Abstract
This Is My Body is a remarkable book, and one that takes in a huge breadth of theology and personal story. Jennie Hogan brings us with her on a journey through her childhood, her several brushes with death, her ongoing challenges with physical disability, her vocation and her priestly life, and does so in a way that is neither self-pitying nor caught up in false cheerfulness. Each chapter is crafted around frank, warm and often rebellious autobiography, with theological reflection woven in to create a story that encompasses the three evangelical counsels to great effect. This is a book infused with hope – not the flimsy optimism that pretends all is well, but a hope that truly points through and beyond disability to a God who works wonders and can be seen and experienced even in life’s darkest moments.
The book has much to offer theologians and health professionals alike, not least in the way it honestly lays out what illness and hospitals can mean for the individual patient. This is not a book for the faint-hearted, but speaks plainly of real life; Hogan’s discussion of her disability, and of how this has shaped her, is at times very raw, and this is juxtaposed with carefully chosen scriptural and poetic references. Hogan makes extremely effective use of the Psalms throughout the book, and it is perhaps these, when read alongside reflections on her own life, that strike the greatest chord – the timeless nature of these ancient songs of praise, prayer, despair and longing allows them to provide the perfect soundtrack to her own journey. Throughout the book, we get to meet Hogan the person and we find her rooted in the Church, realistic about its joys and sorrows, and unflinchingly honest about her own life and the challenges it brings. Hogan’s priesthood is firmly grounded in the Catholic tradition, and it is through this tradition that she reflects on illness and the Christian life more generally.
Hogan’s is a theology of the whole self, one that emphasizes the importance of space and time to breathe and contemplate with God. For her, illness projects people into this place of waiting and reflection without warning, and thus offers an opportunity for spiritual growth, where we can learn ‘that there is more to us than flesh and blood’ (p. 142). This is no sanitizing of sickness and its lasting effects, but it points beyond the immediate to something potentially profound, mystical and life-changing, as much for the well as for the sick.
Hogan is, perhaps, a prophet for the sick to the world – someone who can speak for those who are often outsiders and considered of little worth by secular society, and someone who brings a vision of genuine hope. By doing so, she gets to the heart of the Church’s message. ‘All time belongs to God,’ she says (p. 129) – her reminding us of that is no small gift.