Grieving from a Distance: Reflecting on Proximity and Protection in noli me tangere


 

As a chaplain/spiritual care provider* serving in a healthcare setting, I have seen acute grief elicit many responses. I have witnessed people scream in anger, weep in sadness, and freeze in disbelief. Recently, in my own life, I have experienced the pain of losing my mother. We lived in different states, which made physical connection difficult. Over the last year, I traveled back and forth numerous times to visit with her as her health worsened. The sadness was deepened by the distance, amplified by the airplanes, compounded by the car rides. So many times, all I wanted was to touch her and lo, I could not. During one of her hospital stays, I asked my sister, who was physically present with my mom, to call the hospital chaplain. Although I was remote, I knew we needed spiritual care. The chaplain came and prayed a moving prayer of commendation and comfort. I sat on the phone near tears and listening. At the end of the time, I exhaled “Thank you chaplain.” To my surprise, he responded back, “Thank YOU chaplain.” His tone, care, and words transported me across time zones and into the hospital room with them. This chaplain seemed to understand the ineffable desire I had to hold and comfort my family. Sadly, my mother died a few weeks after this visit. I am grateful for the presence of this chaplain and my sister when I could not touch my mom.

It is with a heavy heart, then, that I approach this “noli me tangere” text. For me, it is not hard to imagine Mary Magdalene outside of the tomb, tasting the bitter tears of grief. Unlike me, in the Johannine gospel, Mary Magdalene has no person chaplaining her pain. She has come to publicly display her grief, to side with the executed prisoner. Then, instead of providing comfort, two angels and Jesus question her.

In the rhetorical repetition replete in scripture, the angels and Jesus each lead with the same question, “Woman, why are you weeping?” Both times, she names the same desire – “just tell me where you laid him.” All Mary Magdalene wants is to be next to the body. In an awkward scene, Jesus allows her to remain confused before finally calling her name, exposing his identity.

There are many worthy exegetical directions that could occur at this moment; the socio-cultural-political implications of Mary’s alone-ness, the significance of being named by Jesus, the scripture writers’ pattern of surprising “reveals.” But for this reflection, I will center on the emotional fulcrum of Mary Magdalene’s lone request - grief. I will then explore ideas of proximity and protection in their interaction. This can illuminate more of the human condition and the complexity of loss, distance, and safety.

Grief

Mary Magdalene felt a primal, immediate, and desperate grief. Her emotion was akin to what Mamie Till-Mobley experienced in 1955 when she called for the body of her son and wept uncontrollably when it arrived to Chicago. Like Mamie, Mary Magdalene’s grief was not mitigated through the respectability of the day. Their vulnerability did not make them weak. Instead, these were “heroines,” “strong,” and “God’s magnificent women” (Till-Mobley & Benson, 2003). Their grief let them push past professed disciples of God and soldiers of the state. Conversely, the society of the USA continues to struggle with grief. We squirm when we are near it, we consider it a sign of weakness. In the USA, we have experienced over one million deaths due to COVID, yet we still speak in whispers when someone dies from it. We shame the emotion through our avoidance of it.

Christian theology of ‘Christus Victor’ (Christ the Victor) does not help in this regard. It encourages people to “be strong” and “trust God” without weighing the emotional weight of such losses. The angels and even Jesus, are asking an obvious question – “Woman, why are you weeping?” In her mind, I imagine Mary Magdalene annoyed and thinking, “Why do you think I am weeping?” She is grieving because she lost someone who mattered to her. Mary Magdalene, through her raw emotions, modeled a healthy response to death. Mamie and Mary Magdalene both teach us not to police our emotions. Grief needs support not suppression.

Proximity

Mary Magdalene’s emotional pain drove her to the tomb to be close to the executed Jesus. “Tell me where you laid him,” she responded. She bore her heart to these divine strangers. The closer she can physically be to Jesus, even a dead Jesus, the more comfort she would feel. This may feel counter-intuitive, but for many in grief, being close to the site of the loss is actually helpful. Proximity can impact comfort. One study regarding the COVID-19 pandemic, showed that people closest to the COVID outbreak sites had more psychological acceptance than those further away. Those closest to the epicenter were also least likely to engage in risky or irrational behaviors (Li, Zhang, Liu, Ng, 2021). Distance can have the same impact on behaviors during loss. Mary Magdalene wants to be close to Jesus (who she presumes to be dead) in order to decrease the pain she feels.

As an Association of Clinical Pastoral Education Certified Educator (ACPE-CE), I train students how to sense emotional dynamics based on non-verbal and spatial cues. When they are in close proximity of patients or family members of patients, they can intuit unspoken energy in the room.  More specifically, who they sit next to in a room matters. Whether they stand or sit matters. And touch? Touch, when employed responsibly and with consent, can be a powerful intervention. Their body is an instrument of their spiritual care, often the only instrument consistently at their disposal. Effective chaplains/spiritual care providers have an active “spidey-sense,” an ability to discern the emotional temperature in a room and respond accordingly. 

During this pandemic, being close to others has been limited. Family members have not been able to get into rooms. Faith leaders could not enter the hospital. Like my experience with my mother, the sick could not even find solace in the arms of family and friends. Spiritual care providers were similarly limited. We were all held back from utilizing one of the tools we use to process grief – closeness. Returning to the text, this is where “noli me tangere” pierces most. “Touch me not,” Jesus says to Mary Magdalene who ONLY wanted to touch him. She only wanted to hold him so she might feel relief. And Jesus stiff armed her. He kept her grief at arms length. This distancing remains an illustration of how proximity can both prolong and assist emotional angst.

Protection

Examining this relationship further, Mary Magdalene is a committed believer who has traveled with Jesus, seen miracles, witnessed his public execution and even supported his ministry financially. She is a ride or die, a faithful follower. Mary Magdalene, a woman in a violent world, likely knew that all touch was not helpful. Jesus seemed to know this too. Jesus seemed to suggest, if I let you come too close, you will feel too much. In this way, Jesus’ distance may have been an unusual sign of his love for Mary Magdalene.

Apologetically, there may have been justification for why Jesus wanted to remain separated from Mary Magdalene. He may have been mindful of the social climate. I mean, imagine the scandal, what the blogs would write, what the trolls would post, about their encounter. The wealthy devotee and the resurrected fugitive would be clickbait indeed. Perhaps he remembered that touching a dead body (even a formerly dead body) would make her ritually impure (Numbers 19:11-13). In either case, Jesus knew that being connected to him could have far-reaching communal and political consequences. This has import for us today. Those in secular societies who hold a life of faith as worthy of study or adherence, are risking becoming outkasts (yes, like the hip-hop ATLiens, who were southern foreigners in the East-West coast dichotomy of 90’s hip hop) (Bradley, 2020). Those in theocracies who transgress against religious customs similarly endanger their place in society. There is a social cost to holding onto Jesus.

Beyond the social considerations, Jesus could have told her not to touch him because of physical/medicinal protection. It is a speculative leap to consider what he meant by “because I have not yet ascended to the Father.” But if we indulge speculation, maybe Jesus’ “gardener-like” appearance was from a face flushed with exhaustion, a body ravaged by bug bites, or a fever brought on by dehydration? As the subsequent verses in John demonstrate, Jesus’ wounds were still visible, his human frailty intact. It is as if Jesus knows his body is not able to be touched, that maybe he was contagious or at least still needed time to quarantine. (Ironically, this gospel does not mention Jesus being touched by anyone physically for a week after his resurrection.) The separation may have been for Mary Magdalene’s protection.

All separation is not selfish. During the COVID-19 pandemic, physical distance has been painful, but it has also been a signal of care. In the hospital, chaplains and spiritual care providers have witnessed heartbreaking deaths with echoes of Jesus’ phrase. They have watched people die while their loved ones watched through glass doors… and over the phone. The families have grieved at arm’s length because their mere presence could infect others. And it was all done for the protection of themselves and others. Other scriptural interpretations may confirm this uncomfortable possibility; Jesus constantly stated he would be separated from his followers. This was, according to the most generous Christology, to save them and protect them from themselves.

Noli me tangere has little resolution. In these confusing times, confusing paradigms persist. Never have we felt closer to someone than when they give us six feet of space. Never have we felt more loved than when someone honored our desire to “touch me not.” There is no easy answer to this quandary, but this phrase is a declaration likely borne of care and concern. Jesus may be saying, Mary Magdalene, do not touch me, because I love you and I do not want to hurt you. (Truth be told, there are those who have touched Jesus and now wish they had not.) This pericope may provide a strange source of help as we process our own moments of deep grief. We can place ourselves outside the tomb, watching, waiting, and listening for what encounter might appear. Thankful for intermediaries who close the distance and remind our loved ones that that love does not always equate with touch. We may find comfort knowing that not touching Jesus can, in the most expansive spirituality, still bring salvation. 


References:

Bradley, R. N. (2021). Chronicling stankonia : the rise of the hip-hop south. University of North Carolina Press. 

Li S. K. Zhang Z. Liu Y. & Ng S. (2021). The closer I am the safer I feel: The "distance proximity effect" of COVID-19 pandemic on individuals' risk assessment and irrational consumption. Psychology & Marketing 2006–2018. https://doi.org/10.1002/mar.21552 

Till-Mobley M. & Benson C. (2003). Death of innocence : the story of the hate crime that changed america (1st ed.). Random House.


 

Jeremy Gilmore is from East Chicago, Indiana and is an ACPE Certified Educator and the Director of Spiritual Care for WakeMed Health and Hospitals in Raleigh, North Carolina. In these roles, he trains students and leads a compassionate team of spiritual care providers for the largest hospital system in the largest county in North Carolina. Jeremy earned a B.A. in Religious Studies/African-American and African Diaspora Studies and an M.A. in African-American and African Diaspora Studies from Indiana University. He also earned an M.Div. from Duke University. He is currently a Ph.D. candidate at North Carolina State University in Educational Leadership, Policy, and Human Development.

Our project takes the words spoken by Jesus to Mary Magdalene in the garden after she discovers his empty tomb — noli me tangere (“touch me not”) — as a provocation for reflection on the COVID-19 pandemic, and on other pandemics, viral and social, that engulf us.