Papa-Chrysanthos of Spinalonga: A “God-sent” “Saint” on the Island of the Damned

Kostas Pappas

 

 

Spinalonga is a small island near Elounda in eastern Crete.

It is known as “the island of the living dead,” since lepers from Crete and the rest of Greece were isolated there until 1957.

Even mentioning its name was taboo for many years, as it had become identified with the pain and misery of the Hansen’s disease sufferers who lived there.

This dramatic chapter of the island’s history begins in 1903, when the Leper Colony was established on Spinalonga to isolate those suffering from Hansen’s disease from the healthy population.

In antiquity, the name of the island was Kalydon, and it was renamed Spinalonga during the period of Venetian rule, a name derived from spina lunga, which means “long thorn.”

Because leprosy was considered an incurable disease at the time and people were unaware that the vast majority of individuals possess natural immunity to it, the stigma extended to the entire family of the patient, which was thus driven into social isolation. There was no state care, and lepers survived solely on public charity.

In 1913, with the union of Crete with Greece, lepers from all over the country began to be transferred there, and gradually Spinalonga was designated as the International Leper Colony of Europe.

At the entrance of the leper colony, a chilling inscription had been placed with the message: “He who enters must abandon all hope…”

The patients on Spinalonga were entitled to a small monthly allowance, which often did not cover their food or medication.

A significant change came in the 1930s, when Epameinondas Remoundakis, a third-year law student, was transferred to the island after falling ill.

The young Epameinondas fought for the improvement of living conditions for the island's inhabitants.

Through his initiatives, he brought lime for the disinfection of the houses and managed to install a generator so that there would be electricity.

He organized a cleaning service for the exterior and communal spaces, and thanks to his efforts, the island acquired a theater, cinema, cafés, and a barbershop, while loudspeakers were installed in the streets playing classical music.

Trades began to be practiced, a rudimentary form of commerce emerged, and a school was also established, with a leper serving as the teacher.

During the Occupation, Spinalonga was one of the very few places in Greece where neither the Italians nor the Germans set foot.

Due to fear of contagion from leprosy and the revulsion caused by the sight of the lepers, very few ever went to the island, and only to deliver food and other essential items.

Into this atmosphere of isolation and fear toward the lepers came a man of God, Hieromonk Chrysanthos Koutsoulogiannakis, who overturned everything! He was the priest who changed the lives of the people of Spinalonga and taught them experiential love.

Indeed, he was truly “God-sent” for the inhabitants, as he was assigned there as parish priest on his own initiative.

“Orthodox Truth” contacted Mr. Dimitris Papadakis, former high school principal and president of the Literary Association of Heraklion, Crete, who knew Fr. Chrysanthos and conveyed to us the greatness of the priest’s soul, as reflected in his conversations with him, as well as in the testimony of a former Hansen’s patient at the Leprosarium of Spinalonga, which proves that through his love, Papa-Chrysanthos transformed the “long thorn” (spina lunga) into a blossom of ministry and offering.

“Thrown away like manure into a stinking dung-pit”

“In 1947, the chaplain of the lepers of Spinalonga, Meletios Vourgouris, received a two-month leave from the Bishop of Petra, Dionysios Maragoudakis, from July 20 to September 20, in order to travel to the Holy Land. At the end of his leave, he did not return to his post. The Bishop was unable to find a priest to replace him,” states Mr. Papadakis.

Themos Kornaros, in his book Spinalonga (1936), writes: “Those who had worked all their lives without ever getting enough bread now find themselves, in their illness, thrown away like manure into a stinking dung-pit called Spinalonga.” The fear of the disease spreading was great; people believed it was transmitted even through breathing. The journalist Angelos Sgouros illustrates this fear in an article from August 1929 in the newspaper Empros. He writes characteristically: “Everyone who heard that I was going to Spinalonga called me crazy. Many, upon my return to Athens, looked at me with horror as a carrier of leprosy. The appearance of the lepers—with their bodies covered in rashes and ulcers, fingers severed, faces with eroded cheeks, eyes sunken into their sockets or bulging, lips torn or rotted, eyebrows, eyelashes, and teeth fallen out—provoked repulsion.”

"At that time, the hieromonk of the Monastery of Phaneromeni in Ierapetra, Chrysanthos Katsoulogiannakis, expressed his desire to his Bishop, Philotheos Mazokopakis, to fill the vacancy. Thus, in 1947, he was appointed chaplain of the lepers of Spinalonga," emphasizes Mr. Papadakis, and adds: "Hieromonk Timotheos Perakis, later Abbot of the Monastery of Phaneromeni, told me: 'The monks of the monastery admired Chrysanthos for his decision—a decision of self-denial—to go to Spinalonga as the replacement of Hieromonk Meletios. On the day of his departure, we celebrated the Divine Liturgy. We bid him farewell with great emotion and pride, because a hieromonk of our monastery would be serving as chaplain in Spinalonga.'"

“He had an ascetic appearance, with a faded cassock and monastic cap”

Mr. Papadakis also did not fail to mention the moving acquaintance he had with Father Chrysanthos, stressing: “I had the good fortune to meet Hieromonk Chrysanthos on the fifteenth of August, 1967, at the Monastery of Toplou, where, at the invitation of my beloved and respected Abbot, Archimandrite Philotheos Spanoudakis, I stayed for a week. He was short in stature, had an ascetic appearance, with a white beard. The years weighed heavily on his shoulders. His cassock and monastic cap were faded,” while he retrieves from memory images and events:

“One morning I was with Father Chrysanthos in the small courtyard outside the katholikon. Then an elderly man appeared. As soon as he saw Father Chrysanthos, he exclaimed with surprise and joy: ‘Father Chrysanthos…’ And at that moment, two arms opened for an embrace. In the humble cell of Fr. Chrysanthos, I had the opportunity to meet the visitor and to prompt him to speak to me about his experiences with the priest on the island: ‘I was a leper,’ he said. ‘I lived in Spinalonga for many years. The disease had deformed us. The fear of contagion made all healthy people not dare to come near us. The doctor, the nurses, the other public servants, and the women who washed our clothes left the island shortly before sunset and went by motorboat to Plaka, which was to the west and opposite Spinalonga. They needed to spend a few hours away from the “island of the living dead,” as journalists from Athenian newspapers called Spinalonga at the time.

We all felt the need for a priest. Only he could comfort us with the word of God, support us spiritually. But a priest came to our island from Elounda only twice a month.

He would come on Saturday evening, perform vespers, and leave. He would come again the next day, perform the Divine Liturgy, and leave. He would come on other occasions too—but then it was from dire necessity, to bury our dead!

One day a few of us were sitting in the courtyard of our coffeehouse, which was near the gate.

Then, farther off, a priest appeared. We all understood he had come to the island to serve. As soon as he saw us, he approached. He greeted us warmly.

We all stood and greeted him with a slight bow. But none of us extended a hand to shake his. A leper must not shake hands.

That is, so as not to transmit his cursed disease. But then he shook hands with all of us! He told us simply that he would stay with us to help us fulfill our Christian duties. Our emotion was great.’”

“We all communed and
then we saw him
consume what remained!
We wept like children.”

The account of Fr. Chrysanthos’ second day on the island is as follows: “The next day we went to the Church of Saint Panteleimon. All of us—men, women, and children—attended the Divine Liturgy with compunction, which he celebrated with Doric simplicity and immeasurable piety. That Sunday we did not receive Communion. We hadn’t been informed in time about the Divine Liturgy and had not fasted. At the end of the Liturgy, we received the antidoron from his hand. And as we took the antidoron, we all kissed his hand! It was something he himself desired. As he gave the antidoron, he brought his hand close to our mouths. Tears welled up in all our eyes from emotion. Before he came, we used to take the antidoron from a basket woven of reeds, which the sexton would place on the candle stand. The following Sunday, nearly all of us went to church. The church was packed, as was its courtyard. That day we all received Communion. At the end of the Divine Liturgy we saw our priest consume what remained in the Holy Chalice from our Communion! We all opened our eyes in astonishment. We thought we were dreaming. Thick, burning tears burst from our eyes. The previous priest—surely by divine economy—used to pour what remained from our Communion into the sacrarium. Hieromonk Chrysanthos stayed with us day and night. And he remained with us for ten years! During those years he showed love to all of us. He would visit us in our homes. He guided us all. With the little money he had, he helped the poor. And he did this while keeping the commandment: let not your left hand know what your right hand is doing. I am grateful, as are all the sick of Spinalonga, to Father Chrysanthos for...” — but he could not finish his sentence. He broke into silent weeping.”

“Father Chrysanthos,” continues Mr. Papadakis, “with his gaze fixed on the ground as he listened to the descriptions of the former Hansen’s disease patient, said with inner grandeur: ‘I believe that what I did is not so remarkable. It is what any minister of the Most High, any Christian, would have done. I helped, as much as I could, our fellow human beings to bear the cross of their Golgotha. Besides, the disease is not transmitted through Holy Communion, through the body and blood of Christ.’”

He stayed to tend the graves!

With emotion, Fr. Chrysanthos spoke to Mr. Papadakis about his decision to remain on the island when everyone else had left: “The leper colony of Spinalonga closed. It was July 1957. Everyone left the island; I alone remained.”

I asked him why, and he replied: “I had to tend the graves of the Hansen’s disease patients. I also had to, standing before their graves, chant the Trisagion for the repose of their souls. I left the island in 1959. My health had deteriorated. That’s when I left the island. My bishop placed me in this monastery.”

The writer Nikos Stratakis visited Spinalonga at the time when Father Chrysanthos was living there alone. In a text of his from 1959, he refers to Fr. Chrysanthos, writing:

"Today the island of pain is deserted. Nothing disturbs its silence... As we walked along the cobbled road, a filthy and ragged man, with an ascetic and Byzantine emaciation, in front of the church, is drawing water from the cistern and watering two stunted little trees. This monk is the last remnant of the solitary life of the rock. He clung to it like a barnacle, just as his soul clung to his ascetic flesh."

 

Greek source:

https://www.romfea.gr/prosopa/1721-enas-theostaltos-agios-sto-nisi-ton-kataramenon