Recollections of Father Dositheos
by Manolis Basias
Father Dositheos was born in Attalia of Asia Minor in 1912. His name as a layman was Pantelis Paraskevaidis.When he was three years old,he lost his vision due to meningitis. His mother was so devasted by her son's illness and blindess that she also became ill and died two years later. Afterwards, his father remarried. When Pantelis was ten,Greece lost its war against Turkey, and because of the exchange of populations that followed, his familywas forced to abandon their homeland and move to Greece.
In Asia Minor they were aristocrats and had their own coffee shop, but in Greece they had nothing. They lived in great poverty and want in the refugee shelters.
Little Pantelis was immediately accepted by the House of the Blind in Kallithea, which had been founded a few years prior by the great Greek poets Demetrios Vikelas and George Drosinis. There he learned how to read and write braille, and he also excelled in Western European music, which he could also read in braille.
In those days there was no chapel at the House of the Blind, so he went with other students to another church where the Protopsaltis Stavridis chanted. Stavridis was also from Asia Minor and was an heir of genuine Byzantine music tradition. Since there was no way to write Byzantine music in braille yet, he rallied all his intellectual strength to invent a method of writing it. Because of his brilliance, he managed to complete it. If anyone else had tried to this, he probably would have given up trying to tackle such a difficult task. But for him, giving up such great tasks was unthinkable.
At the age of eighteen, he went to the HolyMountain. There he became well known as a Byzantine music teacher, as an excellent chanter, and as a talented composer. When he became a monk in Katounakia, he received the name Dositheos. There he perfected his system of writing Byzantine music in braille and began to transcribe many compositions. But life in the wilderness of Katounakia was difficult for him as a blind person because there were cliffs right outside his door. So he decided to leave the HolyMountain, although until the end of his life he kept returning to visit, especially for the feast day of the Ascension to chant the beautiful hymns of Iakovos Protopsaltis and other compositions of his own. There are still a few old monks there who remember him well and speak of him with boundless reverence.
He decided to return to Athens during the difficult years of World War II, the German Occupation, and Greece's civil war. The poverty was so intense that thousands died of starvation. On Pascha in 1942, anyone fortunate to have something to eat would have had boiled greens instead of lamb. Many people were searching through trash hoping to find even just an orange peeling.
In those days Father Dositheos stayed in the refugee camps where his family was. He worked as a chanter and was able to cover his needs with the little money he received. Since he was constantly writing, he ran out of money buying paper. To save paper, he would leave no room for margins on the page. He also devised a contracted form of Greek braille to save space. His ideas for contracted braille were also impressive. Even though he and a few others came up with ways to contract Greek braille, none of these methods ever became widely accepted. Father Dositheos was a person the Apostle Paul describes "as having nothing, and yet possessing all things" (2 Cor. 6:10).
When Panagiotis Stylianopoulos established a small printing house for the blind, Father Dositheos financially helped him to do so, despite his own poverty. It is worth mentioning here that Mr. Stylianopoulos had fallen while working on construction, and his legs were paralyzed. He stayed at the "Asylum for the Incurable" in Patesia and occupied himself with social work, writing books for blind studentsby hand. When Father Dositheos found out about his work, he supported it with all his might, even by donating money despite his own poverty. He would also go to the library of Maria Constantopoulos every Thursday to sew books that she and other volunteers had transcribed into braille. This was when the first books for blind high school students were written, since the state did not provide for this need.
He taught many students Byzantine music for free. In exchange he had them dictate to him ecclesiastical books and Byzantine music books. He passed the greater part of his life writing books. In those days, for braille there were no publishing houses, embossers, or even typewriters. Someone gave him a Perkins braille typewriter only near the end of his life. So he used a slate (into which a paper is inserted) and punched in the bumps one-by-one with a tool called a stylus. (That is also how I wrote the Greek laws and Constitution when I was a student.) This process is extremely laborious and slow. For endless hours with his students he would write books for himself and for other blind people. His greatest joy was to serve his fellow blind chanters, who in those days lacked almost everything. It was in this manner that I became acquainted with him, when I needed him to give me some music that I didn't have so that I could chant at the feast day of my village.
I was amazed at how industrious he was. He worked hard until the very end of his life. I also admired the dedication of his students and other volunteers who would dictate to him for hours and hours so that he could complete entire books.Father Dositheos was a man who, although living on earth, "had his heart in heaven and imitated the ranks of angels" according to the hymn.
In 1945 he met John Perdikouris, who lost his sight as an adult due to an accident. John was grieved inconsolably, but Father Dositheos inspired him and gave him the courage to live. He taught him braille and Byzantine music, too. Under his guidance, John wrote many Byzantine music books in braille and served as a chanter for fifty years until his death in 1995.
In the 1960s, with his brother's help he managed to acquire a small apartment in Patesia to live in that was about 300 square feet. When he moved into this tiny house, he said, "I feel happier than the king." And whenever we asked him how he is doing, he would say, "Glory to God; I'm living better than the king."
I met Father Dositheos in 1970 at Maria's library, but I didn't become closely acquainted with him until 1980 when I needed his help.After he taught me Byzantine music notation, I was able to teach sighted students and write down with perfect precision any music I wanted, as long as I had someone dictate it to me. For example, I wrote the entire Heirmologion of Ioannis Protopsaltis by dictation from my wife and two sons who were eight years old—even before they themselves had learned music.
Father Dositheos was a man of God. During the last decade of his life, I was his closest collaborator among the blind and had the exceptional honor of welcoming him in my home on several occasions. Whenever he came to my home he gave us such wonderful advice that we felt the presence of God Himself among us. He gave us strength in our struggle to raise our children. He had a pleasant character. Humor and optimism never left him.
He was always considerate and never wanted to trouble others with his own matters. To avoid burdening his fellow blind acquaintances with taking care of him in his old age, shortly before his death he made an agreement with the monks of the Old Calendar monastery of Saints Cyprian and Justina in Phili that they would take care of him in return for his permission for them to transcribe and publish his compositions for the sighted. Even though he spent the final year of his life there, he always remained in communion with the State Church of Greece.
His final work was The Supplement to the Triodion(which contained musical compositions of his own for all the weekday services of the Triodion that are usually chanted only in monasteries.) Even though he was ill and his strength had left him for the most part, he continued composing music for the Triodion, which was his swan song.
Shortly before his repose, he was taken to the clergy hospital in Patesia. Then all his friends in great numbers poured in to visit him and took turns staying by his side and supporting him. He passed away on March 29, 1991, the day before Lazarus Saturday. The following day his venerable body was buried in the St. Stephen's Monastery. I was present at his funeral and was astounded by the sensation. There was no feeling of death but of life; there was no sorrow—only joy. Throughout the service, the words of the Orthros gospel echoed in my ears: "I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live" (Jn. 11:25). It seemed to me that, just as the apolytikion of the day says, all of us were ready to chant "Hosanna" to the Vanquisher of death, bearing the signs of victory. But also the hymn of the upcoming Resurrection of the Lord Who granted eternal life to those in the graves, "Christ is Risen" was already tangible. Then I understood more deeply the words of the Lord: "He that heareth my word and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death unto life" (Jn. 5:24).
Even now, the presence of Father Dositheos is alive in our life. He lives among as and blesses us and helps us. I even think that our acquaintance with you at St. Anthony's Monastery and the help you have offered are the fruit of his special prayers and blessings.