Catholics continued to make pilgrimages, near and far, during the early modern period, despite the challenges of the Reformation. Drawing on examples from Western Europe and beyond, this chapter follows pilgrims on their quests for healing, penitence, and spiritual growth and demonstrates that shrines and saints continued to act as focal points for devotion.

Chapter 1, the introductory chapter, outlines the development of psychotraumatology or traumatic stress studies, in which the author was also partly involved. It traces how it came about that the author Brave Heart and others have been presenting concepts on historical trauma since the early 2000s. An operationalized definition with two basic criteria and five consecutive criteria is presented. The following eight contexts from all parts of the world are presented and their selection justified. The first four are typical configurations of historical trauma because they fulfil all the criteria without exception. The last four historical traumas fulfil only some of the criteria, but are each particularly revealing, for example when it comes to the minimization of the victim narrative for political reasons. The method of the coupled scoping review for the book is explained and the target groups of readership are described.

The final chapter of the book offers a reflection on the overarching dimensions that guided the selection of the eight Historical Trauma contexts. Here, the emphasis is placed on the concept of multi-directional memory, a notion derived from memory studies that can be employed to circumvent victimhood competition. Selected concepts related to the HT definition criteria are compared across the different contexts. To this end, a series of flowcharts were developed to illustrate the historical trajectories of the concepts discussed in the book, including conspiracy of silence, victim identity, and value compilations. The comparison of social pathologies and reconciliation is given a broad scope. The concept of healing is addressed, and it is noted that the social and cultural science literature has been reticent to engage in discussions about the reasoned use of the concept that is consistent with evidence-based health interventions and comprehensive psychological and holistic approaches. The outlook addresses the prolificacy of the concept of historical trauma, and the potential dangers associated with its overuse.

The final chapter examines how a new kind of shamanism developed in the riverbank settlements and attracted peoples across the colonial and Indigenous spaces. Although shamanism was a feature of Amerindian societies, the Portuguese also had a tradition of healing and folk curing. Riverine shamans from Indigenous communities were highly active in the eighteenth century, and modified Indigenous practices and Catholic symbols to meet the needs of their clients from all backgrounds seeking their ‘merciful’ work. Shamanic curing and healing connected the three spaces as shamans moved between each one and provided clients with relief from their suffering.

The goal of this chapter is to introduce racial trauma, radical hope, healing, and Black reparations. It begins with the story of Laverne Cox, a Black transgender woman, actress, and trans civil rights activist who wrote an essay on the impact of White supremacy on multiple generations of her family. The story of Laverne illustrates racial trauma, the emotional responses rooted in structural racism that have an intergenerational impact on health. Informed by a reparatory justice approach, this chapter examines radical healing, hope, and reparations to deal with racial trauma and achieve justice. Radical does not mean violent or extremist but is the notion that complete change is necessary to address political problems. It discusses some features and popular myths about reparations, and examines five principles for reparations: restitution, compensation, rehabilitation, satisfaction, and guarantees of non-repetition. The chapter includes a Food for Thought section on how education may increase support for Black reparations. It ends with a discussion of Laverne Cox and finding hope in our ancestors.

Up to this point, Part II has considered Origen’s approach to particular Gospel passages without invoking parallel narratives from more than one Gospel. In the process, it has become clear that Origen’s view of the figurative nature of the Gospels does not originate merely in noticing discrepancies among the four received Gospels. Having established this more fundamental point, we may now attend to the occasions where his reading does proceed by way of comparative reading of parallel pericopes. The cluster of narratives surrounding Jesus’s ascent(s) to Jerusalem provides an especially textured model of Origen’s approach to Gospel difference. Here, Origen does not simply exhibit an inchoate awareness of the various critical difficulties that arise when one reads the four Gospels synoptically; he engages these challenges in great detail and develops a sophisticated account of the Gospels’ literary formation in light of them. Still, whatever differences or discord one discovers among the Gospels on the level of history, narrative, and even in their very ideas of Jesus, there remains, for Origen, a more fundamental agreement – a harmony of spirit – among the four Evangelists’ visions.

Realist narrative genres, such as memoir and autobiography, are the most prevalent women’s prison writing. Contemporary readers rely on these narrative elements in order to believe stories. However, when the writer disassociates during a traumatic event and does not remember details that would ground their telling in recognizable details, their narratives cannot reliably reference them. As incarcerated women authors grapple with what they’ve suffered and what they’ve done, their narratives inevitably intersect with social realities that form the background violence that created the conditions for the discrete, traumatic events of harmdoing. While carceral culture essentializes people into stagnant categories of worth – good/flawed, criminal/victim, innocent/guilty – incarcerated women’s stories show how facile these conceptions are, how much harm they cause, and that incarceration does nothing to address these issues and often actively prohibits healing.

Chapter 2 examines the circulation and application of medical and ritual knowledge in Caribbean and Pacific New Granada, including Venezuela and Panama, and is based upon Inquisition trial records and secular court cases. The chapter approaches healing and ritual as intimately connected and often inseparable activities for African-descended practitioners who were solicited by clients of all ethnicities. Where clients were also people of colour, they were often hired to perform work of community healing. The chapter outlines the gendered and racialised patterns of prosecution and punishment of defendants of African descent tried by the Inquisition of Cartagena de Indias. This is followed by an analysis of the mobility and exchange of healing knowledge in Caribbean and Pacific New Granada, an examination of the marketplace of ideas, and an exploration of the social worlds in which black specialists practiced. Case studies include that of three Kongolese bondsmen, who had hired Joseph and Thomas to poison his owner in 1740s Cartagena, and that of enslaved man Aja, who was accused by fellow bondspersons, other members of the cuadrilla on the gold mines of San Antonio in the Cauca valley mines (owned by the Convent of the Encarnación in the city of Popayán) in the 1770s.

In 2018, Hannah Gadsby created a sensation through her stand-up show Nanette. In it she shocked audiences by telling her hard-hitting trauma narrative, revealing the impact of sexual abuse, male violence, and homophobia on her mental health. Controversially, Gadsby also claimed that stand-up as a form and the mainstream stand-up industry itself were significant agents in deepening her psychological harm. This chapter examines Gadsby’s dramaturgical strategies and struggles in attempting to construct a means of speaking about the pain of her lived experience and seeking a therapeutic means of addressing her trauma through stand-up. Luckhurst analyses Gadsby’s interest in ethical story-telling and her notion of educating audiences about laughter and political complicity. Finally, Luckhurst argues that Gadsby draws on therapy models to transform her trauma narrative into a story of healing for herself and her audiences.

While the preceding three chapters are critical, Chapter 7 can be described as hopeful. It asks the question of ‘what now’, having identified numerous sources of anxieties around a potential renewed conflict in Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH), as helped or fully created by the global project of transitional justice. As this chapter is interested in changes for ‘Never Again’, it explores how activists and practitioners in BiH resist and challenge the practices seen as harmful for non-recurrence, pushing different political communities towards a place of enhanced ontological security with, despite, and perhaps even against transitional justice. In this chapter, there are numerous illustrations of what people can do to challenge and change the post-conflict status quo across different aspects of action at the intersection of truth recovery, memorialisation, and education. The chapter conceptualises and imagines non-recurrence beyond governance as not only resistance but also co-existence, binding, and healing; as a form of work.

Two women were hybrid tiçitl-curanderas in 1560s. Isabel de Vera was a mixed-race woman living in Michoacán in 1562. There were rumors that she had been publicly shamed as a sorceress and alcahueta in Mexico City. She performed various spells, including making a potion from dead sheep heads for a girl who had a broken toe or foot. She was exiled from Michoacán and disappeared, maybe. More than a decade later, a woman with the same name was accused of bigamy in the mining town of Guanajuato. These were probably the same woman – daughter of a conquistador and a low-status Nahua woman in Mexico City. She was fleeing an abusive husband (a mulato shoemaker) and remarried a Nahua man from Texcoco, believing her first husband had died. The two case files show the fluidity of ethnic identity in early colonial Mexico. The other case concerned a Spanish or mestiza woman, Agustina Núñez, who was a spellcasting curandera in Oaxaca. She used mulberry, which was probably the Native Mexican plant, xanatl, though the mulberry introduced by Spaniards for silkworm food may also have been the plant used in her healing of a broken bone – accompanied by spells. Both women had adapted to their Native environments as curanderas.

The nature of all existence is relationships. This chapter discusses how spirituality is a being’s relationships with all forms of existence and phenomena. For human beings, spirituality means accessing cognitive and physical capacities in order to find and establish connections with the universe. Human spirituality is a secular form of practice and belief that focuses on the autonomy of the person. There is an encouragement to explore personal freedom and to develop relationships with the natural world. This chapter focuses on why connections with others, animals, nature, weather, and natural environments is a critical aspect of the social and emotional intelligences.

This chapter attends to the regular presence of grass in poetry of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. From Walt Whitman and English war poetry to recent work by Oswald and Burnett, the poetry of grass works to articulate, obscure, and heal the marks of contemporary trauma. Grass also shapes the soundscapes and visual form of poetry to the extent that, as this chapter suggests, grass can be said to constitute the contemporary practice of composition itself. Like poetry, the green field works in and through trauma to find again new life after war and conquest, after personal loss. In its seemingly perpetual growing, grass finds in the poet new ways of making and responding.

Of Celsus’ Artes (early first century AD), which originally handled agriculture, medicine, the art of war, rhetoric, and philosophy, only the eight books on medicine survive. Celsus’ work attests to the vibrant interdisciplinary culture of the early Imperial artes. The books De medicina in particular reveal a distinctive conceptualization of specialized knowledge that bears the hallmarks of the scientific culture of the artes but contrasts sharply with the approaches of Vitruvius and Columella. Celsus’ theory of the medical ars self-consciously appropriates but also develops and expands key methodological terms from the Greek medical tradition, including reason, experience, cause, and nature. These terms set the parameters for Celsus’ exposition of medicine, as exemplified in discussions of bloodletting, fevers, and fractures. Celsus’ more reserved attitude toward the kind of knowledge of nature required for expertise does not ignore the central preoccupations of the scientific culture of the artes, but instead pragmatically inflects them for medical practice.