From an antechamber to hell, the Island of Molokai was transformed into the setting for an extraordinary story of heroism. Everything began when a missionary determined to give his life for the victims of leprosy disembarked on its beaches.
Throughout history, the scourge of leprosy has been one of the most expressive symbols of misery, desolation and abandonment. To this day, few misfortunes have equalled the disgrace provoked by this disease, which medical records of every time and place register with drastic descriptions which even the most vivid imaginations find difficult to fathom.
Preceded by a long and silent period of incubation, leprosy only becomes apparent when the illness is already far progressed, through symptoms that are the forerunners of the torments to come: insensibility of the skin to temperature and to pain caused by contusions, as well as blotches all over the body. It progresses slowly, the spots are transformed into purulent lesions, the affected members become enlarged and extremities may be lost; the entire body becomes one large wound, emitting a repulsive odour. At its most advanced stage, it attacks the nervous system or the vital organs, debilitating the victim and eventually bringing on death.
For millennia, this disease affected members of every social class and carried off whole swathes of the population, with no cure in sight. The discovery of effective treatments, which reverse its effects and allow for full recovery, only came to light in the twentieth century.
The “Cursed Island”
Severely afflicted by the disease, the archipelago of Hawaii witnessed cruel episodes over the latter half of the nineteenth century. Leprosy had spread at an alarming rate there, for many native Polynesians had no resistance to the bacteria. Alarmed at its growth, which it had no effective means to repress, the government decided that the only way to staunch further contamination was to segregate the patients. The name of the island chosen for this purpose, today famous due to the events we are about to narrate, became synonymous worldwide with tragedy: Molokai.
In 1866, Hawaiian authorities began deporting lepers to the peninsula of Kalaupapa, on the northern coast of Molokai. In this retreat of extraordinary natural beauty, isolated from the rest of the island by rocky crags, the villages of Kalawao and Kalaupapa were set up, which began receiving a growing stream of lepers from all over the archipelago. After some years they numbered eight hundred, with the total reaching as high as a thousand during some periods.
The reality of what unfolded there, was more akin to a nightmare than life on a paradisiacal island, yet it is harsh historical reality. After traumatic capture, during which patients were frequently wrenched from their families by force—they were dropped off at the colony to eke out their lives amidst complete material and spiritual privation.
“Supplies ran out in a matter of hours, patients lay agonizing in the open air, and bodies were left unburied. There was no semblance of public order; it was a spectacle of unbelievable squalor and licentiousness, typified by the groans of the abandoned dying.” 1 New arrivals were received by veteran residents who were quick to alert them: “Aole kanawai ma keia wahi — In this place there is no law.” 2 Attempts at governmental intervention were like a drop in the bucket to remedy the problems of these debilitated humans who weltered in a mixture of revolt, despair and hatred.
A sentence to martyrdom
The Holy Catholic Church, in the person of Bishop Louis Maigret, sadly beheld the stark contrast between this reality and the spirit of the Gospel, and posed the question of what could be done to set the situation right. The plight of these stray sheep inspired him to appeal to some priests from Hawaii, to whom he outlined the problem of Molokai. After clearly stating that he would not demand of anyone the sacrifice of secluding himself there, he explained how much the souls of those abandoned individuals clamoured for religious assistance. To his surprise, four priests voluntarily stepped forward for the daunting mission, including a Belgian named Damien de Veuster.
The 33-year-old missionary was the clear-cut natural for the task. He was born in the small Flemish village of Tremelo, the son of a pious farm couple who had offered four of their eight sons to the service of the Church. Joseph, the youngest, had chosen the name Damien when he entered the Congregation of the Sacred Hearts. His decision to follow God’s call prompted perplexity in father, who saw him as the successor of the family enterprise, for he was a young man “with the capacity and intelligence of four.” 3
But faithful to the summons of grace, he entered the novitiate, completed his ecclesiastical studies and at age 25 left for Hawaii, where he was ordained a priest. When he volunteered to go to Molokai, he already had eight years experience of carrying out fruitful and successful evangelizing endeavours among the natives.
Bishop Maigret accepted this offer without voicing the obvious: this resolution was tantamount to a sentence of martyrdom. In a gesture of admiration for the missionary with whose bravery he was already acquainted, he accompanied him personally to the “Cursed Island.” They arrived on May 10, 1873. There, in the native tongue of the lepers, the zealous prelate spoke words that would change their lives: “My sons, until now you have been alone and helpless. But this has changed; we have brought you someone who will be like a father to you, someone who loves you so much that, for the good of all and for the salvation of your immortal souls, he did not hesitate to become one of you, so that he may live and die here.” 4
A new hope shines
This was the beginning of a true epic, a saga built on the courage of a man who rose up to meet suffering with a dauntless spirit.
The first thing Fr. Damien did was celebrate Mass in a small, unfinished chapel. Two lepers timidly came forward to attend the Holy Sacrifice, and then to ask him to minister to a dying man, who a short time later, expired in the priest’s arms.
While his soul was rent in face of such misery, his eyes were opened to the overwhelming task at hand. First, he would administer the Sacraments, but then there was the need to remedy a shortage of water, food and medicine, as well as the lack of a cemetery. There was an even more pressing problem—the apathy of the lepers, who had lost the will to live.
“More than a material regeneration, Fr. Damien worked a moral resurrection in the hell of Molokai.” 5 The saint himself explains the secret behind this result: “Kindness to all, charity to the needy, a sympathizing hand to the sufferers and the dying, in conjunction with a solid religious instruction to my listeners, have been my constant means to introduce moral habits among the lepers.” 6
“What keeps me here is God and the salvation of souls”
In searching for the font of his enthusiasm to forge ahead with this enterprise that was not feasible from a human viewpoint, we see that his ardent love for neighbour spurred him and strengthened him to endure consequent sufferings. This love was directed to God first, because, as St. Thomas Aquinas teaches, “the love of one’s neighbour is not meritorious except by reason of his being loved for God’s sake.” 7 In a previous passage, the Angelic Doctor explains: “Now the aspect under which our neighbour is to be loved, is God, since what we ought to love in our neighbour is that he may be in God. Hence it is clear that it is specifically the same act whereby we love God, and whereby we love our neighbour.” 8
In one of his writings on his desire to save the sick, St. Damien reveals this inner disposition: “Their appearance is appalling, but they have a soul redeemed at the price of the adorable Blood of our Divine Redeemer. Through His divine charity, He also consoled the lepers. If I cannot cure them as He did, at least I can console them, and by the holy ministry that He has so kindly entrusted to me, I hope that many of them, purified from leprosy of the soul, will appear before His Tribunal worthy to enter the community of the blessed in Heaven.” 9
He admitted that living alone in that place of torment weighed heavily upon him: “Even if all the earths’ treasures were offered to me, I would not remain on this island for another five minutes. What keeps me here is only God and the salvation of souls.” 10 That virtue had prevailed over natural inclination was obvious in his way of treating the sick. These are the moving words of one leper, who proffered an improvised speech of gratitude to the Bishop, for having sent them the missionary: “He showers us with care and affection. He builds our homes, and when one of us falls ill, he gives us tea, biscuits and sugar, and to the poor he gives clothes.” 11
A renewed colony
As time passed, the evangelizing activity of this indefatigable man of God in Molokai attained results that sparked admiration worldwide. Almost single-handedly he cared for 3,137 lepers, of which 2,312 died and were buried by him. Before receiving any backup, he built 300 cabins and made two thousand coffins with his own hands. After eleven years of work, the colony had been completely transformed.
During this entire time, the saint focused entirely on the needs of his cherished sick, and as he gained experience in dealing with the disease, he seemed to foretell the future advent of medications that would efficaciously treat it. “Fr. Damien was not hopeless about the discovery of a cure for leprosy. ‘But, to my knowledge, it has not yet been found,’ he said. ‘Perchance, in the near future, through the untiring perseverance of physicians, a cure may yet be found.’” 12
Indeed, less than 50 years after his death, science found a way to impede the action of the bacterium Mycobacterium lepræ, discovered by the Norwegian Gerhard Hansen, while Damien was still living.
Something, however, was foreseeable, something that all the inhabitants of the Cursed Island sought to banish from their minds. Sooner or later the missionary would also fall prey to the disease.
“We, the lepers”
One day, Fr. Damien accidentally dropped a teakettle on his feet, yet he did not feel a sensation of pain… This was the unequivocal sign that he had contracted leprosy.
In his homily the following Sunday, he informed the faithful with these words: “Our true homeland is Heaven, where we, the lepers, will be sure to go very soon […]. There will be no more leprosy there, nor disfigurement; we will be transformed.” 13 In this minister of God, the dreaded disease, which in anyone else would cause anxiety and perhaps even despair, worked “a profound transformation. Without neglecting his activities, he responded to the progress of the leprosy with greater spiritual awareness.” 14
For five years he sweetly and meekly pressed on toward his Calvary, only imploring God that He would not let him die without the assurance that assistance for the lepers would continue. His prayer was heard: “Like a fairy tale, Damien’s last days were brightened. The clouds of despair and solitude which for centuries had hung over leprosy began to clear and the world finally became aware of the existence and the needs of lepers. It was as if all the dreams of this solitary priest had been clearly confirmed by Divine Providence: together with those who were to succeed him, donations and messages of support also began to arrive from around the world.” 15
At daybreak on April 15, 1889, the Monday of Holy Week, he serenely surrendered his soul to God. The lepers sorrowfully drew around him to intone hymns and bid farewell to this beloved priest, to whom they owed so much. At the same time, the funeral was marked by an atmosphere of deep peace, for all knew that Kamiano would be, as he had desired, spending Easter together with his adored Saviour, and would be awaiting them in Heaven.
Gift of self taken to unimaginable limits
St. Damien’s story is not unique, for there is no shortage of martyrs of charity in the Church, with attitudes that were as praiseworthy as his. Yet the extent of adversities that he faced, and the poignancy of the disease, which weighed upon his shoulders like a cross of enormous bulk, inspires particular awe.
Pushing the gift of self to this limit through pure love of Christ and souls, testifies to the sincerity of his desire to serve God and the Holy Church and awakens in others, even in non-Catholics, feelings of deep admiration. An Anglican pastor, who sent a large donation he had collected for the needs of the lepers of Molokai, wrote him: “Your example is more efficacious in working conversions to your Church than all the sermons I have heard in my life.” 16
In 2009, Pope Benedict XVI inscribed his name in the Catalogue of the Saints. This canonization delighted all those who knew his story and had been awaiting the day when he would receive this crown. Even if we may not have been called to care for Leprosy victims, St. Damien’s example encourages each of us to renewed generosity in the fulfillment of our respective vocations, to understand that “we must give everything to God, absolutely everything, and after having given everything we ought to give our very lives as well.” 17 ◊
