There is something about the holiday season that brings out nostalgia. Old times are recalled. We reach out with Christmas and New Year's cards to friends we haven't seen for years. A lot of conversations begin with, Do you remember . . . It seems that although most people anticipate the opportunities and challenges that will come with the new year, there is a reluctance to let go of the old. This is especially true when we are not only readying to welcome a new year but are also adjusting to the idea of a new millennium. As one of my cards so aptly put it, Here's wishing you a very happy New Year; may it last for a thousand years.

The next few columns will be firmly based on nostalgia. Readers have asked me to reprint information or special columns that they remember. Today's choice is about a Christmas miracle that happened here in Tokyo a number of years ago, one that should not be forgotten.

Japan, land of Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines, also has chapels, cathedrals, churches and mosques. One of the most inspiring is Nicolai-do, Tokyo's Russian Orthodox cathedral. It was built more than a century ago, and people came from afar to marvel at the splendid building, so different from all that was traditionally Japanese. Some even thought the foreigners had designed the high dome, so unusual in those days, for only one purpose: to spy on the Emperor's palace and the city far below.

The cathedral suffered with the rest of the city when the great earthquake struck in 1923; only the walls remained. Later it was rebuilt, but funds were limited. The building was imposing, but the beautiful stained glass windows for which it was well known were not replaced.

On a dreary winter day a number of years ago the bishop was inspecting his now aging building and wondering where he would get the funds to make necessary repairs to the worn window fittings, when he heard a noise from the back of the church and turned to see what it was. A stranger had entered the church.

"I want to make a contribution," he said quietly.

"Thank you so much," the bishop responded. "Would you like to leave it in the collection box by the door?"

"It is a rather large contribution," the man said as he left.

Later, he was surprised to see how large the package was. Opening it, he found more than a million yen, truly a fortune in those days. Looking again at the windows, he decided to use the contribution to restore some of the inspiring stained glass for which the cathedral windows had once been famous. But where to find someone who could do the work?

That afternoon he stopped at a coffee shop. Looking up, he saw a beautiful stained glass window. He asked for the name of the craftsman. Later, he called the man and explained what he wanted to do and asked for his help. At first, there was no answer, only a strange sound perhaps indicating surprise. Then the glassmaker explained.

He had been a boy of 12 at the time of the earthquake. He had always loved the cathedral with its glorious windows. He explained how saddened he had been when they were all destroyed. After the building was rebuilt, he made a scale model and painstakingly crafted the windows as he felt they should be. Through the years the model had stood on his desk, a constant inspiration. Now he was being asked to fulfill his dream.

Of course he accepted. First he studied the church at all times of day and during all kinds of weather so that he could capture the greatest radiance of the sun. He had long been a student of Byzantine art and the designs he created for the windows were masterpieces in glass. And as the work progressed, more contributions arrived, enough so that all 65 windows of the cathedral could be filled with vibrant color.

And why is this a Christmas story? The work was completed just in time for the Christmas service. This year, as usual, there will be a special prayer for the stranger who made the first contribution. No one knows who he was. He was never seen again.

Tokyo's churches will all be having special Christmas services again this year. Too many people forget, or do not know, why Christmas is celebrated. Sometimes it seems that the tradition most preserved is of men, not necessarily wise, bearing gifts.