A historic photo of St. Casimir at Christmastime. Courtesy Archives of the Archdiocese

It’s Christmas 1944, a year when an American family might be gathered cozily by the crackling fire sipping cocoa or a Tom and Jerry with Bing Crosby softly crooning carols on the radio.

Archbishop John Murray of St. Paul. Courtesy Archives of the Archdiocese

In about a month’s time, the very man who made the fireside chat famous, FDR, would be sworn in for his fourth and final term as president of the United States, and at his inauguration, Msgr. John A. Ryan of what was then known as the Archdiocese of St. Paul, a professor at Catholic University in Washington, would give the benediction.

At Christmas 1944, the Second World War was escalating toward its conclusion. The Catholic Bulletin newspaper of St. Paul heavily advertised the top Christmas gifts of the year to be war bonds and blood donations.

Archbishop of St. Paul John Gregory Murray directed that every parish here hold monthly requiems for those killed in the war, as U.S. military casualties had already passed half a million. He also wrote to his priests urging them to recruit young women still at home to enlist for active service in the Navy, and encouraged all residents to attend an exhibit of paintings of the war on display at the Minneapolis Institute of Art that winter.

Internationally, snow fell for the first time in three years on St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, and blackouts were lifted temporarily for Midnight Mass to be celebrated in London for the first time in six years. The Vatican opened a pontifical palace to 20,000 needy orphan children, to be entertained by allied soldiers, and five tons of candy were sent from the U.S. by the Holy Name Society for that celebration. From battlefields in France, Germany, Italy and other fronts, planes carried 500 American troops to Bethlehem, where a choir of 2,000 soldiers from Poland sang hymns for their Allied comrades on Christmas Eve.

Msgr. John Ryan of the Archdiocese of St. Paul stands to the left of President Franklin D. Roosevelt Jan. 20, 1945, at the president’s fourth inauguration. Msgr. Ryan gave the benediction. Courtesy Archives of the Archdiocese

Back in St. Paul, the local Polish community gathered at the parish of St. Casimir, whose lovely interior had just been redecorated. It had been a tradition in the parish to leave their impressively large Christmas crib standing in the sanctuary, surrounded with evergreens, until the Feast of the Purification of Mary, on Feb. 2. But this year would prove to be exceptional.

One morning just after Christmas in January 1945, two boys determined to explore the elaborate crèche and sneaked into the church to do so. By that day the abundant greenery of the display had become quite dry and brittle. It was too dark to see the inner reaches of the stable, so they found some candles to light for illumination and, jostling each other excitedly, entered the perilous surroundings. The details of what happened next are not entirely clear, but a scuffle ensued, a candle flame touched an errant branch, and in a flash, the straw of the manger and the trees around them were ablaze.

The boys escaped, ran across the yard to the school and alerted the Felician sisters who were preparing lunches in the kitchen. When the women arrived in the church, the smoke was so dense they could see nothing. But they could hear a terrible sound: The fire’s heat from the burning Christmas trees became so intense that as it rose to the curved ceiling, the heat built up until the solder joints on the brass organ melted, and the pipes began crashing and clanging down to the choir-loft floor below. With incredible bravery, the sisters from the school rescued the vessels for the Mass, and the assistant pastor, Father John Maslowski, rescued the Blessed Sacrament.

In 1948, Cafe Napoli in Minneapolis created a miniature Basilica of St. Mary in sugar. Courtesy Archives of the Archdiocese

Thanks to the boys’ expedient calls for help, the fire department was quickly summoned, and miraculously no one was hurt, though the organ and altar were nearly destroyed, and the recently refinished sanctuary was covered in soot and flooded with water.

St. Casimir experienced a trying Christmas that year, but they soon recovered, the war ended, and in 1948, the Café di Napoli Italian restaurant recreated the Minneapolis Basilica entirely in sugar, which was a marvel to behold for young and old alike, and all was right with the world once again.

Editor’s note: Adapted from a presentation shared at the Archdiocesan Catholic Center’s 2020 Advent celebration by Allison Spies, archives program manager of the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis.