About Trauma
Shelly Rambo
Shelly Rambo has been teaching at Boston University School of Theology since 2004. She teaches courses in contemporary theology, feminist and womanist theologies, trauma and theology, postmodern theology, and theopoetics.
Traumas are Wounds of the Psyche Theodicy is not Enough: Theology Needs to Witness what is Taking Place Three Lessons of Trauma Studies |
The Wounds become a "New Normal" The wounds are stored in body memories (the limbic system) |
All quotes are from: Shelly Rambo, “How Christian Theology and Practice Are Being Shaped by Trauma Studies: Talking about God in the Face of Wounds That Won’t Go Away,” The Christian Century, November 20, 2019. See also books by Shelley Rambo:
- Resurrecting Wounds: Living in the Afterlife of Trauma, Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, September 2017.
- Post-Traumatic Public Theology, co-edited with Stephanie Arel. New York: Palgrave MacMillan, November 2016.
- Spirit and Trauma: A Theology of Remaining, Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010.
Tending the Wounds
Trauma Studies and the God Who Suffers With Us
Trauma Studies and the Question of God
The three lessons from trauma studies, as described by Shelley Rambo in “How Christian Theology and Practice Are Being Shaped by Trauma Studies: Talking about God in the Face of Wounds That Won’t Go Away,” are these: (1) the past is not in the past, (2) the body remembers, and (3) the wounds do not simply go away.
She adds, as a note especially relevant to theologians:
"The experience of trauma dismantles notions of theology as a fixer, a provider of solutions. A move to “fix” things may interfere rather than assist in the process of healing. Theologians who have learned from trauma theory emphasize the importance of accompaniment, truth telling, and wound tending. Acts of witness and testimony acknowledge the reality of traumatic experiences that can never be fully brought to the surface of consciousness. This posture is not focused confidently on conveying theological or moral certainty. Instead, its confidence is in the healing power of giving a witness to suffering." (Shelly Rambo)
God the Healer and Witness
An open and relational approach to God will certainly appreciate her talking about theology, and of God, as a fixer, a provider of solutions. In Thomas Oord's A Systematic Theology of Love (Volume 1), Thomas Oord lists six aspects of an open and relational approach to God, none of which present God as a "fixer" and none of which encourage therapists to speak of God this way:
Rambo's point, however, is that in trauma therapy a focus on such issues is often not relevant. An open and relational approach to trauma will not focus on the question of theodicy, if that means asking why God did not prevent the trauma. That kind of discussion abstracts from the lived experience of the traumatized, turning the conversation into a theological exercise in defending God. Instead, it will share in the spirit of God as an empathizer who works to heal, to squeeze good from badm and ho listens, who is witness to the suffering. This is the spirit of God as, in Whitehead's words, “a fellow sufferer who understands.” The question becomes not why the suffering occurred, but how we accompany those who carry it, and how we speak about God, if at all, in ways that are truthful to their experience. A healthy approach can be to further use Whitehead's philosophy to appreciate the three lessons.
Lesson One: The Past Is Not in the Past
The first lesson is that the past is not simply over and done with. In Whitehead’s philosophy, every moment of experience begins by feeling the past in the present. Past events are not merely remembered as if from a distance; they are inherited and felt, often unconsciously, in the immediacy of present experience. In this sense, what happened in the past remains active in the present, even if it is no longer consciously recalled.
Lesson Two: The Body Remembers
The second lesson is that the body remembers. For Whitehead, the body is not simply an object we observe or think about. It is the lived context of immediate experience. Past events can be carried in the body in ways that transcend conscious memory while nevertheless remaining part of lived reality. Trauma, then, may persist not only in explicit recollection but in bodily patterns of feeling, response, tension, and vulnerability.
Lesson Three: Wounds Do Not Simply Go Away
The third lesson is that wounds do not simply go away. In Whitehead’s view, each moment of experience is guided by a subjective aim: an inward desire to integrate the many experiences one inherits into a lived whole that is as harmonious, intense, and satisfying as possible. Yet traumatic experiences, precisely because of their pain and disruption, may resist such integration. They remain within us, even when they cannot be woven into a satisfying unity.
Rethinking Healing
In light of these three lessons, the meaning of healing must be reconsidered. If the past is not simply past, if the body remembers, and if wounds do not simply disappear, then healing cannot mean the erasure of trauma or the restoration of a life untouched by what has happened. Some experiences may never be fully integrated into a harmonious whole. They remain as fractures within the ongoing process of life.
For this reason, a wise therapist does not pretend to “fix” trauma or provide a simple solution to the situation. To do so would deny the depth of the wound. Instead, as Shelley Rambo suggests, the therapist accompanies the traumatized person as an authentic witness to what has occurred. The task is not to erase the wound but to remain present to it—to listen, to acknowledge, and to refuse the temptation to minimize or explain away the suffering.
Tending the Wounds: Practices from Trauma Therapy
This accompaniment takes practical forms. Therapists help create a sense of safety and stability in the present, offering a relationship in which the person is respected, believed, and not judged. They help the person learn ways of calming and regulating the body, recognizing that trauma is carried not only in memories but also in bodily responses such as tension, fear, or dissociation. They teach grounding practices that help distinguish the present moment from the past, enabling the person to remain oriented in the here and now even when painful memories arise.
Therapists also help people gradually find words, images, or stories for their experience, allowing the truth of the pain to be spoken without forcing it into a neat explanation. Just as important is the practice of witnessing—listening carefully and acknowledging the suffering without minimizing or explaining it away. In time, these practices may allow traumatic memories to become part of a person’s life story without dominating every moment of experience. The wound may remain, but it is tended with patience and care, and life can continue around it.
In this sense, healing does not mean that the wound disappears. It means that the wounded person is no longer alone with it. Someone accompanies them, listens to them, and helps them carry it. Such companionship—what Rambo calls tending the wounds—is itself a form of grace.
God as the Fellow-Sufferer Who Understands
From a Whiteheadian perspective, this work of accompaniment also offers a way of imagining the presence of God. Whitehead describes God as “the fellow-sufferer who understands.” In the context of trauma, this image takes on particular depth. God is not the one who erases the past or explains suffering away. Rather, God is present as a companion who feels the suffering of the world and receives it into the divine life. Just as a wise therapist bears witness to the wounded person’s story, so the divine life bears witness to every moment of pain, grief, and struggle. In this sense, the work of tending wounds in trauma therapy can be seen as participating in a deeper movement of reality itself: a movement in which suffering is not denied, and the wounded are not abandoned, but are accompanied with patience, empathy, and care.
Relationality and a Culture of Support
So far my focus has been on individual therapy. However, there is another important contribution to open and relational theology, and that lies in the theme of relationality itself as a desirable feature of a culture of support. Trauma is not experienced only within individual psyches; it is also shaped by the social worlds in which people live. Isolation often intensifies trauma, while trustworthy relationships can help create the conditions in which wounded people are able to endure, speak, and gradually find ways of living with what has happened.
Open and relational theology emphasizes that human beings are inherently relational creatures. We do not exist as self-contained individuals but as participants in webs of relationship—with other people, with the more-than-human world, and with the sacred reality that sustains the universe. From this perspective, healing is never simply an individual achievement. It is also a communal process that depends on environments of care, patience, and trust.
A culture of support can take many forms. It includes families and friendships in which people feel safe to speak honestly about their pain. It includes communities—religious, civic, and therapeutic—that encourage listening rather than judgment. It includes social practices that resist the tendency to rush wounded people toward quick closure or forced positivity. In such a culture, tending the wounds becomes a shared responsibility rather than the task of a therapist alone.
Within Christian communities, this relational vision can shape pastoral care and congregational life. Churches can become places where lament is permitted, where silence and listening are valued, and where people are not pressured to present themselves as healed when they are still hurting. Communities can embody forms of companionship that mirror what trauma therapists attempt to cultivate in the therapeutic relationship: presence, patience, and respect for the slow and uneven process of living with wounds.
From a Whiteheadian perspective, such communal support resonates deeply with the relational nature of reality itself. Each moment of life arises out of relationships with others and contributes to the ongoing web of becoming. When communities create environments of compassion and mutual care, they participate in the larger movement of the universe toward richer forms of connection and shared life. In this way, the work of accompanying the wounded is not only therapeutic or pastoral; it is also a participation in the relational fabric of the world itself.
The three lessons from trauma studies, as described by Shelley Rambo in “How Christian Theology and Practice Are Being Shaped by Trauma Studies: Talking about God in the Face of Wounds That Won’t Go Away,” are these: (1) the past is not in the past, (2) the body remembers, and (3) the wounds do not simply go away.
She adds, as a note especially relevant to theologians:
"The experience of trauma dismantles notions of theology as a fixer, a provider of solutions. A move to “fix” things may interfere rather than assist in the process of healing. Theologians who have learned from trauma theory emphasize the importance of accompaniment, truth telling, and wound tending. Acts of witness and testimony acknowledge the reality of traumatic experiences that can never be fully brought to the surface of consciousness. This posture is not focused confidently on conveying theological or moral certainty. Instead, its confidence is in the healing power of giving a witness to suffering." (Shelly Rambo)
God the Healer and Witness
An open and relational approach to God will certainly appreciate her talking about theology, and of God, as a fixer, a provider of solutions. In Thomas Oord's A Systematic Theology of Love (Volume 1), Thomas Oord lists six aspects of an open and relational approach to God, none of which present God as a "fixer" and none of which encourage therapists to speak of God this way:
- God can’t prevent evil singlehandedly.
- God empathizes with creaturely suffering.
- God works to heal, but can’t singlehandedly.
- God works to squeeze good from bad.
- God needs creaturely cooperation.
- God doesn’t create evil, but its possibility is present in creation.
Rambo's point, however, is that in trauma therapy a focus on such issues is often not relevant. An open and relational approach to trauma will not focus on the question of theodicy, if that means asking why God did not prevent the trauma. That kind of discussion abstracts from the lived experience of the traumatized, turning the conversation into a theological exercise in defending God. Instead, it will share in the spirit of God as an empathizer who works to heal, to squeeze good from badm and ho listens, who is witness to the suffering. This is the spirit of God as, in Whitehead's words, “a fellow sufferer who understands.” The question becomes not why the suffering occurred, but how we accompany those who carry it, and how we speak about God, if at all, in ways that are truthful to their experience. A healthy approach can be to further use Whitehead's philosophy to appreciate the three lessons.
Lesson One: The Past Is Not in the Past
The first lesson is that the past is not simply over and done with. In Whitehead’s philosophy, every moment of experience begins by feeling the past in the present. Past events are not merely remembered as if from a distance; they are inherited and felt, often unconsciously, in the immediacy of present experience. In this sense, what happened in the past remains active in the present, even if it is no longer consciously recalled.
Lesson Two: The Body Remembers
The second lesson is that the body remembers. For Whitehead, the body is not simply an object we observe or think about. It is the lived context of immediate experience. Past events can be carried in the body in ways that transcend conscious memory while nevertheless remaining part of lived reality. Trauma, then, may persist not only in explicit recollection but in bodily patterns of feeling, response, tension, and vulnerability.
Lesson Three: Wounds Do Not Simply Go Away
The third lesson is that wounds do not simply go away. In Whitehead’s view, each moment of experience is guided by a subjective aim: an inward desire to integrate the many experiences one inherits into a lived whole that is as harmonious, intense, and satisfying as possible. Yet traumatic experiences, precisely because of their pain and disruption, may resist such integration. They remain within us, even when they cannot be woven into a satisfying unity.
Rethinking Healing
In light of these three lessons, the meaning of healing must be reconsidered. If the past is not simply past, if the body remembers, and if wounds do not simply disappear, then healing cannot mean the erasure of trauma or the restoration of a life untouched by what has happened. Some experiences may never be fully integrated into a harmonious whole. They remain as fractures within the ongoing process of life.
For this reason, a wise therapist does not pretend to “fix” trauma or provide a simple solution to the situation. To do so would deny the depth of the wound. Instead, as Shelley Rambo suggests, the therapist accompanies the traumatized person as an authentic witness to what has occurred. The task is not to erase the wound but to remain present to it—to listen, to acknowledge, and to refuse the temptation to minimize or explain away the suffering.
Tending the Wounds: Practices from Trauma Therapy
This accompaniment takes practical forms. Therapists help create a sense of safety and stability in the present, offering a relationship in which the person is respected, believed, and not judged. They help the person learn ways of calming and regulating the body, recognizing that trauma is carried not only in memories but also in bodily responses such as tension, fear, or dissociation. They teach grounding practices that help distinguish the present moment from the past, enabling the person to remain oriented in the here and now even when painful memories arise.
Therapists also help people gradually find words, images, or stories for their experience, allowing the truth of the pain to be spoken without forcing it into a neat explanation. Just as important is the practice of witnessing—listening carefully and acknowledging the suffering without minimizing or explaining it away. In time, these practices may allow traumatic memories to become part of a person’s life story without dominating every moment of experience. The wound may remain, but it is tended with patience and care, and life can continue around it.
In this sense, healing does not mean that the wound disappears. It means that the wounded person is no longer alone with it. Someone accompanies them, listens to them, and helps them carry it. Such companionship—what Rambo calls tending the wounds—is itself a form of grace.
God as the Fellow-Sufferer Who Understands
From a Whiteheadian perspective, this work of accompaniment also offers a way of imagining the presence of God. Whitehead describes God as “the fellow-sufferer who understands.” In the context of trauma, this image takes on particular depth. God is not the one who erases the past or explains suffering away. Rather, God is present as a companion who feels the suffering of the world and receives it into the divine life. Just as a wise therapist bears witness to the wounded person’s story, so the divine life bears witness to every moment of pain, grief, and struggle. In this sense, the work of tending wounds in trauma therapy can be seen as participating in a deeper movement of reality itself: a movement in which suffering is not denied, and the wounded are not abandoned, but are accompanied with patience, empathy, and care.
Relationality and a Culture of Support
So far my focus has been on individual therapy. However, there is another important contribution to open and relational theology, and that lies in the theme of relationality itself as a desirable feature of a culture of support. Trauma is not experienced only within individual psyches; it is also shaped by the social worlds in which people live. Isolation often intensifies trauma, while trustworthy relationships can help create the conditions in which wounded people are able to endure, speak, and gradually find ways of living with what has happened.
Open and relational theology emphasizes that human beings are inherently relational creatures. We do not exist as self-contained individuals but as participants in webs of relationship—with other people, with the more-than-human world, and with the sacred reality that sustains the universe. From this perspective, healing is never simply an individual achievement. It is also a communal process that depends on environments of care, patience, and trust.
A culture of support can take many forms. It includes families and friendships in which people feel safe to speak honestly about their pain. It includes communities—religious, civic, and therapeutic—that encourage listening rather than judgment. It includes social practices that resist the tendency to rush wounded people toward quick closure or forced positivity. In such a culture, tending the wounds becomes a shared responsibility rather than the task of a therapist alone.
Within Christian communities, this relational vision can shape pastoral care and congregational life. Churches can become places where lament is permitted, where silence and listening are valued, and where people are not pressured to present themselves as healed when they are still hurting. Communities can embody forms of companionship that mirror what trauma therapists attempt to cultivate in the therapeutic relationship: presence, patience, and respect for the slow and uneven process of living with wounds.
From a Whiteheadian perspective, such communal support resonates deeply with the relational nature of reality itself. Each moment of life arises out of relationships with others and contributes to the ongoing web of becoming. When communities create environments of compassion and mutual care, they participate in the larger movement of the universe toward richer forms of connection and shared life. In this way, the work of accompanying the wounded is not only therapeutic or pastoral; it is also a participation in the relational fabric of the world itself.