The Myrrh-bearing Women

I remember the first time I heard the phrase, “the myrrh-bearing women”—Who are these women, I thought?

It was only later that I was to learn of their incredible importance in the life of Jesus. They were, the Gospel writers tell us, by His side during His years of ministry, with Him at the Cross when He was abandoned by His own disciples; and if this were not enough, were the first ones to whom the Risen Christ appeared on Easter Sunday morning. 

Eight women are explicitly identified in the Gospels: The four Mary’s—Mary Magdalene, Mary, the Mother of Jesus with her sister, Mary, the wife of Cleophas (Jn 19:25), Mary, the mother of James (Mt 27:55-56; Mk 15:40-41), and Mary of Bethany; to these were Martha (Mt 26:6-13; Lk 10:38-42), Salome, Joanna, wife of Chuza Herod’s steward, and, finally Susana (Lk 8:2-3, 24:10). Eight women who ministered unto our Lord, who themselves were transformed by the healing touch of the Savior. One out of whom was cast seven demons (Mk 16:9); one who performed a “ministry” act so incredible that it will be remembered for all time in literally every place (ἐν ὅλῳ τῷ κόσμῳ) where the Gospel is named (Mt 26:13; Mk 14:9).

What was this act recorded in all four Gospels? And who was this woman for whom there will be a continual memorial (μνημόσυνον) for all ages?

All that is said of her is that she was a “sinner” (ἥτις ἦν ἁμαρτωλός, Lk 7:37, 39). She was despised and maligned by the religious leaders, labeled by the disciples as a wastrel (Εἰς τί ἡ ἀπώλεια αὕτη?), and, we might add, judged as someone who didn’t understand the first thing about “real ministry” (Mt 26:8-9; Mk 14:4-5). Yet what she does shows such a profound degree of theological insight into the mystery of the Incarnation, Life and Death of the God-Man that Jesus Himself says of her,

“Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her.” (Mt 26:13).

Two millennia later, after the destruction of Jerusalem, the crumbling of the Roman empire, and the rise and fall of nations the world over, these words hold true. In every nook and cranny of our earth where the Gospel shines forth, the witness of this first century, despised, demonic woman still speaks. For her actions testify in a manner that nothing else can to the true nature of our Lord, as the one anointed Prophet (I Chron. 16:33), Priest (Ex. 29:7, 30:30, Lev 8:12, 21:10) and King (I Ki 16:1, 13)—the only one who in His very being, His Life, Suffering, Death and Resurrection, can truly take away the sins of the world by taking them out of Love from us and onto Himself. 

And so, this “sinful woman,” discerning that the only possible way in which her own sins can be truly forgiven required nothing less than the very death of the Messianic King, therefore pours the alabaster ointment on Christ’s head (Mt 26:7), anointing Him not only as the High Priest (Ex 29:7) but, moreover, as the atoning sacrifice for His people (Ex 29:10-14-> Heb 13:11-12). This she did, we might well remember, while being rebuked by Jesus’ “official” disciples, who were those that argued among themselves about who was the “greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven” (Mt 18:1-5; Mk 9:33-37; Lk 9:46-48); those called again and again by Jesus as those “of little faith” (Mt 8:26, 16:8, etc.); those who had the brazen confidence to even rebuke Jesus for prophesying to them of His own death (Mt 16:22; Mk 8:32); and, finally, those who when Peter and John return with the report that the body of Jesus was not in the tomb, then discount the myrrh-bearing women’s witness of the Risen Christ as being nothing more than “idle tales” which should not “be believed” (ὡσεὶ λῆρος τὰ ῥήματα αὐτῶν καὶ ἠπίστουν αὐταῖς, Lk 24:11).

All of this is written as simply an introduction with much, much more that could be said. I mention the myrrh-bearing women, however, to open up the wider conversation of the “place of women” in the Church. Though it’s probably poor form to insert a personal story, I will mention here the example of my father and mother. I do this because I believe that it offers a unique glance into this question of “women’s ministry.”

My father, a pastor and systematic theologian completed his PhD at the University of Edinburgh under Thomas F. Torrance, called by many to be the “one of the most significant English-speaking theologians of the 20th century” Many years earlier, Torrance had studied under Karl Barth and, after completion of his studies, was offered Barth’s chair of Theology at the University of Basel—probably the most prestigious theological position in the West at that time. Dr. Torrance, however, turned it down in order to take a position of relative anonymity as a country pastor in the highlands of Scotland. At the age of 40 (as we see so often from the biographical examples of the early Church), he was called back “out of the desert,” as it were, into a place of wider influence as the Professor of Systematic Theology at the University of Edinburgh. Sixteen years later my father and mother became his students.

They were both his students; and they both developed a particular kinship with Prof. Torrance, which would continue throughout their lives. Only recently did I find out something more—It was that TFT (as his students often called him) once said of my parents that my mother actually “had the better theological mind.” My father, however, is the one that would become heir to TFT as a professor of Systematic Theology at RTS; the one who possessed the rare combination of an essentially photographic memory together with a high-level work ethic that would enable massive productivity. And yet, according to Torrance, my mother had the “better theological mind.”

So, one would have to ask what became of my mother’s “better theological mind?” Well, I will tell you, but it won’t be what you expect (especially if you’re thinking of the more visible aspects of “women’s ministry”). She moved from Cambridge, England to a Faulkner-esque, that is to say, generationally-pathologically-dysfunctional, Southern town. She became pregnant literally on her wedding night and spent the next twelve years bearing children. Twelve years, which, she says, she literally doesn’t remember the details of because she was so exhausted. “I only remember that I had no idea what I was doing, that I was tired, and that there was never a break.”

And then there were the finances. My father came to RTS in 1983 with five children and a starting salary of twenty thousand dollars. As an academic, the financial responsibilities fell on my mother who was a bit more practical. So, figuring out the finances of clothing, feeding, and educating us was in large part “on her plate.” And I could go on, but I’ll leave it at that.

I mention all of these only to ask the question, Did she engage in “ministry” during this time? Did she lead women’s Bible studies, run “moms at home” groups, or do whatever else we in the evangelical world deem appropriate for women to do? 

I can summarily say, No.

But did she “minister” in the sense of διακονέω, which is to say, practically in the demands of real-life?

Did she, as it were, carry forward the vital realities of the ministry of the myrrh-bearing women in ways defined principally by deed not by mere word?

Well, in that regard, I can say absolutely—beyond a shadow of a doubt—Yes.

You may ask, How? 

I will point you to the opening chapter of Proverbs then bring it to a close.

Directly after the famous words defining the “beginning of knowledge” as the “fear of the Lord,” Solomon writes in the very next verses,

“My son, hear the instruction (מוּסַר [mûsār]) of your father,

And forsake not the law (תּוֹרַת [torah]) of your mother:

For they shall be an ornament of grace unto your head,

And pendants about your neck.

I can say, I believe with honesty and confidence, that I was raised with the “instruction of my father” AND the “law of my mother.” Both together acted in unison. One didn’t displace the other; rather, each mutually informed and further revealed one other on deeper and deeper levels. And when I say “deeper” I include in that word the “practical” as well.

To this point, I very distinctly remember a sermon my father preached on a passage from Mk 9:30-37 over a decade ago. In the final section, he says the following, 

“If you’re going to change lives (or be available for God to change those lives, to put it properly), what it takes is not assertion of self and its rights...asserting my rights will drive off people...whereas denial of self in the company of Jesus draws them in.” 

Then he asks this pointed question,

“I wonder if that is why mothers have always had such massive influence?

“Why are mothers so universally, highly regarded? I’ve lived in many parts of the world and, everywhere I’ve been, probably the highest opinion is held of peoples’ mothers.”

Then his answer,

“I reckon it is because their self-denial enables the children to see Jesus Crucified and Risen.”

Let me give that again,

“I reckon it is because their self-denial enables the children to see Jesus Crucified and Risen.”

He then concludes with an explanation of the seeming paradox of self-denial and the “massive influence” that comes from it.

“That is why Jesus immediately says, ‘If any man desire to be first, the same shall be last of all, and servant of all...But if you and I want to turn others off, all we have to do is be self-important, and show them how superior we are.

But if we want to reach others for Christ’s Kingdom, put them first, self last, and seek to serve them. For it brings absolutely, supernatural results. It’s easy for me to preach something like that, but, I tell you this, the cost is very high of self-denial.”

And that is right—The cost is very high.

He knew this of my mother. All of her children knew it. Her impact on us for the Gospel, her “massive influence” in our family and beyond, came not through official positions in “approved” women’s ministries.

They came through the life of a “better theological mind” used in ways that were essentially hidden and without credit to, nonetheless, anoint the body of Christ in ways that nothing else could.