Leprosy is no longer the scourge of humanity it once was. This is mainly a tribute to the drug penicillin, which has practically eliminated leprosy from this earth.
Before that miracle, however, men and women stricken with the disease were subjected not only to the reality of great suffering, slowly leading to death, but also to the tragedy of exile from their communities and separation from those whom they loved.
Lepers were the living dead. Ancient Egyptians called leprosy "death before death."
In the Middle Ages funeral masses were offered for lepers even to the point of bringing the leper to the church, covering him with a black pall and finally casting several spades of dirt on the pathetic leper huddled under the pall.
Having been declared dead, lepers were required to wear or carry a bell or claxon as a warning for nonlepers so that the latter could avoid contact with the infected person.
Their wives or husbands were considered as being widowed. Their children were orphans. Their property was divided as with a natural death.
During the Middle Ages - as evidence of concern for lepers - hospices were developed for them, largely under the auspices of Christian religious orders.
The hospice development meant that, even though lepers could not live freely and openly in society, at least they need not wander aimlessly and hopelessly, unsheltered and uncared for. However, once a leper entered a hospice, he or she could not ever leave the hospice. The penalty for leaving was death.
In all fairness, it must be noted that there were no medical alternatives to segregation for lepers. It was a contagious illness. It was a debilitating illness. It was a terminal illness. With no way to cure it, only quarantine provided a possibility for halting its spread.
It was the theory of quarantine which led to the development of a colony for lepers on Molokai in the Hawaiian Islands. The idea behind the colony on Molokal was a creditable one. The land to be designated for the colony was on a peninsula. It was a rather large tract of land with fertile soil so that the people could grow their own food; the harvests would be bountiful. Much timber was available for the construction of houses, schools and a hospital. It seemed to be such a good idea.
In reality, it was a good idea which went bad. The vision of the planners was short-sighted. Somehow, the fact that lepers were sick people was forgotten. Even before physical debilitation began, the unseen disease would sap the energy of its host. The lepers were not lazy; they were lethargic made so by their affliction.
Molokai became a synonym for despair. The lepers were ill-fed, ill-housed, ill-clothed, ill-cared for. Robert Louis Stevenson said of Molokai that it was "a pitiful place to visit and a hell to dwell in."
It was to this hell in a paradisaical setting that Joseph de Veuster, Father Damien, came, of his own volition in 1873. The road to Molokai was not an easy one for this son of poor, devout Belgian peasants.
Joseph met the Master. He felt called to the religious life, but Joseph was not as intellectually talented as his older brother Pamphile, who had already become a priest. What he lacked, however, in intellectual capacity, he more than compensated for with dedication.
Having been told by his superiors that he was not talented enough to be a priest, he decided he could serve God by serving God’s priests as a brother in the Order of the Sacred Heart.
He was willing to accept this role as his vocation; that is, he was willing to accept this role until he heard a returning missionary speak of service in Oceania, the islands of the Pacific. In that address he met the Master and believed the Master was calling him to go to Oceania.
Joseph - or Damien as he was then called - was determined to be an apostle to the pagans of the islands.
As a result of the missionary’s address, the order decided to send four missionaries to Hawaii, but they were all to be priests; no serving brothers were to go. Fate and a fever intervened. Illness struck Father Pamphile, and he was not able to leave for Hawaii.
The zealous Damien petitioned his superiors to allow him to go in Pamphile’s place. His request was denied.
Damien refused to accept that denial as final. He took the unheard of step of petitioning the Superior General of the religious order. His devotion, mentioned earlier, was matched, or even exceeded, by his persistence.
Fortunately, the Superior was a man of understanding. Since Damien had exceeded his prerogatives in going over the heads of his immediate superiors, the Superior General felt he had to be punished. This wise man determined that Damien would be punished, by being ordered to the mission station in Hawaii.
The ecstatic Damien was tutored by his fellow priests on the long voyage to the Pacific so that within several months of his arrival in Hawaii he was able to be ordained.
The newly ordained "Father" Damien was appointed to serve several parishes on the island of Hawaii.
He found that paganism still lived in the islands, even among the people who were formally Christians.
During the day the people would bring their children for baptism and confirmation, attend mass, make their confessions, fulfill all duties required of them as Christians; but when night settled over the islands, the darkness of the witch doctors’ arts prevailed.
One evening while sitting on the porch of what passed for his rectory, Damien’s calm reflection was shattered by a horrible scream emanating from the jungle. His first reaction was to rush into the jungle; his common sense prevailed when he realized that he would soon become lost in the dark jungle.
The next morning, however, the missionary went into the jungle in the general direction from whence he believed the scream originated. About one mile from his house he discovered a stone idol with evidence of sacrifice - human sacrifice - still present.
His great physical strength was enhanced by a holy anger as he saw at first hand evidence of continuing paganism. He toppled the idol, breaking it in the process. Taking a knife from his pocket, he cut a sapling from which he fashioned a cross. Father Damien placed the crude cross in the place where the statue had stood.
So that there would be no question as to how the idol had been destroyed or who had destroyed it, Damien took off his clerical hat, placed it at the foot of the cross, and walked home.
The natives were told by the witch doctors that the missionary would be punished for his acts. When nothing disastrous happened to him, much of paganism’s power was blunted.
This impetuous action was characteristic of the spirit of Father Damien.
Further evidence of his impetuosity surfaced at a gathering of missionaries in Honolulu. As the gathering neared an end, the presiding bishop, Monsignor Maigret, spoke to his fellow missionaries about the tragedy of Molokai: eight hundred people living under abominable conditions and with no priest to minister to their spiritual needs. Though he had the authority to do so, Bishop Maigret did not feel that he could order a priest to Molokai. The Board of Health had decreed that once someone went to Molokai, he could not leave. Consequently, if the bishop sent a priest to the leper colony he would have to remain there for the rest of his life.
In that moment Damien again met the Master. He volunteered to go.
Bishop Maigret asked him to carefully consider his offer. After further consideration, Father Damien reiterated his offer to go to Molokai.
The bishop responded gratefully, saying, "I would not impose it (that is, the assignment on Molokai) on anyone, but I gladly accept your offer."2
Impetuous, dedicated, courageous Damien was destined for Molokai and yet another meeting with the Master. When the missionary arrived on the island in 1873, the death rate averaged one person per day.
The lepers were not living, they were merely existing ... in grass shacks, and in primitive sanitary and medical conditions. Damien found that he was not only to be a priest. He would have to be physician, teacher, carpenter, builder, nurse, and even undertaker. He found too that he would be called upon to minister not only to two hundred Roman Catholics in the colony but to all of the eight hundred people confined therein.
With customary vigor he threw himself into the task of ministering to the lepers of Molokai. He who had met the Master would help the lepers meet the Master.
Dr. E. Stanley Jones told of a Hindu leper who said: "All others said ‘go.’ Only Jesus said ‘come.’ The people of Molokai - through the ministry of Father Damien - were enabled to hear Jesus saying to them ‘Come.’ "3
His complete disregard for his own well-being led his bishop and others to urge him to rest. Damien’s respectful but emphatic response was:
Rest! I have no time to rest when there is so much to do and my time is so short.4
A sense of holy restlessness pervaded Damien’s nature. That "holy restlessness" is reminiscent of the Master’s words in John 9:4, when he said: "Work while it is day for the night comes when no man can work."
Father Damien was engulfed in the night of squalor and illness. His efforts to overcome the tragedy of the lepers of Molokai were hampered by the night of unconcern. The lepers were a forgotten people. Shunted off to their colony, they were truly "out of sight, out of mind."
While that was true when Damien arrived on Molokai, it did not remain so. With the persistence we’ve earlier noted, the missionary bombarded the Board of Health with importunings for "more" more of everything for his lepers. When his pleas received no response, he sent demands.
When his demands fell on deaf ears, he zealously - some might even say angrily - defied the Board of Health, left the colony, and presented his demands in person.
Threatened with punishment if he did not return to Molokai and remain there, he did return, not because of the threatened punishment, but because he had accomplished what he had set out to do.
His bold presentation won promises of greater responsiveness to the needs of the lepers, but his daring also brought the problems of the lepers to the attention of the newspapers - who hailed him as a "Christian hero" - and, more importantly, to Princess Liliuokalani who became patroness to the needs of the lepers.
Are there any limits to what can be accomplished when men and women meet the Master? There seemed to be none for Father Damien.
Yet, the very characteristics of personality which enabled him to minister so effectively to his beloved lepers, made it difficult for others to work with him.
He had a strong sense both of what needed to be done and how if should be done. While some saw this strong sense of purpose as evidence of Damien’s dedication, others saw instead a stubborn man.
If he was stubborn, it was because of the great sense of urgency which continually surrounded and motivated him. Father Damien literally lived out Benjamin Franklin’s proverb, "Never leave that till tomorrow which you can do today." Much of what we can learn as a result of Father Damien’s meeting would center on the aforementioned adage.
Damien was dedicated. Damien was highly motivated. Damien was zealous. Damien was courageous. Damien was forceful. Damien was filled with a sense of urgency. He had much to do; he had so little time in which to do it.
Every man has far too little time to fulfill his potential. Damien remembered, I am sure, St. Paul’s words to the Corinthian Christians when he said, "... behold, now is the accepted time; behold now is the day of salvation."5
There was never enough time for Damien to do all he needed to do.
There is never enough time for any of us to do what needs to be done.
Therefore, if a good deed needs to be done, do it immediately.
If a kind word needs to be spoken, speak it immediately.
If love needs to be shared, share it immediately.
If the gospel needs to be proclaimed, proclaim it immediately.
If God’s people need to be ministered to, minister to them immediately.
In a sermon several years ago, I said basically what I’ve just shared. I believe we often take one another for granted. We should tell each other how we feel. We should tell people that we love them.
The morning after I had preached that sermon, one of the parishioners called and said that she had taken my sermon to heart. She had told her husband that she loved him ... and it cost her six dollars and eighty cents.
She went on to explain that when she told her husband she loved him he was in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and she was in College Park, Maryland. The six dollars and eighty cents was for the long distance call. She did not want to delay for a moment the opportunity to express her love ... nor did Father Damien.
Day after hectic day, Damien worked for the improvement of the lives of his people.
Sunday after Sunday, Damien proclaimed God’s love for the lepers of Molokai.
Each Sunday he began his sermons by saying "Brethren." One Sunday in 1885, he began his sermon by saying ... "We lepers."
He had paid the price of love. He had contracted leprosy. He met the Master in his sacrificial living.
Because of that meeting, Father Damien walked to his own Calvary - on leprous feet.
Because of that meeting, Father Damien carried his own Cross - in leprous hands.
Because of that meeting, Father Damien had a ministry - fourteen years among the lepers.
Because of that meeting, Father Damien died the death of his brothers - from leprosy.
Father Damien met the Master ... and neither he nor the lepers of Molokai were ever the same. And for that we can say, "Thanks be to God."
Addendum
During the course of working on the study of Father Damien I began thinking about the origin of the word "lazar," and its use as a synonym for a leper.
Further investigation led to the conclusion that the word "lazar" became a synonym for "leper," because it was assumed that the sores which covered the beggar Lazarus (See Luke 16:19-31) were the result of leprosy.
I would emphasize that this is just an assumption.
I then wondered why the Lazarus of Luke 16 was singled out as the source of the word "lazar." The answer to that probably rests on the evidence of many sores on Lazarus’ body. Still this is not conclusive. The sores were not defined specifically as resulting from leprosy.
With this background, I was led further along my path of conjecture to ask other questions: "Why did the word ‘lazar’ have to come from Luke 16; why couldn’t it have come from John 11, the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead?"
An equally strong case could be made for John 11 as for Luke 16. As we’ve already noted in the study of Father Damien, lepers were regarded as "living dead."
Is it possible, then, that the resurrection of Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha as reported in John 11, was actually the healing of a leper? If Lazarus had been found to have had leprosy, he would have been segregated from the community - perhaps sent to live in a tomb-like cave. He would have been considered dead.
His family, specifically his sisters, and his friends would have mourned for him. They would have looked to Jesus for a possible healing.
When Jesus did arrive, and when he was about to enter into the tomb, he was cautioned against that action because the body would have already become odorous.
This too would be expected with leprosy. The rotting flesh of the leprous ulcers produce an offensive odor. Father Damien made it a practice to smoke his pipe in order to offset the odor of the lepers he tended.
Then, when Jesus was called upon to deal with the "death" of Lazarus, it is altogether possible that he was, in reality, dealing with a case of leprosy.
I share this intriguing, albeit unsupportable, possibility because I have found so many people with an otherwise strong Biblical faith who have great difficulty in dealing with Jesus’ resurrection of Lazarus. Perhaps this assumption of mine will be both helpful to earnest but questioning Christians, as well as a stimulus to Biblical scholars to look more closely at the
eleventh chapter of John’s Gospel.
1. John Farrow, Damien the Leper, (Garden City, New York: Image Books, 1954) p. 104.
2. Farrow, p. 88.
3. E. Stanley Jones, The Reconstruction of the Church - On What Pattern?, (Nashville-New York: Abingdon Press, 1970) p. 125.
4. Charles Dutton, The Samaritans of Molokai, (Freeport, New York: Books for Libraries Press, 1932) p. 97.
5. 2 Corinthians 6:2b.
