The Strange Tenderness of 'Noli Me Tangere'

Our Lord says "noli me tangere" (touch me not) to St Mary Magdalene, just a few verses before He tells St Thomas to put his fingers into His wounds. Why?

From Aleteia

By Daniel Esparza

In a world that clings to certainty and control, "Noli me tangere" reminds us that sometimes the most faithful gesture is to let go.

Why did Jesus tell Mary Magdalene not to touch him, noli me tangere, yet later invite Thomas to place his fingers in his wounds?

It’s a question that has puzzled theologians and artists for centuries. In the Gospel of John, the risen Christ appears to Mary outside the tomb. When she finally recognizes him, overcome with joy, she calls out to him — but he says, “Do not hold on to me” or “do not cling to me,” or even “touch me not” (John 20:17) depending on the translation.

The Vulgate simply reads noli me tangere, do not “touch me,” following the verb used in the original Greek, me mou haptou – the verb haptomai meaning “touch” but also “fasten oneself to,” depending on context.

Just a few verses later, we find Jesus inviting Thomas to touch him freely.

French philosopher Jean-Luc Nancy, in his contemplative work Noli Me Tangere: On the Raising of the Body, suggests that the answer lies not in favoritism or contradiction, but in the mystery of resurrection itself.

For Nancy, Mary’s reaching out is not rebuked, but gently redirected. Jesus’ gesture isn’t a matter of adhering to purity laws or cold distance. It’s about the radical shift in how Christ is present after the resurrection.

Nancy writes that the risen body of Jesus is not a return to life as before. It is not resuscitated, but raised. It is glorified — not less real, but radically different. The resurrection is a mystery of transformation.

Mary Magdalene, the first witness to the resurrection, is asked not to grasp, but to go — to become an apostle to the apostles. Her faith is not confirmed by physical proof but by recognition: Jesus speaks her name, and that is enough. She is sent not with something to hold on to, but with something to proclaim.

By contrast, Thomas doubts. His journey is different. Christ’s invitation to touch is not about familiarity, but belief. Nancy sees both moments not as contradictory, but as two expressions of a deeper truth: resurrection disrupts the old ways of knowing.

What was once tangible must now be encountered through trust—Magdalene’s case. What is not yet trusted must now be touched—Thomas’.

This is not loss but new intimacy. “Don’t touch me,” says Jesus — not because he’s distant, but because he’s drawing closer in a new way. In his leaving, he is also arriving.

The Catechism teaches that the Resurrection is not only the triumph over death but the “definitive state of the glorious body” (CCC 645). Nancy’s reflection can be said to add a layer of poetic clarity: The risen Christ is not to be statically clung to, but followed. Not grasped, but believed.

In a world that clings to certainty and control, Noli me tangere reminds us that sometimes the most faithful gesture is to let go.