Engaging Westermann and the Assumptive World

A Question of Context

It is no coincidence that, in the period since the Second World War, there has been a renewed interest in lament within biblical studies or that studies in trauma have developed so dramatically. The twentieth century became known, at least in popular parlance, as the most violent century in history. Whether this is accurate or not, ⁵ there is a perception, at least in the Western world, ⁶ that the last century was one marked by unprecedented levels of violence. Thanks to the coincidence of wars, genocide and acts of terrorism with the advent of mass media reporting, societal awareness of violence and its concomitant effect on individuals and communities continues to be significant.

Westermann’s scholarship emerges from, and was influenced by, his own experiences as a young German theologian and pastor in the 1930s and as a soldier and prisoner of war during the Second World War. ⁷ Westermann’s work spoke to a generation coming to terms with the atrocities committed in that war. Existential questions of purpose and meaning are deeply embedded within his treatment of the Psalms. Westermann himself said of his period as a prisoner of war, ‘There were times when you could not understand God anymore. You had to speak against God. Then I saw that this was what really happens in the Psalms and in Job. Out of this I learned the difference between petition and lament …’ ⁸ In the preface to the 1977 German edition of Praise and Lament in the Psalms, Westermann acknowledges that the historical context into which he wrote had been influential in the re-engagement with the lament. He states:

In the Preface to the first edition of The Praise of God in the Psalms, I drew attention to the fact that during the church struggle ⁹ the praise of God was rediscovered. I would now add that in the great catastrophes of our time, for those who suffer, the lament quite of itself has again appeared in its positive and necessary function. (Westermann, 1981: 12)

Westermann’s analysis of the Psalms occurs in conversation with the worship practices of his tradition, which were typical of Western Reformed traditions. Noting that the dominant prayer forms in use were thanksgiving and petition, Westermann argues for a turn, or return, to the categories of praise and lament as expressed in the Psalms. As one of the pre-eminent form-critics of the twentieth century, Westermann’s analysis of the Psalms is concerned with form and function, and with the development of the genre over time. In exploring the theology of lament, Westermann makes the following statement: ‘The lament ¹⁰ is the language of suffering; in it suffering is given the dignity of language: It will not stay silent!’ (1974: 31). ¹¹ In valuing the expression of pain and suffering, Westermann’s analysis finds much resonance with contemporary theories of trauma and recovery.

Trauma Theory and Its Role in Biblical Studies

A burgeoning interest in trauma and trauma studies as a hermeneutical lens for reading biblical texts has arisen during the last decade. ¹² As a heuristic tool, the use of trauma theory(ies) provides a means of exploring the traumatic origins of biblical texts, and it provides a means through which the impact of trauma may be seen to be evident within texts. Texts may either encode trauma and its aftermath or specifically address the needs of traumatised communities. Trauma theory opens new avenues for exploring the ongoing relevance and function of biblical texts in contemporary contexts of suffering and trauma (see Frechette and Boase, 2016).

No single ‘trauma theory’ has been uniformly applied to biblical texts. ¹³ However, although each framework approaches trauma from differing perspectives, central to all is the recognition that experiences of trauma and suffering can have significant implications for individual and/or communal ways of understanding the self and the world. Trauma disrupts the sense of self and unsettles the worldview of the victim(s), leading in varying degrees to disruptions in, or even the collapse of, constructs of meaning.

In exploring Westermann’s insights, I will engage one theory of memory and meaning-making that attempts to account for the way self-identity and the understanding of the world is constructed and disrupted in the wake of trauma—that of the assumptive world. The term ‘assumptive world’ refers to ‘the assumptions or beliefs that ground, secure, or orient people, that give a sense of reality, meaning or purpose to life’ (Kauffman, 2002: 1). Citing the pioneering work of CM Parkes, Jeffrey Kauffman notes that the assumptive world is the way that we know and interpret the world. Our assumptive world encompasses the interpretation of past events and expectations for the future and is subject to change in the face of the contingencies of life. Assumptive worlds are ‘constant internal constructs’ that conserve psychosocial reality (Kauffman, 2002: 2).

Ronnie Janoff-Bulman suggests that at the core of our assumptive world lie ‘abstract beliefs about ourselves, the external world, and the relationship between the two’ (1992: 6). ¹⁴ She suggests that the three fundamental assumptions are that the world is benevolent, that the world is meaningful, and that the self is worthy. In discussing the assumption of a meaningful world, Janoff-Bulman argues for a link between concepts of justice and life outcomes. In the attempt to construct meaning in the face of life events, constructs of justice and control are most often evoked, leading to a belief that a link exists between deservedness, behaviour and outcome. The world is not random and chaotic and is therefore meaningful (Janoff-Bulman, 1992: 8–11). ¹⁵ This foundational assumption allows a sense of both agency and control over outcomes in life.

Suffering, and in particular traumatic suffering, disrupts assumptive worlds. In her pivotal work Trauma and Recovery, Judith Herman notes that trauma occurs when one is overwhelmed or rendered helpless. Trauma results in feelings of intense fear, helplessness, loss of control and threat of annihilation, destroying fundamental assumptions about the security, self-worth and the meaningful order of creation (Herman, 1992: 51). Irene Smith Landsman similarly notes that trauma can fracture worldviews, arguing that the resulting crisis is pervasive and often results in deep existential crisis (2002: 13).

Smith Landsman makes a distinction between what she refers to as ‘ordinary meaning’ and ‘extraordinary meaning’. Ordinary meaning refers to basic assumptions about the benevolence of the world, concepts of justice, control and self-worth, each of which can be altered, questioned or shattered in the wake of loss and trauma. Extraordinary meaning is concerned with existential assumptions, including understandings as to the nature and character of God and God’s relationship with the world. Both ordinary and extraordinary meaning can collapse in the wake of traumatic loss and suffering (Smith Landsman, 2002: 20–1).

Core assumptions form the foundation for the development of an individual’s life-story, one’s self-narrative. This meaning-making process, which includes the development of self-identity, has both a narrative and an anticipatory structure. ¹⁶ Thoughts, perceptions and moral choices are made according to this narrative structure (Neimeyer et al., 2002: 32). As identity develops over time, a dialectic tension between continuity and discontinuity emerges. Given that life rarely unfolds according to a straightforward plot structure, self-narratives are disrupted, even fractured, in the wake of unexpected life events. Major loss and traumatic suffering exemplify this disruption and may lead to a disruption of self-identity (Neimeyer et al., 2002: 34).

In the wake of loss and trauma, a new self-narrative must be formed that bridges ‘what once was and is now’ (Neimeyer et al., 2002: 34). Robert Neimeyer and colleagues suggest there is the need to discover threads of continuity between the old and the new despite the shattered assumptions about the world. Any journey towards a new orientation ‘draws on symbolic resources in the self, family, community and broader culture and often requires a metaphorical “stretching” of the expressive power of language to be adequate to the nuances of loss’ (Neimeyer et al., 2002: 36).

This insight dovetails with that of Herman, who notes that the process of recovery from trauma tends to unfold in three stages; having first established a sense of safety or a safe relationship in which the trauma can be named, the second stage is the task of remembrance and mourning, and the third is reconnection with ordinary life (1992: 155–6). These last two tasks are both bound up with the task of representation. Being able to ‘tell’ the trauma story and to re-establish connection with community are inherently relational and primarily representational tasks.

As will be explored in the sections that follow, the lament is a form of representation that provides a vehicle for experiences of loss, suffering and trauma to be named and mourned. In form and content, the lament may also provide a bridge between past assumptions and present experience in ways that anticipate the future. The lament functions as a means by which trauma can be expressed and through which relational connections with significant others and community can be maintained and/or re-established. It is one way that assumptive worlds can be reformed, which in turn can facilitate resilience and recovery. ¹⁷

Engaging Westermann and the Assumptive World

Although theories of trauma postdate Westermann’s work on the lament, there are considerable points of intersection. Westermann does not discuss trauma as such but does provide an insightful analysis of the function of lament as a response to experiences of suffering.

Each of the three essays that appear in Praise and Lament in the Psalms has a different focus, apparent in each one’s respective titles. ¹⁸ Across the essays, Westermann explores specific aspects of the genre and the changes that occur over time, with an emphasis on the description of distress in relation to the petition and on the recollection of God’s past saving actions. In discussing the significance of the structure (address and introductory petition, the lament (description of the distress), turning toward God/confession of trust, petition, and a vow of praise), Westermann places particular emphasis on the transition that occurs within the Psalms; he notes that no psalm stops with the description of distress (the lamentation) and that the primary function is the appeal to God. The description of the distress and the petition are inextricably bound together, but the description of suffering ‘has no meaning in and of itself’. The prayer is made to the one who can remove the suffering, hence the transition from lamentation to petition (Westermann, 1981: 266). The lament psalms anticipate God’s saving intervention through the oft-included vow of praise but do so in the context of the naming of the pain and suffering. In this way, suffering is given voice and is validated.

Many of Westermann’s observations correspond with contemporary theories of trauma and recovery. That it is possible to correlate ancient literature and contemporary theory – albeit via the vehicle of Westermann’s analysis – can point in two (intertwined) directions. First, the analysis may highlight how the Psalms reflect their traumatic origins, leading to an argument that the Psalms emerged from contexts of suffering and trauma (a classical form-critical move of identifying Sitz im Leben). Conversely, or perhaps concurrently, the analysis can also demonstrate how language was used in a more prescriptive way to actively manage traumatic experiences within the community.

The Description of Distress and the Loss of the Assumptive World

Westermann argues that the description of distress – the ‘cry out of the depths’ – is central to a theological understanding of God’s saving actions and is ‘an inevitable part of what happens between God and man [sic]’ (1981: 261). In ‘The Structure and History of the Lament’, Westermann traces the development of the description of distress over time. He notes that the earliest expressions of lament occur in texts such as Genesis 25.22 ¹⁹ and Genesis 27.36, ²⁰ arguing that the ‘primitive [sic] form of the lament is precisely what in our Western way of thinking we call the question of the meaning of existence’. The cry is of ‘one whose experience has been shattered’ (Westermann, 1981: 196). Both petition and description of distress occur through the one utterance, the question arising from the pain of affliction.

One of the enduring contributions of ‘The Structure and History of the Lament’ is Westermann’s recognition that the description of distress is threefold, with God, the self (i.e. the supplicant) and the enemy as the subjects with whom the complaint is concerned (1981: 169). This tripartite focus is evident in both individual and communal laments, although the balance of focus can vary considerably. The structure reinforces that within the context of the Hebrew Bible, the lament is expressed in a communal context (Westermann, 1981: 170).

This threefold structure corresponds with Smith Landsman’s identification that loss and trauma lead to the shattering of assumptions in the realms of ordinary as well as extraordinary meaning. Complaints about the enemy reflect a questioning of the basic assumptions about the benevolence of the world and justice. The enemy may be those who act against the individual or the community and are often portrayed as either persecuting the speaker(s) or taunting them for their trials. The descriptions of distress concerning the self reflect the shattering of assumptions about control and self-worth. Those complaints directed at God can point to either a shattering of ordinary meaning concerning the justice of the world or, more substantially, to a deeper existential questioning about the nature and character of God and God’s relationship with the individual and the community.

Psalm 22 is perhaps the quintessential exemplar of this collapse of meaning. The psalm opens with a complaint against God, a cry to the one who should be present with and coming to the aid of the supplicant but who remains silent and unresponsive. The current plight of the one praying is contrasted with the divine intervention experienced by ancestors, who also trusted in God (vv. 3–5). The petitions in verses 9–11 and 19–20 further underline the broken assumptions about the character of God as the supplicant calls for God to draw near. In verse 6, the lamenter describes himself as a worm, scorned and despised, indicative of a loss of self-worth. The extent of the psalmist’s distress is enacted in the bodily images presented in verses 14–15. Both the bones and the heart are used elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible as metaphorical locations of distress. ²¹ Maier, in her discussion of Lamentations 1.20, identifies that ‘reference to the heart can indicate a loss of formerly held beliefs, or the inability to evaluate the situation, expressing feelings of bodily pain, bitterness and despair’ (2008: 151). Finally, in the descriptions of the enemy, a loss of confidence in the benevolence of the world and a loss of trust in others is evident (vv. 6–7, 12–13, 16).

Westermann regards a collapse of meaning as being an integral motivation behind the laments of the people. He states that ‘(I)n the blow he [sic] has suffered, the lamenter has experienced God’s denial. The experience is utterly unnerving and incomprehensible. The question “Why?” is like the feeble groping of one who has lost the way in the dark. It has the sense of finding one’s own way; it assumes that what has been suffered has its origin in God’s alienation’ (Westermann, 1981: 177). ²² Westermann extends this to the national level, suggesting that the communal narrative was that history itself had meaning, or ought to have meaning, in that God was believed to be active in the world. National catastrophe led to a sense of absurdity ‘that confronted God with the question “Why?” How can God bring such profound suffering upon people – if indeed they are his [sic] people – when he had previously done such great things for them?’ (Westermann, 1981: 270–1). The lament functions as a protest and expresses a collapse of meaning for the community.

Lament can thus be identified as witnessing to the shattered assumptions of those who utter them. The lament names a disconnect between the expected life-narrative and the contingencies of life and provides an initial bridge by which continuity between past and present may be re-established. ²³ An expression of this is particularly evident in Lamentations 1, in which there is a repeated contrast between the present situation of suffering and the past glory of the city (Lam 1.1–7). This contrast occurs in conjunction with appeals to God to look and consider to whom this has occurred, indicating the collapse of expectations and communal life narrative (Lam 1.9, 11; see also 2.15).

The Description of Distress and Telling the Story

Telling the trauma story is a significant first step in the recovery from trauma (Herman, 1992: 175). In his discussion, Westermann identifies that one of the functions of the lament is to give voice to suffering (1981: 272). Lament serves to validate the suffering of the supplicant, as the description of distress is named within the human community and brought to God. The prayer is thus one way of re-establishing relationship with God and with community (Westermann, 1981: 268).

In tracing the history of the lament form, Westermann notes that in the exilic and post-exilic periods, there were changes in the prayer that represented a transformation of the genre. The petitionary prayer without a description of distress became the dominant form, eclipsing the role of the lament (Westermann, 1981: 201). ²⁴ The description of distress was thus excluded from the prayer life of Israel. Yet the ongoing need to give expression to suffering and loss remained, and the element re-emerged late in the Old Testament and inter-testamental period in the form of an independent complaint, generally against God. For Westermann, the re-emergence of the description of distress is witness to the fact that lament (description of suffering) cannot be suppressed (1981: 207). He suggests that during the Maccabean period, it was the weight of national calamity that saw the re-emergence of the description of distress. Westermann argues that the description of distress was ultimately silenced to the extent that the prayer of Israel was ‘reduced to a simple petition while the complaint against God fell altogether silent’. He goes on to ask, ‘What is the significance for understanding prayer in the New Testament that the prevailing prayer in post-exilic Israel arose out of praise (thanksgiving) and petition, and that the lament remained silent?’ (Westermann, 1981: 213).

The nuance of Westermann’s argument is that the description of distress, and in particular the complaint against God, remained within Israel’s repertoire but that it was no longer included within the accepted or usual prayer forms in the post-exilic period. In the light of trauma theory, the endurance of descriptions of distress is not surprising and is a reflection of a ‘healthy’ way of being in community. Though piety might exclude descriptions of distress, especially those in which a complaint against God is dominant, trauma studies would suggest that expression of the suffering is an essential component of dealing with traumatic loss and suffering. That the description of distress is ultimately excluded from prayer is, however, a problematic development given the interconnectedness of human beings in the theological/spiritual, psychological and biological realms. Westermann decries the demise of the lament in the (Western) church, seeing the roots of this demise as early as the post-exilic period.

There is, however, an ambivalence in Westermann’s thought concerning the importance of the description of distress and its impact on the group or individual. At numerous points, Westermann refers to the description of personal suffering in ways that minimise its significance, referring to ‘mere suffering’ in several places (1981: 188). By way of example, in his discussion of the description of personal suffering in the communal lament, which he argues is enlarged in later laments by a ‘description of the situation created by the blow suffered’ (1981: 177; italics in original), Westermann states of Lamentations 5 that ‘it is in fact merely a “description of affliction.” … The extensive, even excessive description of affliction in the book of Lamentations diverges so radically from the lament of the people that we can no longer speak of it as a lament in the real sense. Here the lament simply flows over into a description of what is lamented’ (1981: 179; my italics). Similarly, Westermann states of the Psalms, ‘Never does the lament sink into a broad, wide-ranging description of suffering; never does the mere phenomenon of suffering as such thrust itself into the foreground so as to dominate the Psalm’ (1981: 188; my italics).

Even more significantly, Westermann suggests that the description of distress has no purpose on its own. While he acknowledges the importance of giving voice to suffering, the centrality of this naming is superseded in Westermann’s analysis by his emphasis on petition. Although Westermann seeks to rehabilitate the lament for contemporary Christian worship, he is perhaps unconsciously influenced by the very piety that he identifies has undermined the role of lament in liturgical practice. The function of the lament as a turning to God in times of crisis is emphasised. Though he states that description of distress and petition are inseparable, in his various references to ‘mere’ suffering, Westermann can be seen to negate the centrality of the naming of the suffering for both the individual and the community. He goes so far as to say that the naming of the personal suffering is on the ‘fringes’ of the form (Westermann, 1981: 188).

In the light of trauma theory, however, and given the importance of telling the story as a first step towards recovery, the description of distress can be seen to play a significant role. Rather than being an element on the ‘fringes’ of the form (Westermann, 1981: 188), the inclusion of the description of suffering and its consequences is arguably a central component of the lament. From the perspective of trauma theory, the representational importance of the descriptive language of distress cannot be overestimated. Telling the story is an important first stage in rehabilitating an individual into the community or reforging communal bonds in times of distress. ²⁵

In critiquing Westermann, I want to continue to affirm that the central function of the lament is to bring before God the suffering and to petition God to bring about change. That being the case, even where the proportion of the lament shifts to a predominance of description of distress over petition, it cannot be supported that the lament has lost its distinctive character. A closer examination of Lamentations 5 is instructive here.

This is the one poem in Lamentations most often identified as a ‘true’ communal lament in that it does not contain the mixed forms seen in other chapters. The lament opens with an address and introductory petition (‘Remember, O Lord, what has befallen us; look and see our disgrace’), followed by an extended description of distress (vv. 2–18). Verse 19 contains an expression of trust that transitions into two why questions in verse 20 (‘Why have you forgotten us completely?’ ‘Why have you forsaken us these many days?’). These questions function to summarise the description of distress and to introduce the petition of verse 21 (‘Restore us to yourself, O Lord, that we may be restored; renew our days as of old’). The poem and the book conclude, however, with a moderation of the confidence expressed in verse 19, concluding with the possibility that the relationship between God and God’s people might not be restored (‘unless you have utterly rejected us, and are angry beyond measure’ ²⁶ ). It is difficult to assert, as Westermann does, that this poem does not function as a true lament. Although the description of distress is extended and developed, petition frames the lament. ²⁷ That the expression of confidence and the petition itself is muted reflects the extent of the suffering and the need for the community to find a means to give voice to its shared trauma.

It has been argued that the overall shape of Lamentations is such that the community is remembered and re-gathered as community through the movement of the poetry (Boase, 2014). In Lamentations 1, we hear two separate voices, that of a third-person observer who describes the suffering of a feminine other (vv. 1-11a), followed by the first-person speech of the city woman herself (vv. 11b-22). Lamentations 2 returns to the first speaker, who continues to describe the suffering experienced within the city but in verses 11–12 gives his first-person expression of his personal suffering, one that echoes that of the city woman in Lamentations 1. The city woman again expresses her pain in verses 20–22. In Lamentations 3, a third speaker is introduced who names a different, masculine experience of pain, giving voice to a more external wounding by weapons and torture. It is only after these three voices have been heard that a communal voice speaks (3.41–48). Within chapter 4, the voice of the male lamenter of Lamentations 1 predominates, although the communal voice is heard in verses 17–20. It is only in Lamentations 5 that the community speaks in an extended poem, a poem that more fully conforms to the lament genre than do the previous chapters. Across the poems, pain and suffering is described in myriad ways and in alternating voices, moving from the distance of a third-person observer of a feminine other to the community speaking together in one voice. The naming of the pain across the poems functions to reformulate community through the increasing intimacy of the voices. The naming of the suffering functions in its own right to reformulate community and create continuity between past and present.

The telling of the trauma narrative is a form of testimony, and, as testimony, it bears witness to the suffering. In the utterance of speech to a listening other, the other becomes a witness to the trauma, allowing reconnection with community. In the descriptions of distress in the lament, whether it be in its early, developed or late forms, the traumatic suffering is brought into community – either into the community of worshippers or into communion with God. Testimonial speech for which there are witnesses bridges the silence and isolation of suffering and, thus, is an important component of the form.

Rebuilding Assumptive Worlds

A significant component of many lament psalms is the recollection of God’s past saving deeds, what Westermann refers to as the ‘re-presentation’ of history. Westermann’s discussion of the significance of this re-presentation again coincides with contemporary trauma study concerning recovery. ²⁸ Initially, Westermann notes that God’s past actions are placed in contrast to God’s present (in)action as a means through which God might be persuaded to act again in the present. The re-presentation of history thus becomes part of the petition within the lament (Westermann, 1981: 215). The re-presentation not only allows the community to remember God’s past deeds but also reminds God of those deeds. As Westermann states, ‘Recalling history had the immediate purpose of influencing history’ (1981: 220).

More importantly, Westermann highlights the role that this recollection has in the meaning-making activity of the community. Westermann claims that the recollections of past deeds is parallel to the recitation of the historical credo (as per von Rad, 1966) in a different Sitz im Leben. He states, ‘It was Israel’s experience that by clinging to God in desperate times, when former events were in danger of losing their meaning, history itself became a powerful sustaining reality’ (Westermann, 1981: 219).

Within the lament of the community, Westermann argues that the re-presentation of the larger course of salvation history has the effect of placing the present moment within a historical continuity. Given the transition to praise within the lament, Westermann stakes a claim for there being a connection between past, present and future.

Just as the looking back at God’s earlier saving deeds binds together the present moment of national lament with a moment in the past when divine deliverance occurred, in the vow of praise, a moment in the future is tied into the present moment of lament. The hour of need in which the people voice their lament comes to life again later when they praise God for this new act of deliverance in which the promises given in former times are now fulfilled (Westermann, 1981: 221).

Westermann suggests that in evoking the past, ‘what is proclaimed is the ongoing nature of the relationship which God has begun with God’s people’ (1981: 228). The continuity of the relationship came under threat due to the present crisis, yet the lament evokes future praise leading to the continuity of relationship (Westermann, 1981: 246).

In their discussion of the traumatic fracturing of assumptive worlds, Neimeyer et al. similarly argue that self-narratives are ‘critically fragmented’ by life events, causing ‘an unexpected discontinuity’ (2002: 34). They suggest that one of the tasks in re-establishing self-narratives is to find ways of bridging between what was and is now ‘in a way that yields different intimations of what might yet be’ (Neimeyer et al., 2002: 34). The task of meaning-making is more than a case of cognitive mastery of events and responses but is a deeper practical and existential quest for a new orientation in the world (Neimeyer et al., 2002: 36). This quest draws on the symbolic resources known to the self, family, community and the broader culture (Neimeyer et al., 2002: 36).

The re-presentation of history, as Westermann identifies, is a means of bridging past and present in meaningful ways. That this happens in community and is directed at God to sustain or re-establish a meaningful relationship potentially serves to address the sense of isolation common to loss and trauma, holding together relational bonds. The re-presentation can also be seen as addressing deeper existential questions about the nature and trustworthiness of God.

That the lament psalms reconnect the supplicant/s with community raises the question as to whether the lament psalms are descriptive or prescriptive. Westermann’s study of the lament psalms is concerned with their original function. He identifies that the lament arises out of an experience of need in which the supplicant cries out to God in petition. While the earliest laments may well have been spontaneous cries of distress and petition to God, the collection of lament psalms are prayers that exist in the context of community worship. As an established form, the lament prescribes the way supplicants give voice to their distress. Words are provided to name the unspeakable. The cry to God seeks witness, the description of distress names pain and suffering, the petition allows for the possibility of hope and the vow of praise or expression of confidence opens pathways of relationship with God and community.

The lament may be understood as a means of shaping the experience of the supplicant, functioning as a means of reframing the experience of suffering within the communal context. In providing a framework for the voicing of the suffering, the lament facilitates a sense of being embedded in community through its structural form. In this way, the lament is more prescriptive than descriptive. ²⁹

Whatever the context of their original utterance, as written and (re)read literature, the Psalms function as resources for meaning-making and maintaining the assumptive world. The form itself provides a narrative bridge, looking backwards and forwards, connecting with those frameworks that gave meaning to the past and anticipating a renewed understanding of the accepted worldview. The connection of the present with the past provides a historical context for meaning in the present. In drawing on this framework of meaning, individual supplicants remain connected to community. In times of communal crisis, community identity is maintained through the connection with the ongoing history of God with God’s people.

That the prayer form reinforces accepted theology and language about God also functions to maintain the authority of the community and its dominant perspective. The suffering of the individual and/or the community is shaped in such a way that the accepted worldview is reasserted and the status quo maintained. There is a conservatism within the form in that the lament shapes the supplicant towards a reassertion of the reliability of God, even when the one praying no longer experiences God in that way (Janzen, 2019a). Westermann’s recognition that the description of distress became less dominant over time, and that it was eclipsed by penitential prayer with its emphasis on the confession of sin, speaks to a changing theodicy within the community that sought to exonerate God at the expense of human experience. As Carleen Mandolfo suggests, the supplicant’s voice, even though it may express dissident viewpoints, is ‘not allowed any power to alter significantly the prevailing normative testimony. Just the opposite—the process was meant to retain the theological status quo’ (2002: 193). From the perspective of trauma studies, that the lament sought to reassert the assumptive world in a way that absorbed the present experience and opened the pathway for ongoing life within the community can be seen as a positive function of the form. That the description of distress was ultimately eclipsed by the penitential prayer suggests a fundamental shift in Israel’s theodicy such that a retributive framework became more normative. In this, according to Brueggemann (1986), there was great loss.

Conclusions

Despite the half-century that has elapsed since Westermann first published his studies on the lament psalms, his analyses have stood the test of time and demonstrate many points of correspondence with current research on trauma and recovery. Given the influences of his life experience as the impetus for engaging with the Psalms, this is perhaps not surprising. In exploring the function and theology of the lament, Westermann’s analysis highlights the importance of naming the pain and suffering, a naming that reflects the collapse of meaning that led to the lament. Biblical laments give voice to the collapse of meaning concerning the benevolence and justice of the world and the worthiness of the self, core assumptions that Smith Landsman refers to as ordinary assumptions. The complaint against God reflects a breakdown in more extraordinary assumptions about the nature of God and God’s relationship to the world.

Westermann’s discussion also highlights the importance of the re-presentation of history within the psalm structure, which functions, if considered through the lens of trauma theory, as a means of bringing present experience into conversation with the past. In addition, the vow of praise looks forward to a more hopeful future. The lament forms a bridge between present pain, experience and future hope.

While there are some aspects of Westermann’s analysis that could be refined, particularly his downplaying of the importance of naming personal suffering, Westermann’s work continues to make a significant contribution to the field of lament studies. As is evident through bringing Westermann’s work into conversation with aspects of trauma studies, as biblical scholars engage in wider interdisciplinary conversations, there is merit in returning to some of the foundational texts and considering their insights anew.