Trauma and the Resurrection

The idea of identity fascinates me. This notion of who one is or how one perceives the self. What also fascinates me is how people deal with trauma and how this shapes their faith. My research project delves into this, exploring how people navigate significant religious identity changes.

During my research, I chanced upon relevant theoretical concepts on trauma. This post first explores one of these theoretical concepts. Next, I discuss the failure of the Evangelical emphasis on the resurrection to provide adequate solace for trauma survivors. 

Having explained my post, I begin with an exploration of trauma. When we think of trauma, we think of pain. Often, we find pain from a physical injury more manageable. For instance, I find comfort in watching the scratch from a cat on my arm turn into a scab before what’s left is a faint line, a reminder that the scratch once existed. This morbid trait of mine explains my quirky choice of thesis topic. (To repeat what my husband says to strangers who notice the scratches on his arms, please be assured that these lines are not from self-harm. I have a five-month-old kitten that scratches as he pleases.)

But I digress.

Trauma and recovery are not so straightforward. Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis, speaks of trauma as a wound not inflicted upon the body but rather a wound inflicted upon the mind (Freud, as cited in Caruth, 1996, p. 4). Someone with PTSD, for instance, experiences flashbacks, nightmares, and uncontrollable thoughts about a terrifying event (American Psychiatric Association, 2023). Freud says this wound is hardly straightforward and healable, for it is an unknown wound that expresses itself in the repetitive actions of the sufferer.  Cathy Caruth builds on Freud’s idea of trauma and repetition and argues that the sufferer reels from a wound that “cries out” (Caruth, 1996, p. 4). The terrifying event has not ended. Instead, it continues to haunt the sufferer and emerges as a spectre or ghost, a torturous haunting.

Now that I’ve discussed the repetitive nature of trauma, which I compare to a haunting, I look at the Evangelical understanding of death/suffering. The Evangelical emphasis on the resurrection and absolute victory over death and suffering hinders our ability to support people struggling with trauma and other forms of long-term difficulty or struggle like a severe physical or mental illness. The cross or crucifixion and resurrection occupy two opposite poles. The pain and difficulty between these two poles are consequently overlooked as resurrection and triumph over death are the focus of a victorious end (Rambo, 2015, pp. 10-12). This linear pathway skips the suspended state of Christ's followers between the crucifixion and the resurrection and Christ's descent to the dead (as if Christ immediately rose from the dead after Christ died) (Emerson, 2019). The theodicy of God's goodness reconciled with the human sin and evil of the world also does not adequately address suffering (Rambo, 2015, p. 11). If God is good, why does God allow cancer? The inability to explain and reconcile the absolute goodness of God with trauma, war, and illness, repetitive wounds that "cr[y] out", makes the theological discourse ring hollow in the face of suffering. Yeah, there's suffering because this world is sinful. But, really, what sin did the cancer sufferer commit to deserve such torture?

Building on the idea of the Evangelical focus on the resurrection is our preference for the empty cross and the idea of the resurrected Christ. The following observation is unverified, as this is my opinion: The empty cross testifies to our inability to accept Christ, too, suffered and died. We prefer an empty cross to remind us that God lives and that death and suffering do not have the final say.

Nothing is particularly wrong with believing death and suffering is not the be-all or end-all. Life has much beauty to celebrate about. Focusing purely on ‘the dark side’ is not healthy. At the same time, difficulties disrupt human lives, punctuating our days with symptoms that refuse to disappear. Yet we gloss over suffering, gravitating towards toxic positivity by advising people to pray harder and keep believing.  I’ll pray for you. Jesus heals! He has overcome everything for us! Come on, cheer up. Just read the Word more often. How's your walk with God been? At least she's in a better place now, your mother who passed on. 

I’ve discussed the disruptive effects of trauma and suffering and the pitfalls of over-emphasising the resurrection in Evangelical doctrine and practice. Perhaps a spirit of empathy and willingness to sit with a friend and listen to her/his lamentation and grief in her/his time of need would be more helpful. 

References

American Psychiatric Association. (2023). What is Posttraumatic Stress Disorder? Retrieved from https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/ptsd/what-is-ptsd

Caruth, C. (1996). Unclaimed experience: Trauma, narrative, and history. Retrieved from https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/monash/reader.action?docID=3318659

Emerson, M. (2019). Why Holy Saturday Matters. Retrieved April 8, 2022, from The Center for Baptist Renewal website: https://www.centerforbaptistrenewal.com/blog/2019/4/19/why-holy-saturday-matters

Rambo, S. (2015). Spirit and trauma. Interpretation (United Kingdom), 69(1), 7–19. https://doi.org/10.1177/0020964314552625

 

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