Trauma and the Meaning of Easter

The following is a brief excerpt from my forthcoming book:

The arrest, trial and execution of Jesus of Nazareth was a trauma, certainly for his followers, maybe even for Jesus. In spite of Jesus’ hints as to what was coming, for his disciples his arrest appears to have been unexpected. It was a shock, especially how Jesus seemed to allow it, resisted fighting back, and seem to quietly accept his fate. The disciples fled for their lives! Surely they could have been arrested and executed too. To be even seen as one of his followers, as recognized by the Galilean accent, might have cost them their lives. Then the mock trial, again shocking that Jesus was mute. Then, he was dragged through the city streets, when only a few days earlier, he had rode through those streets as a King coming to a coronation. Then the crucifixion. The women watched his agony. They prayed for a last minute miracle, for the heavens to open up and an army of angels to descend. The death of Jesus was a trauma because it was unexpected; it was horrific; it was life threatening; and it was emotionally overwhelming. It meant all of the criteria for trauma.

If this is true, what is the significance of Christianity being born in trauma? What does it mean to Christians today, that trauma is at the heart of our faith?

Like all significant traumas, the death of Jesus created a crisis of meaning among his followers. There was a shaking of their foundations: “Was he really the Messiah? This was not what we expected the Messiah to do? How could God allow this to happen to such a good man? How do we make sense of this?” The Resurrection initially added more confusion. “Was he alive or dead? Will the promised Kingdom come now? Where are the avenging angels?”

The crisis of meaning was resolved by Jesus’ followers, perhaps inspired by the Risen Lord, with the conviction that this was not a senseless tragedy, but that Jesus was the Messiah (Lk 24:13ff) and the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. It was all planned. Seeing this trauma in this positive light, transformed Golgotha into “good” Friday. It was no longer a trauma, but something positive, glorious. From a meaningless tragedy to the salvation of the world. It was one of the greatest “reframes” in the history of human civilization.

This understanding of the trauma of Jesus’ execution is embodied in the story of the Last Supper. Jesus willing gives up his body and blood to secure divine forgiveness for sinners. His suffering has a purpose. He is our Savior. He is the agent of our salvation, but in order to be our Savior in this frame of reference, Jesus had to become sinless, more like the Son of God than the Son of Man. The Apostle Paul embraces and promotes this interpretation of trauma. He solidifies and explains it theologically. It makes sense to him partly because he operated in a Jewish, legal/philosophical framework. And this meaning of the trauma of the Cross still makes sense today especially for people trying to be perfect or even trying to be good enough by some external measure.

There is an alternative, perhaps original understanding of how humanity is saved that focuses more on Easter than Good Friday. We are saved because in the resurrection, God conquers death, and thereby releases humanity from its bondage to fear, bondage imposed upon us by Satan and intensified by trauma, justice and evil. No need to sugar coat the Crucifixion by positing that it was preplanned. Jesus’ execution was a tragedy. It was traumatic and evil. We are saved not by the Cross, but by the Resurrection. We are saved because God reveals that trauma/death is not the final word, that the gates of heaven are open, that there is eternal life in Christ’s Way. God could not stop the trauma of the Golgotha, but God can transform trauma. In a sense, God is our savior, not Jesus Christ. Easter is God’s miracle, God’s doing. (“Jesus may have been as surprised as anyone”).

This interpretation of the trauma of Holy Week posits that God was present with Jesus in his suffering and thereby transcends trauma. It offers a different vision of the Divine, not as a lawgiver, sitting on a throne above humanity’s struggles, requiring Divine justice to be satisfied with a sacrifice, but as an active creative participant in humanity’s sufferings. God is not the cause of trauma, but the redeemer of trauma.

This message speaks to the deepest need of humanity, our bondage to fear. This message assumes that humanity’s original sin is not our disobedience and estrangement from God, but fear. Fear turns us always from life, from love, from God and from joy. Fear corrupts us, and is at the root of our violence and cruelty. Existential issue of humanity is not “Am I good enough?” but “Am I alone amid my suffering?” Our fear is not just that we shall die, but that we shall be alone.

Certainly, there are humans for whom the primal existential issue is “Am I good enough,” and for those people the Pauline interpretation of the trauma of Jesus’ death still has great appeal. Yet, I would suggest that in the 21st century, in this emerging post Christian, post modern world, there is a growing number of people for whom the primal existential challenge is how to be good enough, but how to transcend trauma?

What does it mean to Christians in 21st century that trauma is at the heart of their faith? How should Christians message the Good News of the death and resurrection of Jesus for the 21st century?

Over the course of Christian history, I believe that Christianity has had a special appeal to those who have been traumatized, oppressed and who suffer unjustly, precisely because of this powerful message that God was in the midst of trauma, comforting the victims and transforming their suffering into a greater good, is a powerful message.

Over the years, Christianity has become institutionalized, become a religion of the establishment as well as the downtrodden. Certainly, people of wealth and power also have their share of traumas, but Christianity loses its power, if it becomes too closely aligned with the sinners, at the expense of being aligned with those who are sinned against. If Christianity wants to renew itself, it needs to focus on what it has historically done, be in ministry to and with the traumatized of the world. It is after all, a faith born in trauma.

Personal Reflection Questions

What does it mean to you personally, to your salvation, that trauma is at the heart of Christianity?
I present, however briefly, two views of how we are saved. Which view to you resonate with and why? Are they mutually exclusive? Does one view or another seem to resonate to different generational groups in your congregation?