TRAUMA is an experience that “overwhelms the strange human adaptations to life” (Herman, 1992). Such an experience occurs in response to an event or a series of events, but it surely isn’t the event itself. That is a very important distinction, since it helps us to know why two people could undergo the identical thing and only one in all them experience trauma in response to it. It also signifies that we cannot know which events will or is not going to trigger such a response in an individual.
There are, after all, medical criteria for diagnosing things like PTSD. In the sphere of trauma theology, we usually are not medics making a diagnosis, but, relatively, theologians searching for understanding of scripture, doctrine, and other people, in the sunshine of the experiences of trauma: experiences which might be, sadly, all too common in our societies. You are, due to this fact, less prone to see theologians drawing on these medical criteria of their work, and more prone to see them drawing on the wealthy field of trauma studies, which encompasses sociology, history, literary, and cultural studies.
WHY does theology must take into consideration trauma? Anselm described theology as “faith searching for understanding”. Many trauma theologians start their work out of their very own experiences of trauma, searching for to know their faith in the sunshine of their experience. This was definitely true for me. Not only does utilising trauma as a lens to read scripture, or as a way of considering through doctrine, enable richer and more nuanced theologies, but, in a world through which so many are traumatised, theologians have a responsibility to articulate theologies that do justice to such experiences.
I began my doctoral work in the world of trauma theology in 2013. At the time, I used to be aware of only a few other theologians working on this area within the UK, and a small handful within the United States. After 9/11, the theologian the Revd Dr Serene Jones began to take into consideration how she taught theology within the aftermath of trauma. Drawing on work that was being done in Literary Studies, Dr Jones and her doctoral students began to use similar frameworks and lenses to their theological work. One such student was Shelly Rambo, whose work would go on to be considered groundbreaking and essential in the sphere. Significantly, these early years of trauma theology were largely dominated by women scholars — rare on this planet of theology.
Since I started my work, this field of theology has grown exponentially, and it isn’t hard to know why. Even before the worldwide experience of a pandemic that overwhelmed the strange coping mechanisms of so many, being brought head to head with death, catastrophic climate change, mass shootings, war, sexual abuse, domestic violence, racism, and more have made trauma a standard part of contemporary life. Trauma theologians are working in all these areas.
BIBLICAL scholars, particularly those working within the Hebrew Bible, have found the lens of trauma particularly illuminating. Reading biblical texts reminiscent of Job or Lamentations — and even the Psalms — through this lens helps to make richer sense and deeper meaning of each the text and the ways through which it may possibly be read today. Ericka Dunbar, for instance, reads the book of Esther through a trauma-informed lens of sex trafficking to provide a reading that brings to the fore ignored elements of the text, and that speaks to contemporary experiences within the African diaspora.
Interestingly, far less work of this nature has been done in dialogue with the New Testament. It has been suggested that a few of Paul’s writings would profit from a trauma-informed reading, but not many theologians have attempted this. Without attempting to diagnose ancient characters with trauma, other scholars (me included) have wondered what it would mean if the followers of Jesus on the foot of the cross experienced trauma responses after Jesus’s death. What might this indicate in regards to the lifetime of the Early Church? Could we imagine Jesus himself as one who has experienced trauma? Such questions need rather more exploration.
IN THE field of trauma theologies, a variety of themes and questions have exercised scholars. At the forefront of this field has been the work of the aforementioned American theologian Dr Rambo. Her theological work on Holy Saturday has proved significant in the sphere. She argues that many Christians rush from the crucifixion to the resurrection too quickly, and overlook — theologically, liturgically, and pastorally — Holy Saturday. It is Holy Saturday, when death and life are mingled, boundaries are blurred, and there isn’t yet the hope of Easter Day, which tells us something of the experience of trauma.
Alongside this, there was consistent interest by trauma theologians within the eucharist. Like trauma, the eucharist is centred on themes of bodies and memories. It is something that we repeat and return to, very similar to a trauma memory that has not yet been integrated. These similarities have prompted theologians to argue that the eucharist itself might contain inside it trauma elements, or that it may be a spot for post-traumatic remaking of the self. In recent years, eco-theologians reminiscent of Dr Tim Middleton have drawn on trauma theologies to take into consideration issues reminiscent of mass extinction and catastrophic climate change.
THESE trauma-informed approaches in biblical studies and theology have been further worked out in the world of pastoral care. In the past 20 years, and particularly because the worldwide experience of Covid, more theologians have turned their attention to fascinated with what trauma each means and demands of us in relation to pastoral ministries and spiritual care.
Dr Jennifer Beste’s work on how the experience of trauma de-forms sexual abuse survivors’ image of God and capability to just accept God-given grace is one such example. The Revd Dr Stephanie Crumpton’s work on Black women’s experiences of violence and pastoral care put each Black women and the Black church centre stage, and highlights the importance of intersectionality when attending to experiences of trauma.
The “Tragedies and Congregations” project (University of Exeter) brought training on trauma-informed ministry to many ordinands and dioceses, in addition to a ground-breaking volume of essays under the identical name. My own work on spiritual practices for trauma survivors takes seriously the popularity that trauma can have spiritual effects, and that being attentive to the body is important in doing the work of post-traumatic remaking. There is far work still to do here in making training on trauma-informed ministry available as widely as needed, in each local and national contexts.
This flourishing field of theological study remains to be relatively recent, but finding far-reaching impact because it resonates with so many individuals’s experiences and enables wealthy and powerful encounters with scripture and theology. So far, trauma theologies have been dominated by white Western scholars, but more work is being done to decolonise the sphere and concentrate to intersectional experiences of trauma. It remains to be a field of theology through which women largely lead. My hope is that this field will proceed to flourish and produce life-giving theologies.
Dr Karen O’Donnell is Academic Dean at Westcott House, Cambridge, where she teaches liturgy and trauma theology. She can also be an affiliated lecturer on the Cambridge University Divinity Faculty, where she teaches gender and theology. Her most up-to-date publication is Survival: Radical spiritual practices for trauma survivors (SCM Press, 2024).
