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KEY TAKEAWAYS

• Do Japanese people go to Church on Christmas day?

• What do Japanese people do on Christmas day?

• Do Japanese people believe in God?

• Where can I go to Church on Christmas Eve or Day in Tokyo?

DO JAPANESE CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS?

Daniel TJ International Correspondent Tokyo, Japan

I remember the first Christmas I spent in Japan pretty clearly. It wasn’t snowing. There were no ugly sweaters.

No one asked me what time dinner would be ready. Instead, there were lights everywhere—like everywhere—and Mariah Carey was playing in a convenience store while a couple in matching coats debated which cake to buy.

That was my first clue that Christmas in Japan is… different.

Not bad. Just different. And honestly? Kind of fascinating.

So, do Japanese people celebrate Christmas? Yes. Absolutely. But not in the way most people from Christian countries expect.

Christmas here isn’t really a religious holiday. It’s more of a seasonal event, a mood, a vibe. Think romance, lights, couples, cake, fried chicken, and a soft sense of “special,” rather than church services and family arguments over burnt turkey.

Christmas in Japan lives somewhere between Valentine’s Day and a really well-funded marketing campaign.

Let’s start with what people actually do.

THE FRANCISCAN CHAPEL CENTER

For those in Tokyo who wishes to attend Church on Christmas Ever or Christmas Day, you could visit The Franciscan Chapel Center in Roppongi. It's a small but cozy Church.

From late November, cities transform. Tokyo especially. Shibuya, Roppongi, Omotesando, Marunouchi—everywhere gets lit up.

Illuminations are a big deal. People don’t just walk past them; they go to see them. Couples hold hands. Friends take photos.

Someone’s always trying to get the perfect Instagram shot while pretending not to block traffic.

Christmas Eve here is the main event. That’s important. December 24th matters more than the 25th. If you’re a couple, Christmas Eve is basically sacred. Reservations are booked weeks in advance.

Restaurants offer “Christmas courses,” hotels jack up prices, and even regular cafés suddenly feel like date spots.

Being single on Christmas Eve in Japan can feel… noticeable. Not in a cruel way, just in a “wow, everyone else seems paired up” kind of way.

Christmas Day, on the other hand, is usually a normal workday. Trains are full. Offices are open. There’s no national holiday.

The magic fades quickly, and by the evening of the 25th, stores are already putting out New Year decorations. Japan does not linger.

Now, about presents. Yes, gifts are exchanged, but mostly between couples. Sometimes parents give small presents to young kids, especially if they’re influenced by Western media, but it’s not universal.

It’s nothing like the Christmas-morning chaos you might know. No piles of wrapping paper. No dawn wake-up calls.

Often it’s something simple: a scarf, chocolates, maybe a small piece of jewelry.

And Christmas cake—this is important. Strawberry shortcake with whipped cream is the Christmas food. Not pie. Not pudding. Cake.

You preorder it from bakeries or convenience stores, sometimes weeks in advance. It’s light, fluffy, and honestly pretty good.

Families, couples, even single people will get one just because… well, that’s what you do.

Now the big question people always ask: do Japanese people believe in God?

Most don’t, at least not in the Christian sense.

Japan is largely non-religious in daily life, or more accurately, spiritually flexible.

People might visit shrines, celebrate Buddhist holidays, have Shinto weddings, Christian-style weddings (yes, really), and not see any contradiction in that.

Christianity is a small minority here—around 1%. Christmas is cultural, not theological.

But there are Christians. And this is where things get really interesting.

Let me tell you about three different Christmases.

First, a Japanese family.

I once spent part of Christmas with a Japanese coworker and his family in Saitama. Totally normal family. Parents, two kids, grandparents nearby.

Christmas Eve was quiet. After work, he went home, they ate a nicer-than-usual dinner—nothing Western, just good food—and they shared a cake.

The kids got small presents. Not expensive. More like, “We thought you’d like this.” They didn’t talk about Jesus. No church. No prayer. But there was warmth.

A sense that this night mattered, even if they couldn’t quite explain why.

On Christmas Day, life went on. School for the kids. Work for the parents. Cake leftovers for breakfast, maybe. That was it. No sadness about it ending. Just… okay, next thing.

Second, a single Japanese woman.

A friend of mine—mid-30s, lives alone in Tokyo—told me Christmas Eve used to stress her out. Too many couples, too many expectations.

These days, she’s made peace with it. On the 24th, she finishes work, buys herself something nice (last year it was perfume), picks up a slice of cake, and goes home.

Sometimes she watches a romantic movie. Sometimes she just scrolls and listens to music. It’s quiet. A little reflective. Not lonely, exactly, but introspective.

On Christmas Day, she treats herself to lunch somewhere she likes and maybe meets a friend. It’s not about being sad she’s single. It’s more like… claiming the day for herself. And honestly, I respect that.

Now the third group...

Foreigners in Tokyo who go to the Franciscan Chapel in Roppongi.

This one’s personal.

The Franciscan Chapel is small. Tucked away. Easy to miss if you’re not looking for it. But on Christmas Eve, it fills up. Foreigners, Japanese Christians, mixed families, people who just need something familiar.

Midnight Mass there feels different because there is no Midnight Mass.

Please check out the Christmas and New Years Mass schedule for December, 2025 >>>>> The Franciscan Chapel Center in Roppongi.

You hear multiple accents. The hymns might not be perfect. Someone’s kid is always restless. But there’s a deep sense of shared grounding.

For many foreigners, Christmas in Japan can feel disorienting. You’re surrounded by Christmas imagery, but not Christmas meaning.

So going to Mass—especially somewhere like the Franciscan Chapel—anchors you. Afterward, some people go for late-night food. Others go straight home.

Christmas Day might include meeting friends, cooking something traditional from home, calling family overseas, or just… sitting with the weird mix of gratitude and homesickness that tends to show up.

I’ve seen people cry quietly during Mass. Not dramatically. Just a tear or two. Missing parents. Missing snow. Missing being known.

And that’s kind of the heart of Christmas in Japan.

It’s not about belief for most people. It’s about atmosphere. Connection. A pause. For couples, it’s romance. For families, it’s a gentle tradition.

For single people, it’s either a challenge or a reclaimed moment. For foreigners, it’s a strange blend of beauty and distance.

So yes, Japan celebrates Christmas—but in its own way. Softly. Selectively. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Sometimes a holiday doesn’t need to be loud to be meaningful.

Sometimes it just needs lights, cake, and a quiet moment where you feel, even briefly, that the world is a little warmer than usual.

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