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Past, Present, and Future: “Cultural Trauma” as an Interpretive Lens for Understanding the Historical Rewriting in the Book of Chronicles

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  30 March 2026

Itzhak Amar
Itzhak Amar*
Affiliation:
Bar-Ilan University; itzik.amar@biu.ac.il
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Abstract

The Book of Chronicles stands out in the biblical context as it systematically, and at times literally, revisits historical events recounted in other biblical books like Samuel and Kings. This article aims to shed light on the phenomenon of this historical rewriting by employing Jeffrey Alexander’s cultural trauma theory. While Alexander’s theory has found application as a framework for interpreting specific biblical books in recent years, the uniqueness of the proposed article lies in its approach. Rather than applying Alexander’s theory to books written in close proximity to the traumatic events, such as the exile, the article seeks to explore its relevance in a book shaped approximately 250 years after the occurrence of the trauma.

Keywords

Chronicleshistorical rewritingtraumaJeffrey Alexandercultural trauma

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Harvard Theological Review , Volume 119 , Issue 1 , January 2026 , pp. 1 - 25
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Copyright
© The Author(s), 2026. Published by Cambridge University Press on behalf of The Faculty of Harvard Divinity School

Introduction

The Book of Chronicles is unusual within the biblical context; it is the only book that systematically, and sometimes literally, reviews historical events described in other biblical books, such as Samuel and Kings. Sara Japhet aptly formulated the following question: “The most basic question of all. . . Why did the Chronicler feel a need to retell the story of a period in the distant past which had already been described at great length? What impelled the Chronicler to write this book?”Footnote 1

In recent generations, skepticism has been replaced with curiosity.Footnote 2 The barrage of studies attempting to decipher the intended innovation of the book has become incessant. On the one hand, the repetition of the Vorlage and the additional material (Sondergut) have led to diverse approaches regarding its tendency and methodology. Some believe the text to be a midrashic commentary.Footnote 3 Others view it as an unconventional and novel form of historiographyFootnote 4 or emphasize its inclusive perception of “all Israel.”Footnote 5 Some believe it to be theological,Footnote 6 while others view it as “reforming history.”Footnote 7 Chronicles has gone from a neglected book to the “Cinderella” of the biblical world.Footnote 8 This vast progress is highly significant, offering a crucial contribution to our understanding of the history of the Judeans in Persian Yehud.

Over the last decade, the separate pioneering works by Steven Schweitzer and Ehud Ben-Zvi have offered a true breakthrough toward understanding the book. Schweitzer applies literary and sociological theories relating to the concept of “utopia,” based on the utopic island in Sir Thomas More’s novel.Footnote 9 Schweitzer argues that the book inspires a better alternative reality.Footnote 10 This idea reconfigures a historiographical work that seemingly depicts past events as a book that aspires to apply desired alternatives to the present and future. According to Schweitzer, this utopia is realized through three themes in the book: genealogies, politics, and religious ritual. Schweitzer severs the history from the text’s review, deemphasizing the question regarding the repetition of known historical events.

Ehud Ben-Zvi has made another substantial leap in the field. He utilizes sociological methodology regarding “shaping memory”Footnote 11 and applies it to Second Temple literature.Footnote 12 According to Ben-Zvi, the Jerusalem literati in the Persian era read and reread earlier writings and created a “site of memory” to shape history as they wished it to be remembered. The “site” may be a character (Moses, David), a place (the Temple), or an event (the exile). In this context, Chronicles is a product of “shaping memory” (which does not necessarily correlate with history) and may differ from the Deuteronomist’s memory shaping.

This article presents an additional sociological hypothesis (which is not built upon Schweitzer and Ben Zvi’s particular insights), to elucidate the reasons behind the Chronicler’s rewriting of history. I will explore the Chronicler’s preoccupation with the topoi of exile (all kinds of exile), despite the significant amount of time that had passed. To do so, I will draw upon Jeffrey C. Alexander’s theory of “cultural trauma.” Before delving into this theory, I will provide some context regarding using trauma as a tool for interpreting processes and phenomena in the Bible.

Trauma and Cultural Trauma in the Bible

Over the last two decades, scholars have shown a growing interest in linking trauma theories with the biblical text. A review of the entire range of views is well beyond the scope of this article.Footnote 13 Still, these scholars generally argue that trauma, usually as a result of a national catastrophe such as the destruction of the Temple and the exile, is embedded in the style and form of the text, in the actions of biblical characters, and sometimes also in their inaction or silence.Footnote 14 The joint premise shared by the scholars, according to which the text assumes its readers are aware of the traumatic context of the book, can reveal covert elements in the text, and illuminate overt ones. The analytical application of these theories began with the Book of Ezekiel. Scholars have long noted its unique style. The book is filled with strange behaviors by the prophet, violence, forceful language, and tortured characters. Scholars have argued that the text reflects the trauma of destruction and exile, direct consequences of PTSD suffered by both prophet and nation.Footnote 15 The discussion that began with Ezekiel branched out to other biblical books such as Kings, Jeremiah, Deutero-Isaiah, Lamentations, and Job.Footnote 16

The common denominator between most of these approaches is their reliance on psychological or psychoanalytical theories defining trauma and its responses, such as the theory proposed by Cathy Caruth, which had a significant influence.Footnote 17 However, this theory has been criticized both by sociologists and biblical scholars. They believe the failure of the theory lies in its inability to explain traumatic events that occurred to the collective, through theories designed to explicate the individual’s reactions to the trauma. Sonja Ammann writes:

Should we assume that biblical texts have been written by traumatized authors or for a traumatized audience? Such approaches commonly focus on memory as a river that flows forward: it flows naturally from the event as its source, it can be diluted and distorted, but in its essence bears the trace of the original experience. Implicitly at least, such approaches often draw on elements of individual psychological trauma. However, in light of the complex literary history of biblical texts, and considering that they are skillful literary texts, it can be quite misleading to read them through the lens of individual psychological trauma.Footnote 18

Furthermore, the common thread that connects the scholars above is the examination of texts written in proximity to the traumatic event (mostly the exile). In these circumstances, the memory of the event is tangible, and likely seeped into the written text one way or another. Cathy Caruth defines “trauma” as:

a wound inflicted not upon the body but upon the mind. . . the wound of the mind—the breach in the mind’s experience of time, self, and the world—is not, like the wound of the body, a simple and healable event, but rather an event that. . . is experienced too soon, too unexpectedly, to be fully known and is therefore not available to consciousness until it imposes itself again, repeatedly, in the nightmares and repetitive actions of the survivor and eventually manifests itself in dreams and flashbacks.Footnote 19

This begs the question: assuming, as the prevalent hypothesis does, that the Book of Chronicles was penned in the late fourth century BCE (∼330),Footnote 20 is Caruth’s depiction also relevant to average residents of Yehud in the late fourth century BCE? Do they still feel the “wound inflicted upon the mind” despite the many years that have passed? This is difficult to determine. The distance of time likely blunted the shock of the generation that experienced the destruction firsthand. Hence, I believe that in this case, the appropriate approach is not to examine the text through psychological concepts, but rather through sociological constructs. In this context, I adopt Jeffrey C. Alexander’s distinction between psychological trauma, which he refers to as “lay trauma,” and cultural trauma.Footnote 21

Cultural trauma is the group’s perception of the manner in which its identity has been damaged by an event it has experienced, and especially the meaning it instills in this experience.Footnote 22 It is the cultural meaning which the group attributes to the event that creates the trauma, and not necessarily the event itself. In the words of Neil Smelser, cultural trauma is not born; it is invented!Footnote 23 In other words, cultural trauma does not break into the nation’s life but is rather invited in. Instilling meaning in an event is no arbitrary act; there is a conscious selection process of an event that deserves to be considered a cultural trauma. The trauma is often selected by social agents (usually from among the elites), and these become what Alexander refers to as a “carrier group.” This group, which is aware of the rift to the group’s cohesion created by the trauma, intends “to narrate new foundations,” which includes providing an interpretation and a renewed meaning to the events of the past in order to bridge the rift and reconcile the needs of the present or future.Footnote 24 Providing an event with meaning transforms it from an event into a “representation of trauma” which eventually becomes a “new master narrative.” Since the new master narrative can be simultaneously multi-valued for the group but also very controversial, the carrier group must provide compelling answers to four representations for the audience to be convinced that they are part of this new master narrative.

  1. 1. “The nature of the pain: What actually happened — to the particular group, and to the broader collective of which it is a part?”Footnote 25

  2. 2. “The nature of the victim: What group of persons was affected by this traumatizing pain? Were they particular individuals or groups, or ‘the people’ in general? Did a singular and delimited group receive the brunt of the pain, or were several groups involved?”Footnote 26

  3. 3. “Relation of the trauma victim to the wider audience: [. . .] To what extent do the members of the audience for trauma representation experience an identity with the immediately victimized group?”Footnote 27

  4. 4. “Attribution of responsibility: [. . .] Who actually injured the victim? Who caused the trauma?”Footnote 28

Alexander asserts that all four representations are critical to creating a new master narrative. Without them, the mediation between the event and its traumatic representation (to which he refers as the “trauma process”) will not succeed, and the event will remain no more than an event.

Cultural Trauma and the Deuteronomistic History (and Ezekiel)

How can this theory be applied to the Book of Chronicles? I will start the discussion with the Deuteronomistic history which was written immediately after the destruction, and was most likely used by the Chronicler as the Vorlage.Footnote 29 The “carrier group,” which usually included prophets, priests, or writersFootnote 30 and was endowed with what Alexander refers to as “particular discursive talents,” intended to instill new meaning in the destruction and exile, and transform them into a new master narrative. These national catastrophes caused a theological rift in the relationship between God and his people. The people felt betrayed. The almighty God was defeated in the battle against the Babylonian God, and his supposedly invulnerable abode—the Temple—was burnt to the ground.Footnote 31 God’s defeat created, in Alexender’s words, a “loss of meaning” among his people. Hence, the “carrier group” sought to shape a new master narrative, mainly regarding the fourth representation: who is responsible for the trauma? The new representation offered a theodical view, which had potential to become controversial among the exiled.Footnote 32 According to this view, God was not responsible for their trauma; instead the nation’s accumulated sins over the generations—including their own—were the direct cause of these national catastrophes.Footnote 33 The Babylonians were God’s messengers to carry out the destruction, since the nation’s sins left God with no choice but to destroy Jerusalem and exile his people.

The new master narrative created by the Deuteronomist after the exile comprises the following four representations:

  1. 1. What actually happened? Jerusalem was destroyed, and its inhabitants were exiled to Babylonia.

  2. 2. What group of people was affected by this trauma? In the first exile (597 BCE), King Jeconiah and the Jerusalem elite were exiled to Babylonia. In the second exile (586 BCE), the remaining people of Jerusalem and the immediate area followed.

  3. 3. What are the connections between the current members of the group and the victims of the trauma? The group comprises first or second generation descendants of those who experienced the trauma firsthand or secondhand.

  4. 4. Who caused this trauma? The accumulation of sins from previous generations, including the sins of the current generation.

Yet, it seems the trauma was not the sole concern of the Deuteronomist. The defeat led to an expansion of the writing circle deep into ancient history, including the conquest of the land and its settlement. For example, according to Dominik Markl (based on previous scholars), the depiction of the conquest of the Transjordan (Num 21:21–35; Deut 2:16–3:17) and the land of Israel (Josh 6–12) is not historical in nature. These portrayals were constructed as a psychological response to the astonishment that followed the defeat. This “history” was used as a “recovering agency,” and a means of coping with the trauma.Footnote 34 In his words:

In this sense, both narratives—of the conquest and the loss of the land—could be read as an attempt at recovering agency. Against the background of the experience of helpless exposure to mass violence and ultimate defeat, the story of the conquest of the land could serve as a counterfactual narrative that celebrates a primordial victory, involving phantasies of the perpetration of orgies of mass violence that are, at the same time, an expression of utmost obedience towards divine command. While these imaginations may well appear, to the modern mind, as a psychological distortion, they are comprehensible as the consequence of traumatic suffering.Footnote 35

It turns out that the preoccupation with wars and the justification of mass violence that supposedly took place during the conquest of the land could provide the vanquished with a “seed of resilience.” This imagined writing reminds the defeated audience that there were days when their fate was in their own hands (subject to keeping God’s laws), and that despite the trauma, they should strive to return to such times.

The purpose of constructing a traumatic event (even an imaginary one) is a call to action. As Jacob Wright notes, the collective story told by biblical literature, including Deuteronomistic literature, does not amount to a nostalgic longing for the glory of the past. Its most outstanding achievement is what cognitive psychology refer to as “prospective memory”—a memory that motivates action and looks toward the future.Footnote 36 This is the most crucial point in Alexander’s theory. Recognizing one’s suffering allows one to recognize the suffering of others, and to expand the circles of social solidarity. Acknowledging suffering is a basic condition, but alone is insufficient. A society that created a cultural trauma will now strive to heal the rift, flatten the curve, and overcome the trauma that created it. Therefore, contrary to psychological trauma or other sociological theories of trauma,Footnote 37 cultural trauma does not focus on the processes that caused the dissolution of social cohesion, but rather on the processes that reassemble the wavering community identity.

A call to look toward the future is found in the Book of Ezekiel. The book’s first part comprehensively describes the nation’s past sins, which led to exile.Footnote 38 The extensive and seemingly unnecessary preoccupation with the past plays an essential role in constructing cultural trauma, especially in the fourth representation, which addresses the question of who is responsible for the trauma.Footnote 39 In the wake of his trauma, Ezekiel places the responsibility for the destruction on the nation’s accumulated sins along with their forefathers.Footnote 40 In this regard, the author of Ezekiel is similar to the Deuteronomist: both blame the exile on the nation’s sins not only in the present, but also in the past. However, unlike the Deuteronomist, who concludes with a rather gloomy description (aside from the liberation of king Jeconiah), the author of Ezekiel describes the rise of Israel in the second part of the book (Ezek 33–48).Footnote 41 This part contains an innovation concerning the question of retribution. From this point forward, the punishment will not be for accumulated sins, but will instead focus only on the sins of the present nation. In light of the desperate call from the people: “Our transgressions and our sins weigh upon us, and we waste away because of them; how then can we live?” (Ezek 33:10), the prophet sets forth a new and more optimistic doctrine (certainly for those who have sinned in the past): past sins and virtues are dismissed. Hence, a righteous man who did evil will be punished despite his good past, and a wicked man who did good will be rewarded despite his bad past. Ezekiel highlights how the good deeds of the present can influence and fundamentally change the paradigm that has been used up to this point. It should be noted that the prophet describes solidarity between people within the framework of good and evil: “If the wicked restore the pledge, give back what they have taken by robbery, and walk in the statutes of life, committing no iniquity—they shall surely live” (Ezek 33:15).Footnote 42

Cultural Trauma and the Book of Chronicles

As explained above, Deuteronomistic authors (and the author of Ezekiel) wrote as a reaction to the nation’s defeat. This leads to the question regarding the Chronicler’s manner of mediating the defeat, and the reasons that led to that choice. The Deuteronomist and Ezekiel’s author shaped the trauma for the generation that had experienced it or heard about it firsthand. The Chronicler faced a far more difficult challenge since hundreds of years had passed since the trauma. However, herein lies the strength of the cultural trauma theory, which enables the application of a traumatic event many years later, provided that some cultural construct of the trauma has occurred in the interim. The passage of time does not impair the construction of the meaning instilled in the trauma—on the contrary, it helps to establish and perfect the effects of the trauma so that it becomes part of the essence of a group that most likely did not participate in the trauma directly or indirectly. At the time of the composition of Chronicles, the exile, the destruction, and the loss of the Judean monarchy were firmly established as a cultural trauma among the ideological and biological descendants of the exiles. The authors of this generation generally adopted the Deuteronomistic view (found also in the first half of Ezekiel), according to which the people of Israel are at fault for the destruction due to the cumulative sins of several generations, and God is blameless. This concept is reflected in prayers and confessions which are theodical in nature, such as Trito-Isa 63:7–64:11, Ezra 9:9–15, Neh 1:1–11 and 9:6–37, and Dan 9:5–14. A refined expression of this concept, including self-flagellation, appears in Ezra’s speech (Ezra 9:6–14). The following two verses reflect the general atmosphere in the abovementioned sources:

After all that has come upon us for our evil deeds and for our great guilt, seeing that you, our God, have punished us less than our iniquities deserved and have given us such a remnant as this, shall we break your commandments again and intermarry with the peoples who practice these abominations? Would you not be angry with us until you destroy us without remnant or survivor. (Ezra 9:13–14)

Ezra’s rhetorical question, “shall we break your commandments again?,” reveals his self-perception, which likely represents the perception of many in his generation.Footnote 43 God is viewed not only as righteous (Ezra 9:15; Neh 9:8, 33) but also as merciful and kind; God provides the nation with refuge and prevents the destruction despite their sins. Therefore, it is unthinkable that God’s kindness should be repaid with evil, such as replacing him with another god, or violating his commandments.

How does this trend manifest in the book of Chronicles? And does the book include a convention regarding the fourth representation, which blames the nation for its fate, and justifies God? The expression of this concept in the Book of Chronicles seems significantly reduced compared to other biblical books. While Rehoboam uses the formula “God is righteous” (2 Chr 12:6), the general impression of the book’s character is hardly one of self-flagellation—certainly not in the harsh tones of Ezra and Nehemiah. Although it is plausible that the Chronicler considered theodicy to some degree while revising the history of the First Temple era, I argue that the primary motivation for doing so was the Chronicler’s increasing concern about external influences emanating from neighboring provinces that surrounded the vulnerable and diminutive Yehud. Jonker encapsulates this assertion as follows:

Samaria to the north of the province of Yehud, but also the provincial areas surrounding Yehud on the west, east and south, were in close interaction with one another and with Yehud. This provincial dynamics, particularly in terms of economy and religion, must have had a shaping influence on the mindscape within which the writer of Chronicles formulated his history.Footnote 44

An apprehension of foreign influences prompts the Chronicler to introduce alterations in the representations of the cultural trauma. Simultaneously, as we will explore further below, the Chronicler incorporates novel principles into this historical revision to articulate the cultural trauma, in a fundamentally different manner than the Deuteronomist did. Returning to Alexander’s terminology, the Chronicler employs the old master narrative as a foundation for constructing a new master narrative grounded in novel representations.

The modus operandi of the Chronicler is based on four different actions: 1) the uncompromising struggle against foreign influences; 2) preservation of the traumatic event of exile; 3) changing the traumatic representation of the causes of exile; and 4) a call to action—providing hope for the present and future.

A. The Uncompromising Struggle Against Foreign Influences

The initial phase encompasses a struggle against external influences. Five illustrations of the Chronicler’s numerous references to these influences are as follows:

First, the Chronicler justifies Saul’s death, painting it with grave colors: Saul is unfaithful to God, fails to keep God’s words, and fails to seek God (1 Chr 10:13–14). These three accusations are general, with no reference to a specific sin. However, alongside these three general accusations, the Chronicler does mention one specific accusation. It is not Saul’s mistake in the war against Amalek that leads to his downfall (1 Sam 15:26) but rather the fact that he consults a medium. This sin is carefully chosen by the Chronicler as deserving specific mention since it involves turning to foreign forces.

Second, in the second part of Asa’s reign, after the 36th year of his kingship, he turns twice to outsiders for help. He first asks Ben Hadad, King of Aram, to help him in the siege imposed by Baasha, King of Israel, and later seeks the help of doctors to treat his mortal illness. These two appeals ultimately lead to his death.Footnote 45

Third, Jehoshaphat, king of Judah, establishes marriage and military ties with Ahab, King of Israel. Later, he forges connections with Ahaziah, King of Israel. These connections lead to two severe rebukes by two prophets: Hanani and Eliezer (2 Chr 19:2; 20:37). The first reprimand has no practical consequences, as Jehoshaphat himself works to remove foreign elements from his kingdom. However, after the second rebuke of the prophet, the cooperation between Jehoshaphat and the king of Israel fails, and the ships that were supposed to reach Tarshish are destroyed.

Fourth, Amaziah’s attempt to hire a battalion of soldiers from Israel to aid in his war against the people of Se’ir is met with an unequivocal refusal by the Prophet, who forbids him to have any contact with the kingdom of Israel, “for the Lord is not with Israel” (2 Chr 25:7).

Fifth, the two most extreme examples are, without a doubt, the replacement of the God of Israel with other gods by Amaziah (2 Chr 24:14) and Ahaz (2 Chr 28:23). In both cases, the replacement is accompanied by the reasoning that the other god is stronger; and in both cases, the exchange leads to punishment, which does not benefit the king.

In these five cases (many of which are not found in the Vorlage) and others, the Chronicler deliberately attempts to prevent any connection between the king and outsiders. The only legitimate relationship is one that guarantees that the foreign king will be the one influenced, or at the very least, that the influence will be mutual, on the condition that the foreign king accepts God’s supremacy. Solomon’s relationship with Hiram and the Queen of Sheba is a striking example. As Ben Zvi points out, this is the only instance in Chronicles where two foreign monarchs praise God (2 Chr 2:11; 9:8).Footnote 46 Under this assumption, the Chronicler depicts the relationship between Solomon and Hiram as one fundamentally characterized by parity between the two kings. Hiram’s servants or wise men are always mentioned together with Solomon’s servants or wise men. The Chronicler is careful to describe a reality of cooperation and not one in which Hiram’s servants or wise men take the lead. This table shows the contrast between the texts in Chronicles and their parallel in Kings:

The emphasis on the cooperation between Solomon and Hiram’s servants intends to compare their skills; these descriptions generally have no parallel in the Book of Kings. In all of these cases, there is an emphasis on the superiority of the skills and abilities of Solomon’s servants or wise man. In the two cases that do correspond to Kings, the Chronicler inserts a revision to moderate the expertise of Hiram’s men. In the first example, the Chronicler omits Solomon’s words, “for you know that there is no one among us who knows how to cut timber like the Sidonians.” In the second example, the Chronicler omits the description “sailors” (אנשי אניות). This creates an impression of equality between the slaves, in place of the superiority of Hiram’s slaves over Solomon’s, as implied in Kings. The Chronicler’s inclusive views, as demonstrated by Sara Japhet, does not affect the general view of the potential for disaster in every connection with an outside party. The only way to avoid this impact is by promising that the King of Judah would be the leading party in the relationship and not the foreigner.

B. Preservation of the Traumatic Event of Exile (Any Exile)

The second phase in conveying the Chronicler’s revitalized cultural trauma involves emphasizing the trauma, specifically the various aspects of exile, to a greater extent than the Deuteronomist did.Footnote 47 It is plausible that the Chronicler intends to leave the concept of exile as an ongoing, unresolved wound. Danilo Verde describes a similar course of action in communal lament found in the first two books of Psalms:

The fact that the Babylonian catastrophe was caused by Israel’s sin implies that catastrophe could happen again, unless Israel embarked on a path of renewal and faithfulness to Yhwh once and for all. In order to avoid future national catastrophes, the wounds inflicted by the Babylonians had to continue to bleed rather than to be healed, and Judah’s wounds had to become Yehud’s wounds. The psalms made sure that the new generations in Yehud would be wounded by the constant memory of their ancestors’ pain.Footnote 48

The Chronicler’s work can be described in similar terms. The Chronicler attempts to transform the exile from a wound of the kingdom of Judah into a wound of the people of Yehud. The root גלה is repeated throughout the work alongside additional roots from the semantic field of expulsion and displacement, such as mostly in passages with no biblical parallels as can been seen in the following list (sources with a parallel in Samuel-Kings will be marked with an asterisk): 1 Chr 2:22–23; 3:17;Footnote 49 4:38–41; 4:42–43; 5:6; 5:10; 5:22; 5:26; 5:41; 8:6–7; 8:13; 9:1; 10:7; 12:16; 16:20; 16:35; 19:14–15; 2 Chr 6:36–38*; 7:20–22; 13:19; 14:14; 20:7; 21:17; 25:13; 28:8–15; 28:24; 29:9; 30:6–9; 32:13–14; 32:18; 33:11; 34:24–28*; 36:4; 36:6; 36:10; 36:20. This is a very long list. Terminology from the semantic field of expulsion and displacement—whether personal, tribal, or national—is repeatedly echoed. The variety of references, which are for the most part unparalleled in the Vorlage, and most of which disregard the Babylonian exile, reflects the Chronicler’s preference to preserve the awareness of exile (any type of exile), including its characteristics.

C. Changing the Cultural Trauma Representations

Preserving the exile as an open wound provides it with new cultural meaning through a shift in two of the four elements of the Deuteronomist’s trauma representation process. The four representations now include:

  1. 1. What actually happened? Jerusalem was destroyed, and its inhabitants were exiled to Babylonia.

  2. 2. What group of people was affected by this traumatic pain? Residents of Jerusalem and the surrounding area.

  3. 3. What are the connections between the group members and the trauma victims? They are the biological or ideological descendants of the group exiled to Babylonia.

  4. 4. Who caused this trauma? Zedekiah’s generation.

There are two significant changes to the Deuteronomist’s representations of the cultural traumatic process. First, the people affected by the trauma are not the generation exiled to Babylonia; rather, they are the biological and perhaps even ideological descendants of the exiles. The other significant change concerns the question of assigning responsibility. The nation and their sins remain the responsible parties for the destruction—not due to the accumulation of sins, but rather due to the sins of Zedekiah’s generation alone.

The Chronicler utilizes the Deuteronomist’s old master narrative as a framework for creating a new narrative that brings the exile back to mind as the ultimate traumatic event. Within this framework, the Chronicler creates new references to other personal, tribal, and national exiles. The rewriting thus reconstructs the traumatic process through new representations, but not necessarily through changing the traumatic event itself. The trauma is now reinterpreted in a manner that creates connections between the group and the victims, especially regarding the question of responsibility. The Chronicler isolates those responsible as Zedekiah’s generation alone. The understanding that punishment may occur immediately and not wait for future generations reinforces the efficacy of the retribution doctrine. Gerhard von Rad points out that the Chronicler’s “strange” treatment of the theory of retribution should essentially be understood as a form of the problem of theodicy.Footnote 50 Sara Japhet develops and perfects this idea.Footnote 51 She argues that the theory of retribution in the book is the best demonstration of absolute divine justice and mercy, which are indeed expressed in many places. However, neither von Rad nor Japhet address the reasons that forced the Chronicler to address the theory of retribution differently than the Deuteronomist, both in quantity and quality.Footnote 52 The need for retribution eliminates any tendency to push aside the act of sin under the pretext that it has no contemporary meaning. Since the destruction occurred due to the sins of only one generation, indicating that it does not take the sins of many generations to cause destruction, there is need for caution lest history repeats itself.

The shift from a perspective of cumulative retribution to immediate retribution has far-reaching consequences. It not only impacts the mechanism by which divine sanctions are invoked but also broadens the character of the offenses that lead to these sanctions. In this context, it is noteworthy that the Chronicler also employs terminology closely associated with priestly literature (P/H). For example, the Chronicler underscores how sins can pollute the land to the extent that exile becomes an inevitable outcome (Lev 18:24–30).Footnote 53 This is clearly demonstrated in the Chronicler’s quote from Lev 20:33–34 as a rationalization for the exile (2 Chr 36:20–21).Footnote 54 This is also a necessary explanation for Uzziah’s immediate punishment and expulsion from the Temple after he defiles it by offering incense at the altar (2 Chr 26:20–21).Footnote 55 Similarly, the Chronicler’s apprehension regarding the potential defilement of the Temple during Jehoash’s coronation lead to his decree prohibiting anyone from entering the Temple (2 Chr 23:6–7, see esp. 23:19; cf. Num 18:7).Footnote 56 A distinct manifestation of the link between impurity and exile is evident in Hezekiah’s address to the priests and Levites shortly after the conclusion of his father Ahaz’s rule. Hezekiah urges them to purify the Temple from the ritual impurity (נדה) that was introduced there during his father’s reign. In his view, these actions were the very ones that led to the calamity, as he states, “Our fathers have fallen by the sword and our sons and our daughters and our wives are in captivity for this” (2 Chr 29:9). Indeed, later in the narrative, the process of cleansing the Temple is once again described using priestly language and terminology associated with purity: “We have cleansed (טהרנו) all the house of the Lord” (2 Chr 29:18).Footnote 57

In conclusion, the recurrent utilization of concepts and terminology from priestly literature enriches the Deuteronomic viewpoint concerning the transgressions that could culminate in exile. Within this framework, any assault on the purity of the Temple and the land, through acts like embezzlement renders a punishment, which in this instance includes immediate punishment like expulsion or exile.

The question arises: How is an old representation replaced with a new one? According to Alexander, the “trauma process” and its adaptation by the group requires a convincing dialogue between the carrier group and the public. This was outlined by Alexander:

Speaker: the carrier group

Audience: the public, putatively homogeneous but sociologically fragmented

Situation: the historical, cultural, and institutional environment within which the speech act occursFootnote 58

The purpose of the discourse is “to persuasively project the trauma claim to the audience-public.”Footnote 59 At first, the persuasion discourse is intended for a limited group. If there is success, and the group is convinced that the event is a trauma, the discourse is extended to the entire group. The persuasive discourse can also come in the form of public speeches, which integrate representations and also replace old representations with new ones that are adapted to the new circumstances.

The Book of Chronicles is replete with speeches, most of which have no equivalent in the Vorlage. Many researchers assert that the Chronicler conveys theological messages (as did the Deuteronomist) through these speeches.Footnote 60 In this regard, it is possible to identify an explicit tendency in some of these speeches to change the representation of the party responsible for the destruction. The answer remains the same: the people are responsible for the destruction, yet now the people’s guilt does not stem from the accumulation of their sins and the sins of their ancestors, but rather from their own recent sins. Instead of allowing accumulation, the punishment for sin will come swiftly. The sequence of sin and punishment is underscored through a formula that establishes a reciprocal relationship by employing the dual root עזב: the people left God—and therefore, God left the people (or will do so very soon).

Consider the following three examples:

Then the prophet Shemaiah came to Rehoboam and to the officers of Judah who had gathered at Jerusalem because of Shishak and said to them, “Thus says the Lord: You abandoned (עזבתם) me, so I have abandoned (עזבתי) you to the hand of Shishak.” (2 Chr 12:5)

Hear me, Asa, and all Judah and Benjamin: The Lord is with you while you are with him. If you seek him, he will be found by you, but if you abandon him (תעזבהו) he will abandon (יעזב) you. (2 Chr 15:2)

Thus says God: “Why do you transgress the commandments of the Lord, so that you cannot prosper? Because you have forsaken (עזבתם) the Lord, he has also forsaken (יעזב) you.” (2 Chr 24:20)

The duality of the root עזב stands out in all three examples. The first example relates to the nation’s idolatry or disobedience toward God. By this, the speaker alludes to the danger of foreign influences, and the prohibition of exposure and adoption of such influence. The second comes from God, and concerns the threat of removing divine providence, which often includes punishment. The root עזב is quite common in the Bible, and appears dozens of times in the context of God’s complaints that the nation has abandoned him, or in the context of the people’s complaint that God has left them. However, a dual use of the root עזב is an innovation of the Chronicler, to emphasize that every retreat will be met with a quick departure of the divine presence. God will no longer exhibit mercy, and punishment will be immediate. The change of this paradigm also affects the destruction. Zedekiah’s generation avoided heeding the word of God (2 Chr 36:15–16). Therefore, the punishment of exile is an immediate consequence of these sins.Footnote 61

D. Immediacy and a Call to Action: Providing Hope for the Present and Future

The reverberation of the exile as an open wound, in addition to the shift in the timeframe for God’s punishment—exact a high mental price. A nation cannot live in a constant state of fearing immediate punishment, especially under the whip of another imminent exile. This is doubly true of a nation in a state of “post-collapse society.”Footnote 62 Therefore, parallel to the perception of the exile as an open wound, and the reshaping of the traumatic representation that explains the exile as a result of punishment for sins in the present, the Chronicler feels obligated to also provide the residents of Yehud with hope.

The book uses two methods to present hope: the first is the perception of immediate or immanent reward, and the second is a call to action. Parallel to the concept of immediate punishment is immediate reward; this perception, therefore, has the potential to create hope. The book is full of descriptions of military or economic successes that occur immediately in the wake of seeking or calling out to God, with the understanding that only he is capable of saving the nation.Footnote 63 The theory of retribution emphasizes that any good deed can warrant immediate reward. The reward is often directly linked to the action, to ensure the reasoning is unambiguous. This sometimes results in changes to the Vorlage. Admittedly, sometimes the connection between reward for a good deed or punishment for a sin is vague or tenuous. For example, Solomon is awarded the kingship and is chosen by God, even though there is no information on the actions that warrant this reward. According to the Chronicler, Rehoboam is awarded with building cities, yet the Chronicler does not mention that the king was seeking God. Moreover, in this case the construction of the cities immediately follow bad decisions by the king, which lead to the division of the monarchy. Similarly with regard to negative retribution, Zerah and King Baasha of Israel fight Asa despite his description as seeking out God and his religious reform (2 Chr 14:8; 16:1); 3,000 of the inhabitants of Judah are slaughtered by the Israelite battalion headed by Amaziah, without having sinned (2 Chr 25:13).Footnote 64 There is no doubt that to the extent that retribution (whether positive or negative) becomes mechanical, or even deterministic, there is a certain neutralization of divine providence over historical events. The Chronicler therefore leaves an “open door” for a reward or punishment which is not necessarily bound to actions, but depends on God’s will. Linking God’s choices to patterns that are fixed but not absolute maintains the perception of his absolute control in human consciousness. Thus, immediate retribution serves as a counterweight to the constant open wound of exile. As demonstrated above, the book of Ezekiel emphasizes the representation that brought about the cultural trauma (the people’s many sins) with a specific change of the divine retribution that comes from repaying for the present. The Chronicler takes a similar path.

The second method for providing hope is a call to action, intended to restore the recognition of God’s superiority, righteousness, and mercy, mainly as a counterweight to foreign influences that may erode these acknowledgments. This reading is articulated differently in the book, often in texts that have no parallel in the Vorlage. Two examples will suffice, once again taken from the speeches in the book: a call for repentance and the lexeme המון.

Example one: A call for repentance and the possibility of repenting appear in several contexts in the book.Footnote 65 I will briefly mention three cases that are unique in the book, since they are speeches directed at the kingdom of Israel: 1) Abijah’s speech before the war against Jeroboam and the kingdom of Israel (2 Chr 13:8–12); 2) the speech of Oded the prophet before the soldiers of Israel (2 Chr 28:8–15); and 3) the speech of Hezekiah’s messengers to the remnant of the exile of Israel’s kingdom (2 Chr 30:6–9).Footnote 66 In these three speeches, the structure of the speech is divided into two clear halves: the first is dedicated to describing the present problem, and the second is a call to action and looking toward the future.

In his speech, Abijah distinguishes between legitimate worship in Jerusalem and illegitimate worship in the kingdom of Israel. He then asks the Israelite soldiers to desist from battle. Implicit in his speech is an effort to reintegrate the seceded kingdom into that of Judah. Only in this manner may one account for the reference to the schism and the corresponding emphasis on the singular legitimacy of the Judean monarchy (ברית מלח).

A harsh defeat of the kingdom of Judah is described in the context of the war between Ahaz and the King of Israel. This is the worst defeat in the entire book. The prophet Oded depicts the Northern soldiers as cruel, willing to kill their own—“your kindred” (אחיכם). Later he asks them to return the captives. The soldiers comply, and their return is accompanied by frequent verbs expressing their haste to carry out the task (2 Chr 28:15).

Hezekiah’s messengers are sent to the remnant of Samaria’s exile to invite them to celebrate the Passover in Jerusalem. The messengers describe the gloomy past and present. This message is immediately followed by an invitation to return to God and celebrate Passover with the kingdom of Judah. The verb שוב, in its various forms, appears in their speech six times, illustrating the enormous effort that went into returning the remnants to Jerusalem.

The Chronicler is famously hostile toward the kingdom of Israel.Footnote 67 Regardless, the selection of the northern kingdom as the subject of these three speeches comes as no surprise, since in the Chronicler’s eyes the kingdom of Israel symbolizes a group of people who have reached the deepest low point possible. Therefore, there is dramatic value to these three speeches calling for action and change. All three contain a covert message that every reality, even one in its lowest state, is subject to change. Consider the line spoken by Hezekiah’s messengers: “For as you return to the Lord, your kindred and your children will find compassion with their captors and return to this land” (2 Chr 30:9). The return of the captives to the land is conditional upon returning to God. God remains merciful and generous, as always, but mercy is not automatic as it might have seemed in the past; the remnants must take the first step toward activating divine mercy.

Example two: The lexeme המון recurs in several of the many speeches in the book. This lexeme serves as a leitwort with a special meaning that has not yet been addressed by scholars. Its occurrences are as follows:

  1. 1. David’s speech: “O Lord our God, all this abundance (המון) that we have provided for building you a house for your holy name comes from your hand and is all your own” (1 Chr 29:16).

  2. 2. Abijah’s speech: “And now you think that you can withstand the kingdom of the Lord in the hand of the sons of David, because you are a great multitude (המון) and have with you the golden calves that Jeroboam made as gods for you” (2 Chr 13:8).

  3. 3. Asa’s speech: “O Lord, there is no difference for you between helping the mighty and the weak. Help us, O Lord our God, for we rely on you, and in your name we have come against this multitude (המון)” (2 Chr 14:10).

  4. 4. Jehoshaphat’s speech: “O our God, will you not execute judgment upon them? For we are powerless against this great multitude (המון) that is coming against us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you” (2 Chr 20:12).

  5. 5. Jahaziel’s speech: “Listen, all Judah and inhabitants of Jerusalem and King Jehoshaphat: Thus says the Lord to you: Do not fear or be dismayed at this great multitude (המון), for the battle is not yours but God’s” (2 Chr 20:15).

  6. 6. Azariah’s speech: “Since they began to bring the contributions into the house of the Lord, we have had enough to eat and have plenty to spare, for the Lord has blessed his people, so that we have this great supply (המון) left over” (2 Chr 31:10).

  7. 7. Hezekiah’s speech: “Be strong and of good courage. Do not be afraid or dismayed before the king of Assyria and all the horde (המון) that is with him, for there is one greater with us than with him” (2 Chr 32:7).

A review of these occurrences shows that המון appears in only two contexts: war and the Temple. War is the more common context, comprising speeches 2, 3, 4, 5, and 7. With regard to the Temple, the lexeme primarily refers to donations, as seen in speeches 1, and 6.

The occurrences in the context of war all present similar situations: a vast army that has come to fight against the king of Judah. The arrival of the המון undoubtedly causes a great deal of fear, as expressed in Jehoshaphat’s speech: “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.” The solution is to look to God since he is the only one capable of determining the battle’s outcome: “for the battle is not yours but God’s.” This perception peaks in Hezekiah’s words of encouragement that the number of soldiers in the Assyrian army is not the factor that will decide the battle. In his words “for there is one greater with us than with him,” Hezekiah is not referring to a larger army but to the help of God, whose divine power is undoubtedly greater than the power of the Assyrian army.Footnote 68 God provides help and mercy in times of trouble. These attributes can be activated based on the formula that appears in the genealogical lists: “And when they received help against them, the Hagrites and all who were with them were given into their hands, for they cried to God in the battle, and he granted their entreaty because they trusted in him” (1 Chr 5:20). Despite the difficult situation, faith in God guarantees his help, and in retrospect proves adherence to him and not to any other external factor. Thus, the speeches become a rhetorical device designed to change defeatism in times of need. The large army (המון) is meant to remind the people that just as in the past, only God can change the course of history.

The second context for the appearance of the lexeme המון is the Temple, but here the word is associated not with humans, but rather with the contributions made to the Temple. In the first case, before its construction, and in the second case, after the Temple was built. In both cases, this statement is preceded by a request from the king to volunteer, and in both cases, the request is answered with generosity far beyond expectation. David calls the people to volunteer for the Temple, and in response, they volunteer “with a whole heart” and with great joy. Hezekiah asks the people to volunteer, and the people, in response, donate generously:

The people of Israel gave in abundance the first fruits of grain, wine, oil, honey, and of all the produce of the field, and they brought in abundantly the tithe of everything. The people of Israel and Judah who lived in the cities of Judah also brought in the tithe of cattle and sheep and the tithe of the dedicated things that had been consecrated to the Lord their God and laid them in heaps. (2 Chr 31:5–6).

The appearance of the lexeme in these speeches, specifically in the context of war and the Temple, is not accidental: it indicates that the Chronicler intends to convey a message. The meaning of the lexeme המון is obvious in the context of a large army for people in a small province such as Yehud;Footnote 69 they have no doubt about the weakness of the province considering the surrounding nations. The Chronicler uses these speeches, along with the principle of the few against the many, to bring the consciousness of God’s mercy to the audience. The ability to stand against a strong army does not necessitate a large army. Rather it is dependent on God’s mercy and a broad recognition of his ability to win the battle despite the disadvantage in numbers. A message of hope is also found in the many donations to the Temple. In both cases, the Chronicler describes how volunteering for the Temple’s sake results in grain accumulation far beyond expectation. Such a statement may serve as a counterweight for the nation’s economic well-being from other sources. The improvement of Yehud’s economy depends not on external factors, but on the Temple, and above all, on the understanding that the Temple is the source of their blessing. The Temple is not merely a receiving entity; it provides in return. However, one should bear in mind that the Temple is a source of blessing only as long as the people keep God’s commandments. Failure to observe the commandments will lead to the destruction of the Temple, which has precedence, as described at the conclusion of the book. Once again, the Chronicler presents a dialectical perspective, comparable to the doctrine of retribution: on the one hand, the Temple is a source of blessing, but on the other, the threat of destruction hovers over it if the people do not live up to that which is required of them.

The summons to repentance or constructive action, together with the recurrent appearance of the lexeme המון, serves as a vehicle for re-inscribing divine mercy and power into the national consciousness; both dynamics are intimately bound to the recognition that God alone governs the course of history. The recognition of God’s mercy and supremacy can only occur when the people fully embrace God as the sole determinant of their well-being and prosperity, forsaking all external influences in both their daily lives and times of necessity.

Summary and Conclusion

The cultural trauma theory offers an alternative sociological lens through which to analyze the Book of Chronicles, particularly concerning the rationale behind the Chronicler’s decision to reframe the narrative of the era spanning from Saul to the First Temple’s destruction, even though many years had passed since these events took place. The cultural trauma of the destruction and exile, shaped in Deuteronomistic history and the book of Ezekiel, answered a question that was undoubtedly common among the defeated crowd: Why did God allow the destruction to occur? Given his great power, why was he unable to defeat the power of the Babylonian god? This event created a deep existential crisis and a rift in the cohesion of the defeated nation. As a response, the Deuteronomist author designs a new master narrative in which the fourth representation of Alexander refers directly to who is responsible for the trauma: not God, but the accumulated sins of the people over the generations.

The Chronicler aims to present the historical sequence leading to the destruction in a manner distinct from the traditional narrative. Possibly driven by concerns about foreign cultural influences from neighboring provinces, the Chronicler revises the representations of cultural trauma initially portrayed by the Deuteronomist. Alongside an uncompromising struggle against external influences, the Chronicler works toward preserving the consciousness of exile (any kind of exile) as an open wound. In addition, the Chronicler alters the representation regarding the responsibility for trauma from cumulative sin to the sin of one generation: the generation of Zedekiah. Thus, a new formula is created: every sin will result in immediate punishment. However, the Chronicler also understands that living under the shadow of a fear of immediate punishment is unsustainable. The narrative solves this problem by operating on two levels: the first is immediate, and the second looks to the future. The Chronicler offers immediate reward for every good deed, but also provides the people with hope that it is possible to return to God at any point, even when their spiritual condition is at its lowest point. Through the recurring use of the lexeme המון, the Chronicler offers the possibility of God’s rescue from hopeless situations of war, provided that the people recognize the greatness of God and maintain their faith. In all these cases, the Chronicler restores the nation’s faith in God, and cultivates the understanding that their hope lies only in the return to God, and in the reliance on his great power and his Temple.

Footnotes

*

This research has been carried out with the generous support of the Beit Shalom Foundation, Japan. All biblical quotations are taken from the NRSV.

References

1 Sara Japhet, The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and Its Place in Biblical Thought (Frankfurt am Main: Eisenbrauns, 1997) 241. See also Gary N. Knoppers, “The Synoptic Problem? An Old Testament Perspective,” BBR 19 (2009) 11–34, at 11; Ehud Ben-Zvi, “Chronicles and Social Memory,” Studia Theologica – Nordic Journal of Theology 71 (2017) 69–90, at 69.

2 See the latest reviews by Jordan Guy, United in Exile, Reunited in Restoration: The Chronicler’s Agenda (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2019) 1–34; Jean L. Ska, “The Book of Chronicles through the Ages: A Cinderella or a Sleeping Beauty?,” in Chronicles and the Priestly Literature of the Hebrew Bible (ed. Jaeyoung Jeon and Louis C. Jonker; BZAW 258; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2021) 15–50.

3 Julius Wellhausen, Prolegomena to the History of Israel (trans. Sutherland J. Black and Allan Menzies; Edinburgh: Reimer, 1885) 227; Thomas Willi, Die Chronik als Auslegung Untersuchungen zur literarischen Gestaltung der historischen ueberlieferung Israels (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1972); William M. Schniedewind, The Word of God in Transition: From Prophet to Exegete in the Second Temple Period (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995) 250–52.

4 See The Chronicler as Historian (ed. Patrick M. Graham, Kenneth G. Hoglund, and Steven L. McKenzie; LHBOTS 238; Sheffield: Sheffield Academy Press, 1997); Sara Japhet, “The Book of Chronicles: Historical Book,” Shnaton 14 (2004) 101–18 (Hebrew).

5 Hugh G. M. Williamson, Israel in the Books of Chronicles (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977); Japhet, Ideology, 209–306.

6 Rudolf Mosis, Untersuchungen zur Theologie des chronistischen Geschichtswerkes (Freiburg: Herder, 1973); Kim Strübind, Tradition als Interpretation in der Chronik: König Josaphat als Paradigma chronistischer Hermeneutik und Theologie (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1991) 3; Georg Steins, Die Chronik als kanonisches Abschlussphänomen: Studien zur Entstehung und Theologie von 1/2 Chronik (Weinheim: Beltz Athenäum,1995) 517.

7 Louis C. Jonker, “Reforming History: The Hermeneutical Significance of the Books of Chronicles,” VT 57 (2007) 21–44.

8 John W. Kleinig, “Recent Research on Chronicles,” CBR (1994) 43–76, at 43.

9 Thomas More, Utopia (ed. Edward Surtz and J. H. Hexter; vol. 4 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More; New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965).

10 Steven J. Schweitzer, Reading Utopia in Chronicles (LHBOTS 442; New York: T&T Clark, 2007).

11 Based on the theory by Eviatar Zerubavel, Time Maps: Collective Memory and the Social Shape of the Past (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2003).

12 See Ehud Ben-Zvi, Social Memory Among the Literati of Yehud (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2019).

13 For a comprehensive overview see David Garber, “Trauma Theory and Biblical Studies,” CBR 14 (2015) 24–44; Christopher Frechette and Elizabeth Boase, “Defining ‘Trauma’ as a Useful Lens for Biblical Interpretation,” in Bible Through the Lens of Trauma (ed. Christopher Frechette and Elizabeth Boase; Atlanta: SBL, 2016) 1–23.

14 David M. Carr, “Reading into the Gap: Refractions of Trauma in Israelite Prophecy,” in Interpreting Exile: Displacement and Deportation in Biblical and Modern Contexts (ed. Brad Kelle, Frank Richard Ames, and Jacob L. Wright; AIIL 10; Atlanta: SBL, 2011) 295–308.

15 See Daniel Smith-Christopher, A Biblical Theology of Exile (OBT; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002) 75–104. Smith-Christopher’s study largely undermines the notion that Ezekiel was a neurotic psychopath (as David J. Halperin, Seeking Ezekiel: Text and Psychology [University Park: Pennsylvania State, 1993] asserts) or a creative writer (as Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–24 [trans. Ronald E. Clements; Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979] 29 asserts). Smith-Christopher was among the first scholars to assert that “a reading of refugee studies, disaster studies, and the assumption of trauma transforms our image of Ezekiel. . . to one whose imagery and prose can be taken as indications of the experience of exile” (Smith, Biblical Theology of Exile, 104). This approach is also reflected in later studies on Ezekiel; see, for example, Brad E. Kelle, “Dealing with the Trauma of Defeat: The Rhetoric of the Devastation and Rejuvenation of Nature in Ezekiel,” JBL 128 (2009) 469–90; Ruth Poser, Das Ezechielbuch als Trauma-Literatur (Leiden: de Gruyter, 2012); idem, “No Words: The Book of Ezekiel as Trauma Literature and a Response to Exile,” in Bible Through the Lens of Trauma (ed. E. Boase and C. Frechette; Atlanta: SBL, 2016) 27–48; Refael Furman, “Trauma and Post-Trauma in the Book of Ezekiel,” OTE 33 (2020) 32–59.

16 David Janzen, The Violent Gift: Trauma’s Subversion of the Deuteronomistic History’s Narrative (London: T&T Clark, 2012); Kirsi Cobb, “ ‘Look at What They’ve Turned Us Into’: Reading the Story of Lot’s Daughters with Trauma Theory and The Handmaid’s Tale,” Open Theology 7 (2021) 208–23; Juliana Claassens, “Surfing with Jonah: Reading Jonah as a Postcolonial Trauma Narrative,” JSOT 45 (2021) 576–87.

17 Cathy Caruth, Unclaimed Experience: Trauma, Narrative and History (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996).

18 Sonja Ammann, “The Fall of Jerusalem: Cultural Trauma as a Process,” Open Theology 8 (2022) 362–71, at 362. For sociological criticism see Amir Kadhem, “Cultural Trauma as a Social Construct: 9/11 Fiction and the Epistemology of Communal Pain,” Intertexts 18 (2014) 181–97; Joshua Pederson, “Speak Trauma: Towards a Revised Understanding of Literary Trauma Theory,” Narrative 22 (2014) 333–53 at 333–34.

19 Caruth, Unclaimed Experience, 3–4.

20 Kai Peltonen, “A Jigsaw without a Model? The Dating of Chronicles,” in Did Moses Speak Attic? Jewish Historiography and Scripture in the Hellenistic Period (ed. Lester L. Grabbe; JSOTSup 317; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001) 225–71; Ralph Klein, 1 Chronicles: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006) 13–16; Gary N. Knoppers, I Chronicles 1–9: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 12; New York: Yale University Press, 2003) 101–17; Isaac Kalimi, “The Date of the Book of Chronicles,” in God’s Word for Our World (ed. Deborah L. Ellens et al.; 2 vols.; London: Continuum, 2004) 1:347–71.

21 Applying Alexander’s theory to the biblical text may seem challenging since it allegedly focuses on sociological groups rather than texts. However, as a complementary theory I would suggest considering Gabriele Schwab’s “Cryptographic Writing” (Haunting Legacies: Violent Histories and Transgenerational Trauma [New York: Columbia University, 2010]). Schwab asserts that texts regarding trauma carry memories, experiences, and “unspoken words.” Thus, writing becomes a medium through which the trauma is expressed, including all of its manifestations and hidden meanings, and can be passed along to others. Following this logic, the biblical portrayal of traumas such as destruction, exile, and the loss of the monarchy, may be viewed as the most comprehensive expressions of the trauma. However, one may still question the impact of this text 250 years after the trauma. Alexander’s theory is valuable in this context, since it neutralizes the personal and experiential aspects of trauma, and instead focuses on the cultural connections created by the trauma within the community, which are at the core of these texts.

22 See Jeffrey C. Alexander, “Toward a Theory of Cultural Trauma,” in Cultural Trauma and Collective Identity (ed. Jeffrey C. Alexander et al.; Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004) 1–30.

23 See Neil J. Smelser, “Psychological Trauma, and Cultural Trauma,” in Cultural Trauma and Collective Identity (ed. Jeffrey C. Alexander et al.; Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004) 31–59, at 38.

24 Ron Eyerman, Cultural Trauma: Slavery and the Formation of African American Identity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009) 4.

25 Alexander, “Toward a Theory of Cultural Trauma,” 13.

26 Ibid.

27 Ibid., 14.

28 Ibid., 15.

29 See Anson F. Rainey, “The Chronicler and his Sources: Historical and Geographical,” in The Chronicler as Historian (ed. Patrick M. Graham, Kenneth G. Hoglund, and Steven L. McKenzie; JSOTSup 238; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997) 30–72. For a different view (at least for the Book of Samuel) see Frank M. Cross, “The Contribution of the Qumran Discoveries,” IEJ 16 (1966) 81–95; Rex Mason, Preaching the Tradition: Homily and Hermeneutics after the Exile (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990) 10–11.

30 See Scott P. Bayer, “Micah 1–3 and Cultural Trauma Theory: An Exploration,” Open Theology 8 (2022) 492–502, at 493–94.

31 See Carr’s vibrant and descriptive presentation of this aspect: David M. Carr, Holy Resilience: The Bible’s Traumatic Origins (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014) 71–73.

32 See Alexander, “Toward a Theory of Cultural Trauma,” 16: “When the trauma process unfolds inside the religious arena, its concern will be to link trauma to theodicy.”

33 See Martin Noth, The Deuteronomistic History (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1981) 122–23.

34 See Dominik Markl, “Triumph and Trauma: Justifications of Mass Violence in Deuteronomistic Historiography,” Open Theology 8 (2022) 412–27.

35 Ibid., 423.

36 Jacob L. Wright, “The Commemoration of Defeat and the Formation of a Nation in the Hebrew Bible,” Prooftexts 29 (2009) 433–72, at 443.

37 Such as the theory by Kai Erikson, “Notes on Trauma and Community,” Psychoanalysis, Culture and Trauma 48 (1991) 455–72. Erikson places greater importance on the impact of trauma as a collective experience rather than solely on the process of healing from the trauma.

38 See Carly L. Crouch, “Ezekiel and the Construction of Cultural Trauma,” Open Theology 8 (2022) 482–91: “The historical lens through which Ezekiel views Israel’s past is far more negative than any other historical recitation preserved within the extant Hebrew Bible” (489).

39 See Carr, Holy Resilience, 76–79. Carr provides valuable insights that deepen our understanding of how the exiles perceived themselves after their deportation. Moreover, he illuminates the prophetic efforts, exemplified by figures like Hezekiah, to attribute the exile’s course to Yahweh. The complete manifestation of Yahweh’s ultimate authority over history becomes evident in the writings of the second (or third) Isaiah, who presents an unequivocally monotheistic perspective that recognizes no other deities besides Yahweh (82–85).

40 See Ariel Kopilovitz, “Ezekiel’s Theology of Holiness and Impurity as a Key to Understanding the Description of the Departure of the ‘Glory of YHWH’ from the Temple (Ezekiel 8–11),” Tarbiz 79 (2011) 317–44, at 342–44 (Hebrew).

41 Considering Ezek 33–48 as a unified division is merely for the sake of argument. Ever since Gese’s research, certain scholars have regarded the Book of Ezekiel, particularly the section encompassing chapters 40–48, as a distinct and relatively recent development separate from the remainder of the book. See Hartmut Gese, Der Verfassungsentwurf des Ezechiel (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1957); Walther Zimmerli, Ezechiel 25–48 (BKAT 8/2; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1979) 1240–49; Thilo A. Rudnig, Heilig und Profan: Redaktionskritische Studien zu Ez 40–48 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2000); Michael Konkel, Architektonik des Heiligen: Studien zur Zweiten Tempelvision Ezechiels (Ez 40–48) (Berlin: Philo, 2000); Anja Klein, Schriftauslegung im Ezechielbuch: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Ez 34–39 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2008). For the opposite approach, see Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–20 (AB; Garden City: Word, 1983) 17.

42 See also Ezek 18:6–9, 14–19.

43 Japhet writes: “The people of the Restoration period are presented in Ezra-Neh. by means of the rhetorical pieces as having completely internalised the religious tenet that ‘God is just.’ They regard their sad circumstances and hardships as fully justified consequences of Israel’s past sins and God’s just reaction.” See Sara Japhet, “Theodicy in Ezra-Nehemiah and Chronicles,” in Theodicy in the World of the Bible: The Goodness of God and the Problem of Evil (ed. Antii Laato and Johannes de Moor; Leiden: Brill, 2003) 429–69, at 436.

44 See Louis C. Jonker, Defining All-Israel in Chronicles: Multi-levelled Identity Negotiation in Late Persian-Period Yehud (FAT 106; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016) 101. There is a possibility, at least according to archaeological findings, that the Chronicler’s campaign against external influences yielded positive results. See Ephraim Stern, “The Religious Revolution in Persian-Period Judah,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period (ed. Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006) 199–205. For contrary views, see “Religious Revolution” in Yehud? The Material Culture of the Persian Period as a Test Case (ed. Christian Frevel et al.; Freiburg: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014).

45 See Itzhak Amar, “Form and Content in the Story of Asa in 2 Chr 13:23b–16:14: A Diachronic-Synchronic Reading,” VT 69 (2019) 337–60.

46 See Ehud Ben-Zvi, “When a Foreign Monarch Speaks,” in The Chronicler as Author: Studies in Text and Texture (ed. Patrick M. Graham and Steven L. McKenzie; JSOTSup 263; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999) 209–28, at 214–18.

47 See Itzhak Amar, “Expansion and Exile in the Chronicler’s Narrative of the Two and a Half Tribes (1 Chr. 5.1–26),” JSOT 44 (2019) 357–76; Guy, United in Exile, 110–95. It is worth noting the position of Ehud Ben-Zvi, who holds that references to exile, which seem very few compared to the considerable length of the book, were meant to minimize the readers’ attention to this issue and, in this way, to downgrade the importance attributed to it among the people. In the eyes of the Chronicler, the exile has changed nothing since the Chronicler sees the continuity between the pre-exilic and the post-exilic periods and therefore aims to minimize its influence as much as possible. See Ehud Ben-Zvi, “Toward A Sense of Balance: Remembering the Catastrophe of Monarchic Judah/ (Ideological) Israel and Exile Through Reading Chronicles in Late Yehud,” in Chronicling the Chronicler: The Book of Chronicles and Early Second Temple Historiography (ed. Paul S. Evans and Tyler F. Williams; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2013) 247–65. Schweitzer presents a similar approach. In his opinion, the Chronicler aims to remold the memory of the exile: indeed, it took place, but there is no reason to live as if it still exerts an influence. On this issue, the book of Chronicles differs from the books of Samuel and Kings, because it presents an alternative to the exile, a kind of utopian reality, in contrast to the books of Samuel and Kings, which mainly constitute “negative writing,” writing which is perpetually under the influence of the exile, see Steven J. Schweitzer, “Exile, Empire and Prophecy Reframing Utopian Concerns in Chronicles,” in Worlds that Could Not Be: Utopia in Chronicles, Ezra Nehemiah (ed. Steven J. Schewitzer and Frauke Uhlenbruch; LHBOTS 620; London: Bloomsbury, 2016) 89–90. I disagree with these viewpoints, primarily because exile in all its facets, along with its related semantic context, recurs consistently throughout the book.

48 Danilo Verde, “From Healing to Wounding: The Psalms of Communal Lament and the Shaping of Yehud’s Cultural Trauma,” Open Theology 8 (2022) 345–61, at 357.

49 The name אסר (Asir = prisoner) that comes immediately after Jeconiah’s name and the addition בנו after Shealtiel’s name present us with no less than four possible readings: 1) Asir and Shealtiel were the sons of Jeconiah; 2) Asir was the son of Jeconiah—Shealtiel was Asir’s son, so the list of sons continues after him; 3) Asir is the nickname for Jeconiah due to his imprisonment in Babylon; 4) Asir and Shealtiel are the names of one son.

50 Gerhard von Rad, Das Geschichtsbild des Chronistischen Werkes (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1931) 11.

51 Japhet, “Theodicy in Ezra-Nehemiah and Chronicles,” 445–49.

52 Contra Wilhelm Rudolph, Chronikbücher (HAT; Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1955) xiv.

53 Contra von Rad, Das Geschichtsbild, 63.

54 In this context, it is essential to consider the Chronicler‘s extensive utilization of the root מעל, a term prominently featured in the priestly literature. See William Johnstone, “The Use of Leviticus in Chronicles,” in Reading Leviticus: A Conversation with Mary Douglas (ed. John F. A. Sawyer; TLHB/OTS 227; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996) 243–55.

55 Consider the resemblance between the punishment of Uzziah כי נגזר מבית יהוה (2 Chr 26:21) and the priestly terminology ארץ גזרה (Lev 16:22), which can be interpreted as describing an exile.

56 See also Benjamin D. Giffone, “Atonement, Sacred Space and Ritual Time: The Chronicler as Reader of Priestly Pentateuchal Narrative,” in Chronicles and the Priestly Literature of the Hebrew Bible (ed. Louis C. Jonker and Jaeyoung Jeon; BZAW 528; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2021) 221–43.

57 See Esias E. Meyer, “Sacrifices in Chronicles: How Priestly Are They?,” Chronicles and the Priestly Literature of the Hebrew Bible (ed. L. C. Jonker and Jaeyoung Jeon; Berlin: BZAW 528; de Gruyter, 2021) 173–95, at 179–86.

58 Alexander, “Toward a Theory of Cultural Trauma,” 12.

59 Jeffrey Alexander, Trauma: A Social Theory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012) 16.

60 See Mark A. Throntveit, When Kings Speak: Royal Speech and Royal Prayer in Chronicles (Atlanta: SBL, 1987); Mason, Preaching the Tradition; Rodney K. Duke, The Persuasive Appeal of the Chronicler: A Rhetorical Analysis (Sheffield: Almond Press, 1990); Mark A. Throntveit, “The Chronicler’s Speeches and Historical Reconstruction,” in The Chronicler as Historian (ed. Patrick M. Graham, Kenneth G. Hoglund and Steven L. McKenzie; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997) 225–45.

61 See Japhet, Ideology, 127–28. Contra Baruch Halpern, “Why Manasseh is Blamed for the Babylonian Exile: The Evolution of a Biblical Tradition,” VT 48 (1998), 473–514.

62 See Abraham Faust, “Settlement Dynamics and Demographic Fluctuations in Judah from Late Iron to Hellenistic Period and the Archaeology of Persian-Period Yehud,” in A Time of Change: Judah and its Neighbors in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods (ed. Yigal Levin; New York: T&T Clark, 2007) 5–23; Kirsi Valkama, Judah in the Mid-Sixth Century BCE: Archaeological Evidence for a Post-Collapse Society (Helsinki: University of Helsinki, 2012).

63 See Peter Welten, Geschichte und Geschichtsdarstellung in den Chronikbüchern (Neukirchen: Neukirchen-Vluyn, 1973).

64 Sara Japhet explains all these exceptional cases as an attempt by God to test the king, see Japhet, Ideology, 117 ff. For opposite opinions, see Ehud Ben-Zvi, “A Sense of Proportion: An Aspect of the Theology of the Chronicler,” SJOT 9 (1995) 37–51; Brian E. Kelly, Retribution and Eschatology in Chronicles (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996); idem, “ ‘Retribution’ Revisited: Covenant, Grace and Restoration,” in The Chronicler as Theologian: Essays in honour of Ralph W. Klein (ed. M. Patrick Graham, Steven L. McKenzie, and Gary N. Knoppers; JSOTSup 371; London: T&T Clark 2003) 206–27; Itzhak Amar, “Three Evil Kings and One Promise: Another Look at the Doctrine of Retribution and the Question of the Eternal Reign of the Davidic Dynasty in the Book of Chronicles,” ZAW 132 (2020) 558–72.

65 See e.g., Gary N. Knoppers, “Images of David in Early Judaism: David as Repentant Sinner in Chronicles,” Bib 76 (1995) 449–70.

66 See Throntveit, When Kings Speak, 230.

67 Two views dominate scholarship concerning the Chronicler’s attitude towards the northern kingdom of Israel. According to von Rad, who subscribes to the exclusivity view, the Chronicler consistently emphasizes throughout the work that the kingdom of Judah and not the kingdom of Israel is “the true Israel” (“das wahre Israel”). Contrast Sara Japhet, who, subscribing to the inclusivity view, contends that in all three parts of the book—the genealogies (1 Chr 1–9), the period of David and Solomon (1 Chr 10–2 Chr 9), and the period of the division (2 Chr 10–36) —the Chronicler’s attitude towards the kingdom of Israel is somewhat ambivalent: although it is a kingdom founded on iniquity, it nevertheless constitutes the fulfillment of God’s word to Ahijah the Shilonite. The only explanation for this ambivalence is that the kingdom of Israel, in all its sinfulness, is still considered an inseparable part of the nation of Israel. It seems logical to divide the book into three different parts: 1) prior to the period of Abijah (1 Chr 1–2 Chr 12); 2) from the time of Abijah until the destruction of Samaria (2 Chr 13–28); 3) after the destruction of Samaria (2 Chr 29–36). I agree with the conclusions of Japhet only in regard to the first and third divisions. However, von Rad is right regarding the second division (from Abijah to Ahaz). In this part, the Chronicler’s attitude toward the kingdom of Israel is highly negative. Concerning this period, the Chronicler does not view this kingdom as part of the legitimate people of Israel, exploiting all available stratagems to express this position, sometimes openly and sometimes covertly, see: 2 Chr 13:6–12; 16:1; 19:2; 20:37; 25:7, 10–13; 28:9–11.

68 In the NRSV, Hezekiah’s words are interpreted as highlighting the contrast between the power of the God of Israel and the power of the God of Assyria. However, verse 23 immediately following refers to the physical strength of the army, suggesting that Hezekiah was discussing the military might of Assyria (זרוע בשר) rather than their deity.

69 This matter is subject to controversy, and the opinions regarding the number of people who lived in Yehud range from 12,000 to 30,000 residents. The debate is also similar regarding the number of residents in Jerusalem. The minimalist opinion believes there were about 100 men in Jerusalem and no more than 400–500 residents compared to others who believe the number reached about 3000. See Israel Finkelstein, “Jerusalem in the Persian (and Early Hellenistic) Period and the Wall of Nehemiah,” JSOT 32 (2008) 501–20; idem, “Persian Period Jerusalem and Yehud: A Rejoinder,” JHS 9 (2010); David Ussishkin, “The Borders and De Facto Size of Jerusalem in the Persian Period,” Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period (ed. Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006) 147–66; Oded Lipschits, “Achaemenid Imperial Policy: Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B.C.E.,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period (ed. Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006) 19–52.