makes profound changes to the story. Again, Jesus is reclining at dinner with a host called Simon, though he is more of a sceptic than a devotee, and while Jesus is not the only guest, it seems he is there without his disciples. On the other hand, Luke all but reverses the character of the woman, turning her from a blameless devotee to a sinful penitent, indeed a presumed prostitute. In doing so, Luke also changes how, where and why she anoints Jesus. Luke also sets the event much earlier in Jesus’ ministry, thus distancing it from Jesus’ passion and Judas’ betrayal,
When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, he went to the Pharisee’s house and reclined at the table. A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.
When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, ‘If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is — that she is a sinner.’
Jesus answered him, ‘Simon, I have something to tell you.’
‘Tell me, teacher,’ he said.
‘Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?’
Simon replied, ‘I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.’
‘You have judged correctly,’ Jesus said.
Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, ‘Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven — as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.’
Then Jesus said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’
The other guests began to say among themselves, ‘Who is this who even forgives sins?’
Jesus said to the woman, ‘Your faith has saved you; go in peace.’ [Luke 7:36–50]
While reverting in large part to Mark’s original story, the Gospel of John makes its own changes, taking elements from both variants in the Synoptic gospels, as well as from other stories. Following Mark and Matthew, the dinner is in Bethany. While in Mark, the incident takes place in the house of one Simon the Leper, who, though we have not seen him previously we can infer, was cured of leprosy by Jesus, John places it in the house of Lazarus whom Jesus raised from the dead. John also gives Lazarus two sisters, Mary and Martha, taken from Luke [10:38–42], where they entertain Jesus in their home, though there is no mention of their having a brother. (See also Jesus and the Naked Man)
At the same time, while identifying the hitherto unnamed woman as Lazarus’ sister Mary, John keeps a central element of Luke’s version.
It was the Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped His feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was sick. [John 11:2]
Tellingly, though the identification is made in the past tense, it comes well before the event, when Lazarus’ family is first introduced, thus demonstrating what many scholars have long argued: that the Gospel of John has been edited, rearranged and redacted by more than one hand, in this case by moving scenes around.
According to John, therefore:
Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honour. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, ‘Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.’ He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.
‘Leave her alone,’ Jesus replied. ‘It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.’ [John 12:1–8]
The historicity of the story
As we can see, there are three distinct versions of this story. In Mark and Matthew’s version we have an unnamed woman who, for no known reason, anoints Jesus on the head, an act one might interpret as an act of veneration. In Luke, the woman, still unnamed but characterised as a sinner, bathes Jesus’ feet in an act of humility and contrition. In John, the woman is named as Mary of Bethany, whom we know to be an ardent disciple of Jesus, and her act can be seen as one of devotion.
The lessons Jesus draws from the incidents also differ. In Mark, Matthew and John, Jesus teaches that devotion to him is more important than good works, such as charity, and accepts the woman’s gesture as preparation for his burial. In Luke, Jesus reads his host a lesson on forgiveness and hospitality.
While Luke places the story early in Jesus’ ministry, and with no repercussions, the incident does have major consequences in the other three gospels: Judas’ betrayal of Jesus. (Strangely though, it is as if the evangelists are wary of making a direct connection between the two events. While, in the text, Judas’ betrayal comes soon or immediately after the anointing, the syntax does not actually specify cause and effect.)
Biblical scholars have, of course, given great consideration to this story, and drawn from it a long list of lessons on Christian virtues. Meanwhile, they acknowledge that the gospel writers made deliberate changes to the story and propose that they did so to highlight different theological themes, to convey an evolving understanding of Jesus, and to appeal to different audiences. Yet, all the while, these scholars cling to their belief that somehow, despite all those variants, beneath all that literary invention, there must be a real event, an actual historical core.
So, let us look at Mark’s version of the story, which, being the earliest, must be the closest to that assumed historical event.
In his book, On the Historicity of Jesus, Richard Carrier observes that there might be some symbolic or allegorical meaning to the story, but:
The event is historically implausible in every way: no random stranger would have anointed Jesus for burial days before his death (a death no one, according to Mark, was even expecting). And they certainly would not be carrying around an $18,000 [according to Carrier’s calculation] pot of oil, much less smash it over someone’s head…a wholly pointless and wasteful thing to do…Mark simply doesn’t explain why this was done with an alabaster jar, why it was ‘pure nard oil’ that had to be used, why this woman isn’t given a name yet is supposed to be eternally remembered… And, of course, she is never mentioned again. She is a literary device, not a person with a history.
Carrier is also bemused about Jesus’ reaction to the woman’s gesture and why he does not get the point that it is a great waste of money.
To my mind, perhaps the most ludicrous aspect of this story is the reaction of the other guests (who, we can assume, include Jesus’ disciples). Are they indignant when a woman crashes their all-male dinner party? Are they horrified when, as it must have looked in the moment, a stranger attempts to assault Jesus? Are they aghast when Jesus predicts his own death? None of these. Instead, they are angry about how this woman, whom they have never met, chooses to spend her own money. Furthermore, we are led to believe that Judas Iscariot is so annoyed that Jesus disagrees with them on this point that it is motivation enough to betray him to his executioners.
It is not only modern-day religious sceptics who have seen the flaws in this story. We can infer from the changes made to it in the subsequent gospels, that the evangelists also saw a problem.
While Matthew follows Mark’s version of the story, he does so in a more succinct and subdued way, as though he is trying to play down a story he finds a little baffling. Luke obviously saw the extent of the problem and so, to make it make sense, turned the story on its head, changing almost every aspect, so that little is left of the original apart from an unnamed woman and an alabaster jar of perfumed oil. John, on the other hand, tries to rescue Mark’s story by giving the woman a name and motivation.
Regrettably, John’s version of the story, in which Mary anoints Jesus’ feet and wipes them with her hair, as does the sinful woman in Luke’s version, has had the unintended consequence of tainting Mary of Bethany’s reputation ever since, as I shall discuss in the second part of this study.
The meaning of the story
This is not the first time I have explored incidents in the Gospel of Mark that raise perplexing questions. In INRI: Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews? — Part 2 I asked: Why was Jesus crucified for claiming to be King of the Jews, a claim he never made? In Envoy or Rival? The Christian Appropriation of John the Baptist I asked: Why did the sinless son of God need to be baptised for the forgiveness of his sins, and by a mere mortal at that? In both cases I proposed that these incidents suggest that Mark based his gospel on an earlier gospel, one with a different concept of Jesus, a gospel Mark rewrote to reframe Jesus in the proto-orthodox Christian mould. Could this be the case here as well?
Let us look at the core of this story. A woman pours precious oil over Jesus’ head in front of witnesses, one of whom betrays Jesus to the authorities. Why would one pour oil on a person’s head? Anointing on the head is usually reserved for kings, particularly in the coronation ceremony. As a symbolic gesture, it dates back to ancient times and signifies the monarch’s divine right to rule. Could this act have been a public declaration of his followers’ claim that Jesus was the legitimate King of the Jews? Was this why Jesus, or someone else, declared that the woman’s act would be remembered for all time? Was this why one of the witnesses reported Jesus to the authorities? Did this act lead directly to Jesus’ arrest and execution?
Such an interpretation of the story would certainly make more sense.
As I have proposed elsewhere (see INRI: Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews? — Part 2) this earlier gospel was likely set during the reign of King Alexander Jannaeus (103–76BCE). Unlike Jesus, Alexander Jannaeus was not of the Davidic line, so his right to reign was challenged by his opponents. In such a situation, it is certainly plausible that among those opponents there might be followers of one Jesus, son of David, rightful King of the Jews and Messiah. Such a public gesture would certainly pose a threat to Alexander Jannaeus and lead directly to his rival’s swift execution.
However, as plausible as this story might be, there is no evidence of any such rival claimant to Alexander Jannaeus’ throne, so even if this earlier gospel did exist, it too would be fictitious. Nor is there much more evidence of this earlier gospel than the remnants left behind in Mark’s gospel. Any such evidence has been suppressed and lost through the ages, leaving us with little more to go on than speculation.
© Pauline Montagna 2025
Read more reflections on Christ Mythicism
References
Dr Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt, Sheffield Phoenix Press (2014)
