During the Japanese American internment, Christians of all ethnicities engaged in personal ministry to those who were suffering. The stories recorded here have only represented a handful of those which could be told. Most of the time, the Nikkei were the ones in need, but in rare cases they had the opportunity to grant kindnesses to others. Gracia Booth related how one Issei woman was heartbroken and distraught because her eighty-year-old husband had been wrongfully imprisoned in the Missoula Detention Center. Yet despite her loneliness, she turned her compassion toward the Caucasian boys in her hometown who were serving in the war.
So, early in the morning, with friends driving her from home to home, she called on these [Caucasian] mothers personally, presenting to each of them a lovely potted cyclamen, and in her broken English endeavored to express her sympathy, as one mother to another, and her deep chagrin and regret over what her people had done to their sons. And as mother heart met mother heart in understanding grief, something of that love which passeth human understanding so sanctified their sorrow that each was stronger to bear whatever might be in store for her or her son. And all because of the concern of one little enemy alien to ease the worry and the fear of her anxious fellow-mothers.[1]
The Japanese loved gardening and excelled at the art of floral arrangement, so this precious gift of flowers came from her heart. Even in the midst of suffering, she trusted the Lord to comfort his children that they might be a comfort to others:
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too (2 Corinthians 1:3-5).
Booth then told another story of unexpected grace:
A Japanese and a negro family in Santa Barbara had lived in the same area and been friends for many years. A few days before they were to be evacuated, the Japanese man, with his two young sons, came to the negro home with the request that he be allowed to set out “a flower or two” for them, as a parting gift, in appreciation of their friendship of years standing. Deeply touched, the negro mother readily consented. The “flower or two” turned out to be the complete flower garden of the Japanese family—exceptionally beautiful—which they simply dug up and carefully transplanted to their neighbor’s yard, working early and late, until this labor of love was completed and the grounds about the shabby negro cottage a bower of fragrant beauty![2]
Nikkei Christians even extended love to neighbors who were unkind to them. As Jesus taught, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, ‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you’” (Matthew 5:43-44). Yoshiko Uchida, who wrote extensively about the internment in both fiction and non-fiction genres, remembered with wonder how her mother hospitably served tea to the FBI man who had arrested Uchida’s father and sat imposingly in their living room while his partner ransacked the house.[3] Uchida’s mother also gave away their family’s prized gladiolas to an opportunistic neighbor seeking to profit from their desperation.[4] Her mother’s example taught Uchida the Christian principle of “turning the other cheek” instead of seeking revenge (vv. 38-39). Thankfully, Uchida also experienced the neighborly love of many fellow Christians: “Organizations such as the First Congregational Church (FCC) of Berkeley were extremely helpful in anticipating the needs of the panic-stricken Japanese and provided immediate, practical assistance.”[5] They offered a reception room for hospitality, a nursery to watch children as their parents were busy with government officials, and a visitor’s lounge.[6] As Uchida recalled,
Families of the church offered storage space to those who needed it, and we took several pieces of furniture to be stored in the basement of one such home. Another non-Japanese friend offered to take our books and stored more than eight large cartons for us. In typical Japanese fashion, my mother took gifts to express her gratitude to each person who helped us. . . . The night before we left, our Swiss neighbors invited us to dinner. It was a fine feast served with our neighbors’ best linens, china, and silverware. With touching concern they did their best to make our last evening in Berkeley as pleasant as possible. . . . When we returned to our dark empty house, our Norwegian neighbors came to say goodbye. The two girls brought gifts for each of us and hugged us goodbye. ‘Come back soon,’ they said as they left.[7]
Many uncelebrated Christians demonstrated kindness to those whom society had rejected. Rev. John W. Winkley represented the Christian churches of Hayward, California when he wrote,
Our hearts ache for you as you leave the houses you love, and the daily work you did so well, and the schools where you studied to be good American citizens. We shall miss you, but we want you to know that we shall be thinking of you and praying for you. . . . Please avail yourselves of our services and go away happy in the thought that even war cannot destroy the love which God has spread abroad in the hearts of his faithful people.[8]
Rev. Isamu Nakamura also recalled the selfless efforts of many Christians in Sacramento:
During the war, the church piano, [books,] and other belongings were stored at the Westminster Presbyterian Church, Fremont Presbyterian Church and at their members’ homes. . . . A few days before evacuation, Dr. Kirchner and members of Westminster Church came to our church to bid us farewell by singing hymns and offering their prayers. During these hard times, people were somewhat hesitant to help the Japanese, but Mr. Frank Muench, a worker at the Lincoln Christian Center of the Baptist Church, helped not only the members of the church but everyone who needed assistance in preparation for evacuation. When we went into Walerga Assembly Center near McClellan Air Force Base, he was just about the only Caucasian who transported our luggage on his truck for us.[9]
Phyllis Mizuhara fondly remembered the love shown by her Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Pansy Ham. In the 1930’s, Ham had been a church administrator and children’s Sunday school teacher at the Japanese Christian Church of San Bernardino, California. According to Mizuhara’s description,
She had brick red hair and carefully plucked eyebrows that arched gracefully over azure blue eyes. Her eyelids were shaded with blue mascara, her prominent cheekbones were highlighted with circles of artistically applied rouge, and her sunken cheeks made her small, heart-shaped lips pucker up as if she were ready for a kiss. She dressed flamboyantly in brightly colored, almost garish, outfits. At our church social programs, Mrs. Ham would sometimes don a grass skirt and do the hula. She was definitely not the sedate, formal sort of person that one expected a church leader to be. I guess that she had acquired this colorful flair because she was also a successful painter and a high school and college art teacher. However, every bit of chutzpah that Mrs. Ham displayed was balanced with sincerity, kindness and a true Christian spirit.[10]
The church became defunct when the Nikkei were evacuated in 1942, but Mrs. Ham did not abandon the Japanese American community. As Mizuhara recalled,
She helped us prepare to move: finding places to store possessions, advising us on how to rent our homes, and on evacuation day, May 23, 1942, arranging transportation to the area where we boarded the bus that was to deliver us to some unknown, God-forsaken place. (After the war my sisters discovered that Mrs. Ham had stored our boxed belongings in her bedroom during the three years that we were incarcerated.)[11]
Another friend of the Nikkei was Earl Minton, owner of the Minton Lumber Company in Mountain View, who had provided the lumber to build a Japanese church in San Jose. His wife, Marjorie, also started a Sunday school for Japanese American children in the home of Yonejiro Tsuruda. As Nellie Nakamura, Tsuruda’s stepdaughter, recalled:
Our house had a large kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Minton came over and said, “Can we hold a Sunday school class here on Sundays?” Mrs. Minton and her sister were the teachers. They brought two little pump organs and some folding chairs. And they started a Sunday school. At first there were only a few students, then there were more children, and the kitchen wasn’t big enough. My stepfather donated a corner of his property so they could build the Japanese Community Church. Mr. Minton donated the lumber and acted as chief architect. All the Japanese people of the neighborhood helped build it. The church stood for a long time, and the Japanese Christians brought their kids there for Sunday school.[12]
Then in Richmond, California, Francis Aebi, the descendant of Swiss immigrants, cared for the commercial rose business of his longtime neighbor, Tamaki Ninomiya.
The FBI arrested . . . Ninoyima, leaving his wife and his young children to prepare for eviction alone. Soon they were interned in an assembly center, then the Amache internment camp. Aebi struggled to care for the Ninomiya property as well as his own. Since flowers were not eligible for the farmers’ rations of extra fuel needed to keep the greenhouses warm and productive, the grower uprooted the precious plants and replaced them with cucumbers and tomatoes, keeping just a few roses for better times. For three years, Aebi tended both properties, working so hard he grew thin and gaunt. But when the Ninoyimas returned, he met them at the train station and welcomed them home to a thriving nursery, a freshly cleaned house and a healthy bank balance. The Aebi and Ninoyima nurseries continued to prosper side-by-side for another generation.[13]
Francis Aebi based his longsuffering sacrifice on the command of Jesus to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39). He, like many other Christians, courageously loved his so-called enemies because of his foundational love for God. As Jesus also taught, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment” (vv. 37-38). Seigel summed up the cumulative impact of these acts of kindness: “Tides are turned . . . by the quiet and enduring heroism of ordinary people acting in good conscience.”[14]
[1] Japanese American Relations Committee, Pasadena AFSC Information Bulletin 3 (1 April 1942).
[2] Japanese American Relations Committee, Pasadena AFSC Information Bulletin 5 (18 May 1942).
[3] Yoshiko Uchida, Desert Exile: The Uprooting of a Japanese-American Family (Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press, 1982), 47.
[4] Ibid., 62.
[5] Ibid., 60. Ruth W. Kingman, who was appointed executive secretary of the Fair Play Committee in 1943, and her husband, Harry, actively ministered to Nikkei students in the U.C. Berkeley YMCA. Ruth also “worked with other Berkeley women to persuade the local Congregational Church to support internees through the difficult evacuation process. The church offered its social hall as Berkeley’s point of embarkation for the camps, serving coffee and cake to adults and providing toys for children. Later Kingman and her colleagues visited the temporary assembly camp at Tanforan, providing household supplies and moral support for the internees. In December 1942, she traveled to Utah to organize a bilingual Christmas pageant for internees at the Topaz” (Charles Wollenberg, “‘Dear Earl’: The Fair Play Committee, Earl Warren, and Japanese Internment,” California History 89, no. 4 [2012], 38-39).
[6] Berkeley Fellowship of Churches and the First Congregational Church of Berkeley, A Statement to Japanese Friends and Fellow Americans (24 April 1942), 1-2. One Caucasian couple even became members of the church when their gardener, Mr. Sato, told them, “It is the only church in the State of California that is serving tea to the Japanese (Eleanor Breed, War Comes to the Church Door: Diary of a Church Secretary in Berkeley, California [20 April to 1 May 1942], 7). Dean Monroe E. Deutsch, from the University of California at Berkeley, also commended this church: “Allow me to express my own appreciation for the attitude which you and your church have taken with reference to the Japanese and the American Japanese who are being evacuated. . . . People fail to recall that these people who are being evacuated have had no charges against them individually; they are not guilty of misconduct. They are being removed because of fear, which is gripping the hearts of some people. Personally, I feel that someday our country will be ashamed of its conduct in this entire matter. In the meantime, however, it is good to know of actions such as you and the members of your church have taken” (ibid., 11-12).
[7] Uchida, Desert Exile, 60, 64.
[8] John W. Winkley, “A Message to Our Neighbors on the Day of Evacuation” (Hayward, CA: 1942).
[9] Michiyo Laing, Carl Laing, Heihachiro Takarabe, Asako Tokuno, and Stanly Umeda, eds. Issei Christians: Selected Interviews from the Issei Oral History Project (Sacramento, CA: Issei Oral History Project, Inc., 1977), 172.
[10] Phyllis Mizuhara, essay in the Art and Literature competition sponsored by California Civil Liberties Public Education Program and the California State Library Foundation, cited in Seigel, In Good Conscience, 75.
[11] Ibid.
[12] Nellie Nakamura, A Century of Change: The Memoirs of Nellie Yae Sumiye Nakamura, 1902-2002 (Fremont, CA: David Nakamura, 2000). The Mintons would also look after the internees’ belongings during the war and welcomed back their friends during resettlement.
[13] Seigel, In Good Conscience, 88.
[14] Ibid., 264.
