Homily on the Occasion of the First Official Celebration of Saint Chrysostomos Papasarantopoulos

Homily by Archimandrite Philippos Chamargias,
Protosyncellus of the Holy Metropolis of Messinia,
on the Occasion of the First Official Celebration of Saint Chrysostomos,
Missionary to Africa, Native of Messinia

(Delivered on December 29, 2025)

Our Holy Church has a feast every day; each day she honors and celebrates a saint. In the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year, we encounter thousands of saints of our faith.

Among them, like a star, there now shines in the firmament of our Church the saint honored today — Saint Chrysostomos, the Missionary to Africa, our compatriot and now a co-patron of this local community of Vasilitsi. But before we refer to the personality of the Saint, let us first see what the word Saint means.

A Saint means one who is pure — pure from every stain of sin.

Saints have come from every social class: men, women, and children. Saints were not only hierarchs, hieromonks, and clergy; every person has the possibility of participation in holiness.

After all, this is the purpose of our life: holiness through the Holy Spirit. When someone acquires the Holy Spirit, he becomes a saint and fulfills his destiny on earth. Christ Himself commanded: “Be holy, for I am holy,” which means: strive in your life to become saints, just as I am holy, I who created you.

There are many ways and paths to the attainment of holiness. Some were sanctified through martyrdom, others through ascetic struggles. Some became saints wearing the monastic habit, others as laypeople. Some became saints by following a virtuous life, others through tears of repentance. Some were sanctified amid wealth in palaces, others in poverty in huts; some free, others slaves. We have saints from the early centuries, and we also have saints from our own era.

Within this cloud — the vast choir of saints — the Church today presents to us Saint Chrysostomos the Missionary, following the Act of Canonization by the Holy Synod of the Ancient Patriarchate of Alexandria, which, “by exhortation and divine inspiration” of His Beatitude Pope and Patriarch of Alexandria Theodoros II, proceeded to inscribe, in the hagiological registers, our father among the saints, Chrysostomos Papasarantopoulos, a glorious son of the God-protected land of Messinia.

From the moment His Eminence entrusted me with today’s ministry of proclaiming the divine word, I began to think how I should begin speaking about Saint Chrysostomos at this hour.

Should I begin with theological aphorisms, or should I begin like a fairy tale: “Once upon a time…”? For the life of Chrysostomos Papasarantopoulos very much resembles a fairy tale — yet a harsh one, a tale that would not end with “and they lived happily ever after.” For neither did he “live” comfortably, and woe to us if we think that with the way we live and think we shall “live better.”

Therefore, I will attempt, through the very personality of Saint Chrysostomos, to offer you words — not my own, but essentially the words of the fiery missionary to Africa himself.

So the Saint comes and introduces himself to us:

“My name is Christos Papasarantopoulos.

I was born in the year 1903 in the village of Vasilitsi, in the province of Koroni, in the prefecture of Messinia.

My father was a shepherd from Tripoli and had four children, whom he raised with his second wife after the death of his first. With his second wife he had me, the youngest, Christos.

I attended elementary school up to the fourth grade, because, due to the death of my father, I was forced to work. I did not manage to learn many letters, but I was taught by my parents Christian piety according to Christ.

Seeking the spiritual life, at the age of fifteen, in the year 1918, my steps led me to the hermitage of Elias Panagoulakis in Kalamata. There I made the finest acquaintance, which developed into a strong friendship. I met Photis Yiannakopoulos, later the great theologian and distinguished clergyman Fr. Joel Yiannakopoulos.

From 1921 to 1924 I served my military duty in Evros and Kalamata. When I was discharged, I returned to the skete of Panagoulakis and donned the honorable monastic habit, following the monastic life. At the encouragement and under the spiritual guidance of Archimandrite Polykarpos Andronis, preacher of the 'Zoe' Brotherhood, I left the skete of Panagoulakis and on January 1, 1925, at the age of twenty-two, I went as a novice to the Holy Monastery of Mardaki on Mount Taygetos. On August 4, 1925, I was tonsured a monk and received the name Chrysostomos.

On May 4, 1926, I was ordained deacon by the then Metropolitan of Messinia, Meletios Sakellaropoulos, and the following day I was ordained presbyter and appointed parish priest of the Church of the Reception of Christ in the village of Amfeia (Gardiki), Messinia, where I remained until 1928, also serving the needs of neighboring villages.

On May 11, 1926, I was appointed abbot-counselor of the Monastery of Gardiki near the town of Thouria, in the province of Kalamata, and on October 25 of the same year I became its Abbot, following the resignation of the then abbot and my friend, Fr. Joel Yiannakopoulos.

In my priestly journey I served in many regions of our homeland, from Athens to Macedonia.”

Let us follow him briefly on this journey…

A simple, cheerful priest walks through the narrow streets of Edessa and passes almost unnoticed. The only thing that distinguishes him is the rumor that this forty-year-old priest attends secondary school. “It is never too late.” Archimandrite Chrysostomos smiles broadly when asked why he decided to finish school. “It is never too late,” he repeats to himself to give himself courage when he struggles.

He cooks by himself, keeps house by himself, gathers youth around him. Young people move him; he speaks to their souls. He speaks in a different way — not with grand sermons. For — and here lies the paradox — he does not have the gift of eloquence. He knows it and has accepted it.

And yet he “speaks” ceaselessly — and excellently. He speaks through example; he speaks through the unique — many say — confession he offers. He is a formidable “speaker” to the hearts of young and simple people. And he himself is so simple: the plain parish priest, without complex theological discussions, without imposing presence, without outwardly impressive gifts — the priest who could disappoint any “intellectual.”

At night, when all fall silent, alone with some second-hand books and outdated methods, he learns English. Why? He does not consciously know. Unconsciously, however, he senses that this too must be done, because who knows — it may serve God’s plan. In Athens, at the age of fifty, he earns a degree from the Theological School. He is appointed to a parish. By human standards, he is well settled.

By human standards. Because he does not rest. Wherever he serves, he publishes pamphlets and leaflets of Christian content; he writes in the student yearbook while studying. And alone at night he learns French. Why? Again, without a clear plan — he simply learns, because this seems to be God’s plan. Those who knew him speak of his outward calm and the radiant unrest emitted by his gaze. Until he meets African students on scholarship, and the weight of an entire continent — Africa — seems to come and rest upon his shoulders.

And one day, in the early 1960s, he clearly hears within himself the forgotten command: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.” These are the last words of the Lord before the Ascension. Usually, when we part from someone, we say the most important things at the final hour — those that must not be forgotten. Christians, however, did not give this command the importance it deserved; thus I call it forgotten.

Archimandrite Chrysostomos spends many nights unable to sleep. It is not insomnia, nor the slight trembling of his hands — the first signs of Parkinson’s disease. No. It is the digging into his soul caused by his meeting with Africans and the forgotten command. And one day, with a small suitcase — he never had many possessions — he sets out.

Where to? With what money? How would he find the fare? Some things do not endure rational analysis. Or rather, there are people who believe so deeply that their faith overcomes every obstacle of reason.

Thus, a simple priest, outwardly unremarkable, arrives in Uganda in 1960. No Greek community awaits him — there is none. The Church offices or missionary organizations do not await him — such things do not exist there. Orthodoxy does not have organized missions there as the Western Church does. Fr. Chrysostomos knows this; that is precisely why he is there. And then he understands: if he does not learn Swahili, the language of Africans, he cannot open the hearts of his black brethren.

He becomes a student again and humbly, wholeheartedly begins to sow the divine seed in the thirsty soil of Africa.

Catechisms, liturgies, baptisms, construction of churches. Noteworthy is the way a church is built: there is no money. But faith makes the believer inventive, and Chrysostomos’ faith is great. Women, men, and children work together in a field; they dig it and sow it. With the wages, wood is bought, and mud is made. “And we,” writes the missionary simply to a friend, “will strive to find money for a tin roof.”

The work is vast, the distances immense, the difficulties unimaginable. He works all day, and at night wrestles with loneliness. He has no one to share his plans, dreams, thoughts, sorrows, and disappointments. Alone in the cold African night, with swollen feet from walking or cycling — his parish covers fifty miles — he translates the Holy Scripture into Swahili.

Uganda, Tanzania, Kenya, Rhodesia, Congo receive his Christian message and become his new homeland and family.

From Greece messages of hope begin to arrive. The Hellenic Navy sends bells for the churches he built. Baptismal fonts are fashioned from sheet metal, and there the simple priest baptizes, and Africa hears for the first time the song of Orthodoxy and timidly begins to sing it:

“As many as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. Alleluia.”

Thirteen full years pass. In 1971 he comes to Greece but stays only briefly. He is eager to return — to go back to his “black angels,” as he called the children of Africa. His health is poor. Friends urge him to remain. He shakes his head. Africa calls him.

Father Chrysostomos Papasarantopoulos
Born in Vasilitsi, Messinia, in 1903
Reposed in the Belgian Congo on December 29, 1972, at 9:12 p.m.

The message reached even his village. But the sorrow of the “black angels” did not reach here — those angels who for half a century have proclaimed the holiness of their Enlightener, their Spiritual Father… their Father.

And that sorrow was transformed into joy and hope through the joyful ringing of bells announcing the canonization of Archimandrite Chrysostomos Papasarantopoulos, who shone forth in Kananga and hailed from Vasilitsi.

And now the song of Africa reaches even here, uniting the Black Continent and the saint’s birthplace with the entire Orthodox world. Its verses form the bond:

“Let us honor, O faithful,
the son of Messinia and guardian of Kananga,
him who journeyed to Africa,
the herald of Orthodoxy, Chrysostomos,
the new equal-to-the-Apostles of Christ.
And now, as he intercedes for us, let us cry out to him:
Glory to Christ who called you,
glory to Him who sent you,
glory to Him who in these latter times revealed you
as a guardian of the faith.”

Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos. Photos from the first celebration of the canonization of St. Chrysostomos in both Tanzania and in Kananga on December 29, 2025 (source 1 and 2).