Trauma hermeneutics offers a valuable lens for interpreting biblical texts by examining how violence, suffering, and injustice are embodied in characters, represented in literary form, and shaped by political and social power. Attending to trauma in the Bible can deepen interpretation, challenge moralizing readings, and reveal how narratives of suffering are used both to process harm and to construct communal identity, while also reminding readers that not all suffering is recognized or treated equally.
See also Esther Keeps the Score: Trauma, Body and Politics in the Hebrew Bible (SCM Press, 2026).
By Alexiana Fry
University of Copenhagen
Guest Researcher
April 2026
When you hear the word “trauma,” what comes to mind? Maybe you have a specific definition in mind, or a personal story. You may think it is overused and have concerns. Other related terms and concepts might arise, such as “victimhood” and even “resilience.” The significant divergence in thought when trauma is discussed is owed, in part, to the fact that it is a concept studied by myriad disciplines and fields, as well as its movement from clinical to “popular discourse,” which has led to some stating that the very “definition of trauma remains unstable” (Bond and Craps 2020: 4).
Further, you might be wondering why a discussion about trauma matters when one attempts to understand and interpret biblical texts—especially if this thing is so “unstable.” For those who cherish the traditional historical-critical method, this may be perceived as entirely anachronistic and unnecessary. Indeed, like many socially constructed concepts today, our modern understanding of something is likely distinct from how it was in the past and differs from culture to culture. For example, our favorite ancient humans did not use the term “religion,” nor did they consider it as many do today. Does that somehow make what we research any less “religious?” I suppose that depends on how one defines religion. A hermeneutic of trauma, similarly, requires one to be clear about their applied concepts and to remain grounded in the context of what and who we are studying. While our ancient characters and audience did not use the word trauma, they certainly encountered violence, suffering, and injustice, and demonstrated the impact of that traumata in both positive and negative ways. Trauma hermeneutics, “through sensitivity to the nexus between historical events and literary representation,” can “reveal new aspects of meaning and function” of biblical texts (Boase and Frechette 2016: 13). This modern lens can help identify with more clarity how these distressing experiences were categorized, represented, and even exploited (Bond and Craps 2020: 2).
My approach to analyzing texts with trauma in mind reckons with the embodied impact of potentially traumatizing events or systems on not only individuals and communities as depicted in the texts themselves, but also the role of trauma in politics. These are not separate but co-occurring realities (Fry 2026: 14). For ease of understanding, however, we will split these aspects into somatic, literary, and sociological categories, as I have done in another piece (Fry, forthcoming).
Somatic
At an early age, you might have heard about the alliterative “fight, flight, and freeze” when being taught about your nervous system. Along with “fawn and flop,” these are part of the natural and adaptive ways the body responds to stressors and/or threats in hyper- or hypo-arousal. One might see some of these adaptations in biblical characters themselves when reading about a stressful or even traumatizing occurrence or system.
For example, after a successful victory at the top of Mount Carmel against the prophets of Ba‘al, ending a famine (1 Kings 18), Elijah is sent a messenger from Jezebel with an explicit death sentence. Elijah responds, rightly, with fear, and then flight: “he got up and fled for his life” (1 Kings 19:3, NRSVue). He then goes into the wilderness, asking YHWH to take his life (1 Kings 19:4), a kind of flop response. These are natural adaptations to obvious traumata. In John 18:10-11, when Jesus is getting arrested, Peter goes into a fight response, cutting the ear off of Malchus in defense. One could also argue that the prophet Ezekiel, when arriving to the exiles living by the river Chebar, is exhibiting the freeze response when he sits among the exiles, “stunned, for seven days” (Ezekiel 3:15). My most recent work views the character of Esther as performing the fawn response, as she is so pleasing and wins favor in dangerous situations (Fry 2026).
When we analyze bodily responses to stress and threats to life and livelihood in ancient texts, this knowledge allows us to reconsider what is happening in them, including how we might have previously moralized these characters. For those who are still skeptical about the value of this lens, it is, for those who have experienced trauma, incredibly powerful to simply validate that experience—and we should do so even when it happens in stories about people long gone. If we cannot do so with the past, we likely have trouble doing so in the present. Still, we are receiving this information mediated through literature, which also causes us to ask not just what, but why these responses are included beyond demonstrating awareness of very human details.
Literary
There is currently some significant infighting between “camps” of trauma theorists who analyze literature (Boase 2024: 38-47), but they both can agree that one can absolutely see trauma implicit and explicit in narrative form; in fact, they both agree that it is a necessary part of processing trauma that it is narrated. Some theorists argue that texts themselves, authored by those with trauma, could have similar “symptoms” show up in their writing, like gaps, repetitions, time collapses, and others. Other theorists are much more pluralistic and do not believe trauma should be so prescriptive. What makes the aforementioned list of potential traumatic expression in text challenging for biblical scholars is that those “symptoms” are, well, common markers of redaction, and not necessarily trauma. Once more, it is important that trauma hermeneutics build on the foundations of our field, such as text criticism, rather than be a solo enterprise.
One element of note in discussion on literary trauma theory involves the use of symbolism. When trauma is too overwhelming, it can be helpful for those suffering from it to narrate what occurred—or is occurring—at a kind of distance, using imagery that allows the author to process with a sense of felt safety. Biblical scholars can acknowledge this in some way when we read texts with the city of Jerusalem personified as a woman, as what she does and what happens to her are metaphors to explain things that happened to a whole people group, like war, exile, and relationship with their deity. Another example could be found in the story of Job, which could indeed be a larger discussion about questioning other explanations that are full of self-blame and shame regarding the fall of the Judean monarchy and the displacement of its people. In other words, Job is not just a singular, legendary character; he represents something larger than himself, which some have argued is the children of the exile. Yet Job is an excellent segue to the point that these narratives, while they assist their authors and audiences in processing and managing trauma, do more than just that.
Sociological
The sociological side of trauma theory recognizes that a group of people, when harm occurs, have to collectively agree upon some form of what happened. Often, it is those with the most power in the community who get to dictate this narrative, and those narratives shape ideology within the community. All good Bible scholars know that these words do things.
When we return to Job, then, we consider that this character from Uz, a place no one can place on a map, might not be an Israelite at all. This character, however, receives a direct address from YHWH (Job 38), a deity that this “Uzzite” and the ancient Israelites and Judeans share. What is this story implying by using a potential foreigner to represent unjust suffering? The book also contains myriad perspectives from both Job, his wife, and his friends, about the relationship between his suffering and this deity, or “theodicy.” By the end of the book, even though all might seem well, we might question this. In Job 42, some argue Job is “repenting,” but is he really? Interpreters of these texts ask how these words might shape or reshape identities and identification in broader political spheres.
This sociological analysis includes reception histories. How do certain communities claim specific narratives and claims to suffering, legitimate or not, for social purposes? Texts from the Bible have also long been used to harm others, such as the “Clobber Texts,” a phrase coined by Dr. Ralph Blair in 1982 in addressing how certain passages were (and are still) being utilized to condemn those on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum.
Conclusion
Trauma is a deeply misunderstood concept, but it is also an incredibly illuminating one. Yet, it would be problematic not to add that, with this hermeneutic in mind, trauma-informed interpretations are not just about the negative aspects but also very much include what we might deem positive aspects, such as growth and re-making. Still, it is imperative to note that trauma is not meted out equally, nor are all narratives of suffering heard. As biblical scholars, we would do well to reflect on which stories receive more or less attention, and why.
Bibliography
Bond, Lucy, and Stef Craps. Trauma. London: Routledge, 2020.
Boase, Elizabeth. Trauma Theories: Refractions in the Book of Jeremiah. Trauma Bible 3. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2024.
Boase, Elizabeth, and Christopher G. Frechette (eds). Bible Through the Lens of Trauma. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016.
Fry, Alexiana. Esther Keeps the Score: Trauma, Body and Politics in the Hebrew Bible. London: SCM Press, 2026.
Fry, Alexiana. “Trauma Hermeneutics.” In T&T Clark Encyclopedia of Christian Theology. Ed. Jonathan Rowlands. London: T&T Clark, forthcoming.