Rambo draws on contemporary studies in trauma to rethink a central claim of the Christian faith: that new life arises from death. Reexamining the narrative of the death and resurrection of Jesus from the middle day--liturgically named as Holy Saturday--she seeks a theology that addresses the experience of living in the aftermath of trauma. Through a reinterpretation of "remaining" in the Johannine Gospel, she proposes a new theology of the Spirit that challenges traditional conceptions of redemption. Offered, in its place, is a vision of the Spirit's witness from within the depths of human suffering to the persistence of divine love.
Rambo creates a truly trauma-informed theology. No, it's better than that: she reveals the ways that Christian scripture have always been steeped in trauma, and that hermeneutics is a way of processing and responding to trauma. She moves beyond "Christus victor" -- Christ's victory over death -- into a theology of the cross that actually wrestles with death and what it means to watch your God die. She invites us into the post-trauma reality of Holy Saturday, and shows that this reality doesn't go away just because resurrection occurs; indeed, it can't go away because of the effects of trauma.
Highly recommend for anyone harmed or neglected by the church's abuse of power or its insistence that all things be happy -- you will find healing here, and a God who makes sense even in pain.
I recommend it even more highly if you're in church leadership. Even if you don't think you've been traumatized (which...read Serene Jones's Trauma & Grace after this one), this will help form your theology for those who have. Which, let's be honest, is the majority of people coming into a church who aren't just there for the social norm/country club game of it.
Shelly Rambo's project in *Spirit and Trauma* is a worthy one: she seeks to articulate a theology that will move beyond traditional Christian narratives of the straightforward triumph of life over death in order to account for traumatic experience and the ways in which its aftermath disrupts that opposition. To do so, she wants to reclaim Holy Saturday, the gap between crucifixion and resurrection, as a space for a theology of the middle. She usefully points out that on Saturday the disciples did not yet understand that Christ would rise, so it was not at all clear that there was a way forward in the wake of His death. Yet Rambo is able to trace some movements of hope even in the midst of suffering, a hope she links to the work of the Holy Spirit. By shifting theology's focus from Christ to Spirit, she reorients us toward that which remains in the wake of disaster, and for her, that remainder is love. Not a triumphant love, she is careful to remind us, but a weary love that was not able to be exhausted even by death. Rambo's final move is to link this remaining to Jesus's exhortation to his disciples in the book of John to "abide in me" and "remain in my love." Through readings of the passion account that center on the handing of Jesus's final breath over to the witnesses at the cross, she connects the persistence of love to the mission of Christ's followers. In the aftermath of the cross, empowered by the love that remains, we are to live in a new way. Life cannot be the same after a traumatic loss, but it can be renewed.
The strength of Rambo's theological construction lies in her sensitivity to the pain of trauma survivors and all those who have suffered. The church is not always good at making space for grief or lament. Rather than sitting with others in their pain, many Christians rush them from crucifixion to resurrection. An over-emphasis on the triumph of life over death can feel hollow when there has been significant loss, especially in the context of trauma, which can make it difficult for survivors to even begin to imagine a meaningful future. In this sense, Rambo's work demonstrates a pastoral heart and real-world implications for the church.
However, I found the academic apparatus of the book somewhat clumsy. Rambo grounds her argument in the work of Hans Urs von Balthasar and Adrienne Speyr, which relies heavily on spiritual visions of hell. Although some of Rambo's guiding images come from this work, it felt like an unstable basis for me personally. While she attempts to trace some of these images in the gospel of John, I found her close readings to be a reach in some cases, and only tangentially related to the main argument in others. Furthermore, the argument itself was quite repetitive. It would perhaps have been more suited to a long article than to a book-length treatment.
I was also left with a few theological questions. While Rambo successfully convinces readers that a view from the middle is important, she doesn't really address the meaning of the resurrection. Granted that Christ's victory gets plenty of pages in theology books, Rambo is so concerned with the elision of Holy Saturday that her work ends up eliding Easter Sunday. Though we do suffer, and though our suffering should not be minimized or rushed in any way, and though our healing on this earth may not always be complete, Jesus nevertheless does promise us meaningful restoration in Him. While we may overlook Holy Saturday at our peril, we aren't meant to get stuck there.
It seems fitting to have finished this book on 9/11, because Shelly Rambo makes such a compelling case for how the Spirit addresses is with a breath of love in the experience of trauma. On this September 11th anniversary, our recall of the violence and tragedy of that day is traumatically now intertwined with the loss of 63x the loss of life in the United States (which is less than a quarter of deaths around the world) due to the coronavirus and its sordid, irresponsible mismanagement.
In this thoughtful, provocative book Rambo calls us away from the easy straight line rush from easy grace that cheapens the Good News represented by the Easter message. Rambo rightly critiques the church for resolving the trauma of what follows Good Friday with our insensitive and unimaginative skip to all is well because of Jesus’ resurrection. She compares the experience of those who, on the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, relive the broken emptiness of their friend’s death. She teases out the lost loneliness of the Jesus’ followers as parallel to the traumas that are experienced in our present times. Then, she moves the reader to look for the promised Holy Spirit, that redeems the traumatizes not with dramatic miracle but with breath and love. It’s a fascinating theological move and helpful as we consider how we can find similar help as we endure the traumas of disease, violence, racism and divisions at present.
While highly appreciating the book, I also believe that the author overly uses theological jargon and ends up sounding repetitive. I would have liked to have her relate her presentations to present situations as she drew out the significance of seeing the world through lenses of Holy Saturday and what it means to “remain,” by the persistence of redemptive love. I live near a retreat center for soldiers who suffer from PTSD. How might the ideas of the book work in their treatment? Rambo makes reference to large social concerns regarding race and gender. I would have liked to see her ideas applied in real cases instead of her larger generalizations and theory. Certainly, her vision was to present a theological thesis, which she does well. Because her end is to lift up flourishing as an alternative to our more hackneyed ideas of salvation, such practical applications seem more urgently necessary.
There is much to gain from this book, but it also begs further working.
“Holy Saturday provides a vocabulary consonant with the experience of a survivor. It is a place of alienation, confusion, and godforsakenness. But it is also a place that is continually covered over, dismissed, rendered unintelligible, and therefore subsumed under operative narratives of the progression of death to life.”
It is appropriate that I don’t fully agree or resonate with Rambo’s conclusions, but what happens in the middle of this book is life-changing. I read this over the course of a year because if I think about Holy Saturday for more than 30 seconds at a time, I need to lie down. I learned so much about God here. I will be thinking about this book forever.
It had so much potential, and even insight (Holy Saturday), but was fatally marred by process theology, a need for heterodox innovation, and "edginess." Only the perspective of trauma and a few minor insights prevented the book from being a total bomb; its best feature has been giving me a new lens of application to go re-read Moltmann.
There is a lot to wrestle with here theologically. And I will be thinking and pondering this one for awhile I think. I wrestle because it is a new way of reading about redemption. Redemption from the middle of trauma. It is not a recovery but a redemption of remaining in God's love after the death in traumatized. God's spirit of love helps us to remain. The Spirit remains and speaks to the depths of the often unspeakable disoriented reality of what comes after trauma. I have been on a bit of a journey of understanding the theology that I grew up with or the theology of my adult life and weather it actually speaks to the reality of lived experience. How does the reality of a broken world and broken people meet the God of our theology? Have I understood the God of the bible correctly? Do I have just a victorious God that heals the world? But I don't see this in our world all the time. What is our role in this as a people of God? And I think while true, I am tired of saying well I guess God is just a mystery. So I have been saying for a little while that I can either say well, I guess there is no God or maybe the God I have isn't the actual God and I need to dive deeper into the story of God. I have chosen the later. I think this book was a book that helped me to imagine a theology that matches lived experience. I will wrestle with how she gets there. But it will be a good wrestling. And I will continue to wrestle with books like this in hopes of coming to a new understanding of what kind of God we actually have in the Bible that deeply involves out lived experience. Yes, God is a mystery and we can never truly know exactly all the layers of who God is. But God is a God who remains in love in our often shattered lives. I will to continue to dig and wrestle into these depths.
Reflecting on the theology of Von Balthasar regarding Holy Saturday, Rambo develops a theology of the middle to help understand the experience of trauma which she describes life that carries death with it. Overall, I found the book overly abstract, and hard to follow. The theological dialogue in which she engages is one I was not equipped to follow. So I ended up skimming the last couple chapters
If you like jargon, complicated arguments, Theology, and trauma, this book is absolutely incredible. It is amazing. It will now inform everything I ever read from this point forward.
If you like writings that are clear without being overly redundant, use simple terms, and are not thick with references, this may not be the book for you.
It is a difficult read, but its ideas are brilliant.
I can't say this has been a favorite of the books I've read throughout my academic career, but it certainly stimulated my thinking. Particularly the chapters on Holy Saturday and The Middle Space allowed me to think more creatively about trauma and suffering, and what it means to be a therapist/friend/human bearing witness to the suffering of another.
I enjoyed the topics of Holy Saturday, Remaining, and the Middle space. The language is a little stuffy/academic but also engaging. I had to read it in short spurts rather than a long sit down.
In Spirit and Trauma, Shelly Rambo looks at the cross through the lens of trauma. In particular, she focuses on the often overlooked realm of Holy Saturday. In this sense, she views love as what remains in the aftermath of violence and trauma. Many theologies tend to jump quickly to the resurrection as the focal point of Jesus’ crucifixion, or focus too much on the idea of suffering love. Rambo, however, ‘remains’ on Saturday, linking Jesus’ descent into hell and subsequent appearances after the resurrection to the experience of the trauma survivor.
When I first read a chapter out of this in grad school, I immediately connected with her ideas. She has a thorough and patient approach, and helps me to pause and note the significance of the connections between my work as a therapist and my views of trauma and God. For anyone interested in trauma work, whether therapeutically or personally, this book is a must read.
This book is very important. It talks about the holes in typical Christian theology, where God and Christ are portrayed as victorious and crusading. What good does that do for people whose lives are broken and burned by trauma of any sort? This book offers a compelling and deeply true alternative: a God whose love is limping, weary, exhausted, never dying. That's the God or person I want on my team, not the one who gets everything right and always wins but the one who keeps going through the worst for people's sake.
It's pretty repetitive and not the best writing on the line level--actually the first whole chapter I was like, "I GET IT ALREADY!"--but definitely worth pushing through that. Anyone in ministry ought to look into this.
Overall interesting theological concept and a new way of reframing the crucifixion. But got bogged down in the details in the middle. Still recommend though