Wednesday, December 25, Christmas Day 2024: Merry Christmas! God Bless us All 

While they were there, the time came for her to have her child,  and she gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes  and laid him in a manger,  because there was no room for them in the inn. Now there were shepherds in that region  living in the fields  and keeping the night watch over their flock.

The angel of the Lord appeared to them  and the glory of the Lord shone around them,  and they were struck with great fear. 

The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy  that will be for all the people. For today in the city of David  a savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord. 

And this will be a sign for you:  you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes  and lying in a manger.” 

A Christmas homily from our friend Jim Fredericks:

Merry Christmas to you all. 

 

I have a Christmas story to share with you that is very dear to me. I don’t think I have ever told you this story – which surprises me, because it’s such a great Christmas story. 

 

It’s a story about my friend, Hank Ueda. 

 

Hank grew up in the Little Tokyo neighborhood of Los Angeles. As you can guess, this part of LA was settled by immigrants from Japan. Today, the neighborhood is flourishing with shops, museums, Buddhist temples and Saint Francis Xavier Catholic Church.  

 

Hank was baptized at Saint Francis Xavier. The Japanese immigrants and Japanese-American people of this parish welcomed me as their priest when I lived in LA. 

 

I need to say that Hank was arrested when he was a little boy. In February of 1942, when Hank was about 10 years old, everyone in Little Tokyo was arrested. Hank was an American but his parents were born in Japan. Hank and his whole family, along with everybody else in the parish and in the neighborhood were “evacuated” (this is the term Hank used) to the Manzanar internment camp.  

 

Manzanar is in the high desert on the eastern slope of the Sierra Nevada. The camp sits in the shadow of Mount Whitney. It’s cold and windswept and very beautiful.  

 

In camp, everyone lived in a barrack. The floorboards were bare. The bedframes were made of galvanized iron pipes. There was no drywall on the inside. You could see the tarpaper between the slats. And there was a woodburning stove to heat the barrack. 

 

I remember arriving early one morning for the Japanese mass at Saint Francis Xavier. I remember making my way up the main aisle of the church. Probably, I was thinking about my homily. But I was brought up short when I got to the steps leading up into the sanctuary.  

 

There was a nativity scene set up in front of the pulpit.  

 

I’m sure you have your own ideas about what a nativity scene is supposed to look like. It looks like a barn. There’s hay and animals and stalls for the animals. Of course, there should also be a manger – a trough for the animals to feed in. 

 

But that Sunday morning, looking at the creche, there was no barn and no manger either. Instead, there was a facsimile of the barracks out at Manzanar – like a doll house, only with tarpaper and exposed slats and bare boards on the floor and a woodburning stove. Everything was perfect, down to the smallest detail. There were army drab-green blankets on the beds and a miniature woodburning stove. 

 

After mass, I was told that Hank Ueda made this creche. 

Hank had reached back into a memory of his time in “camp” during the Second World War, when he was only a little boy.  

 

According to Saint Luke, the Christ Child was born in a barn, not a palace. Joseph brought his betrothed to his birthplace, to Bethlehem, to register for the emperor’s census. Then, Saint Luke tells us, 

 

While they were there, the time came for her to have her child,  and she gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes  and laid him in a manger,  because there was no room for them in the inn. 

 

Two thousand years ago, the Christ Child was born in a barn, not a palace. There was no room for him in the inn. And when the people of Saint Francis Xavier parish in Little Tokyo were under arrest and far from home in the high desert, during the terrible days of the Second World War, the Christ Child was born in camp – in a barracks with tarpaper for insulation and a wood burning stove for heat.  

 

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas. I hope you all will be with your loved ones today to celebrate the birth of the Messiah.  

 

But I also have to say that life can be difficult at times. The world can drive our hearts to desolate places that are far from home. When this happens, think of Hank and the creche he built for us at Saint Francis Xavier.  

 

The Christ Child was not born in a palace. He was born in a barn. In fact, every Christmas, the Christ Child seeks out places that are distant and desolate and wind swept. He longs to be born among people who are far from home – people for whom there is no place in the inn. Places like Bethlehem and Manzanar. 

 

Merry Christmas to you all.