Her gifts belong to Jesus, not her husband
The 12 disciples wanted to use Mary of Bethany's treasure for their own ministry. 'Becoming the Pastor's Wife' shows how this can happen today.
As the fragrance filled the room that evening, the 12 disciples could have remained quiet around the table, taking in what was surely a once-in-a-lifetime experience. A treasure worth a year’s wages was being poured out on their Lord. So generous was this gift that they were caught up in it also, the aroma of nard swirling around them, rich and unforgettable. Mary of Bethany’s ministry was worth celebrating. Instead, the disciples complained.
I’ve long seen the story of Mary of Bethany as a kind of archetype for the tensions between men and women in the church. A woman seeking to minister to her Savior encounters opposition from men who claim to speak for Jesus.
But I recently discovered a connection to Mary that surprised me: the pastor’s wife.
I recently read Beth Allison Barr’s new book, “Becoming the Pastor’s Wife: How Marriage Replaced Ordination as a Woman’s Path to Ministry.” As the title promises, Barr shows how women served in ordained leadership roles up through the medieval era, and how developments in church politics and culture removed these opportunities.
In many churches today, hiring a male pastor is a “two-for-one” deal, as Barr calls it. It’s assumed that the pastor’s wife will volunteer her time in the church, supporting her husband and his ministry. She might play the piano, serve in the nursery, or do administrative work in the church office — but without an official title, paycheck, or authority.1
As Barr traced the history of this practice, I started to recognize a familiar pattern.
The “pastor’s wife” is what happens when men take a woman’s gifts to use for their own ministries. This is exactly what the disciples tried to do to Mary of Bethany.
They wanted ministry glory, not generosity
When the disciples objected to Mary’s gift, they said it should’ve been given to the poor instead. We might find ourselves sympathizing with them on this. After all, a year’s wages — $35,000 to $45,000 today2 — could do a lot of good.
But the men didn’t want Mary to do the charity work herself. What they really meant was that Mary should give her fortune to THEM to give to the poor. As John’s gospel points out, Judas envisioned the profits in the disciples’ shared money bag, where he could get his hands on it. (John 12:4-6)
The disciples wanted the power to decide what should happen with Mary’s gift. They didn’t think Mary should be able to make that choice herself. They also wanted the public credit for her offering, the enhanced reputation that would come from distributing a fortune to the poor.
Before we go on: Please don’t read my suggestions about the disciples’ motives as a claim that the men (then or now) had consciously evil intent. In a society where women were an inferior class, the men would simply assume their plans and opinions were more important than Mary’s and treat her accordingly.
Religious expectations and cultural power
Mary’s alabaster jar could’ve earned the disciples honor before God and men, according to both Jewish and Roman culture at that time.
Tzedakah, which can be translated “charity” or “justice,” was a central element of Jewish piety.3 Not only were the disciples expected to give to the poor according to the Torah, they were also in a time and place (the village of Bethany, just before Passover) that perhaps made them self-conscious about their own tzedakah — or lack thereof.4
Some scholars believe Jews had a custom of giving alms at Passover. In fact, when Judas leaves the meal to betray Jesus, the rest of the disciples assume he’s gone to distribute charity to the poor. (John 13:27-30) And the village of Bethany, whose name could be translated “House of the Poor,” may have been a village set aside for the needy and ritually unclean.
Surrounded by the needy, aware of God’s expectations and the attention of other observant Jews — who were keeping an eye on this particular Rabbi — the disciples saw Mary’s gift as a chance to practice tzedakah. Giving from their own shared purse might have cut into their living expenses. But if they took what belonged to Mary instead, it wouldn’t cost them a thing.
The disciples were probably also influenced by Roman customs.
In the highly stratified society of the Roman Empire, members of the higher classes maintained power by bestowing favors on the lower classes. “Patrons” gave financial contributions, legal protection, or social connections to lower status “clients,” who provided honor and services in return, such as exclusive access to their businesses.5
In this culture, no gift came without a string attached; every seemingly generous act was designed to benefit the giver.
While this system is associated with Greco-Roman culture, it’s evident from the New Testament that Jews adopted such practices. Indeed, the practice of giving for the sake of public recognition was common enough that Jesus addressed it in the Sermon on the Mount.6
Given these cultural contexts, it’s unlikely the disciples were really thinking of the poor that evening. As one writer points out, this is the only time in all the Gospels they express any concern for the needy.7 Instead, they saw an opportunity to “do good” in a very extravagant way. Handing out Mary’s fortune could’ve brought respect and admiration at the very least. After all, a year’s wages was the sort of donation that got your name chiseled into buildings.
Altruism wasn’t the reason the disciples opposed Mary’s ministry. Selfishness was. They wanted to take Mary’s gift for themselves, and then take credit for what they accomplished with it.
As I read “Becoming the Pastor’s Wife,” I saw how Mary’s story has played out over the history of the church. Again and again, the spiritual gifts of women have been diminished and absorbed into male-centered ministries. Women once ministered more freely, holding positions of authority independent of male clergy. But over the centuries — and you should read Barr’s book to see how, if you haven’t already! — the opportunities for women narrowed, leaving the role of “pastor’s wife” as the one of the most reliable paths to serve the church.
Today, in many denominations, a pastor is hired with the expectation that his wife will provide free volunteer labor to the church.
This was Barr’s experience during the years her husband spent as a pastor in the SBC. She organized groups for teen girls, helped her husband with administrative tasks, and more, all while she had her own career.
Barr, a historian and professor, points out that she’d never expect her husband to take notes in a staff meeting or prepare her syllabus, yet churches assumed a right to her unpaid labor: “I didn’t mind helping my husband; what I minded was feeling like my help was an expectation for his job.”
This expectation is widespread. Rather than acknowledging a woman’s unique gifts, churches expect her to direct them through the ministry of a man. Just as the disciples complained when Mary broke open her alabaster jar, churches today may question the faith commitment of a pastor’s wife who doesn’t give hours of her time to volunteer.
“She shouldn’t have wasted all that valuable nard!” has simply become, “Why isn’t she serving in the nursery?” or “Why is she working outside the home?”
Wasted gifts and lost identities
The disciples may have resented how Mary chose to serve, but it would’ve only been a “waste” if she let them take it. Imagine the alternate version: Mary, shamed, hands her nard over to the disciples. They sell it, stash the funds in their shared purse, then make a show of handing it out to the needy around Bethany. Mary’s gift, the act Jesus named as beautiful and worthy of remembering through history, never happens. We never get to read and imagine the moment when tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of perfume poured over Jesus’ head, testifying to his glory and to Mary’s love for him.
If the disciples had taken Mary’s generous gift for their own purposes? — that would have been the real waste.
Unfortunately, this is what happens to so many pastor’s wives. Consider this quote by Dorothy Patterson, wife of former Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary president Paige Patterson. She encourages the pastor’s wife to see herself as a “universal spare part” able to help him with any need:
Make your husband a priority in your life. … study your husband; learn all you can about his ministry; share at least some of his interests and pleasure. Be patient when you have to adapt the family schedule to the conditions of his ministry … if you have a career or lifestyle that hinders his ministry, be willing to adapt or even give up your own pursuits to be his helper” (quoted from “A Handbook for Minister’s Wives,” reprinted 2021)
Do you hear what she’s describing? The entirety of a woman’s life should be given to her husband.
This quote suggests that all the riches a woman possesses — her time, her emotional energy, her unique talents, her devotion to God — should not be poured out on her Savior. Rather, they should be sprinkled here and there, wherever it best suits her husband, through self-denial and suppression of her talents and desires.
That is truly a waste.
Not only does the pastor’s wife suffer the theft of her gifts, she can also have her identity erased. As her time and talents are taken into her husband’s ministry, she might fade into the background, remembered not for her unique voice and abilities, but for the role she played in his life.
Barr quotes from one pastor’s wife who experienced this:
“I used to be one of those ministers’ wives whose identity is bound up in her husband’s call. I proofread all of my spouse’s sermons, tagged along to his seminars, and poured his coffee at his board meetings. That fact that I had no time left over for myself was irrelevant. There was no self. There was only the minister and his shadow.”
Isn’t this sad? “There was no self.” To play the role of pastor’s wife, she felt she needed to erase who she was, to be that “universal spare part” instead of a woman with her own talents, voice, passions. Fortunately, this pastor’s wife was able to see the problem and find her way out, writing to help other women avoid the same pitfall.
Yet again, we can find a precedent for this in Mary’s story. When we read the gospel accounts carefully, we see the ways the male disciples tried to erase her. They push Mary aside, figuratively speaking, in order to center themselves and their own opinions about her.
They do this first by refusing to even name her. In every account of the story (Matthew 26, Mark 16, and John 12), the men complain about Mary without using her name. They talk to one another about the perfume and its value, never speaking directly to Mary (except in Mark’s version, where they scold her after they’ve finished discussing her amongst themselves).
The men’s words erase Mary from the scene. They are aware of her treasure and have quickly calculated how much they could get for it, but Mary herself is unworthy of their attention.
Becoming the “pastor’s wife” is another way women can be erased and reduced to what they contribute to men’s ministry.
The pastor’s wife might become her husband’s “shadow,” as described above. She might give up her career to become her husband’s helper, as Dorothy Patterson urged women to do. Or, as Barr described it, a pastor’s wife sets down her own gifts so she can “hold the ladder for her husband to climb.”
Another way the pastor’s wife might be erased is through a redefinition of her ministry. Barr cites numerous examples of women who served as missionaries or ordained ministers within the Southern Baptist Convention. The denomination received their gifts, but would not call them “pastors.” The SBC allowed these women to serve, but didn’t want to publicly honor them for it by naming their ministry for what it was — preaching and pastoring. This is all too similar to what the disciples would have done with Mary’s gift, if Jesus hadn’t intervened. They would’ve used her gift without naming and honoring her for it.
Jesus receives the ministry of women
Thankfully, Jesus DID step in. The three versions of the story differ in some details, but not this: Jesus defended Mary, and he welcomed her ministry.
“Leave her alone,” he tells his disciples. He praises Mary as he accepts her anointing, calling her gift noble, beautiful, worth remembering for all of history.8
If Jesus wanted women to be behind-the-scenes helpers, “universal spare parts” who serve to support men, he would’ve told Mary to hand the nard over to the disciples. We appreciate your passion; you can let the men handle it from here.
After all, that’s the assumption behind the practice of the two-for-one pastor’s wife — the man’s ministry is worth a title, a paycheck, and public honor, but the woman’s gifts don’t have value until they’re placed in male hands.
Mary of Bethany’s story is reflected in the story of each woman Barr writes about, echoed in the life of every pastor’s wife pushed to the shadows behind her husband, propping up his ministry with her treasure.
We’ve seen how women’s gifts are stolen when they’re forced to play “pastor’s wife” as a background role. But there’s something even worse happening in these scenarios. Men aren’t just taking something from women — they’re attempting to take from Jesus.
Mary owned that alabaster jar of nard. It was her treasure, and it was her choice to give it to her Lord. The honor of that gift was intended for Jesus alone.
When the disciples tried to claim the nard, they weren’t asking for Mary’s property — they were grasping after what belonged to Christ.
Mary’s gift was meant to give Jesus glory. But the disciples thought it should bring glory to their ministry instead. This should be a warning for any man who expects women to serve his ministry ambitions.
Jesus’ response in the gospels serves as a clear rebuke to this kind of thinking.
“Leave her alone!” he told the men. Mary wants to give her gift to me. It’s not for you, and you don’t get to decide what to do with it.
If the disciples were concerned about the poor then; if men believe they have a call to ministry today, Jesus is clear: they are to use their own gifts to carry it out, not take advantage of women who want to serve Him.
“She has done a beautiful thing to me,” Jesus told them. I receive and honor what Mary is doing — I see her and am grateful for her gift, and it is worth being remembered as HER gift (not yours).
And Jesus honored Mary’s ministry above any commendation recorded about one of his male disciples: “Truly I tell you, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”
For every pastor’s wife expected to live as her husband’s shadow, her unique gifts pushed aside so she can be a spare part, Jesus’ words to Mary are for you. For every woman whose love for Christ was brushed aside by men — Jesus sees and receives your ministry, and he remembers you.
Barr looked primarily at the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC), where her husband previously served as a pastor, but this is common in many other evangelical denominations.
These are average annual pay estimates for farm laborers or construction laborers according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics.
Helpful background in these articles from the Jewish Virtual Library and Accidental Talmudist.
This suggestion and cultural context below come from “Judas, the Common Purse and the Poor” by David McLoughlin.
Matthew 6:1-4. Examples of these types of relationships include Herod, who was a client king, beholden to Caesar. Also, wealthy benefactors’ names were publicly inscribed on synagogues.
David McLoughlin. See footnote #4.
“Ancients applied such statements to those whose memory was preserved in epics or other famous works,” writes scholar Craig Keener, referring to Jesus’ comment in Matthew 26:13. (IVP Biblical Background Commentary)
Really great connections, Joy, I love your imaginative (in the best sense of the word) reading of John 12. Interestingly, David McLoughlin notes the OT instances of glossokomon in 2 Chronicles 24 and 2 Kings 12, but doesn’t develop the connection. The “common purse” in that story is, as he says, “ temple offerings…for the rebuilding of the Temple.” That is what John portrays Jesus as doing from beginning to end of his Gospel: tearing down the Jerusalem temple, allowing his temple-body to be destroyed, and rebuilding the new temple-family through his raised body and his temple-side (John 19:34). What I see in this OT allusion/typology in John 12 is a) Judas, as keeper of the glossokomon, should have contributed to rebuilding the temple (like Joash King of Judah, and Judah is the same name as Judas in Greek!), but instead contributed to tearing it down; and b) Mary’s freely offered gift did in fact contribute to the rebuilding of the temple-people of God, and she did this *apart from* the established authority structure echoed in 2 Chron 24 and 2 Kings 12. Thanks for helping me see more clearly how this story relates to the ministry of women in the temple-body of Christ. This story was also on my mind as Mary makes a brief appearance (alongside all of the other women in John) in the next post in my current Substack series :-).
“universal spare parts” who serve to support men - wow, that’s a great way to put it. Really good (and sad) observations here!